for nikayla, who is so sweet and relatable and funny and deserves the world.

I glanced not so discreetly at him, reveling in his chiseled jaw and sandy brown hair as he let out a tired sigh. He's tired. I thought to myself as I noticed the deep bags under his eyes and how his usually plump lips were chapped and dry. His locker is four away from mine, which results in perfect stalking and day dreaming for the day that he forgives me and is once again mine. But for now, I'll stick to stalking.

He's dressed in his modern, typical day outfit—khaki pants, black and grey speckled Nike Roshes, a plain orange tee shirt and his black and white letter man jacket. He dresses like all of the other popular guys now, which surprises me. When he was friends with us he would wear sweatpants and plain sneakers and a plain tee shirt, along with his glasses that I always though made him look adorable. Now he has contacts, and he styles his hair a certain way so that he's just another replica of the new life he's chosen.

The new life that I'm not a part of.

Ford yawns slowly, making a soft noise as he does so that only makes my heart warmer inside of my chest. I'm reminded of all of those mornings waking up next to him and hearing that sound, along with a sigh of comfort as he'd hold me close beside him. I miss those moments almost as much as I miss him, and each morning when I wake up all alone by myself I wonder if he even remembers.

I'm just so sick of myself sometimes. I'm sick of how much I miss him and how much of a wuss I become when ever I think of him. I'm sick of watching his life go by while I remain at a standstill just waiting for him to press play. And most of all, I'm sick of my heart still bleeding for him and refusing to heal it's wounds, I'm sick of waiting on him to heal them.

I'm just about to do something, to harness the small amount of guts that I have left when a perky blonde with large breasts saunters over to Ford and plasters her self on his locker so that all can be seen is her perkiness and her large breasts.

I purse my lips, waiting and hoping to God that he makes her leave somehow. But instead, he plasters on a smile and leans his arm onto the locker beside her. They start to converse, her giggling and running her hand up and down his lean chest while he smiles and breaths his warm air onto her face. The girl is insanely pretty, with wavy blonde hair and exhilarating green eyes that seem to entrance him. I glance at the mirror in my locker, only to be disappointed with my average looks. My brown hair is braided into two French braids down my shoulders, my boxy glasses take up a large portion of my face, and my bags aren't nearly as adorable as Fords. While the blonde looks effortlessly pretty in tight jeans and a crop top, I opted for spandex leggings that lead into worn Sperry Topsider boots and a light blue tee shirt that I got from homecoming my freshman year. It's obvious that I'm a 5 and she's a solid 10.

Just as I assume that things between the two can't get any more heart breaking, the girl leans forward and presses her lips onto Ford's. He responds by grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head so that he has the upper hand, and then kisses her even harder. She wraps her leg around his waist and pulls him extremely close to her so that they're bodies are touching and they're molded as one—one single being that lives and breaths off of each other.

To say that I feel sick is a complete understatement. I feel like my body is burning from the inside out.

Hot tears burn against my eyelids as I finally look away and finish shoving my first four periods into my light blue Hershel backpack. Just as I'm about to make a mad dash for the bathroom and have a good crying session while simultaneously barfing my brains out, I look up and see that Landon is quickly making his way over to me.

"Hey—" He begins with a smile before noticing my pained composure. Landon's eyes connect with mine before glancing in the direction that they're faced, and it's then that I can see the anger practically jumping off of him. He whips around, eyes slightly aflame. "Did he do something again?"

"No," I croak. "I-I just—"

"Don't try to protect him." Landon orders while shutting my locker and walking along beside me to my next class—health. "If he did something to you than it's my God forsaken right to know so that I can kick his ass."

"He didn't do anything Landon." I mutter. "In fact, I honestly wish he had."

"Why?" Landon steps in front of me, completely blocking my walkway and forcing me to look at him and his dark jeans, black slip ons and Panic! At The Disco tee shirt. "So that he can make you feel like crap again?"

"I feel like crap without Ford." I remind him, but he doesn't seem to listen or hear me as he rants on.

