Austin's Attempt to Email Sam (POV)

Sitting in my room staring at the ceiling contemplating whether I should send Sam an email or look up her home address. Gosh, I feel terrible, the look on her face was engraved in my mind. How to clean up this mess was beyond me. Rubbing my hands across my face and letting out a sigh, deciding to go to my computer. Maybe I'll see if she is online, even though deep down I knew she wouldn't be. She doesn't have anything to say to me; yet I don't blame her, I wouldn't want to talk to me either. "Where do I start?" Speaking out loud hoping to have a spark in my imagination, but nothing came to mind. Starting the letter off with "Dear Sam,", my fingers were hoovering over the keyboard shaking, I was so nervous. How would she react to receiving an email from me? Would she even read it or would she discard it the moment it arrived in her mail box? Deciding the email was a bad idea, deleting the very little I had on my screen. Walking over to my bed returning to my gaze. The people chanting "Diner girl, Diner girl..." was playing over and over in my head, why didn't I stand up for her? She must have thought I was disappointed it was her. I wasn't though, why didn't I go after her once she left? Remembering our conversation at the diner last night, that had been the highlight of my day. The instant connection should have been a clue that she was Cinderella. How did I not see that? "Like you're wearing a mask." That should have blown her cover right there. I want to talk to her, but I don't know what to say or how to approach her after that disaster yesterday...I'm a coward and a phony. I reached for my yearbook and flipped through the pages until I came across Sam's picture. She looks so beautiful, yet I can't get over what everyone else thinks in order to be with her. Moving a few pages over I see my football picture. My dad insisted that I do the Heisman pose for the yearbook last year. Part of his plan is for me to win the Heisman Trophy, it would be an honor don't get me wrong, but it's just not what's important to me. The more I stared at my picture, the deeper in to my depression I sank. Slamming the yearbook shut and throwing it across my room, I had just completely lost my cool, which hardly ever happens. Forgetting my dad was just down the hall, hoping he wouldn't wake up. Waiting for him to storm down the hallway and kick the door in demanding to know what that noise was. Surprisingly, it never happened, thank god. Hitting a dead end I decided to call it a night even though I knew going to sleep was going to be a challenge. My dad would freak out if he knew I was up at this hour, considering the big game is tomorrow night. The USC scout will be there. Great, that's all he's going to talk about tomorrow. I need to find a way of this pretend world.