When we were wintergirls

If looks could freeze, I'd be ice by now

I feel like this story can get so redundant sometimes, me repeating the same wishes, the same pains. But the truth is, that just what goes around my head when I think of Katelyn. I can only write these stories when I can let go of my consciousness and lose myself in the memory, the scent of her.
That takes a lot of heart, and energy out of me.
But sometimes it's what I need.
When I close my eyes I can see her smile, hear her laugh, feel her shoulder brush against mine. I can see every inch of her from head to toe when I shut these eyes.
That's not even a sexual thing, I've just held on to every single last bit of my memory of her that I possibly could and I cherished it, locked away in this story, I suppose.
If she ever saw this, I wonder if she'd be angry, or if she'd be sad that it hurt me so much, maybe she'd be surprised because she'd never known that I loved her.
The second to last week of school I saw her with her group of popular friends, sitting around and judging everyone. This was the first time I had seen her in two weeks and I was so relieved that I began to cry. I ran to her and asked her where she'd been. She scoffed at me. Gave me that "what the fuck are you doing talking to me, you disgusting filth?" look. It felt like I'd been stabbed, and I stood there in silence for a while, not knowing quite how to respond. Finally I stuttered
"Are.. Are you going to be at the last day of school party next week? When we go to Wild Mountain?"
She scoffed again, looking me up and down with disgust plain on her face.
"No, of course not," she spat, as if the mere thought made her stomach churn.
"That sounds stupid, and boring as fuck, and I have better things to do. Why don't you go back to your loser friends?"
I was so shocked, I could barely breathe. I stood there, and I'm sure I looked like an idiot, with my mouth hanging wide open.
"Well?" She demanded, "this is the point where you leave me alone!"
I spun around and ran away as the tears poured down my face. Not a single bit of remorse had crossed her face, but when I passed her later, I could've sworn I heard her say
"I'm sorry."