10. The More You Hate

When Vanessa Dawson heard her youngest son slam the door and throw his bag on the floor before stomping into the TV room, she knew he was having a bad day.

"Time to get the Oreos out..." she said to herself, smiling.

Vanessa always had a soft spot for her youngest, who was still a third grader. She loved all three of her children (the eldest were twin girls, Audrey and Stacey, and were already in eighth grade), but Ryan Dawson, who had inherited her red hair, was her heart.

She slowly approached him, carrying a plate full of Double Stuffed Oreos, and a tall glass of milk. One of the old Spiderman films was on HBO, and he was watching it, uninterested. "Hey, Ry," Vanessa said softly, sitting next to him. "Got you some Oreos."

"Thanks, Mom," Ryan replied, looking at her slowly, a hand darting out to take an Oreo.

"Is this the first one, with Goblin?"

"Nah, Doc Ock," Ryan said, continuing to stare at the screen. "I'm glad it's this one; the third one sucked."

"Tell me about it," Vanessa replied, making Ryan laugh.

Ryan loved his mom. She was cool, not like other moms. She actually knew the names of the Avengers and all the superheroes, and didn't get Hawkeye and Captain America mixed up. She also knew all of their alter egos. Sometimes, he secretly thought that she was better at being a guy than his own dad, who didn't even like watching superhero movies. So, that was why he decided to tell her what was on his mind.

"There's this girl at school who won't leave me alone," he said sullenly, making Vanessa smile.

"What's her name?"

"Ugh. Mom. It's not like that," he said, looking at her and frowning. "She always, always, always teases me. She thinks she's so much better than me. She only raises her hand to answer if I'm raising my hand, and she always raises it first. And she kicks my chair and teases me about my glasses and-"

"Bully problems, Ry?" Alex Dawson, Vanessa's husband, came charging in the room, loosening his tie. He bent down to kiss Vanessa and Ryan on the forehead. "Give me his name, so-"

Vanessa shot her eyes at her husband. "She's a girl, Alex. Honestly." Ryan laughed.

"Then... uh... pull her pigtails or something. Nessie, do we have any steak?" Alex walked towards the kitchen. The twins paraded through the door, just arriving from school.

"Dad, no one wears pigtails anymore," Stacey and Audrey chorused, rolling their eyes. "Even the third graders. Right, Ry?"

"Uh, yeah," Ryan said, back to being quiet again. Vanessa sighed, and waited for the girls to go upstairs to talk or do homework, and for Alex to start cooking. When the living room was finally quiet, Vanessa turned back to Ryan.

"Does she make you mad, Ry?" Vanessa asked.

Ryan took another Oreo, and shook his head. "She's annoying, but she doesn't make me mad," he said thoughtfully. "She's like a -" he turned his head to the side, watching his mom, who had a smile on her face. He blushed. "Mom..."

"What?" she said, reaching a hand over to ruffle his head. "It's perfectly normal to have an enemy at your age."

"Really?"

She nodded. "There was this guy back when I was in second grade. He would tug my pigtails, duct tape things to my desk like gum and rocks and things... He even cut off a whole two inches off of my hair one time, and that was the last straw."

Ryan was fascinated. He had never heard this story before. "Then what happened?"

"Well, our moms got so fed up with us that they made us become friends." She smiled, reminiscing.

"And did you become friends?" Ryan asked doubtfully.

"We became best friends," Vanessa said, laughing at her son's incredulous face. "Now am I going to have to call this young lady's mother, or are you going to take it like a man?"

He paused, and shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I'm just going to have to see what she does tomorrow," he said, resigned. But she saw something in his eyes; his attitude towards the girl had changed. Success! she thought to herself, smiling. Now that the plate of Oreos was almost gone, she knew her job was done.

"I'm going to make some dinner, Ry. Those Oreos better not have spoiled your appetite." She told him, before getting up.

"No, mom," he said obediently, and she nodded. Before she exited the room, he called her attention. "Mom?"

"Mm?"

"Her name's Amy Robinson, by the way. Awful Amy."

She laughed, and shook her head at his nickname for her. Vanessa entered the kitchen, where her husband was already preparing the steak. "Girl problems?" he asked her, as she watched him sprinkle the meat with salt and pepper.

"Yup," she said, tying back her hair in a long ponytail. "He calls her Awful Amy," she said, standing next to him and winking.

"Awful Amy? Now I know he takes after you," he said, nudging her playfully with his shoulder.

"Of course he does, Awful Alex," she said, stepping up on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek.

Yay for more notes!

Hiii~! Okay, so here are some updates on my work.

1. It seems you guys are liking this, and at least viewing this. Thanks for all of that! Every time the numbers go up, I feel a bit more happy.

2. I have started to add lyric picture things to my stories. Like, whatever song I was listening to/was inspired by, will have their lyrics (or like a line or two) posted at the bottom. But I'm starting slowly, so yeah, don't expect them right away.

3. I am starting to love different pairings. These particular pairs (so far!) are of course, Gian and Olivia Elle, the rock star and the civilian; Levi Sawyer and Quinn Amity, the Gus and Hazel Grace of Daily Lovebugs; and just recently, Wesley and Andromeda, the poet and the introvert (although you haven't seen much of his 'poetry' yet). I will mark their little stories with 'A GO story', 'SQ' or 'WA'.

