A/N: This was originally a fanfiction about a real person, but as this story takes place long before that person got famous, it could be about anyone. Everything except his name (I left out his last name in this) is fictional, which is why I chose to post it on anyway. It was one of my earliest fics, and you will probably find lots of mistakes.
Anyway, it's just a little story about love (the title pretty much says what it's about), and I hope you like it.
Read and review, please!
- The Definition.
I still remember my seventeenth Christmas as if it had been yesterday. I probably remember this year so well, because so many things happened. Things that I will remember for the rest of my life, because they made a great impression on me.
I was sixteen and had just celebrated my birthday in the end of November. Somehow I felt really grown up now, 'cause I could finally go out with all of my friends, who were all older than me. I hadn't been allowed to go out at night until I turned sixteen, and still my parents weren't too happy about letting me go. I did go, though, 'cause most of my friends had been going to clubs and discos for a long time (some of them maybe only for a couple of months, but to me it seemed like ages), and I didn't want to miss out on anything.
My best friend, Irene, and I started going out a lot on Fridays and Saturdays, and I think my parents thought we were a couple of wild girls. To tell the truth, we rarely went to a club. Most often we found a café or small bar, where we had a couple of hot chocolates before we went home and talked about guys we fancied. My parents didn't know, and I didn't want them to either, 'cause I wanted to be cool and make my younger siblings think I was someone special. Don't ask me why, but I thought this was the way to get respect. They probably just thought I was annoying and snobbish when I told them I was going out and didn't have time to stay in and play with them. And they were probably right. I did try to sound as if I didn't care the slightest bit about them. As if I were grown up now and didn't bother to spend some time with my sisters and brothers, who were only a few years younger than me.
However, one Saturday night this December, Irene and I actually did go to a club instead of just finding a cosy café. We had heard that they would have a sort of Christmas party, and a lot of people from our school would be going, so we thought we'd go as well. We dressed up and put on a lot of make-up, and we probably looked more scary than attractive. We didn't know better, though, and my mum even told me not to let the guys come too near me. It was her way of telling me that I looked beautiful, or maybe she just thought I looked cheap. I never asked her about it, and I didn't care either. I just wanted the guys to notice me.
So Irene and I made our debut into the club life on a cold December night in 1997, and we had no clue what it would be like.