What He Wrote

Chapter 4

A/n- As you may (or may not) have noticed, most of this story is written in flashbacks or memories. I will most likely not be labeling whether the chapter is in present or past, but I believe that it will be fairly easy to figure out. Also, nearly none of this story will be be in the order that it "really happened," because that is not how the human mind works. You pick out random memories day by day, rather than thinking about them all in chronological order.

I just wanted to explain where this was going! Read and comment of course (you know how much I love hearing your opinions/reactions).

Thank you x

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Cleo humorously labelled herself an "unslutty slut." She came up with that nickname after the third football game of Sophomore year when she crushed yet another boy's hopes and dreams of becoming her boyfriend. Of course, this was before my feelings for Cleo were realized and while her feelings were being developed.

Cleo did absolutely nothing besides being herself. That was enough to attract half the guys in our grade. She often befriended them, but the friendships rarely lasted after they admitted their feelings and discovered that they were unrequited.

She genuinely liked some of the guys, too. It was just that Cleo was deathly afraid of commitment. It wasn't like she had had her heart broken (although she did, but that's a story for some other time) and no longer wanted to be in a relationship for fear of being broken again. Her parents, though they did eventually divorce, were fairly happy with their relationship at the time. Nothing happened to her involving death, rape, or abandonment up until that point in her life.

She was just fiercely independent.

She never felt the need to have a boyfriend or fall in love. She was sort of cynical, really. Guys just didn't realize that until it was too late.

There was something undeniably sexy about her, I'll admit. It wasn't so much a looks kind of thing as it was a mental air to her; a confidence. Though she was beautiful, with her heart-shaped-but-not-quite face, tall, borderline lanky body, and more-often-than-not red nails. She carried herself like she knew everything and nothing about the world.

Cleo hated being handled or protected though. She didn't do jealousy. If another guy came up to her and she enjoyed the conversation, you better not not scare him off because you're her boyfriend or she will dump you before the party ends. She hated it when guys would start fights over her or put a protective arm around her waist when another male walked past. Possessiveness just completely disgusted Cleo.

I think that independence was part of what made her more alluring than other girls. Guys wanted to be the one who finally cracked the case. They wanted to be the guy who finally did what all else failed at. I guess the best way I could put it is like being a little kid and getting a sugary cereal with a contest on the back. Not only do you have the cereal, you have a chance to win the game.

But Cleo was never a game to me, and perhaps that's how I became the winner.