4. Upcoming stories: A request for Glory, a band story, and of course, a first kiss. Because I haven't written about anyone kissing anyone yet. Huh. I want it to be SPECIAL.

That's it for now! Thanks so much for following this blog. You guys are AWESOME. Because everything is awesome~!

9. Enigma

Tall, thin, wavy black hair and bright blue eyes. Black eyeliner, thick eyeglasses, and usually dark-colored clothes. She was quiet and didn't speak often, but there was no doubt she was brilliant and street smart. The only thing that didn't define her as the stereotypical introverted girl was the fact that she wasn't bullied. At all. She wasn't exactly a goth girl, she was just... well... shy. People respected her, and she had her own brand of coolness; her photographs. She could capture moments that were perfect. And people loved her pictures, but for some reason, there wasn't really one person who would become her friend.

That was the enigma that was Andromeda Vance.

The enigma was currently leaning against her locker, adjusting her eyeglasses before leaving for her next class. She was wearing a big black sweater over ratty jeans and a white tank. Her tattered Converse high tops were black and had stars doodled over the white spot on her toes. "Anj!"

She turned around and saw a... well there was no other way to describe the 'perky' cheerleader with long red hair and freckles over her nose. A common misconception was that all head cheerleaders were mean blondes with egos bigger than their hair. Not this one. "Daisy."

Daisy Carmichael grinned and reached out to grasp both of Andromeda's hands. "Anj, you have to be the photographer for the yearbook candid shots. Please."

Andromeda, fondly called 'Anj' or 'Andr' ('dr' sounded like 'j' for her classmates, but she honestly didn't mind. In her opinion, it was a really sweet nickname, although she had no problems with being called 'Andromeda'.), was the candid shot photographer last year. She loved what she did; more than that, she did an extremely good job because of her stealth. Being quiet meant she could take pictures of people without them knowing it.

People already subconsciously checked if their hair or makeup looked good whenever Andromeda passed by, even if she wasn't carrying around her trusty camera. She nodded shyly, and looked at Daisy with a small smile, even though Daisy was easily shorter than her. "Okay."

Daisy squealed. "Thank you! I'll be sure to tell the yearbook team. You rock, Anj!" she smiled, and leaned in for a hug, which Andromeda awkwardly accepted.

"Thanks," she said in a soft whisper, while Daisy walked - or flounced, away.

(*)

"Who's that?"

The new kid, Wesley Adams, nudged his new friend, Jackson Staunton, and nodded in the direction of the tall girl, and the slightly shorter, obviously preppy, redhead. Jackson turned away from ogling a girl with a tight shirt, and looked in the direction Wesley was pointing. "Oh, uhm, that's Daisy Carmichael. Wanna tap that? She's taken. You know. By like, four other guys."

Wesley was taken aback. She didn't seem like the type, so he told him. Jackson laughed, and Wesley was confused. "What's so funny?"

"I thought you were talking about Daisy. Nah, I see you mean Anj."

"Anj..." he said slowly, noting that there was a lot of unspoken words behind it. Anj... what was it short for? Angelina? Angelica? What was she like? Was she a studious student, or a druggie, or-

"Anj is... huh. Quiet."

"Quiet? In what way?" Wesley's attention went back to the duo, who were now in excited conversation; at least, Daisy was. She was practically jumping up and down with excitement, while 'Anj' looked like she had no idea what to do. He smiled to himself.

"She's a... what do they call those kinds of people that are like really shy and quiet-"

"An introvert?"

"Yeah!" Jackson clapped his hands and nodded excitedly. "Introvert. She's an introvert. But she takes really good pictures. I mean, really good pictures. She's really nice when you talk to her, but she's kinda... eh," he seemed embarrassed. "Kinda invisible."

"I see..." Wesley murmured, narrowing his dark blue eyes and running a hand through his dark hair. "Wait, what's 'Anj' short for?"

"Andromeda Vance," Jackson said immediately. Wesley gave him a quick grin, and Jackson flushed. "Everyone knows her name."

Wesley looked at Andromeda, and nearly chuckled when he saw her being embraced by the obviously enthusiastic Daisy Carmichael. He smiled to himself. "She sounds like an... Enigma."

(*)

Andromeda hugged her books to her chest as she watched Daisy flounce away, and was suddenly aware of the feeling that someone was watching her. She shuddered; she hated that feeling. Although, she couldn't help but look to the side, and was startled to see a tall, (way taller than her, which made her estimate his height at 6'2), good looking guy, staring right back at her. His hair was on the borderline of being too long, but it worked on him. She blushed, and realized that she had been ogling him. Abruptly turning away, she promised herself not to look back at this... Enigma.

Okay, maybe one more time.

She looked behind her, and caught him staring at her - again. She blushed, and turned away determinedly; but not before she saw him wink at her.

8. Guessing Game (An SQ Story)

"I think that it's just really unfair that you can tease me with MY middle name, and I can't tease you with yours."

"Well, better get used to that, because I love watching you pout. Ow!"

Quinn Amity Gregory scowled at Sawyer Neeman, her hand still bunched in a fist. Sawyer clutched at his shoulder, wincing. "That, I will not love. You pack a punch."

"And I thought you knew I box during my spare time," she said smugly, and opened her Anglo-Saxon literature book again. "Come on, study time is study time."

