#ajsdkf

   ¿En serio quieres saber? Okay, uhm.. es una persona con excelente cabello.. muy suave y sedoso cuando logro tocarlo, me entretengo jugando con él. Me acepta los abrazos una vez que me acerco, tiendo a ser muy cariñosa y eso no les agrada a muchos pero no tiene problema con ello. Es muy gracioso, sabe como hacerme reír.  Siento que nos hemos conocido por años. Soy muy tonta por decir todas éstas cosas, perdón, ya no me hagan caso porfis; voy a terminar diciendo quién es y no quiero. 

I didn’t want to go last night; In fact, that was the last thing I wanted.

I wake up the next morning dreading school. As I tumble out of bed, wrapped up in the blue comforter my grandmother made, I think back on my dream last night. And the boy I met.

Danny. Too bad it was all a dream. He was cute. And funny and obviously too good to be real. I wish it wasn’t.

When I get to my bathroom, after finding my clothes for today, I hop in the shower and get ready within ten minutes. All that stuff you hear about teenage girls taking hours in the shower is a load of, well, crap. At least for me. Putting my makeup on is effortless. Padding down the hall back to my room, I see that I have thirty minutes before I need to leave for school. I sit down at my desk and pick up my charcoal. The paper before me is crisp and white. I begin drawing, with A Day to Remember playing from my iPod dock.

To this soundtrack I begin sketching his face. The charcoal lines are soft, but dark on the paper, outlining his eyes and face. The music playing affects the stroke of the pencil, so as ADTR switches to The Used, the lines get darker and more frantic.

Now that the sketching is done, I reach for the pastels while glancing at the clock. Five minutes? I have to hurry so I grab the green and start shading. There’s no time left as I finish and put away my supplies. Getting up and taking hold of my bag, I glance down at the mythical boy from my dream and walk out the door for another Monday.

OO

“He—my back.”

My heart is breaking, just looking at this boy. “Show me,” I whisper, because it’s so late at night and my father would kill me.

Danny lifts his black shirt—absently, I note the statue of an angel printed on the front—and I cringe. Red stripes mark his pale back, crisscrossing all the way to his shoulder-blades. “Danny…”

“Don’t. Please, don’t. I just…I need you.” His words are slurred. He’s been drinking. Dammit.

I sigh and pull his shirt back down. Tears prick my eyes. “God, you’ve got to do something about this!” But I don’t press the matter. My friend just slowly walks to my bed and sits. “Here, get your shoes off.” He toes them off and lifts them to the bed, lying down.

“Thank you, Alice. I…I need you.” I can’t hold my tears back. His voice is so small, so hurt. The pain is so visible there, and yet he seems to hide it so well. Saltwater drips from my chin onto my cami.