She acts subtly different around me. When we sit together, there is a good meter between us. She doesn't rest her head on my shoulder anymore. She wears perfume. I can't find her peach lipgloss anywhere.
I'd give up anything to see what is going on in her mind. She must hate me. I hate me.
I try not to think of kissing. But, I love her too much.
YOU ARE READING
She
Teen Fiction** You would find her in a polaroid picture and she means everything to me. ** This is inspired by "She" by Dodie Clark, so the chapter titles are all Dodie's brilliant work. Yeah. Enjoy or whatever.