The two were now in their second semester at college - garnering high grades in their subjects. Sawyer was trying to make his extremely real feelings known to the subdued, studious Quinn, but she wouldn't give. Not externally, any way. Flipping the pages of her book absently, she mused about their lives. It wasn't that Quinn didn't like him - hell, she wasn't an idiot. She knew that Sawyer was practically a real life Augustus Waters. It was just that she needed a bit more proof than his amazingly wonderful attitude, and amazing good looks and laugh and smile and why on earth did she just not want to let him into her life? She groaned inwardly.

Sawyer had a small smile on his face as he watched her study. God, she's beautiful, he thought to himself. He found her just so goddamned interesting that he had invested about 5 months into getting to know her. The fact that she wouldn't give him a chance just made her even more interesting. Quinn was the first girl he was genuinely interested in, and even if she wouldn't believe him, he had to prove her wrong. "Tell you what, let's play a game. A challenge, if you will."

He watched her eyes snap up. Aha, he thought to himself. Quinn loved a challenge. "I'm listening..."

"If you can guess my middle name, I'll be a good boy for a good whole two weeks."

She returned his grin with a leveled stare. "Good boy, meaning...?"

"Meaning I'll study, not flirt with you, not make any sexual innuendos in class, get high grades, not cheat, uhm, basically, you know, your typical good boy." He rolled his eyes.

She laughed. "Okay, deal. How many chances do I get?" Quinn put away her book, which he took as a good sign. Whenever she put down whatever book she was reading, it meant her full attention was on him.

"As many as you want," he said confidently.

"You know I could just Google a baby name book and have your middle name by like, the end of our free period."

"You really think you have a chance at guessing my middle name in a book titled, '500,000 Baby Names'? he teased.

Quinn, who already had her phone out, scowled at him. "Alright, you have a point. Do I get hints?"

"If you go twenty names without being close, I'll start giving you hints," he said.

"Andrew, Adam, Brandon, Carter, Gregory, Jack, Keith, Noel, Nathan, Randall, Lionel, Michael, Thatcher, Chase, Stewart-"

"Imagine that. Sawyer Stewart Neeman." He shuddered. "It sounds so nerdy."

"Oh, shut up," she admonished. "For all you know, there's a completely buff Sawyer Stewart Neeman in... Paris or some other far-off place, who is tall, mysterious, and has had way more action than you."

"Neeman isn't a French name."

She glared at him. "Harry, Drew, Edward, Eric, Vance, Clayton, Tony - I think I'm over twenty, now."

"Alright, alright. Uhmmm let's see. You know this name because you say it a lot. Like, a whole lot."

Now she looked confused. "What? I do?" She thought back. "Trevor," she said, naming off one of their friends. He shook his head. "Alex, Donny, James?" She named another three of their classmates back in French 1. He shook his head again. "Robert." That was her father's name.

"Imagine what fun that would be if your dad and I had some similarities." He winked.

She groaned, and continued rattling off names, some so simple and mundane as "Bob" and even going as far as suggesting "Draco Malfoy" and "Napoleon". "I give up, Sawyer."

His eyes gleamed. "Seriously?"

"Yes." She sighed, and glared balefully at him. "I have this feeling you're pulling my leg. Ah, never mind. I prefer you as a bad boy, anyway." She turned away and blushed madly, hoping he wouldn't notice. She knew it would be ridiculous to even consider the thought.

"What was that? Could Quinn Amity Gregory actually have a soft spot for my bad boy-ness?" He inched closer to her, and watched in amusement as she inched away.

"Your head is getting way too big for my liking, Neeman," she hissed, and he fake-winced.

"Your hisses jab me in the heart with thy cruel words!" he cried out dramatically, turning away dramatically. When she didn't reply, he chuckled, and stared at her. "Shame though, since you actually guessed it right after you gave up."

Her eyes bugged open, and he nearly laughed out loud as he took in her surprised look. "What? What?"

"You guessed it," he said smugly, but without any malice.

Quinn screwed her face up in concentration and thought really, really hard. He waited for her to get it; he knew she would. She was a smart girl. Her eyes flew open then, and she hit him in the shoulder. Hard.

"Ow!!"

"Your middle name is Sawyer!?" she screeched, hitting him repeatedly. "You little bitch!"

He laughed out loud; he rarely saw her riled up like this. "I never said it was my first name," he said. "And you notice that I said nothing against you not knowing my middle name."

Sawyer let Quinn take out all her anger on him, and he smiled to himself. He was whipped. If this were any other girl, he'd find this annoying. But no. She finally ceased, and focused her brown eyes on him. "So what's your first name, then?" He had a small smirk on his face, and she groaned. "Are we going to go through the whole guessing game again? Because if we are I am so going to-"

"Levi."

"-make sure that I guess that and - wait, what?"

He smiled. "Levi Sawyer Neeman."

"Levi Sawyer Neeman." She tried it out, and Sawyer tried to hide how much he loved hearing her say his whole name. "Levi Sawyer Neeman." He laughed.

"I know my name's sexy, but you don't have to say it more times than necessary." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"So, can I call you Levi, now?"

He groaned. "Now I know how you feel when I call you Quinn Amity."

