C⃣h⃣a⃣p⃣t⃣e⃣r⃣ T⃣h⃣r⃣e⃣e⃣

There was a time when Harry and I would hang out all the time. He was my best friend and we used to do everything together.

It all started when I first moved into the house next door. Then it was my Mum, Dad, and I. And we had been happy. Very happy.

The Hollands, our new neighbors at the time, had lots of children around my age. Which I had been ecstatic about. I made friends with the boys living next to us, but got especially close to Harry. I'm not sure why. We just 'clicked'.

I'd be always going to his house or he would come to mine. We'd tell each other secrets. He told me he loved photography just like his mother, and soon after I became a kind of muse to him. In fact, most of the pictures hanging up on my wall were taken by him.

And when my mum died, everyone was so caring but Harry had been the one to really help me through it. He had held me in his arms and let me cry out all my tears. He was my shoulder to cry on.

We stayed friends for years.

The older we got the less I saw Harry as the boy that I hung with and the more I saw him as the young man that I was kind of in love with. He just seemed so perfect for me in so many ways.

And just like everyone else I wrote him a letter. I was afraid to ever tell him how I felt because I didn't want to ruin the friendship we had. His friendship meant everything to me at the time. In a way it still does.

He then began to travel a lot with his brothers, so I saw him less and less. We've been on good terms recently. But my feelings never went away.

Sometimes I find myself in moments like these. Leaning against my bedroom window. Watching him edit photos on his computer. I had been standing there for at least ten minutes.

"Just talk to me already." Harry's voice says in my head. That happens every so often. I'm might be going insane, but that's what happens when you're lovesick.

"I do talk to you."

"I wouldn't call saying 'hi' every other week 'talking'"

"You're a figment of my imagination. What do you know?"

"What are you doing?" I fall backwards out of shock. I quickly get back up to see my best friend standing in the middle of my room.

"What? Who? Me? Nothing," I respond, trying to calm my beating heart.

"Okay?" B/F questions, "I just came to check on you. How have you been?"

"You know me. Reading, eating, sleeping, and the occasional working."

B/F is my best friend. My only friend really. She knows basically everything about me. Nowadays, if I'm going to do something with someone, besides Dad, B/F is the person. Although we don't go out much. More like just stay home and watch Netflix.

"How about cleaning?" She questions.

I groan, "don't remind me. It was tortuous." I can be a little melodramatic at times. "I couldn't part with anything!"

B/F looks at my shelves packed with stuff. "Seriously? What about the multitude of cameras you have?" I stare at her. "You don't even take photos." She adds.

"But I might someday," I say.

"Right," she drags the word out. I never told her that they were from Harry but I think she figured it out on her own. I go to sit down on my bed. B/F joining me. "So what are you reading now?" She asks.

I pick up the book on my cluttered mess of a night table and pass it to her.

"Forbidden Kiss? You're kidding me, right?" She asks, seemingly out of disbelief.

"I love romance books. You know that," I say. Confused as to why she would believe I was reading something different from usual. She sits up straighter before speaking again.

"Y/N, you're 19. Don't you think you should start, I don't know, putting yourself out there?"

I sigh. Why'd she have to bring it up?

"I have already. I got a job, remember?" I defend myself.

"Working at the coffee shop across town is hardly putting yourself out there. Don't you want a boyfriend? Then you won't have to ride your bike every time you're afraid to drive."

I ignore her hit on my terrible driving.

"I guess so, but nobody wants to date me," I respond, truthfully.

"That's not true," she just says.

"Isn't it?" I ask.

No matter how many times B/F tells me that I should get a boyfriend, I can't help but think that it's impossible. The perfect guy for me doesn't even talk to me anymore.

Maybe I have been doomed to be single forever?