Is it true that we are capable of writing our stories or are we intertwined with the playful hands of fate? How much are you willing to give in search of true love and happiness?

As if life wasn't hard enough being bullied and treated like garbage all the time; my loathsome, insufferable seat mate just had to come with his "secrets" and torture my every waking hour. What's the big deal you say? Nothing except for the fact that he's some insanely beautiful Greek God under those nerdy glasses. And now, he lives next door. I'm Sarah and this is my story. Disclaimer: This story was written in 2011. Just so you know.

Published under Pop Fiction