Her tone lightened, and she teased him. "Well, get used to it. I'm going to be calling you Levi for a long time."

Sawyer leaned in close to her, leaving her breathless. With his lips right next to her ear, he whispered. "Quinn, I'd let you call me anything you call me."

7. Steam

When she danced, he felt like she was setting his heart on fire.

Because she was a flame, an unending fire. An endless heat that flowed out of her fingertips into the souls of her audience. When she danced in the front, the audience went quiet; you could hear a pen drop.

When he danced, she felt like he soothed and smoothed down every fiber of her being.

He was a river, a continuous stream of cold water that just refreshed her. Drops of laughter and awe that rushed around her, making her feel at home. When he was dancing solo, it was like no one else was in the room.

Together, they were steam.

Together, they were fire and water; they were both a bubbling stream, and a concentrated, blue flame. They were known for their creative dances, for their undeniable chemistry.

And that was how they fell in love. 

6. Strangers in Airports

To Aya.

"Is there anyone sitting here?" 

Krystel looks up from An Imperial Affliction by Peter Van Houten. "I'm sorry, what?" 

A tall, dark-brown haired man who looks to be either her age or a year older, smiles down at her. It takes a while for Krystel to absorb the whole situation. She's currently waiting for her flight to Paris (business, not pleasure), which is a mere hour away from boarding. She had been waiting here for three hours, and was willing to walk to Paris if it meant she could get there before she boarded her plane. She finally looks up and appreciates the beauty that is the man smiling down at her, and wonders why on earth she decided now, of all days, to be dressed only in tattered jeans and a '#TeamCeleste' t-shirt. Suddenly, her white Converse sneakers seemed dirty and yellow-ish. 

He cleared his throat. "Sorry, I must have mumbled," he said sheepishly, offering her a smile. "I was wondering if anyone was sitting next to you?" Good lord, he's British, Krystel thought with a smile.

A quick glance around the waiting area confirmed her suspicion that the other seats were filling up. As if noticing her hesitation, he interceded quickly. "I mean, I know there are a few other seats left, but I don't exactly want to sit next to that guy," he said, nodding inconspicuously at a fat, balding, sleeping man, who occupied about two chairs, and had drool trickling down his double chin.

She laughed, the ice finally breaking, and moved her backpack off of the chair next to her. "It's a free country. And airport." 

Smiling gratefully at her, he eased down into the seat, letting out a huge sigh. "Thank you." He turned his head over to the side to smile at her. "You don't know how long I was debating with myself about asking you if I could sit here or not." 

"And the reason for that is...?" she left the statement unfinished, getting back to her book. 

"Well, you seemed so interested in that book. You look like the kind of person who prefers silence." He shrugged, his eyes (a nice, emerald green) asking her if he was correct.

Feeling suddenly conscious, she twirled a strand of her unruly black hair around her finger. "You could say that."

He suddenly slapped a hand against his forehead, making her jump. "I'm such an idiot."

Instead of asking him why he thought so, she shot him a questioning look, and he grinned. She realized that she liked it when he grinned; he seemed so boyish, and young. "Here I am, making all these assumptions about you, and acting like your best friend or something. And I don't even know your name. Heck, you don't know my name."

"Uh, so... you're asking for my name?" She clarified, not wanting to look like an idiot in front of him. 

He laughed, and nodded. "Yeah! Okay, I'll go first because it's traditional for the male to start. Hi. I'm Owen. I'm a twenty-two year old, six-foot, two inches tall child who doesn't know what he's doing in this world. I currently work as a banker, but I'd like to change that. My favorite color is brown and I like eating croissants." He paused. "Especially the ones with cheese. And you?" 

Krystel grinned. He was cute. "I'm Krystel. Twenty one years old and stuck in a boring world. I'm a dancer, and I'm on my way to Paris for this two month internship program my mom's forcing me to go to."

"Kryst-uhl," he tried saying, and failing miserably. His accent just wouldn't allow it. "Krystel," he said, finally. "Why do you say it in such a... unique manner?"

She shrugged. "Something I got from college. All my teachers would say my name like that. It was annoying at first, but I got used to it."

"Interesting," he said, "Wait, did you say you were going to Paris?"

Please let him be on the same flight as me, please let me be on the same flight as me... Oh, and please don't be a serial rapist- "Yeah. I leave in..." she checked her watch. "About thirty minutes. You?"

Owen looked like he practically deflated. "I'm on the one after yours, then. Shame."

She smiled kindly at him. "Well, it's not that big a deal."

"I like traveling with people I know," he said, frowning.

"So I'm guessing that it's a habit of yours to talk to random strangers in the waiting area?" she quipped, looking up at him. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"

"I could say the same for you," he said, sticking his tongue out.

"You're so mature," she giggled, getting her book, and opening it to the place where she left off.

"What's it about?"

"It's an extremely long story. Interesting and full of lovable characters. You'd probably like it."

He moved his head a bit so he could see the title. "An Imperial Affliction," he read slowly. "Sounds boring."

She closed the book with a snap, her brown eyes wide. "Oh my goodness! You did not just judge a book by its cover!"

"Well-"

"You did not! So not cool, Owen!" she gasped, and turned away from him.

She could hear him chuckle. "A bit touchy with your books, eh?"

"Try more than a bit," Krystel huffed. "People like that annoy me."

