I. Am. Pathetic. A crush. On a senior. Really? Way to go.

But a beautiful senior.

But she's not perfect.

Is anyone really?

She's a senior. I'm a freshman. You're the brain. Do your job.

But I'm the heart.

Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

I first saw her on the third day of my first year in high school. She's not perfect. But she's pretty. She's cute. She's just my type. With her blonde hair in that regular ponytail, that laid-back attitude, her athleticism. Her uniform of adidas pants and a hoodie or tee shirt. That watch she seems to always have on her left wrist.

The fact that she always comes up on the morning announcements.

Congrats to Senior Captain, Rosalie Hale for scoring two goals during last night's game.

She hangs out in my class during last period, messing around with two of my classmates, her fellow teammates.

Those lucky bastards.

"I saw this in my car and was like, what the hell? Who does this belong to? And then looked through it and found your name and I realized this is yours!" The laugh that followed from those lips of hers forced a blush to rise from my neck to my cheeks.

Lucky bastard. Why were you in her car?

Why does she get to laugh with her?

Is she even into girls? Alice once asked.

I don't know, I had replied.

My fist clenched.

So did my heart.

Fuck. I cursed in my head as I had pressed down too tightly on my pencil. The point broke. I pulled out a pen and continued to work.

It's just a pathetic crush that'll possibly go away once she graduates.

Once she graduates.

Shit. Only nine months left.

Nine months.

I have nine months to either avoid her or suck it up and befriend her.

Avoid her. Less chances of embarrassing yourself.

But then I'll regret it.

You'll also regret confronting her. Possible embarrassment. You said so yourself, you don't know if she's even into girls. Much less you.

I closed my eyes, breathed in, opened them.

She was right there.

In my reach.

In her reach.

A foot away from me.

An inch away from her.

Is she dating anyone? asked Alice when I told her of my crush.

I don't know.

Duck your head. Don't let her see you. She doesn't know of your existence. Keep it that way.

"Bella. Do you have chapter three?"

Heads turned to me as the teacher asked for my work. I cleared my throat, set down my pen, and snuck a glance toward her.

She wasn't paying attention.

There was a sigh of relief. Then, a wave of hopelessness.

Not even when my name is basically called into her ear does she turn.

I brought the teacher my binder, watching as he made a check mark next to my name. I walk back to my seat.

Listen, Swan—

No. You listen you fucking bastard. No. Just no. Take your—our?—mind off of the soccer player and forget her. Please. I can't—I can't. She's out of my league. No. Stop. Please.

My soul sighs. My heart stutters, as if it were hesitating. My mind veers sharply away from soccer player land and focuses back on the work.

Just for now, and I know that later I will have to confront my feelings.

"Hey, hey," my best friend—Alice—greeted me as I walked her to lunch. I had biology right about now, but my teacher is always late. "Today's character day! Maybe a special someone dressed up," she raised her eyebrows suggestively. I blush.

We enter the cafeteria, Alice and I laughing along to one of her stories. We reach her table and right in front of us, is her. Alice just simply sits down, setting her backpack down, turning to face me, to continue her story.

I am already gone.

The image of cute rounded glasses, a blue shirt with the superman logo, black jeans, a white—flannel?—coat?—thing over her shoulders.

Fuck. I'm drooling.

"Bella? The answer, Miss?"

I'm lost. Emmett—my brother—elbows me and repeats the question.

The bell rings, and I find myself waiting for Alice so we could walk to our next class together. Emmett is beside me, when I see a blonde ponytail, a blue tee with white over it. My heart stops. So does my body.

She's hot. cute. adorable. sexy? everything.

I turn on my heel, walking up the stairs like a soldier running from hell, turn, and find her walking up the steps also. She doesn't see me.

But damn I see her.

"Bells! Wait up!" She turns and sees Emmett, stepping aside to let him through. I pull my hood up a bit to cover my neck and speed walk the rest of the way to class.

My mind is Still. On. Her.

I'm day-dreaming throughout the class.

"Did you see her or something?"

"Yeah," I gulp. I look up and— oh, God! I mentally groan.

Goddamn woman. How much better can you get?

A pencil is tucked behind her ear. Alice giggles and points, "Is that her?"

