boy, you are in denial.
young adult - het - romance


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Honestly, he doesn't really think of her.

(She doesn't infect his dreams or make him nervous. Her smile doesn't make him feel flustered, nervous and happy all at once. It just doesn't.)

Except when he does.


He doesn't think of the way she tilts her head, ever so slightly, when she laughs.


He feels like a liar after every rave. She tells him her secrets when drunk out of her mind—"I want to jump your bones", she slurred—and he feels like a liar the next day.

Because each day she asks him if she said anything and he will tell her, "No, you didn't."

(He doesn't think she ever believes him.)


There is this tingly feeling that courses through his veins when her skin brushes his. For just a moment, when they cross the halls. He thinks it's embarrassing how the slightest touch will make him burn red.


He loves the way she dresses for this certain party: her skirt barely reaches her wrist, her thigh-highs ripped in the important places and are itchy against his fingertips. When they meet at the party, he doesn't expect her to kiss him.

But she does.

And when she kisses him, it burns.


He thinks she is beautiful like this.

Saying, "I love you", before every kiss.

He thinks this is right—her in his arms, her lips against his, her.

He's never really thought of her ever saying those three little words.

But when she does, it is beautiful.


He doesn't really think of her.

Except when he does.

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4/10/2007, 4:11 PM - 11/4/2007, 5:52 PM
Author's Note: I'm sick of writing this. - Noelle