How To Get a Boyfriend 101

6 : Friday

Step Six: S.K.I.N.S.H.I.P. Don't be afraid to touch him; he's not made of lava, though he may seem hot enough to be! This doesn't mean jumping on his neck like a trampoline. Rather, if you're exchanging pencils in class, don't hesitate to let your hand linger on his!

I'm reminded of today's advice for getting a boyfriend as I pull out a pencil to give to Jason. Apparently, we are starting this new thing called FROG, which stands for Friendship, Respect, Opportunity, and Gratitude. This means that at the end of the day I spend half an hour with Jason and four other lucky students.

It's the six of us and a teacher.

I'm in a group with Jason (hurray!), Russell (woot woot!), Blake (huzzah!), Zoe, and Amanda. Amanda, I think, is valedictorian, and she's in charge of managing the student dorms. All around a great girl.

The FROG teacher is named Mr. Walker. FROG is basically just going to be half an hour at the end of each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and we have fun worksheets and learning-opportunity-providing activities. I can't wait.

Right now, Jason wants a pencil, because who would have thought that you'd need a blob of graphite wrapped in wood for a fun class called FROG?

Nobody would have thought that. Nobody, except for the designer of this worksheet.

It looks something like this:

Name: __________
Date: ___________
Teacher: ________

1.) State your three best attributes:
_________________________

2.) State your three worst attributes:
_________________________

3.) State three ways you can improve yourself:
_________________________

4.) State three ways you can make the world a better place:
_________________________

5.) State three things you can do to keep the environment healthy:
_________________________

So, yeah, tons of fun. I'm almost done filling it out, and Jason raises his hand to ask Mr. Walker if we have to hand it in. Mr. Walker's full name is Lucas Walker, which is both so close to and yet so far from being an amazing name. Apparently, we don't have to submit them, so I erase my answers and start over. I see Blake doing the same thing, and smirk to myself. This is why we're best friends.

If a teacher isn't going to look over it, what's the point of keeping my responses civilized? I'm going to release my pent-up tension in the form of answers. It's going to be epic.

When I'm done fixing my answers, this is what my sheet looks like:

Name: Felix Gray Black like my soul
Date: I don't have a date yet ;)
Teacher: Jedi of the year

1.) State your three best attributes:
My face, my face, and my face.

2.) State your three worst attributes:
Also my face, my face, and my face.

3.) State three ways you can improve yourself:
Redesign my face.

4.) State three ways you can make the world a better place:
-free chicken nuggets
-free access to the internet (wait, don't we have that already)
-free access to all-you-can-eat-buffets

5.) State three things you can do to keep the environment healthy:
-save the turtles
-and i oop
-eat dirt, not meat

When Jason returns the pencil, I hold my hand near his for just a moment longer, enough for me to miss the warmth once it leaves. Someday, his wife is going to be a happy lady. I wish I could be a happy lady. Maybe, if I move to Vegas with Blake, he can buy me a hot-pink purse to make me happy. That would be nice.

I lean into Jason's shoulder and pout. "Jason, this is so boring." I've stopped stuttering around him. It's hard not to feel comfortable when he's nearby; Jason has a sort of calming presence, one that reminds me of why I like him so much. While he's witty, funny, and occasionally chaotic, he also has a soft and serious side that I like.

He chuckles and ruffles my hair. Thank goodness he can't see my red face right now, because that would be super embarrassing.

"Only five more minutes," he whispers. "You'll make it."

Remind me, again... how did I manage to befriend this gorgeous boy?

But wait, it's too soon to be thinking about that... because his hand is still in my hair from when he ruffled it. Why am I not freaking out? THE Jason Crowe has his fingers in between my strands of hair, and... ah, there it is.

The weird feeling where my heart turns into mashed potatoes and my blood turns to gravy. Boy, am I thankful that I'm friends with Jason, and it's not even Thanksgiving.

It's called love... but wait. Do I love Jason? I thought it was a crush.

Oh, well.

I suppose that when one has liked another for almost forty months, it turns into love.

The realization doesn't surprise or scare me that much. High schoolers are allowed to be in love. I think... even if Jason doesn't like me, even though he probably doesn't like any boy, he's not the type to be rude about it. I feel safe putting my heart in his hands, because I know he'll handle it carefully. Albeit, he doesn't know about my feelings, so there isn't much rejection—yet.

But I can't think of myself without the part of me that likes him.