X?

If Connor only knew what that X did to me...

That his X meant more to me than just some letter on a touch screen. It wasn't just a letter, it was everything, and more, and he didn't know that. And probably never would

The whole day had thrown me. His sad eyes, his head on my shoulder, that kiss on the cheek, and that dance move. He'd twirled me around and I'd fallen into his chest...and something happened. I'd felt something anyway, but of course, he hadn't. So the last thing I needed was that stupid bloody"X". I felt like a big, old idiot—again.

God I needed to get a life. I was pining for someone I could never really have. Maybe I needed to date someone, find someone else and fall head over heels in love. Then I could do all that cute relationship stuff: stay up all night on the phone, giggling, texting, sending each other pics. Maybe then, I would finally get over Connor. I scoffed loudly—wishful thinking.

I started getting ready for bed and instinctively looked out my window.

Connor was just too close—literally. His house was a double story and our rooms were at eyelevel and separated only by a patch of lawn, a small fence and hedge. That's it. The tree between our windows had only started to obscure the view. When he'd first moved in, the tree had been small. But it had grown with each passing year, kinda like my love for him.

His lights were still on and I was just about to turn away when I saw a shadow slide across the wall. The shadow moved towards the window until I could see him, fully illuminated in all his glory. He gave me a small wave, a smile and then closed his curtains. I took that as my cue to close mine too and climb into bed. I couldn't imagine how Connor was feeling right now, and I felt so completely powerless to help him. His parents were getting a divorce and his life, as he knew it, would never be the same again. My heart broke for him, as I tried to put myself in his shoes.

Suddenly, my phone lit up.

Connor: Now I know you're stalking me.

A smile broke out across my face. God, did he have to make loving him to damn easy?

I started typing back.

Sadie: Haha! You wish.

Connor: I do

What? My heart slammed into my ribcage, bounced off it and hit my diaphragm before shooting back into my chest where it settled into a gallop.

WTF did that mean?

That sounded distinctly flirty. Or was I reading too much into it?

These late night message sessions were a regular thing for us, and sometimes they left me feeling giddy. I often woke up in the morning with a smile before I realized with a mortifying thud that everything I'd said had been so loaded, but to no avail. I was always trying to steer the conversation towards a place it never seemed to go—How dumb is that? I guess it's easier to hint at things than to risk saying it face-to-face. But it never worked. Every time I tried to say something flirty or loaded, he just replied to me as if I was still his "dude" living next door.

But now, it seemed like he was waiting for me to flirt back and I had no idea how to respond. I was almost about to stop breathing when another message came through.

Connor: Sorry. Accidentally pressed send before I finished typing. I meant to say 'I don't think I'd be very interesting to stalk.'

And now my galloping heart, stumbled, fell and cracked. I took a deep breath and replied.

Sadie: Yeah. Ur totally boring.

Connor: Night

Sadie: Night

I pulled my duvet over my head, closed my eyes and lay in the dark for a while. A million emotions started gnawing at me, but the main one right now, that one that was sitting uncomfortably in my stomach, pushing and pulling and tugging, was guilt.

"You'd never lie to me, not like them." His words echoed in my head.

I had been so prepared to tell him the truth that morning, with every fibre of my being. I'd psyched myself up for it. But when I'd seen him there in the tree, with everything going on in his life...what the hell was I going to do now?

I turned over and tried to get comfortable in my bed, but it felt surprisingly hard tonight. Or maybe my body was just tense. There was one thing I was sure of though, I certainly wasn't doing to his Sherlock Holmes party on Saturday night. I didn't think my fragile heart would be able to take that. The party was the last thing I thought about when I finally fell asleep.

**

I woke up with a feeling of dread. The day was spread out in front of me like an ugly smear of thick, sticky strawberry jam and I imagined myself like an ant who was about to get stuck in it. All I could think about was the party, how Connor was going to be staring at all of Brenna's friends, flirting and wondering if this girl or that girl could be the kisser, while I stood on the side-lines like some discarded third wheel wearing a plastic smile.

There was no way I was going to suffer through an evening like that by myself. And that's when the idea popped into my head. And the second I had the idea; I knew it was a very bad one. But it was also the only idea I had. So as soon as I got to school, I put my terrible idea in motion. I seemed to be acting on a lot of terrible ideas at the moment.

I caught up with him in the school corridor on his way to class.

"Hey Jarrod?" I said.

He swung around quickly with a look of shock plastered across his face. "Sadie? Hey. Hey. Sadie."

It was no secret that Jarrod had a crush on me. This made him a pretty rare species at our school. I'm totally not sure why he likes me exactly. Perhaps it was because we were both outsiders, each in our own special way. Jarrod was some kind of genius online gamer. Apparently he got paid crap loads of money to play games and search out their weaknesses. He was that good.

