Note- I don't own Recess or "Game of Love" by Santana and Michelle Branch.

Today is one of the few times when I'm actually at school early. I'm sitting on the this bench under a tree, near the school library, with my hands stuck into my pockets. I've got math homework to do, but I just can't bring myself to open my backpack and start doing it. Hell, I don't get what a quardratic equation is anyways, so there's really no sense is troubling myself with it. So I just sit there and stare into space. Not a lot of people are here yet, since school doesn't start for another thirty five minutes. Today I just woke up unusually early, and decided to walk to school to kill time.

I wish I could say things had changed since Third Street Elementary. Not that I didn't like it. I loved it, it's just that I wish things could be a bit different now. We were lucky, all six or us got into the same high school. We're in our second year, in tenth grade. Vince, Mikey, Gus, T.J., and me, Spinelli, actually have the same algebra and English classes, so we see each other a lot. Gretchen got boosted up to the eleventh grade, but we still see her at lunch and stuff. Man, I wish something was different. I could go into all our electives, clubs, yada yada yada, but nothing would be surprising. Gretchen's leader of the math club and all the other things like that, Vince is captain of the football team, basketball team, soccer team, and about every other team the school offers.

Me, I'm just on the girls' basketball team. Stupid coach wouldn't let me on the boys'. Injustice from what we cannot help...whoa, that was a line from one of Mikey's poems. He still writes them, and he's won just about every poetry contest the school's had. Gus is still in military spirits. I think he's got an A in history right now, just because we're studying the Vietnam War, and his dad can tell him every detail of it. And T.J., he just pulled off the greatest prank on the annoying little library aide guy, the dude who's name I think is Peter or something, can be recognized a mile away by his horrendous glasses.

Teej had Gretchen ask the guy to help her find some books, and when he got up, T.J. snuck behind the counter and loosened all the bolts on his chair with a screwdriver. When he got back and sat down, the idiot fell right off the chair along with the seat. He knocked over a big tub of chocolate pudding behind the chair, and got drenched in it. Me and T.J. were watching, hidden behind the copy machine, and we laughed our heads off. I smiled as I remembered that day. We'd been on the run from Mrs. Tilley, the librarian, for the rest of the day. Yeah, everything is the same. Same friends, same habits, same this, same that. I swear the caferteria even serves the same old petrified lasagna. When I look down, I see that I'm still wearing the same stupid bomber jacket.

I'm thinking about this when a voice in front of me interrupts. "Penny for your thoughts, Spinelli." I hear, and look up into the smiling face of Gretchen Grundler. I should have known she'd be here, she almost always comes to school early to help the teachers. "Hey, Gretch," I say, and she sits down by me and places her backpack on the ground. "So, what's up?" Gretchen asks me, and I start to think again. Then the same pesky thought runs through my head. Well, that's one thing that's changed. Well, actually, now that I sit and think about it, it's been like this since I was about eight, maybe even six or seven. Gretchen seemed to notice my blush, though I didn't, and she cocked an eyebrow.

"Thinking of someone?" she asks.

"Huh?"

"Thinking of a friend?"

I remain silent. She bites her lip a little, as if thinking whether to continue.

"Thinking of a guy?"

I look up.

"A guy? Who?"

"Oh, no one in particular."

But it seems that she definately does have someone particular on her mind. Well, if one person would figure out, I should have known it'd be Gretchen. She's got this fairly useful, and sometimes irritating, way of reading my thoughts. Okay, I'm not gonna kid anyone anymore. The memory of that prank pulled on Peter the library guy shifted my pattern of thoughts. I don't want to let Gretchen know anything more than she already does, so I just shrug my shoulders and reach into my pocket to take out a piece of gum. I unwrap it, pop it in my mouth, and begin to chew.

Let me try and describe what - who - I've been thinking about.

There's this guy. And I've known him since I was what, four years old? And this sounds so cliche, but there's this something about this guy that really gets me going. I've said it before, I've felt this way for the longest time. But only in fourth grade did I realize I was feeling that way. Back then, it kind of scared me, so I tried to keep it to myself. I'm still trying to keep it to myself, but it's getting harder now. Peeling a popped gum bubble off my face, I try to reason with myself. This guy, he's just got me over him, hook, line and sinker. I'm okay at hiding it. But whenever I see him run a hand through his hair, or smile, or get in position on the field, football in hand and a determined look on his face, I....melt.

