Hey, You

Every time I'm walking down the hall, I keep seeing two faces in my mind.
The first one is easy to identify, like the back of my hand would be. I've heard this voice so many times, it's incredible I still blush around him. Bright blue eyes -intense- like my own, and rosy cheeks that get pink when he laughes, and a head of light brown hair that looks a tint blonde and red in the sunlight. He's the quiter one in his family, the one who watches everything while the rest of the world goes on around him. But he always smiles at me when he sees me in the hall, sometimes just saying my name, other times walking right up to me to talk (or ask for gum). He's the kind of guy you'd be willing to wait for out in the freezing rain if he asked you to. The kind of guy that would turn anyone's world upside down, the arms you'd want to fall into if you just needed someone. And it would all be worth it.
But the other face, the other lingering pair of eyes in the crowds that catch my own with a lurching feeling in my stomach, is a boy that is like a mismatched pair of sneakers clashing with a dress. Different. A musician, and a writer, a lover of all music (who happens to worship Green Day, too). His dark eyes are deep and intense, catching my own occasionally, and he has a full head of dark dark brown hair, and pale skin. The desk drummer, is basically what he is. Last year we sat together because of my other friend (who's loud), and at one point he just looked at me and started talking. He was nice, but just so serious, as in passionate and deep about everything. A person just like me.
Two faces. Two pairs of lingering eyes. One girl.

One.