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!