"Well..." he drawled out, poking her shoulder repeatedly. "You could convince me to read it."

She rose an eyebrow at him. "You lost your chance, bud."

"Ouch," he said, leaning backwards, clutching his heart. "Meanie." He saw the corners of her mouth lift up in a smile. "I was merely suggesting we discuss it over coffee and... a croissant?" he added, almost hopefully, and she couldn't help but grin and look over at him.

"Owen, I'm leaving in 15 minutes. I don't know what I could possibly say in 15 minutes that would convince you to read something you think is boring."

"Try me." The challenge in his emerald green eyes was clear, and Krystel loved a challenge.

"Alright, so you should read this book because-"

"I'm sold," he said quickly, and smiled at her.

"You're joking." She burst out, blushing wildly.

He laughed. "All I needed was your word, love, and I'd read anything you told me to read." He winked. "Look, I-"

"All passengers for flight 5JJ41 for Paris, please approach the boarding clerks now."

"My flight," she said slowly, wondering if this was a chance she was supposed to take. He seemed nice enough, and he was, okay, hot, but...

"Okay, look. I'll prove it to you. Uhm, uhm, uhm," he said quickly, obviously trying to catch her attention, even as she was gathering up her things. "Give me your name. I'll find you. I promise," he said. "I'll read An Imperial Affliction before seeing you again, and I will find you."

She paused, looking at him. He who was a complete stranger, who was... Ugh. She hated split seconds like this. "Krystel. Just Krystel. If you're really going to find me and prove it to me, I'm going to make you work for it," she said smugly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Instead of appearing afraid of her challenge, he seemed... inspired. "Consider it done," he said, and grinned at her. "Have a safe flight. Good bye!"

"You too. Bye!" she nodded back at him, thinking that as she boarded the plane, that he was just too good to be true; too handsome, too funny, too nice. That he would never find her, and would never read An Imperial Affliction.

Well, guess what?

After five days in Paris, he did.

5. The Fault in Our Text Messages

Dedicated to Glory and Aya.

Beep.

Quinn Gregory's eyes moved from her Literature 1 book and onto her cellphone.

One Message - Sawyer

She let a brief smile grace her features before reaching for her phone, leaving Odysseus and those damn Trojans and their horse for another hour. Sawyer Neeman sat behind her in her Lit 1 class, and also lived in the dorm building next to hers. He thought she was cool and opinionated. She thought he was down to earth and hilarious. Although nothing had really happened between the two of them yet, she loved imagining the possibilities.

Sawyer: Done studying?

She replied.

Quinn: No. Obviously. At least I'm studying, unlike some people.

Before she could get back to her book, her phone beeped again.

Sawyer: I have the book right in front of me, Q. See, Odysseus is riding a sheep right now.

Quinn rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out a bit as she keyed in a response. After checking her book to see if she was right, she pressed 'Send'.

Quinn: 1., He tied himself under the sheep, and didn't ride it. And 2., that just proves you aren't exactly reading the book, am I right?

She tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear, and adjusted her glasses. It was going to be a long night of studying. (And texting Sawyer) Her Lit 1 final was tomorrow afternoon, and if she didn't memorize the Odyssey, she would be one screwed Greek. Her phone beeped again.

Sawyer: Okay, you got me. But hear me out. It's a metaphor.

At that, she nearly burst out laughing.

Quinn: Are you actually quoting TFIOS at me?

The two had seen The Fault in Our Stars about two weeks ago with a couple of their other classmates, and they were all crazy about it. Quinn, the college bookworm, had been a fan of the book months before there was even a plan for a movie.

Sawyer: You see, you put the killing thing right in front of you, on your desk, but you don't give it the power to actually do the killing.

Quinn: Don't think I don't know you're failing Lit 1, and I can see how that's a metaphor for you. 

Sawyer: I'm on a roller coaster that only goes up, my friend.

She laughed out loud.

Quinn: That doesn't even make sense! You're FAILING.

It took awhile for him to answer, and Quinn finally had a chance to progress deeper into the Odyssey. The Greeks were just about to burst out of the Trojan Horse when he replied.

Sawyer: You do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices.

Quinn: Let me guess... This is about you getting exempted from the French final because you are 'tres magnifique' at it, isn't it? Meaning you have a choice in what subject you're failing in? 

Sawyer: Tres bien.

She snorted.

Quinn: Look, if you're going to be spouting nonsense at me, you might as well get a move on with studying Lit. Why are you even texting me when we have finals tomorrow?

Sawyer: Because you're beautiful. I enjoy texting beautiful people, and I decided awhile ago not to deny myself the simpler pleasures of existence.

Quinn couldn't help the blush crawling into her cheeks, and it took her a while to reply. She could practically imagine Sawyer's smug face as she replied to him. With sandy brown hair, green eyes, a dash of freckles sprinkled over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and a dimple on his right cheek as deep as the Marianas Trench, it was no doubt that he was one of the pretty ones. Why he chose to bother with her befuddled her.

In the end, after typing in and deleting various witty replies that ranged from quoting Hazel Grace herself, to a simple emoticon that didn't even express what she was feeling, she came up with one word, and pressed send.

Quinn: Study.

His reply was immediate, and she groaned.

