IT WAS SIX YEARS ago and I was in my bedroom, reading a romance novel. I squealed on my bed as the male lead kissed the protagonist on her lips so passionately, even though everyone who ever read the book already knew that that scene was coming. I shut the book and covered my mouth, kicking my legs in the air with delight.

"Oh my God, Carter! It should be illegal to be this romantic," I said to the book cover, blushing from ear to ear.

Samantha opened the door and peered her head into my room, "Can you stop acting like a lunatic and come down for dinner?"

"I'm reading," I said curtly.

"That ain't no school textbook, I know that for sure. Come downstairs now."

I opened the novel, flipping the pages to where I stopped, "I'll come when I feel like it."

I couldn't find the page. What was the use of a bookmark if I wasn't going to ever use it?

"I don't have time for this," Samantha said, "Get your ass out now or I'm calling for mom."

I looked up at her, "You think I'm scared?"

"Mom!" Samantha yelled.

"Okay, okay, I'll be down in a sec," I softly hushed before I raised my voice, "Just leave me alone!"

I threw the novel in my hand at her but she shut the door before it could get to her. The book hit the closed door instead, defeatedly dropping to the ground thereafter.

Why did I have to have a sister? And why did it have to be her?

I got up from my bed and stomped over to the door, picking up the novel that was on the floor. I guess I'd have to read the rest of it after dinner.

I set the novel on my dressing table and headed towards the window to shut the blinds, replaying that kiss scene in my head over and over again. I thinned my lips.

How brutally these novels reminded me that my life was lonely. When would I ever get to experience that kind of sweet love? I like being cared for too and I could be as loving as those female leads. So, when would it be my turn?

When would I get to be loved?

I got the the window and paused. Did our new neighbours have a son my age?

I stared at the teenage boy through the window of his room that was right in front of mine. He was shirtless and setting up his room with so much focus that he didn't even notice that someone was intently staring at him- or did he?

His gaze slowly slid my way and I unconsciously ended up getting lost in his ocean eyes. He smiled so brightly as our eyes met, then rushed for his window.

"Hey," he said, resting his forearms on the windowsill.

I could now vividly see his chest and his tight abs. They sucked in all my attention to the point where I felt lost.

"H-Hi," I faintly replied as my voice had started to fail me.

The smile on his face slowly dissolved into a melting smirk and he wiped his lower lip with his thumb.

"I'm Thomas Archer," he confidently stated, "What's your name?"

I smiled, "Wendy Davis."

He turned to stare at his room, then looked back at me, "My room's never this messy. It's because we just moved in and I'm trying to set up-"

I laughed heartily, interrupting him.

"Sounds like an excuse, doesn't it?" He asked.

"Yeah," I replied, "But I get it. Moving can be a little messy."

I didn't 'get' anything. I had never moved houses in my life but for this guy in front of me, I'd get whatever he wanted me to.

Thomas exhaled, "And tiring too."

I stared at him, trying to hide my smile.

"You look like you're my age," he mentioned.

"That's what I thought too!" I laughed, "I'm fourteen."

"Oh, I'm a year older than you but that doesn't matter anyway. We should be friends."

Friends? I was already in love with you! Brown hair, blue eyes, a soft voice and a physique to die for. What more could I ask for?

"Wendy!" I heard my mom yell from downstairs.

"I should go," I said, slowly rolling down the blinds.

"Can you show me round the neighbourhood tomorrow?" He asked.

I smiled, "Okay."

I covered my mouth as I completely shut the blinds, squealing again.

"Wendy, if I come up there, you're not going to like yourself!" My mother yelled again.

I ran over to my wardrobe, looking at myself in the mirror. I hoped that his first impression of me wasn't that I was a damn ass ugly girl.

"Oh, leave her be," I heard my father say, "Samantha said she called her, so she'll be here soon."

I drew out some baby hairs from my low-bun hairstyle, "I should style my hair like this tomorrow."

I softly giggled, "I can't wait."

"No, I'm not raising my kids to disobey their parents," I could hear her stomping footsteps as she climbed up the stairs, "Wendy!"

My eyes widened as I finally got a hold of myself. I quickly ran out of the room, trying to hide that bashful smile on my face.

It never occurred to me that the little encounter I had with Thomas would build up into something beautiful over the years and suddenly topple off with a slight shake, shattering into pieces. That was my romance story.

"That was why he broke up with you?" Clara asked as I told her everything that happened on the night of our break up.

"Yeah," I wiped my tears with my handkerchief, staining it with make-up.

Clara drew a heart on the table with her index fingertip as we sat down opposite each other on the table in the private room.

"I didn't expect that," she said.

"I need to explain things to him properly but he blocked my calls and texts."

"Let go of him," Clara said at once.

"Why is everyone telling me to let go of him?" I yelled.

Adrian walked into the cafe, "I'm sorry for interrupting your girl talk but someone needs to close the cafe with me."

Clara got up from her chair, "I'll do it."

She turned to me as Adrian left the back room, "You should head out. I'll clean up for you."

Just why was she being so caring? Was she really trying to steal my boyfriend that day? Or was there another reason for her telling me to end things with Thomas?

"Thank you, Clara," I said to her.

She shrugged and walked out.

It was a little difficult to understand her but she still played her role as a friend. Maybe I shouldn't have slapped her so hard that day.

I picked up the glass cup on the table and drank the last drops of fruit juice in it. Moving over to my locker, I grabbed my bag and fixed my make-up before I headed out of the back room.

"You're going home?" Adrian inquired as I walked past him behind the counter.

"Don't bother her," Clara smiled at him, resting the side of her head on his shoulder while they wiped the countertop.