"I don't know if you noticed this, Leah, but I'm kind of sick of this shit. I'm sick and tired of watching you fawn over a guy who couldn't give two craps about you or what you're going through." Landon tells me, looking me square in the eye as he does so.

I look away from him for a second and glance at Ford, only to see that he's still deep in his makeout session with the blonde. Landon's rough fingers gently grip my cheek and turn my head until our eyes lock, and I gulp from the pure intensity that he's pouring into me. "You deserve so much more than him." He says softly. "You deserve the world."

I want to believe him, I really do, but it seems like my heart just won't let him. If I deserved the world, then why isn't Ford by my side and making my entire soul ignite? If I deserve the world, than how come the world is so intent on making sure that doesn't happen? Frustrated and annoyed, I shake my head out of Landon's grasp.

"Ford is my world." I say softly, feeling my throat constrict as a few tears escape my eyes.

Quickly, I push past Landon and dash down the hallway and toward the neatest steps. From there I skip two each time to avoid traffic and make my way into the first floor bathroom, knowing that I have business to handle. As I push into the bathroom I can already feels sob coming on and my stomach has ceased to rumble, but I shove into an open stall and drop to my knees anyway.

Hovering over the toilet seat, I wait—with tears running down my cheeks—for the burning feeling of throw up to come. When it mysteriously doesn't, I let out a cry of anguish before roughly shoving two fingers down my throat and gagging my brains out before today's breakfast comes tumbling out of my stomach. The familiar feeling of burning air ways only makes my emotions even more on edge because of the pain, and I find myself balling my eyes out with the smell of barf filling the air and probably sticking to my skin but I honestly don't care. I don't care about what's happening anymore as I cry for Ford for the umpteenth time today, and I know it sounds stupid but I don't regret what I just made myself do.

I deserved it.

↣↣↣↣↣↣

"How do you even get the guts to do something like this?" My quavering voice murmured to Kendra over the phone. "I feel like I want to cry and scream and punch myself at the same time."

"You're just nervous." Kendra attempted to assure me as I began to pace around my bedroom while shaking my hands frantically and breaking into a freakishly heated sweat. "It's a part of life."

"Well why does it have to be apart of my life?" I groaned, shoving my shaking hands into my tangled hair.

Kendra was on speaker with my phone on the bed, and we were discussing my not-so-bright idea to confess my love to Ford tonight. At first I was all for it, telling Kendra that I was sick of being that friend and sick of wishing for more when all that I had to do was open my mouth. Kendra responded just how I though she would—with immense support and a promise to be by my side the entire way. But when I failed to do it during school, saying that it wasn't the right time, I'm now wanting to shoot myself in the foot because Kendra wants me to do it tonight. Sure I could do it tomorrow but that would make it so much easier to chicken out, and to be honest that's getting old.

"The worse things happen to the best people." Kendra said in a sing-song voice, completely contradicting with my anxious and stressed manner. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Um let me think." I plopped down on my bed. "He could reject me, he could slap me, he could never speak to me again, he could completely forget about our friendship—"

"Let me stop you right there." Kendra interjected. "First of all, rejecting you wouldn't be that bad—you'd just have to get over him. Second of all, if he smacked you not only would I kick his ass but so would Landon, as well as Brady, as well as your dad. Last of all, stop thinking so much about how Ford will react and think more about how good it will feel to finally express yourself. You deserve this, Leah."

"You're probably right." I sighed, picking at my cuticles as a frustrated tear ran down my voice. Then, with a voice soft and weak, I murmur, "I just don't want to lose him."

"Hey," Kendra began to sooth me with a voice like my mother. "Leah, you're over reacting right now. You're not gonna lose Ford and everything's gonna end up being okay. Just stay positive and look hot when you meet him, okay? You're Leah fucking Oberlin, and any guy would be lucky as hell to have you. Even a nit like Ford Turner."

