I watch him from across the room. Watch him lean in and whisper to the blonde. She is standing so close to him  there is no visible space between them.

I've lost count of how many times I've daydreamed about him leaning into me like that and imagined resting my head against his broad shoulder.

His blond hair is slicked back and wet. He must have taken a shower after practice and then headed straight to the party. I heard the wrestling coach was in a rage over Wednesday's loss and demanded the team put in a Saturday double-day practice.

Not being one of the "mat girls" I've never watched a wrestling team's full practice.

I've passed wrestlers as they ran sprints down empty school hallways, and I've glimpsed into gym doors left ajar and watched them scramble up ropes hanging from the ceiling.

The craziest drill I've witnessed—they place a wooden peg in each hand and climb a wooden board full of holes that's attached to the gym wall.

I'm in awe at the brute strength it takes to slowly haul yourself, one peg inserted into a hole move, at a time.

Their workouts are no joke. One of the hardest workouts of all the high school sports. It sculpts their bodies, chisels those muscles. Honestly, they look like living, breathing Greek statues carved out of marble. A glorious celebration of the perfect male form.

The blonde is now looking at him and giggling.

I wonder what he said to make her laugh.

The look he's giving her is like a punch to the gut.

He has never once looked at me that way.

He's not just someone I've been crushing on since sophomore year; he's a guy that runs in similar circles, which means most days I sit across the table from him in the cafeteria at lunch. I sit next to him at the movies. We attend the same parties, sometimes together on a couch, giving each other a hard time about nothing in particular.

I would not call us friends, more like acquaintances thrown together often, because our friends all hang out.

A few of my friends are currently dating or have dated, in the past, his friends.

The first time I met him, I was gobsmacked. That thing they talk about in all the romance books, that zing of attraction that hits some people at first sight...well, it hit me hard. Like a lightning bolt. But apparently, I didn't have the same effect on him.

In that first meeting, he smiled at me and joined in the conversation I was having with my friends. But not once has he ever shown any real interest in me. Not in that "I want to date you" or "I want to one day see you naked" sort of way.

Most of the other guys in our group have, at some point, hit on me. But Bryer, the one guy who I want desperately to be flirty with me, never is. He treats me like one of his pals, one of the guys.

I came to the party determined to change that.

The Goals I've set for myself tonight:

1. Have a blast at my last Senior party.

2. Find the boy I've been crushing on for two years.

3. Get my first kiss.

***