Jesus, I need new friends.

Rosalie whips her head my way, and I duck. I scowl and shove Alice along, telling her to keep walking. Emmett laughs and throws an arm around my shoulders. I turn to sneak a glance at—as Alice has dubbed her—my dream girl.

She's already walking away.

Emmett pats my shoulder.

Do you believe in soulmates?

The question swirls in my mind from one of my classes.

No, I scribble down. I believe that I am more capable of loving some more than others, but I do not believe that one person out of the 7.6 billion people in this world is made for me and me only.

I mean, what are the odds?

Even if I were to find my—though I do not believe they exist— "soulmate," what reassurance do I have that that one love will stay? With all the obstacles fait is surely going to throw at us, what guarantees my happily ever after?

Exactly.

My opinion may be a bit biased—if you find my mom tell her Dad and I are still waiting for her to return with the milk—due to the relationship—or lack of, therefore—between my mother and father.

What are soulmates, really?

If they were real, what's divorce? What's unrequited love? What's heartbreak?

Why does divorce exist? Why does unrequited love need to exist? Why does heartbreak exist?

Why?

Ali: so… I have a confession.

Bells: What is it?

Ali: so, during lunch I may or may not have hit your girl in the face.

Bells: I'm not following.

Ali: remember when you and emmett said you guys were gonna give my number out to some senior? Yeah well I have lunch with Rosalie so Jaz helped me out. I wrote your phone number down on a sheet of paper and he crumbled it. I threw the paper ball back and it may or may not have hit your girl in the face.

Bells: First off, she's not mine. Second off…

You

Did

What?

Ali: sorry! I thought you and Emmy really did it! So after her friends made sure Rosalie was okay, they opened the paper and—please don't kill me—they read your number.

I set my phone down.

Bells: Alice I swear to all the greater beings out there if I get a text from an unknown number…

Ali: but they only took a peek and then when they saw it was a number they threw it out.

Well, so much for hope.

The whole night, I waste. I am awake and I am checking my unread messages—zero of them—waiting for that unknown number I want so desperately to know by heart.

The message never came.

So much for hope.

A month passes.

I am still avoiding her.

She still doesn't know of my existence.

I am still pathetic.

She is still in the morning announcements.

Nothing's changed.

But.

But.

Eight months left.

Fuck. Time flies.

What do I do? Talk about a Catch 22.

Avoid her, is the first response my introvert self says. Avoid her cause, God, you've been hurt enough.

Maybe pain is worth the friendship?

She's not into girls. You're looking for a relationship with her some day. She's moving onto college. You're going to be a sophomore. See the picture?

Yes, brain. I do.

My soul whines.

It's Friday and the prep rally took over the last two periods. My phone now has twenty seven new photos and videos. The star of each and every one of them?

You've guessed it.

Call me obsessed, I don't freaking care anymore. This might as well be my first and very last crush in my life.

Let's make it last.

Not like she knows anyway.

I mean, some pictures and videos don't have her in it.

I'm not a creep.

I've tried to see next year, my future, but every time I close my eyes I see that smile. That earth shattering smile that I have never been the cause of.

It hurts.

It hurts because I know she won't be there.

And goddamn it woman get your fucking shit together because you've never held a conversation with the girl. Better yet, you've never even made eye contact.

Time flies. Time is still flying. I know only have eight? eight and a half? months left. I should have decided the first month, but I am an idiot. And now, now I must decide.

Avoid her.

Or become an—at the least—an acquaintance.

Do you believe in soulmates?

No, because then Love wouldn't be so beautifully cruel. So brutal. So selfish and self-destructive.

Love wouldn't hurt. It wouldn't be hard to find.

No, because then everyone would be happy. And I believe it's a good thing they don't exist because then if everyone is happy no one is happy.

You're welcome.

I have come up with a decision.

I shall avoid her, and moreover, avoid the embarrassment of being a female freshman crushing on the captain of the girls soccer team.

Eight. Months.

Tick tock.

Sucks. I know, sorry. Just wanted to post something and to help with my bored mind. I'll post a new chapter for my other stories soon. Have you ever had a crush on a senior as a freshman/sophomore? What're your thoughts on soulmates? Wanna make me laugh? Leave a review (please)!