A werewolf love story…

I sat next to Jared for years, and he barely looked at me twice.

But why would he? I was just Kim; plain and boring. He was popular, he was really gorgeous, and guys like him don't go for girls like me. It broke my heart though. Every day he would sit next to me, shouting to his friends across the classroom, completely ignoring me. I don't even think he knew my name.

Every day I opened up my homework journal, careful not to let the front cover fall open and reveal the words I had etched onto it: 'Kim 4 Jared'.

I fantasised about him standing up in front of the whole class and announcing that he was in love with me. I imagined him seeing my journal, going quiet for a moment, before showing me the exact same words etched onto his journal. I know these were pathetic daydreams, but they were all that kept me going. He was sitting right next to me, so close that I could touch, but yet I knew I never could.

I tried to move on and date other boys, but that plan failed miserably. Boys don't like me. I wasn't stunningly beautiful, with big breasts and long blonde hair, and I couldn't make rude jokes to make them laugh, like some of the girls in my class, who always seemed to have permanent boyfriends. I was just average looking, the type of person you'd walk past and not look twice at.

I was also crushingly boring. I could never think of a single interesting thing to say. I could be intelligent when it comes to school work, which I threw myself into to distract me from my hopeless daydreaming. I came into school every day just so I could see Jared and hope that maybe today would be the day he'd look at me. When it became apparent that it wouldn't, I concentrated on school; anything to distract me from the pain of loving someone who doesn't know you exist.

I'm not trying to sound like a stalker when I say this, but I knew loads about him. Whenever he'd have a conversation with his friends, I'd listen intently, picking out facts about him. I knew stuff he loved, and stuff he hated, what people he liked and who he didn't like, who his friends were, and any other things he saw as irrelevant details in his life. They were interesting to me.

Sometimes I wished he was just turn around and notice me listening. Maybe then he would realise that there was someone else who did care about what he thought, a lot. But he never turned around.

He stopped coming into school for a while. A depression hung over me like a black cloud; persistent, ominous, dark. I lay in bed, watching the time, getting later and later for school but wondering what the point of it would be. I realised, pathetically, that I hadn't really a life outside daydreaming about Jared. That thought made me even more depressed.

Without Jared sitting next to me in the classroom, I was invisible. No one looked at me, no one talked to me, and it was as though my seat was empty. At least people looked in my general direction when Jared was near. My depression deepened. I felt as though I was treading water - barely - on an open sea. There was only the horizon ahead, no signs of rescue. I could either sink into the ocean, which was the easy choice. Just sink into oblivion, because no one would miss me anyway. Or I could keep struggling to keep my head above the water, just in case a lifeboat decided to drift by.

I kept struggling, even though it was getting harder.

And then he came back to school. He had changed, dramatically. His hair was shorn, and he was an extra foot taller. He wore a short sleeved shirt, which emphasised his gigantic muscles. I couldn't stop staring.

Maybe he could sense that I was staring, I don't know. But he glanced at me, briefly, as he took his seat. And then he froze. I couldn't believe it when his eyes slid back onto mine, holding my gaze. He looked completely overwhelmed by something that I couldn't imagine, shocked and excited at the same time. As he continued to gaze hungrily at me, I thought about maybe saying something cool, or witty, just anything, instead of staring at him like an idiot. But I was speechless.

You can dream and dream for something with all your heart, but when it finally comes true, by some way of a miracle, you can't help trying to convince yourself it's still a dream, and can't really be happening.

I thought I was daydreaming again. Jared was gazing at me as though seeing me for the first time, and his eyes were filled with emotions I was sure were figments of my imagination; adoration, commitment. I couldn't really be seeing these things. I was only seeing them because I wanted so badly to see them there.

I blushed under the intensity of his gaze, and looked away. I stared at the book lying open on my desk, trying to absorb what I had just seen. And then he spoke.

"Hi."

My head snapped up, completely shocked. I couldn't keep the sceptical surprise off my face; there was no way he was talking to me. Jared had never once spoken to me. Why would everything change, now, in one instant? I hadn't changed. He had, it appeared, but it still didn't make any sense to me. What was so special about me?

"Hi," I said, blushing furiously. My heart was thudding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. My palms were sweaty. It was ridiculous. He was still staring at me, and even though I had dreamed he would for so long, I wanted him to look away.

"Do you know," he said slowly. "I've sat next to you for all these years and I haven't a clue what your name is?"

My heart sank. Of course he had no idea who I was. I was stupid to think he had secretly fantasised about me, and every feeling I had was reciprocated, and he was just shy. I quickly fell down from the high his gaze had given me. He must be feeling guilty, because he's just realised he doesn't know me, I thought. I expected everything to go back to normal after today, except I would now be haunted by the adoration I believed I saw in his eyes.

"Kim," I mumbled, dropping his gaze. I found I couldn't stop looking at his muscles, so I forced my eyes to fix on the desk in front of me.

"Kim," he repeated, staring into space for some unfathomable reason. "I'm Jared."

"I know," I said, so quietly he couldn't possibly have heard me.

He was silent, but I could still feel his gaze on my face. I kept waiting to wake up in my bedroom, and find out this was all a dream. It was too surreal. I stared at the desk for as long as I could, but I began to feel uncomfortable. I was sure he knew I knew he was staring at me, and I thought it seemed rude if I didn't look up at me. So, somewhat reluctantly, I turned my face to his again and caught his eye.

He smiled at me.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. He was so gorgeous when he smiled, and even though I had seen him smile before, I had never been on the receiving end. I was breathless, and completely stunned. I was completely mesmerised by him, and I had the strangest feeling that he felt exactly the same.

When the bell rang, I jumped out of my seat, desperate to be alone somewhere and cool down. I could feel his eyes on me the whole lesson, and I couldn't keep my concentration. Instead of slumping forward on his side of the desk like usual, he had sat back in his seat, quite close to me, gazing at me. Some kind of heat had been radiating from him the whole time, and I couldn't be sure if I had been imagining that too, or whether it was actually real.

I fumbled as I tried to pick up my books, and they slipped through my fingers and crashed onto the floor. Embarrassed, I knelt down to pick them up, and couldn't withhold my gasp of shock, when suddenly, he was at my side.

"Let me help you," he said, flashing me a grin, and his hand brushed against mine as he stretched for my books. I pulled it back immediately, as a scorching heat enveloped my hand from where he had touched me.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, grabbing at my hand in surprise. It wasn't burnt or anything, but a reminder of his touch lingered there.

"Sorry," he said, immediately concerned. "I forgot how hot I am."

I spluttered incoherently for a moment, wondering whether he was being sarcastic, or vain, or mocking, or actually serious. I gave up, confused. He handed me my books, and I took them from him, muttering a thanks. We straightened up. My heart leapt. We were the only ones left in the classroom; everyone else had been dying to get home.

"I could carry your books to your car, if you want," he offered. I gawped at him. I had to be dreaming. Jared had never once looked at me, or smiled at me, or spoken to me, and now it was happening all in the same day. I thought I was going to explode.

"I don't own a car," I managed to choke out. "I walk."

"Then I insist on giving you a lift."

I stared at him in shock, before snapping myself out of it. He must think I'm an idiot. I keep staring at him like he's the only guy I've ever spoken to. I'm embarrassing myself.

"You don't have to," I stammered. "I'm sure you've more important things to be doing."

His expression shifted suddenly, and became one of intense sincerity.

"There's nothing more important," he said.

So I nodded, half petrified, half excited, and I finally allowed myself to hope.