He was just a boy.

Nothing special. He was just the boy with the dark brown almost pitch black eyes and the soft hair. He was just the boy who only listened to books because he couldn't stand reading.

Nothing special.
Except.

He was also the boy who knew her favorite Starbucks flavor and had amazing taste in music and made her heart race. He was the boy who  listened to all her favorite books and ran track and spoke two languages and was too good for her.

She didn't deserve him. That much she knew.

So when he talked to the other girls and held hands with someone else she didn't complain. She just silently cried herself to sleep and lied and said that nothing was wrong, if she says it long enough-maybe it'll be true.

Maybe.
Hopefully.
Probably not.

Oh well.

She knew there was someone out there who would make her smile and laugh and maybe even fall in love and forget the dark days. She wasn't worthless, that much she knew.

Until then, she wasn't giving up hope. She was done crying.
After all,

He was just a boy.