CASY

We hug and smile at each other. I know we still have a million things to talk about and resolve and I know there are very important issues that we can't just ignore, but right now those issues are gonna have to wait. I want to cherish this moment. I want to enjoy her and the beginning of our friendship.

Hannah quickly pulls away and our hug ends. We look each other in the eyes, unsure what to say. No matter how much we know each other or how long it's been since we met, we always seem to end up in this awkward-nervous-embarrassing situation where none of us knows exactly what to say.

"I need to say something else," I nervously say, unsure if this will ruin the moment or not, but I need to be honest with her if we're going to be friends.

"Tell me."

"I lied about Leo and I... we're not dating. He's Dilara's boyfriend, as I told you, but the situation is too complicated for me to explain it to you. I know you probably don't understand anything and I'm sure you can't forget so easily about what you... witnessed in the school bathroom, and I can't either, really..." I look down, anguish taking over my body as I recall the horrible scene that happened two weeks ago. "But I promise you that someday I'll tell you everything, not now, but one day I will. Trust me" I tell her softly.

She stares at me, silent. Her expression is unreadable and I can't tell if she's mad at me or maybe furious, or maybe... I don't know.

"Yeah, I get it" she says, but I know she doesn't mean it. I know she wants to find out what's going on between Leo and me and she's damn right, but I can't tell her.

"Are you mad?" I dare to ask.

"No, just drop it" she says, a bit harsh and she must've noticed it because she takes a deep breath, smiles a weak smile and says, "let's focus on something else."

"Yeah" I smile back.

She stands on her feet and walks towards a desk near the bed. This room is tiny. I don't know how she manages to live here. And why the hell does she live here, anyway? I noticed today that she and her mom don't get along very well, maybe it's because of that?

"Maybe we could watch a movie and then talk and get to know each other. We could start sharing with each other small facts about us. Like, favorite food, ice-cream flavor..." I suggest breaking the ice.

"Sure, yeah, let's do that" she cheerfully says and goes back to the bed to sit next to me. I can feel she's now in a better mood.

"Okay, I'll start. When I was just a kid I used to have this idea that when I grow up I'll be a supermodel" I confess, laughing.

She joins me and says:

"Really? Well, that's great. That actually suits you perfectly. I mean, you're..." she trails off. Her eyes don't look at me anymore. Her cheeks are flushed and I know she's embarrassed for what she was about to say.

She's so cute when she's embarrassed... Okay, where did that come from?

"Okay, my turn. My biggest passion is to read and write novels. I didn't finish—"

"Do you write?" I interrupt her and I know it's rude but I'm surprised because of what she just said. I've never met anyone who writes before, so this is new for me. Well, I have a journal and I write there pretty often, but that's not the same as writing a novel.

"Yeah, I do," her voice tinted with pride.

"Since when?" I curiously ask.

"Since I was seven years old. I've started writing silly stories, you know, those with the blue prince, princesses, castles and a happy fucking ending," I laugh at her use of words and she does too. "Anyway, years later I was given a book as a present, it was a romantic novel and it was the first one I've ever read and I immediately loved it. I was captivated by the way the author managed to create two fictional characters that were just like humans. Those characters were a figment of the author's imagination, but I could feel them as if they were real people. That was magical for me. So I decided I wanted to create that too. I wanted to tell stories, connect with the reader, tell the untold, you know?" She pauses and studies my expression for a second. "I know it's silly, but—"

"Oh my God, no! It's not silly at all! I was just... astonished at what you said. It really is incredible the way you feel about books and stories, Hannah. Your eyes glow when you talk about that... I can tell this is really your passion. And I already knew about your love for books because your bedroom is full of them," I chuckle and she looks down and I notice her cheeks redden. She's embarrassed again. Why is she always embarrassed?

She shouldn't be. What I told her is true—it's clear she's passionate about this and, although I can't understand this deep love she feels for books as I don't read or write shit myself, I know she must be good at writing.

I move closer to her and take her hand in mine. "Hey," I quietly say and she looks up. "Did you write something? Can you show me?"

"Em..." she mumbles something I can't make out and she gets her hand off my grip and suddenly stands up. "I intended to write a lot of novels, but I haven't finished any yet. I wrote something a couple of weeks ago. It's silly, though," she nervously says.

"Oh c'mon! I bet it's not silly at all. I wanna read it" I say, encouraging her.

"Okay..." She grabs a paper with hand-written letters from the top drawer of her desk and hands it to me.

I take the paper in my hands and start reading:

'Just seeing him walking towards me makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter, my cheeks redden and burn from my thoughts of him.' That's a quote from Boulevard, something that the main character, Halsey Weigel, said and it just stuck to me. There's so much to think about that quote. So much to ask and so much to answer... like 'When am I going to feel that way about someone? Will my cheeks get redden because of someone? Will someone steal my heart? Will I ever feel butterflies in my stomach?' Those questions appeared in my mind as soon as I read that sentence and... it made me sad. It made me sad because I'm eighteen years old and I haven't experienced that kind of love. That kind of love you feel from head to toe. That kind of genuine love Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy had. That kind of overwhelming love Hardin and Tessa had. That kind of unconditional love Rosie and Alex had. That kind of love that everyone experiences at least once in life, but that I didn't get to experience yet.

I read millions of books. I have a collection of forty-five books on a shelf in my bedroom and I thought that made me a love-expert, but that's bullshit. I don't know shit about love. I don't know how love even feels! I just know the genuine love I feel for my books. The pure love I feel for a sheet of paper, written with magic words that can transform someone's life. That's the only kind of love I know. The only kind of love I'll ever know.

As soon as I finish reading it I'm... speechless and my eyes are filled with tears. It's... It's so... wow. I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever read. I can't believe Hannah has written something so moving and deep.

"And... what do you think?" she curiously asks.

I wanna tell her how amazing this is and how talented she is. I want to tell her that her passionate love for books is the most glorious thing I've ever seen. I want to tell her that you can actually sense the great fondness she has for books, just by reading these words. I want to tell her that she needs to write more often and consider this as a profession in the future. Instead, the only thing I can manage to say is:

"Did you write this before or after meeting me?"

I don't know why I even asked that. I'm stupid, I really am. Why did I ask that? I know the answer. I know I asked that because I want to know if she feels another kind of love now... I want to know if now she feels that, instead of loving just books, she feels she can love someone else... Anyway, it wasn't a question to ask right now.

She stares at me, confused and hesitantly replies:

"Before... meeting you..."

Relief. Relief is what I feel when I hear those words. I was worried she might have felt that after meeting me, which would have meant that she doesn't feel the same way I feel about her. Wait. What do I exactly feel about her? I haven't figured it out yet, or maybe I don't want to figure it out, but I know this burning sensation inside me it's not just because of our friendship... I know this means more.

Oh god, what am I thinking? We said we were going to be friends and, yet, here I am, thinking about this stupid feeling I've had since the day I met her! I'm so fucking stupid. I can't keep doing this. I can't think about her this way. We're friends, just friends. I don't care how she feels about me. I don't care how she feels about me. I don't care what she even thinks of me. I don't care how she feels about me...

God, I need to get the hell out of here.

"Em... this is... getting weird. I'm sorry, I have to go" I hurriedly say, wanting to disappear from this room as soon as possible.

Immediately after the words leave my mouth, I drop the paper and open the door and walk out of there, leaving Hannah alone and baffled in the middle of the hotel room number three hundred sixty-five.