Sawyer: Awww, did I make you all flustered? I can practically see you now: Red cheeks, pursed lips, and your eyeglasses off, somewhere next to your book, because you're rubbing your eyes.

Because of course that was what she was doing.

Quinn: Let's just say my thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations. 

Now entirely giving up on studying (heck, she'd go over it with her friends tomorrow morning), she pushed her book over to the side, got on her laptop, and Google'd 'The Fault in Our Stars quotes'. "Don't blame me, I didn't memorize the whole freaking book," she muttered to herself.

Sawyer: That's more like it. God, you're the best.

She smiled triumphantly. She knew what to reply to that.

Quinn: I bet you say that to all the girls who finance your international travels.

Sawyer: Are we going to Amsterdam? Can it wait for like 2 more weeks because I have finals tomorrow.

Quinn: Says the guy who didn't study!

Sawyer: Says the girl who's so smart she could be a scholar to Yale!

Quinn: I study because I want good grades. Not because of a scholarship, Neeman.

Sawyer: Oh, my God. I can't believe I have a crush on a girl with such cliche wishes.

It took a while for her to reply to that. "What, what, whaaaaaat?" she muttered to herself, staring at her phone and wondering when he'd text and say it was all a joke.

Sawyer: That wasn't a joke, FYI.

Sawyer: You realize that trying to keep your distance from me will not lessen my affections for you.

Sawyer: Oh, come on, I did not scare you off, Quinn.

Sawyer: Don't make me quote The Selection at you.

Sawyer: QUINN AMITY.

She winced. Sawyer was so annoying. And hot. But mostly, annoying.

Quinn: I swear to god, Sawyer, if you call me by my whole name one more time, I will delete you from my phone book. 

Sawyer: QUINN AMITY GREGORY

Sawyer: Okay delete that, I sent that before you replied. Don't hate me. 

Despite it all, she couldn't help but smile. He was honestly like a real life Augustus Waters.

Quinn: I don't hate you. I couldn't hate you.

Sawyer: Oh, you're warming up the cockles of my heart. 

Quinn: I couldn't hate someone who'd willingly let me cheat off of him during the French midterms.

Sawyer: You cruel, cold, female being.

Quinn laughed, and checked the clock. Her eyes widened when she realized that it was already 1am.

Quinn: Sawyer, you do realize that it's like 1 in the morning, right?

Sawyer: Time's a slut. She screws with everybody.

Quinn: Ha-ha. Look, I have to sleep. I didn't get any studying done, thanks to SOMEONE you know very well, so I have to cram tomorrow.

Sawyer: You think you have it bad? Try texting someone you can't get out of your head. Try absorbing Odysseus' story while texting THAT person.

She turned red, and tried diverting his attention, asking him something on a whim.

Quinn: Wanna study together tomorrow? 

Sawyer: Are you asking me out?

Quinn: How mature, Sawyer.

Sawyer: I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Yeah, sure. 8 okay?

Quinn: Okay.

Sawyer: Okay.

She knew where he was going with this, but she couldn't help but grin.

Quinn: Good night, Sawyer.

Sawyer: Good night, Quinn. 

Quinn: Sweet dreams.

Sawyer: Okay.

Quinn: Okay. 

Not expecting a reply, she crawled into her bed and slipped under the covers, taking her glasses off and setting them down next to her on the bedside table.

Beep.

Confused, she unlocked her phone and checked her messages.

Sawyer: Oh my god, stop flirting with me! 

Quinn shook her head and smiled, a blush growing on her face. She fell asleep thinking of witty replies and sandy hair. And as the days and weeks progressed, she found herself falling in love with him the way you fell asleep; slowly, and then all at once.

A little note

Most of you readers (if there are any) must have noticed that Superstar has a 'Part 1' at the end of the title.

While writing Superstar, I became attached to Olivia and Gian. Like, I fell in love with their characters in the brief time I had writing them. And I realized that I didn't want it to be the end of Olivia and Gian, because the two of them were so cute together! (Or should I say, Olivia Elle and Gian)

So, expect more of Olivia and Gian in the days to come, just not consecutively. :)

And if I get attached to another couple in the long run, they might also have part 2's, 3's, and many more parts.

Thanks for reading these, so far!

4. Superstar (Part 1)

In the middle of about a thousand people packed into a room with a capacity of probably only half of that number, it finally sinks in. She's going to meet him. Finally.

Olivia Daney practically convulses with excitement, shaking in her outfit, which consists of the ultimate Twenty Planets band t-shirt, skinny jeans, high top Converse sneakers doodled on with yes, planets, and a black beanie with little plush Saturns hanging off of it. Her long brown hair hangs in ringlets down her back, and her brown eyes look bright and shiny like stars.

In her arms is a framed picture of her favorite band of all time; Twenty Planets. The band was comprised of Eric Dawson; Vocalist, Stefano Hendricks; Bass, Eddy Greene; rhythm guitar, Winston "W" Wallberg; lead guitar, and Gian Lowly; drummer and back up vocals. Thanks to her family and friends, she had already collected Eric, Stefano, Eddy, and W's signatures, as birthday presents. But it was Gian who had been her idol since she had first heard them on the radio. Being a music fan since her early years, she was very picky with what music she listened to. But when Twenty Planets played their first song on the radio, it was love at first sight. Or sound.