Sometimes I stare at him when nobody's looking, like after one of those football games, and I appreciate his looks. When he gets close enough, I can see the sweat trickling down his face, his hair all messed up and falling limp in his his eyes, and the lines of the muscles on his arms, more if I'm lucky enough to see him shirtless on a hot day. When I was a little kid, it never really crossed my mind that I could think he was handsome, he was just a cute little kid and my best friend. But now, I'm starting to see how he's physically changed over the years, like the muscles I mentioned, which were just the perfect size. Not like, shrimpy small, and not like some steroid-packing body builder. Just prominent enough to be seen, perfectly in proportion with his body.

I don't think I'll ever get enough of his eyes or his hair. His eyes are the prettiest blue, and when I'm close enough to see, I study them with interest. They're laughing, dancing eyes, colored a crystal kind of blue. Like a mix between denim and the ocean in the morning, cerulean-ish. I'm actually kind of surprised at myself for knowing all this, for having observed him so closely, but it just makes me think about him even longer and harder. And his hair, it's so...how can I put it? Steady. Like, calm and beautiful, but still always a bit messy and falling into his eyes. It's a really pretty kind of brown, accented here and there with natural gold and chestnut colored highlights. I just wish I could run my fingers through it, slowly and carefully, to find out how it feels. I'm sure it would be so soft. As beautiful as it looks.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I hardly hear Gretchen talking to me. When I finally do, I notice that it's already five minutes to the warning bell. So I jump up and gather my things, say goodbye to Gretchen, and head off to my homeroom to begin another same school day.

The school day's finally over, and I'm walking home. I walk looking at my feet, and kick a rock on the sidewalk. None of the others were walking with me, because they had some after school activity planned. So I'm watching this pebble roll on the sidewalk in front of me, with my hands stuffed again in my jacket. I'm about to turn a corner when I hear someone running. It sounds as if they're coming my way, maybe trying to catch up. So I stop and turn, and I couldn't be more dumbfounded. I know I look pretty stupid staring there on the street, watching a guy run towards me. But I don't give a damn. Maybe this time he'll somehow run right into my arms.

Well, he didn't, but he came close enough to give me visible goosebumps. "Hey," he said, panting and trying to catch his breath. "H-hey..." I say. And not being able to think of anything else to say, I stuttered, "What're you doing here, Teej? I thought you had soccer practice." T.J. had caught his breath and smiled. "Nope, cancelled today. So, mind if I walk you home?" My heart about jumped to my throat. I opened my mouth, but my toungue wasn't responding, so I just slowly shook my head. "Cool," he said, and, for some reason, held my hand while we walked.

We had walked all the way to the corner gas station in silence, me hoping that somehow my face wasn't red. T.J. finally broke the silence. "Hey, Ash, wanna get a soda at the gas station or something?" I smiled. T.J. knew he was the only person that could call me "Ash" or "Ashley" and not get pounded. Besides my parents of course. I guess it was because we were very old and close friends, and we knew each other like the back of our hands. Well, he didn't know all of me. Now, I felt like it should be something more. I'm beginning to get shivers down my back, the way I hear my first name roll off his toungue. It gives me the most pleasant kind of chills.

I said okay, and we walked into the gas station to get a few fountain drinks. I had just lidded my Sprite when it happened again. T.J. took my hand. I smiled slightly at him, and he smiled right back. Oops, there go my knees. I made it through the rest of the visit well enough. Then on the street, T.J. was bouncing one of those cheap superballs he'd bought from a vending machine in the gas station. One particularly hard bounce made the ball dissapear behind the gas station mini mart. T.J. ran after it and I followed.

We searched for it in the grass, and I was the first to find it. I picked it up, and turned around to give it to T.J. I found myself face to face with him. Silently I dropped the ball into his hand, and he pocketed it. We couldn't seem to draw away from each other. It seemed like it had been an eternity, just staring at his face and he staring at mine. For a moment it seemed to surreal that I thought maybe I was dreaming. And then he opened his mouth to speak. "You have the most beautiful eyes." He said to me, and my face probably went ten shades of crimson.

I guess we both noticed we were a bit too close, since we abruptly backed up and shifted our eyes. I backed up against the mini mart back wall, and T.J. bounced the ball off of it, catching it every time. I look at him for some time, until he catches me. Then I look elsewhere, trying not to look weird, and I see my reflection in the smooth side of the dumpster here. I stare at myself for a few seconds, then frown and pick up a stick and throw it at the dumpster, hitting my reflection in the face. I really couldn't figure out what kind of chance that girl staring back at me had. Sure, I'd been told numerous times that I was "pretty". Once even T.J. himself had told me how cute my hair always looked.

