It Rhymes with Last

Her name was Sharon and she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. She had this type of beauty I hadn't seen before. The sensual sort. I think she knew this too. After all, why else would she wear her pristine, well-fitted white uniform with the top unbuttoned?
She had white, well-formed teeth that shone like diamonds whenever she parted her lips for a smile. She also had dimples. Just because. That, combined with her light skin and her oval-shaped face unblemished by pimples made her perfect.
She was a new student in my school and fortunately, she was in science class. I say fortunately because I was also in science class. That meant I had better chances of being more than a classmate. That was a daydream though. Some boys in the class already looked like men, so naturally, if she wanted to pick a 'friend' it wouldn't be me. I was only small fish.
Did we become friends? I can't remember but I don't think so. We became friendly anyway. This was mostly due to lessons which held after school, after which along with others, we would walked to the bus stop.
That term, Sharon fell sick and she couldn't attend school for a while. A delegate went to visit her at the hospital. I went with them. That was when I offered to help copy the notes she had missed in class. Mr. Nice Guy. That was me. I copied biology notes, chemistry notes, physics note. I copied and copied fuelled by the hope that afterwards, just maybe, maybe she'd see that I was there. In sickness and in health.
Well, you know how they say nice guys finish last. I finished last.
Sharon recovered and returned to school. On her return, she immediately switched to the art class.
My fingers have never forgiven me since then.