Long-lived Crushes at West Pine High (part 1 of who-knows-how-many)

For the past three years I've sat behind her, but ever since second grade we've been going to the same school and have been in the same class. When we started middle school, I only had two classes with her out of seven, and lunch was just pure torture. See, I'm not really the most social human being. Normally, I'm the one at the empty table in the corner of the lunchroom reading some sci-fi paperback. In middle school, the teachers had this "no-man-left-behind" idea that every student should have someone to sit with, even if said student would rather poke his eye out with a pencil instead of sitting next to Luke Dylan. As you can guess, Luke was, scratch that, is, the top jock of West Pine Middle, and now High. Yes, many a paperback were sacrificed in my battle to get through middle school. Thankfully, now that I'm in high school, the teachers don't really seem to care anymore, so kudos for me. I get to sit in the company of my Lord of the Rings novels. Anyway, this isn't about Luke.
It's about Kyrie.
Like I said, three years. Three agonizing years of staring at her back, at her wavy chestnut hair that, no matter what, is always in a braid on Tuesdays and a ponytail on Fridays. In the hallway, I've caught glances at her, and sometimes her pale green eyes met with my brown. But only sometimes, and ever so briefly.
Yes, I know, this is totally the setup of some cliche chick flick, where the shy, nerdy boy is in love with the gorgeous girl dating the football dude.
So why is this story more awesome?
Because Kyrie completely despises Luke. And that makes me very, very happy.
"Sup, Jay!"  This is shouted in my ear while a hand slaps down on my shoulder. I quickly fold the fantasy novel in my hands to protect it, in case the guy behind me is Luke. Thankfully, I'm met with dark grey eyes as opposed to Luke's hazel.
"Jeez, chill," Carter says before sliding into the desk next to me. "Who'd you think it was?"
I shake my head. Honestly, thoughts of Luke kinda make me paranoid. "No one. Just tired."
He cracks a grin. "Too busy last night dreaming about Kyyyyyyyrie." He wiggles his eyebrows.
"Stop making me sound creepy."
"That, my friend, is impossible."