Make me feel good yeah

"Who the hell am I kidding?" I growled at myself silently, and kicked the ground so a little cloud of dust rose up around my shoe. I was actually wearing my hair right now in the way that T.J. had told me looked good. Half of it pulled back into a ponytail, with two small pieces framing my face, and the rest hanging over my shoulders. I never wore makeup. Once I actually dared to put on lip gloss, and I don't know how in the world all those preppy girls wear it every single day. I couldn't play basketball, my flyaway hair kept getting caught in the gloss. Finally I wiped it off with my sleeve and vowed to never touch the vile substance again.

I usually dressed like some kind of punky hippie. I dunno if that made any sense, but that's how I dress. Right now I'm wearing a regular T-shirt, with a "The Strokes" logo on it, a knee-length pleated gray skirt with two silver chains on it, and green-and-yellow leg warmers. Argh. If I was a guy, I wouldn't go out with myself. Why would T.J.? I sighed quietly and looked over towards the boy who was still bouncing the superball off the wall. I was kind of shocked to see that he was wearing this woven bracelet on his right wrist. I gave that to him a few years ago, I was making them out of endless boredom one summer. I had one myself, but I didn't wear it every day.

Well, whatever, I didn't have anything to lose. "T.J.," I said. "You wanna come over to my house to do homework or something?" T.J. pocketed the superball and agreed, then picked up his soda from the ground and took his place right beside me. While I still had courage, I hooked my arm with his, and saw him look and smile at me. "Hey, Ash." he said. "You've got something on your face." I turned to face him, and he wiped a bit of dirt off my face with his thumb. I couldn't help shivering. "You okay?" he asked me, and I nodded hastily. He touched my face again, and I closed my eyes and smiled the slightest bit. He moved closer.

He put a hand on my cheek, and I shivered from the sensation that ran through me. He was smiling at me, eyes half lidded and hair falling all over his face. I was so close then that I could probably count the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks. "Teej..." I whispered, hoping for some kind of reaction. Hoping that in return he might say my name again. I rocked on the soles of my feet. It was the most wonderful thing feeling his breath on my face. And his hand on my cheek. And the other one, which just tucked a flyaway piece of hair behind my ear. "Ashley..." he said, and a bubble swelled inside of me.

Then he took my hand, and leaned in dangerously close. "Ashley...may I kiss you?" I wasn't about to think about whether I was dreaming or not. The whole just faded away as I closed the small gap between us and fell into his cradling embrace. It was an endless swirl of mind-numbing energy as I kissed him, feeling how perfectly I could mold into his shape, how I somehow fit into him like a hand in a glove. He moved his lips in the perfect rhythm to mine, wrapping his arms firmly around my waist as he led me through one incredible kiss. I had the strongest feeling that if I was kissing any other boy, it would feel stiff and passionless. But not so as long as I've got him...

We only left our kiss for breath, and then he full-on assaulted me. I had had no clue he could be this passionate. He moved one hand up from my waist back to my cheek, and caressed it with his fingers. Then he licked my lips the slightest bit, and I opened my mouth. I began to throb with want as his toungue met mine, giving him the opportunity to explore deeper corners of my mouth. I did the like, searching everywhere, in attempt to really taste him, love him, hold him, feel him in my blood. My own hair finally made its way into T.J.'s hair, which was as soft as I always thought it would be.

There was a bench near us, and natural instict soon had me lieing down on it, T.J. on top of me, still heatedly kissing me and touching me. I paused for breath. This still seemed heavenly and unreal to me, but it was too good to stop. If I was dreaming, I didn't want to ever wake up. If this was real, I didn't ever want to move from this position, didn't ever want to experience anything else. If you'd told me a week ago that today I'd be making out with T.J. Detweiler, I might not have believed it. And I still now might not have if we hadn't parted, giving me a view of that wonderful face. Those wonderful eyes, that beautiful smile, that wonderful hair.

"T.J.," I said. "You too, you have the most beautiful eyes..."

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Well! There we go! ^_^; Man, I didn't even realize how cliche this was until I re-read it myself. o_o I tried to fix that. Thanks to you, you know who I'm talking about. Yeesh...I hope this is okay now. I couldn't help writing it, I just read a T.J./Spinelli fanfiction, and I had the urge to write my own. This doesn't sound that much like me...I think I'm developing a new style. But I actually really like this little slice of sap. Hope you did too!