prologue “you are so gorgeous it makes me so mad” gorgeous, taylor swift Love. A foreign concept to most. Not to me though. I have read just about every romance novel and watched every 2000’s rom-com. Though I’ve never experienced love, I yearned for it. It was all my heart desired. I wanted love. I needed love. I craved love. The best kind of love is the kind where your heart skips a beat when you see them. Or when it feels like skydiving as you kiss them. That. That is what I wanted. I wanted to be loved the way Wes loved Liz. I wanted to be loved the way Jack loved Rose. I wished for love on every birthday, every ladybug, every four-leaf clover. And I knew exactly who I wanted to experience that love with. Dylan Miller. He was the guy that the pretty girl got. The girl with long shiny blonde hair, glossy lips and large, sultry eyes. Not me. I was never a ‘pretty’ girl. Besides I could never be with Dylan. He’s my best friend. And that pains me more than anyone can imagine. We’ve been best friends since the 2nd grade. I always had a crush on him. He wasn’t the boyfriend type anyway. He was the cute guy that somehow magnetized everyone towards him. With his dreamy eyes and stupidly perfect hair, who wouldn’t want to be around him. Dylan was perfect in every way. He had messy brown hair, glasses, and a smile that spread like light. Every time I saw him, I wanted him to kiss him and tell him how much I loved him. It killed me seeing him everyday and not being able to tell him how I feel. Taylor Swift said to ‘ruin the friendship’ but I, of course, was too scared. Dylan and I met in the second grade when we got partnered up to do a project together. Well, not so much a project but we had to make a finger painting together. We have been best friends since then. We did everything together. I would go to his house for dinner every Sunday night. He would help tutor me for math and I would tutor him for English. I would always bake cupcakes with his sister on Wednesdays before his softball game and give them to him after they played. We had a routine. When we were younger, our mums longed for us to get married. I’d always wanted to marry Dylan. And 10-year-old me loved that our moms were rooting for us. It was a soothing thought; me walking down the aisle towards Dylan about to say, ‘I do’.
