High school crush

Good lord, did I have tons of high school crushes! They didn’t quite turn out like the one in my story Saint Jillian’s Rebel, but they sure left some good memories. What’s funny is that I don’t remember their names - most of them - but I remember the blue eyes of one, the first kiss of another, meeting another by literally crashing into him in the hall because I was late for class and wasn’t watching where I was going. An upperclassman, I doubt he’d have even noticed I was alive had I not just completely plowed straight into him. He picked up my books that had flown out of my arms, walked me to class (of which I was no longer concerned that I was late) and asked me out when we got there. I know. Sounds after-school-movie corny. But it’s all true and still gives me a fluttery warm feeling when I think about it.

Not all my high school crushes turned out so well. I was in crush-love with a guy that never looked my way. Wasn’t his type I suppose, not the peppy, built, blonde-in-a-bottle daddy’s little rich girl - which he eventually married. Much to my chagrin. (I crushed on him for years - clear through college, so please chalk the snarkiness up to all that pent-up unrequited “love”). Funny how things work out. Turns out, according to the post-high school grapevine he’s not made her too terribly happy because he doesn’t exactly have strong sexual “urges”.  Apparently, he wasn’t my type either.