Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns these characters. I don't.
I love him, but he's in love with someone else. Someone who is not me.
And it doesn't matter.
Because my best friend says she likes him. Rules are rules. I cannot touch him. Because she said it first.
But she doesn't know that I already have.
As all our friends gather around and giggle in shear excitement about how my best friend and him would be such a cute couple, I force a smile and play along. They will never know I am burning inside.
But none of it matters, even the fact that I love him. It doesn't matter that even though I had just spent one of the best nights of my existence with him, gave him everything I was and had to offer, he resented me the next morning. By throwing at me my clothes and ushering me out of his room.
I ran down the hall, hiding my disheveled tears and utter shame, down the stairs and past the students' questioning eyes.
All the giggles and playfulness are gone now. He doesn't flick my ear, or tickles me with teasing nicknames. He has moved his seat, nonchalantly, to the other side of the classroom. I don't want to look up at him and see his eyes, or worse, see the back of his head; knowing he is avoiding me.
It doesn't matter, though does it?
Because I love him. She likes him. He's in love with someone else. Someone who is not me.