My Childhood Secret Admirer

So this might sound a bit crazy, but I have to get it off my chest. When I was in middle school, there was this boy who used to leave me little notes and doodles on the back of my books or tucked into my locker. He never told me his name directly, only hinted at it with clues like initials carved into desks during class or a drawing that had my full name scribbled on one corner but in code that took forever to figure out. It was kind of thrilling and nerve-wracking all at once, I liked him back, got nervous every time I thought he might ask me out, yet also felt like if anyone found out we were secretly passing notes, it would be the end of my social life. Years later, I ran into one of his close friends who mentioned that this boy was really shy and just wanted to have a friend in school. He stopped leaving notes when he moved away for high school, but it always made me wonder if those little messages meant something more to him than they did to me. I still sometimes smile thinking about all the mystery and how I felt like my favorite book could hold the key to friendship.