Gian Lowly was, in Olivia's opinion, the closest thing to a musical god anyone could ever be. Gian Lowly was perfect. It had come to the point where even her friends and immediate family could tell you random facts about Twenty Planets' drummer, since she talked about him 24/7. Olivia managed a Twitter account dedicated to Gian that had about 4 thousand followers, and she already had a retweet from him.

Only fangirls would know the significance of that retweet.

She had saved for months on end for Gian's meet and greet with his fans about two states away from hers. The drummer was in the area for a charity dinner, and had decided to hold a meet and greet just before doing so. She was ecstatic. Olivia had stayed in line since 5 in the morning. She was going to see him if it killed her.

The meet and greet was supposed to start at 1 in the afternoon, and it was almost 2:30. Olivia didn't care though, and she wasn't complaining like the other 'fans' were. And she certainly wasn't leaving, like a small number of them were. No pain, no gain, she chanted inside her head.

And then suddenly, after about twenty more minutes of waiting, a door near the front of the room opened, and it was like her heart had finally flown to heaven. Gian Lowly stepped into the room, smiling and waving genuinely at everyone. Screaming like everyone else, Olivia jumped up and down with excitement.

Gian was wearing a white t-shirt with the words 'Doesn't get any better than this' on it (words from their first #1 Single), black jeans, and black Converse sneakers. You could see his tattoo of birds in flight peeking out just from under his shirt (the tattoo was on his collarbone), and also the tattoo of even more birds starting from his right wrist to his index finger.

Olivia knew the significance of birds in flight to him, and she thought it was perfectly wonderful. Someone spoke into a microphone, telling everyone to keep calm and exit through the door on the left once they had met Gian. Everyone was given only a very short amount of time to meet with him, due to the number of people, but no one was complaining, especially not Olivia.

Olivia would take 5 seconds, if she had to, as long as she met him.

The line trickled forward slowly, and Olivia listened, amused, as she heard girls squeal with excitement as he gamely posed for pictures with them, and guys ask questions about his drumming style, how he practiced, and much more. Twenty Planets was, Olivia loved to proclaim, not a girly boy band, like those groups Richter Town and Bon Voyage. Twenty Planets was... indescribable. 

There were finally only about five more people ahead of her, and she was practically quivering with excitement. Now that she was closer, she could appreciate finer details about Gian, like how his slightly long black hair covered his eyes when he leaned forward to autograph something, and how he was wearing his signature silver rose stud earring in his left ear, and how his eyes were the perfect shade of grayish blue that every girl dreamed a guy could have.

"Hey, there!" The girl right in front of her, who was wiping away her tears of joy with a handkerchief, moved away, and suddenly, it was her turn. Gian Lowly was finally speaking to her.

She stepped forward, her knees feeling like jelly, and smiled tentatively at him. "H-Hi!" she said, and handed over her framed picture. He's gorgeous up close, she thought to herself.

"Looks like you now have the complete set," he said in a joking tone, looking up at her with a genuine smile on his face. "What's your name?"

"O-Olivia," she said quickly, and blushed. What would he think of her, an eighteen-year-old who didn't know how to say a word without stuttering?

His smile didn't leave his face, however, and he pressed on. "Your whole name?"

"Oh, uh, Olivia Elle Daney," she said, giving herself a pat on the back for saying it straight.

"Olivia Elle Daney," he repeated. She loved the way her name sounded when he said it. He grinned again. "Beautiful name. It fits you."

She nearly screamed. Was he saying that she was beautiful?

She could die now.

He leaned forward and started to write something in the area next to his face. He was taking awhile, so Olivia leaned forward and tried to see what he was writing, but he had covered some of it with his hand. The only thing she could see was her name, Olivia Elle, but that was it. Once Gian had finally finished writing, he looked up and smiled at her, his gray-blue eyes sparkling. "Make sure you read it once you're out of the door, Olivia Elle," he said.

"Yeah, sure!" she said, nodding enthusiastically. "Uhm, before I forget, Gian, would it be too much if I asked to take a selfie with you?" she said, blushing. No one was with her to take the picture for her, but a selfie would be fine for her. Heck, any picture would be fine for her, as long as it was a picture.

Gian smiled, and nodded. "Sure! Come over here so we can have a proper picture." Once she had joined him on the other side of the table, he reached out and took the camera, holding it out so both of them would fit on the screen. He snapped it three times, and handed it back to her. "Now you have three pictures to choose from," he said, winking at her.

She nearly died. "Thanks! Again! I-I really love your music. You guys are great but you're the best. In my opinion. You're such a great drummer!" she let it all out in one go. "I especially love 'Writing this Song' because it's your first solo. And you have such a wonderful voice and... And I'll listen to you guys for the rest of my life! Thank you!" she said, knowing that this would probably be the first and last time she'd ever get to meet him.

His smiled widened, if that was possible. "Thank you, Olivia Elle," he said, and she wondered what on earth was with her whole name. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Same goes for me," she chirped, and noticed that the bodyguards were looking at her meaningfully, as if trying to tell her that her time was more than done. She sighed. All good things must come to an end. "I wish you all the best with your music. I hope you make more music for the rest of your lives!" she exclaimed. "Bye, Gian," she said, waving a bit before leaving the venue.

"Bye, Olivia Elle!" he said, smiling at her one more time before she disappeared behind the door.

