The Red-Headed Girl

"I don't like writing," she said. As the young red headed girl sat there thinking. Thinking of the stars and the boy she liked in AP Euro. All that crossed her mind was the face of him.
Smiling.
Gliding his fingers through hair.
Holding her close.
But she is stupid and feels creepy with every text messages she sends to him trying to spark a conversation. The world is a mysterious place where nothing make sense anymore she repeated as she stared off into the endless night. Continuing on she said, "I don't want to," she says in an aggravated voice. Why is it, that her brothers best friend is in love with her.
Why can't it be he?
The one who she has on her mind constantly, the one who she should be with. Not even her best friend, ME, knows who she reallly likes. Sitting together I finally asked her," Red-headed girl, who do you like?"
She laughed and put if off as something silly to even bring up," Ha. Nobody." we, just sat there awkardly, waiting.
Waiting.
And waiting.
and still waiting.
For knowing the red-headed girl for so long, I knew. She liked her brothers best friend, just didn't wish to admit it. Their she sat there thinking about him as she played with her rubrics cube.





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