"Yeah," I giggled, wiping the tear away and clutching my phone into my hand. "Thanks Kendra. If you were here right now than I'd probably tackle you into a hug."

"I bet. But I actually have to go right now because my dads making Raman noodles. Good luck, Leah!"

And with that, Kendra hung up, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I exited the calling app and went into messages until I found Ford, whose name was followed by hearts. Taking a deep breath and thrusting all of my guts out of me, I quickly shot him a text.

I knew he wouldn't respond back immediately, so I tossed my phone beside me before laying down onto my bed. Kendra's right. I shouldn't be stressing over this because over anyone, I deserve to be with Ford. I've been his number one for so long, always supporting him with anything and everything he does while managing to keep my feelings for him at bay when giving him advice on girls. Now that he's single, it's my big break. My chance to take the horse by its reins and ride it like no body's business—no sexual pun intended.

But if I was so confident, than why did I feel this painful amount of fear deeply imbedded into my chest? I've always been so good at holding in my emotions around Ford but right now, I've never felt so vulnerable, and having a crush on Ford was what I previously assumed as the most vulnerable and pent up emotion possible but this was an entirely different level. The fear of rejection consumed me, the fear of hurt burned in my heart, and the fear of never getting over it sat in my mind and made itself at home.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed from beside me and like the stupidly overexcited and hormonal teenage girl I was, I bounced up and quickly opened the unread message.

anything for you (-: where at?

I pondered for a moment before immediately knowing where to set the mood.

race you (-;

With an excited smile on my face, I slid off of my bed and glances at myself in the mirror. My hair was beginning to fall out of its waves that I had made for school, but surprisingly looked semi nice all loose and free so I kept it. But the outfit—jeans and an itchy sweater—had to go. I changed into black leggings and a crew neck sweater along with grey knit UGG's before approving of my look, and it was then that I shut off all of the lights in my room and briskly exited my house.

Brady lived a block from my place but right next door to Ford, so I chose his house because I knew that I wouldn't be left waiting for an immense amount of time which would've only lead to more embarrassment than necessary. So I ended up walking the entire way through the chilly night as the wind blew my hair this way and that, but even as it got in my mouth and irritated my eyes the only thought on my mind were the possible outcomes from the night. What if we were never friends again after this? What if Brady and the others forever blamed me for ruining their friendship with Ford? The horrendous possibilities we're endless, always seeming to cycle through my mind like an album on shuffle.

Nevertheless, I eventually made it to Brady's house and with stealth like a ninja was able to squeeze past his parents expensive cars until I reached the back of his house where the woods panned out like a dark blanket. Brady was the wealthiest out of the five of us, thanks to his parents, and had a house that replicated his wealth almost exactly. A lawn that panned out so that the florist could do whatever he pleased—from bird baths to mini waterfalls, a five bedroom, six bathroom home complete with offices for each parent and a basement for the kids and us to do things such as ping pong and pool, a pool that escalated down a waterfall and into yet another pool, and cars hi mans his sister, Bianca.

Any way, as I'm pushing through the leaves and trying my best to walk as deep into the forest as possible while being as silent as possible, the sound of footsteps from somewhere around me sends a chill down my spine. Maybe it wasn't too great of an idea to meet in the woods in the middle of the night—only God knows what kind of freaks lurk in the darkness just waiting for teenage girls to fall into their claws. Even now my brain is creating images before my eyes out of fear—people, monsters, freaks.

So when a hand clamped over my mouth, to say I screamed would be an understatement.

My shrieks were muffled by the strangely familiar hand, and when I felt his other arm wrap around my waist I went into panic mode. I slapped and kicked and fought until I felt grunts, and eventually my freedom was granted to me. Ready to kick some ass, I whipped around and squared up so that I could really cause some damage. My father taught me a while ago how to defend myself—go for the throat and then the genitals.

Just as I was about to knife hand the perpetrator in the throat, bright and shiny blue eyes connected with mine as the perp straightened up and laughed lightly. "Wow Leah." Ford coughed softly with his hand on his stomach, his stomach that I knew from seeing a few times was perfectly flat and toned. "I know you said that you're dad taught you a few moves but I didn't know you could actually do them."

