Unrequited

Prologue

I was thankful for the fact that the train back from the city was quiet. It gave me a chance to think. The past few weeks had become a blur - to the point where I was numb to the sheer abnormality of the things that had happened to me. I mean, I knew things like this didn’t happen everyday - especially to girls like me - but I couldn’t quite grasp the extent of it. I grew sleepy with the rhythmic rocking of the train, my thoughts now containing him and him alone. We jolted to a stop at an all but deserted station. The doors hissed open and two girls burst inside talking loudly and animatedly. I say ‘talking’ but I guess ‘squeaking’ or ‘screeching’ may have been more appropriate words to use. I groaned inwardly - my peaceful train ride home had been spoiled. The two girls decided, of all places, to sit right near me on the opposite side of the aisle. When God decides to frustrate me, he does a thorough job of it, I must say. The two chattering girls were probably about twelve or thirteen years old and their fashion sense showed a blatant disregard for the weather forecast. One pulled a magazine out of her bag and the pitch of their squawks seemed to escalate as they flicked through pages of celebrity scandals. I would have just put my iPod in and drowned out their inane comments at once but when one of the girls mentioned the name ‘Harry Styles’, I immediately tuned into their conversation and tried to decipher their almost unintelligible sentences and strange, flapping arm movements.

“What a bitch!” said one in disgust.

“OhmyGodIknowright? How dare she hold his hand like that! She’s all over him!”

“I wish we could see her face. I swear I’ll hunt her down; she can’t just steal Harry off us like that!”

“She’s probably really ugly.”

“Yeah, you can tell by the shape of her head.”

“Wait ‘til Harry meets us, then he’ll realise the meaning of true beauty. He must a little blind to be wasting his time with her.” I held in a snort. Surprising not only the two girls but also myself, I interrupted their little gossip-fest and said, “Excuse me, may I please have a look at that?” One girl slowly handed me the magazine, nose upturned. I took it from her and scanned over the page it was open to. A column of tiny text took up one side of the page and accompanying it was a somewhat pixelated photo of a couple taken from behind. The boy had dark curly hair, broad shoulders and his height completely dwarfed the girl whose hand he was holding. She wore a navy blue trench coat, the belt accentuating her slim waist and her dark hair fell in waves down her back. Her red platform heels did nothing to compromise their differing heights. The mechanical voiceover announced our arrival at my desired stop and I handed the magazine back to the snooty tweens, saying ‘Thankyou’ in a polite tone they were so undeserving of. I stepped off the train, immensely thankful that neither of the girls had noticed I was wearing those red heels again today or that my hair fanned out across my back just the way it had the night that photo was taken. If they had realised, I wouldn’t have put it past such obsessive fans to attempt strangling their ‘boyfriend stealer’ on the spot...and that would just spoil my day!