The sudden sunlight outside made her squint her eyes. It didn't stop her from sighing dreamily, and leaning against the wall behind her with happiness. "He's so dreamy," she said to herself, clutching the picture frame to her chest. The feel of the picture frame was enough to make her remember his message for her, and she wondered what he had written.

Olivia Elle; you've made a great impression on me. This won't be our last meeting. Gian Lowly. 

She all but screamed.

3. A Yellow House and Shades of Purple

If Daniel was asked what his most vivid childhood memory was, he knew what he would answer in a heartbeat.

One word: Denise.

He remembered the yellow house next door, how her nickname, Denny, was so close to his (Danny), and how she used to ride that purple bike up and down the street for what looked like hours on end. Ever since he was old enough to remember, he could remember her. The yellow house and the purple bike.

What was funny was that he never had the guts to say 'hi' to her. Not then, not ever.

He'd watch her from his porch as she'd scream in glee as her older brothers would chase her, her long blonde hair flying in the wind. He'd watch her as she'd celebrate her fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh birthday parties, always wearing shades of purple. When he was finally old enough to understand that his feelings for her were more than just a childish obsession, she had moved away. He knew something had to have happened to their family; her mother was alone in the yellow house.

He wondered what had become of her; the sweet girl next door who had only spared smiles at him and yet, had managed to steal his four-year-old heart away. He often wondered if she'd changed; maybe she had dyed her hair black or got a nose ring. The 'maybes' changed every day. Maybe she had tattoos covering her arms. Maybe she was a redhead. Maybe she was a scholar to Yale. Maybe she was an athlete. Maybe she-

Daniel's finishing his homework in trigonometry when he hears it. A car pulls up to the yellow house, nearly eight years after it pulled away so long ago. A girl, no a woman, steps out of the driver's seat, a pair of shades balanced on her forehead, her blonde hair gathered up in high ponytail at the back of her head, a few tendrils escaping the ponytail holder. She looks at the yellow house for a long time, and smiles to herself.

This time, without hesitation, Daniel gets up and is out the door in seconds.

This time, he'll say hello.

Playlist: Lego House - Ed Sheeran

2. Mario Kart

Nate can't help but look at Eliza as she bites her lip, concentrated on finishing her Mario Kart race in first place. His eyes drink in the sight of his best friend; the red hair that was almost as fiery as her own attitude, and her sparkling blue eyes, made him feel all tingly inside. Nate catches himself looking (staring) at her lips again, and he blushes.

He wonders what it would be like to kiss her.

She suddenly turns to glare at him. "The heck's wrong with you? Race me like a man!" she sneers, and gets back to her game. 

Nate shakes his head, smiling absently to himself. As he does so, it is suddenly Eliza who is caught like a deer in the headlights. She always thought he was cute. Black hair and gray eyes that seemed to stare straight into her soul? And his glasses... She always thought his glasses were hot.

Lord, take me now.

His excited hoot brings her back into the world, and she growls as he overtakes her and wins the race. She curses. "I was a whole half lap ahead of you!" she pouts, and he laughs, and pinches her cheek. The action brings them closer than usual, and both of them blush as they practically jump apart.

Eliza's biting her lips again, wondering what in the world made her emotions and hormones go and think of her best friend of all people.

Nate's looking at her lips again, and he smiles to himself.

Maybe next time.

Playlist: "Lucky" Jason Mraz ft. Colbie Caillat

1. Love

She looked for love, thinking of candlelit dinners. Thinking of dozens of roses and walks on the beach. For her, love would be talking to each other on the phone until 3am. Love would be the cliched boy next door. She knew love would be love letters, and a first kiss underneath the rain.

Every time she met a guy, she looked for love endlessly. She looked for it underneath all of their shallow words, and meaningless actions. She had standards; she knew she deserved better.

She finally met someone who dared to make her care about him. He was simple; he bought her cookies, and brought her sunflowers instead of roses. He was shy, nothing close to the gallant knight in shining armor that she found in her dreams. He was a quick peck on the cheek, and he was the guy who would rather cross his arms than hold hands with her in the hallways.

Their dates were study dates, or Chinese take-out and a movie (most of the time, a Jackie Chan or some action movie), or drives out in his car as they sang out to old 80's songs. Their first kiss was clumsy, and their teeth banged into each other so hard that she saw stars.

But somehow, she knew as she looked into his brown eyes as he sheepishly tried to explain himself and say sorry for the awful kiss, that this was love.

Playlist: "So This is Love" - Ilene Woods (Cinderella)

The Obligatory Introduction Post

Hi, internet!

I'll keep this short and sweet, just for the sake of introducing to you guys what this blog will be about. I basically got this idea out of the blue, thinking, 'Wow, wouldn't it be cool if I could have a collection of cutesy little love stories?'

I mean, my personal blog is already filled to the brim with almost all of my love experiences, so why not have a blog filled purely with love stories?

I would also like to mention that these love stories wouldn't just be cute and happy and sweet. There will also be sad stories, heartbreaking ones.

I sincerely hope I make some people's day when I write these stories; hopefully, I'll have a story about every kind of love. First love, true love, puppy love, fake love, rebound love... Ah.

If you have anything you'd like to suggest, don't hesitate to comment them on any of my stories. :)

Thanks, and enjoy reading!