He made me feel wanted and beautiful and unnecessary and ridiculous all at once. We didn't talk anymore, but when we had it our conversations had been filled with careless flirting and, dare I say, hope. He was the perfect guy: intelligent, attractive, athletic, musical, romantic. I knew his reputation, of course - who didn't? - but isn't that the typical cycle of teenager-ism? Falling for the "player", hoping we'll be the one to put an end to his charming ways - so very cliché and yet all the more awful for it. I hated that he held so much power over me, this near-stranger of a boy, so brilliant at his game. I missed him.
