fangirl | h.s

prologue

prologue

It was disgusting, and flat out wrong of me to even look at her the way I did. But I couldn't help it anymore. She was so intriguing, every little move she made, every word she spoke, it was so alluring and I could never find it in me to look away. I could never bring myself to leave her, to just walk out of her life and make things easier for the of both of us.

It was different. She was different. To the rest of the world, she might have been an ordinary, fourteen year old girl hopelessly in love with a boy from the most popular band in the world.

But to me, she is everything. To me, she was my last strand of hope that things can get better. She was that breath of relief I need when I think things can't get any worse. She was impossible, she was wild, and she was my sunshine. She gave me the happiness I didn't have, and she could fill the missing pieces of my heart with something as simple as her smile.

That smile. That charming smile of hers. God, it was beautiful. She was beautiful. There aren't enough words in the world to describe the beauty that young girl possessed.

She was only at the start of her adolescence, but she developed quickly, in all ways. It's sickening that I noticed, I know, but she was just so stunning. She didn't even know it. I remember perfectly just how self conscious she always was. Every time she'd finish eating, she would check her teeth on her phone screen in fear that there was something stuck in between her braces.

For five years, I've been exposed to thousands of girls. I could have any one of them. I could have one with the snap of my fingers, but never the one I really want.

She was the one I wanted.

And it's awful, it's inexcusably wrong. I don't know why, or what it is. I never had an interest in young girls before, but with her, it was like I was drawn to her. I wanted to be apart of her life, I wanted to know everything about her. Like what her favorite book is, or how she got her scars, or why she idolizes me without knowing me personally.

Maybe it was the way her brown eyes lit up when the sun was reflecting off of them, making them look like two golden sunshines, or maybe it was the one dimple that became prominent in her right cheek when she smiled at something simple. Hell, it might have even been the way her hair smacked back in forth with the wind when she was skipping out of my sight.

There was never a time that I didn't feel like a sick man, or a pervert after spending time with her. I never saw her as a sexual object though. She was so much more than that. She was like my Juliet, and I her Romeo.

I knew from the beginning that this would end badly. We'd never be able to be together, and I didn't want to admit to myself that it's what I wanted. I didn't want to say that I wanted to be with her because it made me feel even worse about myself.

I think that every time I would say that she was nothing more than a friend, or the baby sister I never had, I was trying to convince myself more than her.

It didn't seem to make that much of a difference though. No matter what I told myself, or how much I tried to stay away. I couldn't continue restraining myself from the girl I desperately desired to see. I always found a way back to her, and I forced my way into her life.

Anyone could see it. Every body knew how much I fancied the young girl, but they must have mistaken the adoration my eyes held when I would admire the precious girl from afar. They must have believed I was only watching after her; that I only adored her like she was a child of my own.

They were wrong.

There was no denying it.

I was, without a doubt desperately in love, with my Carolina.