(Another story I dreamt of. Kinda weird, but really cool.) All I was, all I am, and all I will be for the next four years of my life, is a teenage girl. I'm just average. No, I'm not attention seeking when I say this, but I am just average. You can look at my friends, they're all beautiful and interesting. I'm text book. They all have tons of guys looking them over, and I don't even know of one who "like" likes me, and we all say that we're not the types of girl guys fall in love with. See where I'm coming from? Then there was that night. I had a dance recital. It was normal for me, I've danced since I was six years old. No big deal. Aside from the fact of an international place was at chance... And except for the note I got. It was a cell number. Once I started texting him, I couldn't help but fall in love with him. He never told me his real name for the longest time, but I called him as he signed off: Square.