please choose me

High school, first day of school, I met my 100% boy.

People from the north speak with a consonant accent.

He loves to laugh, talks a lot, and is naturally energetic.

He is tall, with a cropped head, thick eyebrows and big eyes, and a dimple when he smiles.

We live in the same dormitory, but the relationship is average.

He is the center of the basketball team, the sports committee member of our class, and the man of the decathlon in the sports meeting.I am a nerd sitting in the first row of the classroom, and my grades have never dropped out of the top three in my grade. I am either reading books or doing problems all day long.

We are classmates and roommates, but we have nothing in common.

Meet but nod.

He likes playing basketball.

In summer, when he came back from playing, he took off his jersey and walked around in the dormitory with his upper body exposed.Strong muscles, good-looking lines, sweat slowly slipping off.Wheat-colored skin, and a chest that rises and falls with breathing.

I dare not look more.

I'm afraid that if I look at it twice, I will make a fool of myself.

Boys on the basketball team often have water fights in the water room of the dormitory.

Extremely childish.

Although I despise this group of stupid big guys who occupy the space every day and mess around, but I still can't help but watch it.Holding a basin in his arms, he picked up water in the corner and dawdled to wash his clothes.

He was the object of their siege, the wet clothes clinging to him, outlining the shape of the muscles.

He saw me and greeted me.

I didn't know what reaction to give, so I pushed my glasses and said um coldly.

In my heart, thousands of troops roared past.

There are clothes hanging on the balcony to dry, and every time I go to dry clothes, I will subconsciously look for his clothes.

School uniforms, jerseys, and underwear.

I don't know if he finds it troublesome and doesn't want to pick more, or he just likes it. His underwear is all pure white cotton with four corners, and the slightly protruding shape in the front makes me think about it.

I stole his jersey and hid it in my closet.

It's not that I don't want to take underwear, it's that I'm too cowardly, I only dare to think about it.

He sleeps on my lower bunk.

Sometimes, I do bad things.

Pulling the curtains on the bed, listening to the long breath coming from the lower bunk, I put on his jersey, closed my eyes, and reached into my underwear.

After he found out that the jersey was missing, he grabbed someone in the dormitory and asked.I was so nervous that I was overwhelmed and pretended not to know.He gave up after searching for nothing, which made me breathe a sigh of relief.

I can't let him know what I do to his clothes or that I like him.

If he knew, he would hate me.

why i like him

Maybe it's because he has a lot of things that I don't.

Confidence, vitality, enthusiasm, male hormones.

I could name countless good things about him, but those aren't unique qualities either.If he wants to hear it, I can list one, two, three, four.

The first time we met, he said hello to me.

A window suddenly opened in the small dark room, the sun shone in, and the dust rushed around in panic.

For a few seconds, the way he laughed hit me.

Dazzled.

It seems a little exaggerated.

Forgive me, I can't find a better word.

I know everything about him, good and bad, but all I can think of now are some trivial things.

He stepped on the bell to enter the classroom, looking handsome with sleepy eyes.In the morning self-study, he doesn't read books, either sleeps or copies his homework.He joked and laughed with others during class, joked too much, started fighting when he disagreed, and reconciled after fighting before the next class started.In class, he listened carefully and booed carefully.The teacher had nothing to do with him, his teeth itched with hatred, and he even made him laugh.When school was over, he carried his schoolbag on one shoulder, and put on his school uniform jacket casually. He looked like a fool, and he almost had a cigarette in his mouth.Relying on his height, he put his arms on his friend's shoulders naturally, and three or five of them walked out together.

Everyone loves him.

We were never the same kind of people, and I envied him.

My world is small, and he is the most dazzling one in the crowd.

At the flag-raising ceremony on Monday morning, I could recognize him by the back of his head.His handwriting, his favorite dishes, the brand of sneakers he often wears, I know everything about him.I'm not interested in basketball, but when I watch the NBA, I can talk about any team, game, and star, but I don't know if I have the opportunity to tell him.The notebook that was filled with writing and was thrown away, the number plate that was pinned to my body during the sports meeting, and the jersey that I stole are all my trophies.

Like a pervert, I silently collected his likes and watched him secretly.

When he went to play, I didn't dare to go to the court to watch him, so I stood in front of the classroom window and watched from afar.During class, as long as someone behind me spoke loudly, I would pretend to turn my head inadvertently, and my eyes would quickly pass over his face, not staying for a second.One second is enough, enough for me to see what he is doing, whether he is reading a book with his head tilted expressionlessly, or whispering something to the person next to him with a smile on his lips.Every time I look back, it is a thrilling adventure.I'm afraid, I'm afraid that the heat in my eyes can burn my skin, and he will find out my shady thoughts.

I developed a high fever in the one-sided love, wrote a love letter for him, wrote the first draft, revised it, and then carefully copied it on the letter paper with a pen.The love letter that will never be sent out is hidden in my cabinet, and I have accumulated a thick stack.

If possible, I want to kiss his eyebrows and say I like him.

But I'm also a boy.

My liking is destined to be a dark underground activity.