We'd gotten to know each other a year back when we'd been paired together for a science project. At the time I remember thinking that if only I could like him as much as he liked me, how much easier my life would be? I tried to force myself to think of him in that way, force myself to like him, and for a very short-lived moment it almost worked. We landed up dating for a while. There was some kissing, some second base exploration, and that was it. I decided I had to end it one night when he was kissing me and all I could think about was how much I wanted it to be Connor.

"What are you doing tonight?" I asked.

"Uh...um... huh?" He looked shell-shocked. I didn't blame him. "Nothing."

"Wanna come to this thing that Connor is having at his house?"

"Oh," he suddenly looked less enthused. "Connor's having 'a thing'?"

"Yeah, it's just a casual get together and I thought you might want to come. Nothing hectic. Just a bunch of friends." I emphasized the word friends, just to make sure he wasn't getting the wrong idea. I didn't want him thinking this was a date—But what was this? What the hell was I doing?

"Sure!" He almost shouted the word at me.

"Awesome. Meet me at my place at 7:00."

Jarrod nodded eagerly and I walked off, feeling terrible about what I'd just done. I was making Jarrod the fourth wheel, to make myself feel better.

The rest of the day was a nightmare. That feeling of dread grew with each passing hour and seemed to follow me from class to class. The feeling only intensified as it got closer to six and it was time to start getting ready. At that point, the dread had morphed into something that resembled a twisting, writhing worm in my intestines. But before the dread threatened to turn into some full blown bloody panic attack, McKenzie burst through my door—. Just what I needed.

She slithered up onto my bed and with barely-masked ridicule, cooed at me. "Where you going tonight?"

With her, simple questions or statements always seemed to have a mocking quality. Everything that came out of her mouth seemed laced with poison. It hadn't always been like that though. We'd been so close once, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. She twirled her hair around her finger. She looked exactly like me, but also nothing at all like me. Looking at her was like looking into a mirror that didn't reflect your likeness, but rather the most opposite thing from you.

"So?" She asked again, and I knew she wouldn't leave until I told her something.

"Connor is having a thing at his house," I said dismissively, pulling my shirt over my head. "Brenna is bringing her friends and—"

"Why she inviting those bitches?"

I rolled my eyes. "They're not bitches." I hated how my sister talked—Such a cliché.

"Whatevs," she said— (even more clichéd)

"Are you going wearing that?" She looked me up and down and scrunched her nose like I was a big, smelly pile of dog shit.

"What's wrong with this?"

"Please, Sadie...Welcome to Bermuda? Nice palm tree. Are you serious?"

She got up and started walking to the door. "He's never going to notice you if you keep dressing like a boy." With that, she pranced out of the room and closed the door, and I thought I heard a small chuckle.

I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. My jeans were old and frayed around the bottom, and my shoes looked dirty, and the shirt...she was right...I looked like shit.

He's never going to notice you if you dress like a boy.

I glanced over at my table and saw that my mother had added more mascara to my unused pile of makeup that was getting bigger by the day. I sat at the table and picked the it up; lip-gloss, a pencil, a few brushes, some shimmery stuff. What the hell was I supposed to do with this stuff anyway?

I opened my computer and searched YouTube for one of those make-up tutorials- you can teach yourself anything on the Internet. But after a few minutes of watching someone talk about cheek contouring and other things I didn't understand, I slammed the computer shut—I'm not that clueless. Surely? I could improvise. Couldn't I?

So I slapped on some lip gloss, made my second attempt at mascara, and splashed a dollop of bronze shimmery shit on my cheeks. Then I ran a brush through my hair. It flopped into its usual position almost immediately. That half- up, half-down, neither here nor there, non- descript thing. —Whatever, it wasn't meant to be a hairstyle anyway. It was a statement. God knows what it was saying tonight though.

I walked over to my closet and started scrounging through my pile of shirts hoping for something less faded and touristy. I found one of Mackenzie's strappy tops that had made its way into my clothing pile. I held it up and for a moment and regarded it suspiciously. It was a simple white tank top, but still it was way too low in the front and way too tight for my liking. But, what the hell, hey? I tried it on and once I had, I did a double take—Holy sh—

I had boobs—Seriously, when the hell had that happened?

I was so transfixed by the mounds on my chest that I barely registered the doorbell ringing. It was only when my sister's shrill, mocking voice rang through the house that I remembered Jarrod had even been invited. A stab of regret hit me.

"Sadie, your date's here!" I cringed at the sound of McKenzie's voice and the words she used—Date?! Shut up, McKenzie. I didn't want to give Jarrod the wrong idea.

I rushed downstairs before she could do more damage. But, when I got near the bottom, and saw the smile on Jarrod's face, I knew that her evil work had done the trick. He smiled up at me with such expectation that I felt awful! I was officially a bad person. And I was officially digging myself so many holes that I was bound to trip and fall into one and not be able to climb out.

"Hey." I gave him a quick nod and he smiled even more.

From behind me I heard McKenzie patronizing us. "Ooohh. It's so cute that you guys are dating again." She flashed me an icy smile and I ignored her, grabbed a grinning from-ear-to-ear Jarrod by the arm, and rushed him outside and away from her.