• No expression.
    That’s how he looked at me.
    His beautiful eyes were devoid of all emotion, not a flicker in those deep blue eyes of his. Not a flicker, not a smile or a frown on his thin lips, not a raised eyebrow, nothing.
    That look stabbed my heart worse than a thousand branding irons thrust deep into my chest.
    Kayla had been pointing to me and mouthing, Do you like her?
    He had looked confused at first, probably wondering why I was stomping on Kayla’s foot as she got his attention.
    Kayla had repeated her silent question as I turned my face away so that he couldn’t see my embarrassed face.
    I couldn’t help it; I peeked as we waited for his answer.
    His eyes had flickered to mine as I peered cautiously at him.
    The moment I saw him my hopes were dashed.
    His eyes were nothing, not a spark.
    He shook his head slowly and headed off with his friends.
    I watched him walk away, the sadness like a physical weight in my chest.
    Once he did look back.
    Only once.
    I doubt that he saw me.
    Still, he did look back.
    So, maybe.
    Maybe there’s still a chance, just maybe.
    A spark might be kindling, maybe.
    He might be thinking our encounter over, maybe.
    He might look at me tomorrow, maybe.
    So many maybe’s.
    I wish that I had are’s or for-sure’s instead of just maybe’s.
    Maybe’s are so changeable, malleable, like putty in a child’s hand.
    But yet . . . maybe.