I walked out of the cafe and hailed a cab, wearing my headphones as I settled in the vehicle. I had wanted to pay Thomas a visit in his apartment but I couldn't risk getting double-crossed by Devin again. It had happened a little too much for me to be careless again. No matter how much I wanted to be back with Thomas, it was life over love.

The lyrics of one of Nathan Eiser's songs flowed from my grey headphones while the cab driver drove down the road. My phone beeped in my purse and I pulled it out to check my notification. It was a message from Annabelle; she sent me some photos from the wedding. I stared at the smiles on her and Scarlett's faces and tried to imitate them, only managing to awkwardly stretch my lips.

Why was it so difficult to fake happiness?

I dropped my wanna-be smile after so many attempts and stared out the window.

"I'm fine here," I said to the driver and he pulled over adjacent to the alley.

I got out of the vehicle and walked down the lonely alley, synchronising my steps with the beat of the song I listened to. I hummed along and slowly moved my arms as I drew closer to my apartment building. No one was here to stare at me, I could do as I wished. Darkness, serenity and music. The trio went along so well.

My little hand dance gradually infected my feet and I subconsciously began to dance. I laughed as I tried out one of Nathan's dance moves, knowing fully well that what I was doing was total crap.

But guess what? No one was there to see me?

I wondered how Nathan did this dance so smoothly. Even if I practised day and night for twenty years, I still couldn't be as good as he was. He was perfect and that was why I couldn't even stay mad at him for what happened at his concert.

Ending my dance with two steps and the deft movement of my hands, I panted softly. Just from ahead, I heard someone applaud and I looked up at him in surprise.

"That was nice if you asked me," said the young man in black attire as he stood upright from resting on the lit lamp-post.

"You're that guy right?" I blurted out as I took off my headphones.

He laughed, "If you're talking about the person your friend hit with a bag, then yes. I'm 'that guy'."

I smiled, "She didn't mean to do that. She was only trying to look out for me."

The song mildly oozed out of my headphones as we both remained quiet for a while. The silence was calming, very much unlike how one should feel when meeting someone new.

"You listen Nathan Eiser?" He inquired.

My eyes almost expanded twice their size. Did you know the worst question you could ever ask a fan? It was something of this sort.

I scoffed, "Do I listen to Nathan Eiser? Bro, I breathe Nathan Eiser. How could you even ask me that? Of course, I listen to his songs- all of them. His music resides in me; he's like my inspiration. Whenever I paint, I just have to listen to his songs. Even down to how he looks? God-dammit! He's drop-dead gorgeous. I'm so down bad. At this point, I think he needs to put a restraining order on me 'cause I'm so obsessed with him that I might just start stalking him. I mean..."

I stopped talking to take a deep breath. I looked up at the young man before me, embarrassed that I had been talking for so long that I had forgotten to breathe.

He laughed, "You're funny."

My cheeks reddened, "So, I really am a clown."

"That wasn't what I-"

"I was kidding," I laughed, "Would you like to visit my apartment? It's in the building just ahead."

He stared at his phone for a couple of seconds and then his blue eyes were back on me, "I'd have loved to, but it's late. I have just about half an hour to report back to my manager."

"You might need to pause the music playing on your phone," he added, "Except you intend to keep dancing."

I laughed in embarrassment, pausing the music that was still oozing from my headphones, "Do you listen to Nathan Eiser also?"

"Every sane person does. I'm a huge fan," he said.

"Oh, yeah? Then, did you attend his last tour concert?"

"I did," he squinted his eyes.

"Me too! There's a second concert next week, will you be attending that also?" I stared at him.

Surely he couldn't beat me at this. I was Nathan's biggest fan!

"Of course," he said.

"What?" I yelled, "How did you get both tickets?"

He held his stomach with his arms as he laughed softly. Although his laughter was muffled by the nose mask he was wearing, I could tell it was cute.

"You couldn't get the second?" He teased, "If you were a true fan as you claimed, you should have been able to get both... like me."

I looked away from him and furrowed my brows, "No need to brag about it."

So what? What if he got both tickets? I was more of a fangirl than he was.

With his index finger, he gently tilted my face back to meet his gaze as he stared into my eyes, "Do you want a ticket?"

"Will I be stupid to say no?" I replied, "Of course, I do want one! But how do I get it? It's all sold out."

"I can get you a ticket," he said.

"What? How?"

"Meet me here on Monday by eight and you'll find out," he said and let go of my chin.

"Do we have to beat someone up or something? This sounds a little sketchy."

"That might be because it's coming from a guy dressed in all-black."

I snickered.

He stared at his watch and took a step back, "I should get going. I'll see you on Monday."

I nodded, watching him turn around and head for the street ahead with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey!" I yelled as he was now a distance away from where I stood.

He turned around and settled his eyes on me. Everything about him glowed; I couldn't tell if that was how he naturally was or if it was all thanks to the lamp post. But if it was the lamp post that radiated so much light around him, then I guess it was biased. It had not done that to me before.

"You never told me your name!" I yelled out.

"You never told me yours either," he responded.

"My name's Wendy."

"Your name's pretty," he complimented.

I couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. That was a weird thing to say. Names didn't have faces to be called pretty.

"You can call me Scott," he added.

"Scott," I repeated.

"Exactly."

I smiled. His name suited his anonymity so well.

"I don't want to keep you waiting," I said, "You should go and meet with your manager."

He nodded and was about to turn around when I added with a smile.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Wendy."

He turned around and walked off.

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Tip: Wendy gave up on novels when she started dating Thomas.