He stares at you and the world turns hot and cold. He's the most intelligent idea you've ever come across. And it annoys you. Why should he get all the credit that your mind came up with? But you stare and you glare anyway. You couldn't keep your eyes away. "You having fun yet?" God, you hate him for saying that. You realize all of a sudden that the room you two are in is getting wider and wider. Except it's still only the two of you in your line of vision. Where is everyone else? His every move, every twitch of his fingers--though, really, he never looks nervous--is caught in your mind's eye, smothering you to the nether. You deny it all the time but you do enjoy him, even if all he does is **** you over and over again. You know that if you die five years later, without him by your side, it's still his grin that you'll see last. And you realize something for the first time since you got swept in stupidly: you are in dire need of a distraction. A distraction from him.



She's acting like a child. Unnecessarily and devilishly. Her pouting mouth hypothetically gets you to keel over and hold up a tray of her favorite things to create her a portal to happiness. How does she do that? And how did you become such a sucker for this girl? No, she couldn't be just a simple human girl. Not with those careful hands, those little movements they make that makes your heart sit inside your chest uncomfortably. She is a stunning graffiti, illegal yet familiar. She grabs you by the shoulders and throws you off-course. And you let her. She is the queen. She makes everything up, even new, unkind emotions you never thought a person could feel. Yet why is she still looking at someone else? You are right there. You are right with her. Yet you've gone unnoticed.