He likes me.
Everytime I log onto Facebook, or check my cell phone, I see some sort of notification saying he commented on my photo or status, or he tried to call me or texted me for no reason. After being logged onto Facebook for seven seconds, I get a chat message from him; all it says is “hey” or “how about them (Pittsburgh) Penguins!” after we win.

He likes me not.
I asked him once. He denied liking me. He denies it around his friends, around my friends, around nothing. Sometimes he says things that hit me like bullets and totally embarrass me.

He likes me.
I can make fun of him, and he doesn’t mind. He walks with me to some classes, and can’t keep his eyes away from my eyes, until he starts talking. Perhaps he is afraid of my reaction and is nervous of my thoughts and countenance once he starts telling me something. He looks off to the side every time.

He likes me not.
His pride and man-ego pretty much mean that until he swallows it, we aren’t going anywhere. Until he figures out what we could be, we aren’t going anywhere. I can tell he is insecure and vulnerable and lives and dies with what his jerk friends think of him.

He likes me.
He treats me differently and seems to make time for me. His voice changes when talking to me. He laughs at everything. He makes me feel as if I’m the only one in the world. If I’m going somewhere, he says goodbye. That may sound totally normal- for a friend to say goodbye- but from him, it’s not. He just sort of leaves other people, or makes up a reason to leave and runs away.

He likes me not.
I’ve heard him talk about me to his friends, to whom I hate. But it’s a mutual feeling. It hurts to hear him make fun of me.

He likes me.
Once, we got into a huge fight. In the following days, he said he was sorry. But not verbally; he had a look in his eyes, asking, begging for forgiveness.

I could peel a thousand flower petals and go on, but I think I know the answer. I just want to hear it from him.