"Sorry," I giggled softly. "But in my defense, I thought you were going to rape me."

"I'm more of a consensual kinda guy." Ford smiled honestly, before taking a seat down on a nearby log. "So what's up?"

I took a deep breath before looking Ford, and it was then that the nerves came flooding back to me in tsunami-like form. Almost being kidnapped had taken my mind off of the task at hand, and now that it was back I realized that controlling my emotions would be a lot harder than I originally thought.

"I need to talk to you." My voice shook at "talk", causing my brain to cringe. "It's really, really important that we talk about this right now."

"Well spill the beans." Ford's warm and comforting smile calmed me slightly, but no where near enough to ease the nervousness that was consuming me once again.

"That's the thing." My chuckle quavered as I looked down at my dry palms. "I don't know ... how to spill the beans."

"Just blurt it out." Ford pressed, his voice soft and soothing like the wind that blew my hair off of my shoulders every once in a while.

I looked up at him then, making sure to connect my eyes with his so that the pure seriousness of the matter was not one sided. I inhaled, then slowly exhaled, "I like you."

Ford seemed to pause for a moment before breaking out into yet another grin. "Um, cool?" He laughed. "I mean, you're my best friend."

I tried not to let his adorable ignorance affect me as I continued, "I really like you Ford. I always have—ever since we were kids. Remember all of those time when I would stare at you, and you'd think that I was just being creepy? Well I wasn't, Ford. I was staring at you because even then I thought you were incredibly handsome, and all I wanted to do was to cup your face and my hands and hold you forever. But I couldn't then, and I can't now because I'm not that kind of girl and you're not that kind of guy.

"And to make matters worse you never knew. You never knew about the nights that I spent awake thinking about you. You never knew about how my heart would just leap and skip whenever you called my name or asked me to hang out—or basically even looked my way. I can't express to you how much I like you Ford, and I'm starting to think ..."

My voice was shaking so very badly that I almost couldn't breath, and as a few tears escaped my face I tried my best to stay strong even though my demeanor claimed otherwise, "I think I love you."

I exhaled shakily, and realized then how thick the air around me felt. Looking at Ford gave me mixed emotions. His lips were pursed like he felt uncomfortable but his eyes were twinkling like a schoolboy. He was fighting himself internally, but from what I couldn't figure out. All I knew was that while I was mentally patting myself on the back for my speech I was weary that my journey was no where near over.

Finally, Ford let out a sigh. "Leah," His tone was condescending, like I was a six year old who didn't understand why Santa could fit into a chimney. "You don't love me."

Half of me shattered as my bottom lip began to tremble from the sob building up inside of me. "W-Wha?"

"You can't love me, Leah." He looked anywhere but at me as he spoke, like if he so much as glanced at my alabaster skin than he might explode. "I'm not ... I'm not right for you."

I'm not right for you. Doesn't he think I know that? God, if I wanted to be reminded of the fact that Ford is way out of my league than I would've asked a cheerleader if this were a good idea. "I know," I choked, before the entire show came crashing down. Tear after tear exploded down my face and as I tried to keep my sobs as quiet as possible I knew that it would be only a matter of time before Landon's parents came outside wondering who in the world was sobbing in their woods.

But I couldn't help it. I never expected Ford to hurt me so much, and honestly I had barely said anything compared to my actual feelings—I had barely touched the surface. It's sad to think that you're own crush thinks he's too good for you, and it's even sadder to believe that you actually could've been something. Not only doesn't it hurt, but it burns, because this was all just for nothing and now my heart will became a waste of space for the rest of my organs to ignore.

Quick as lighting Ford was down on his knees in front of me, clutching my hands and hushing me with whispers. "Shit, Leah," He pleaded, gripping my palms tightly. "Please don't cry, Leah please. I-I'm sorry okay, please stop crying, Leah, please."