by Anna Todd
He sits down on the stool and opens the bag he has hanging across his body. He’s wearing black jeans, a white T-shirt, and those same boots. The sleeve of his shirt has a few little holes in it, and you can’t help but admire them. As much as you tried to paint him to be something else, someone materialistic and shallow, you knew damn well that you were lying to yourself. This man is neither of those things. You know this not only from the little holes in his shirt or the black marks on his shoes—you know this because you saw more of him than that.
He stays silent as he unpacks a case of brushes and then stands up and walks to the front of the room to get supplies. Even though this is supposed to be a marker-and-pen class, he grabs two handfuls of small watercolor bottles. No one, not even the instructor, asks him why or tells him no. You watch as some of the students admire his beauty, the way confidence rolls off his broad shoulders and down his lean yet strong build.
The woman, your new sort of friend, raises an eyebrow at you when Daniel walks past her without looking at either of you. You shake your head at her and shrug your shoulders as if you have no idea what she’s talking about, and focus on your drawing. You manage to correct the ugly mistake on your page and try your best to focus on your work and not look over at the painting Daniel is creating. The minutes drag and drag, and finally, the class is over. Daniel stands, his shirt covered in small dots and a few lines of colorful paint. When he looks away, you steal a glance at the paper in front of him.
Every breath you try to take is lost. You can barely register what’s in front of you.
It’s your face, bright and vivid, staring back at you. It’s you, except a much more beautiful depiction of you than in reality. It’s your face, your nose, your full lips, your eyes. Even your messy hair; wild strands surround your face, and the most beautiful flowers sprout out of nearly every inch of you. The ends of your hair are shaped like petals, and your lips are put together with small, pink flowers. Your eyelashes curve in the most beautiful manner. Your ears have bouquets of colorful lilies sprouting from them.
You’re breathless, and your eyes are fighting a losing battle as you dab at the corners of them with shaky fingertips.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Daniel says, his hand taking yours.
You nod, unsure how to speak or what you would even say to him if you could find the words. Across the top of the page, written in orange paint, are the words:
Let me find what makes you happy.
The woman next to you starts sobbing uncontrollably, and you feel every single emotion that you’ve been trying to fight. You can’t control it, or even begin to contain it, and you can’t believe this insanely talented, incredibly thoughtful man has created such a beautiful version of you.
You stare back and forth between him and it, trying to collect your thoughts.
“It’s so beautiful,” you finally gasp.
He steps closer, letting go of your hand and pulling you against his chest. “It’s identical to you.” He pushes an unruly strand of hair behind your ear, and your eyes flutter closed, trying to imprint every detail of this moment.
“Hardly,” you breathe, resting your forehead against his chest. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart. You want to remember this too.
“I’m not going to let you run away from me this time.” He tightens his arms around your back, and you’re astounded that the line doesn’t sound remotely cheesy coming from his lips.
Maybe because he means it, a small voice says inside your head. Focus on what’s good.
Daniel’s hand moves under your chin and tilts your head so that you’re looking at him. He continues, “I’m going to be here until you see this.” He takes one arm away from you and points to the painting. “I would love it if you allow me to stay longer, but I’m not going anywhere until you see yourself the way you deserve to.”
You can’t take any more from him. Your chest is aching, and your fingers are trembling, dying to touch him. You wrap your arms around his back and press your lips to his before he can speak again. You’ve never believed anyone in your life the way you believe him right now. You want to see yourself in that way, colorful and vibrant, happy. You know he can’t do all the work—it takes what’s inside you to bring his painting to reality—but you’re happy to have him along for the ride. You’re happy to have him beside you.
The One That Got Away
Ariana Godoy
Imagine . . .
You were not interested that much in boys yet, but his eyes allured you.
His eyes. That was what caught your attention in seventh grade. From that day on, you always stole glances at him when you saw him around the school. He was your first crush. The first boy to make you blush whenever you crossed paths. He was shy and introverted, but that somehow made you want to find out more about him. It intrigued you.
Nevertheless, you gave up and moved on because nothing was happening. He didn’t even acknowledge your existence in those early years. But that changed in junior year when you had friends in common and you started to hang out in the same group. You still remember how sweaty your palms were when he talked to you for the first time. His dazzling smile made your poor heart beat faster and had you stumbling all over your words. He was sweet, caring, and so eye-filling. Your crush on him resurfaced and amplified.
You became friends.
You hung out, but that was not enough for you. You wanted more.
But you weren’t brave enough to do anything about it.
You watched him date other girls and pretended to encourage him and be happy for him while you died on the inside. You couldn’t tell him anything. You couldn’t lose his friendship.
And then it happened.
He started doing Vines and getting followers. As his popularity grew, so did his confidence—and you were so happy for him. You cheered for him.
He became famous.
And just like that, Cameron Dallas was everywhere: news, a movie, YouTube, interviews. Your Cam had become a Vine sensation, and so much more had come from that. He was still the same charming boy from day one, but he didn’t have a lot of time to spend with you. That made you sad, but you backed away. You didn’t have any right to demand anything from him.
You were just a friend.
And as if life wanted to put more distance between you two, your parents divorced. Your mother decided to move back to the town she grew up in, all the way in Oregon. You had to go with her.
You didn’t say anything to Cameron. What for? You couldn’t handle a good-bye. Not when you had all these feelings for him, bottled inside you. You left your sunny California.
You cried yourself to sleep many nights. You missed your town, your friends, and him. You needed to forget him, but how could you? He was everywhere. You got yourself a Vine account and followed him on every platform he appeared. You hoped he would notice your name among thousands of followers, but he didn’t.
You were just another fan, a dedicated one.
Watching his smile in his Vines was enough to brighten your days. You watched him change from a shy boy to a confident, sexy man. Cameron grew even more handsome with time. You couldn’t believe how your infatuation with him hadn’t disappeared with the years. You had boyfriends, but he was always there, at the back of your mind.
But then you realized you weren’t going to move on and forget him without getting the proper closure. You needed to see him. But how?
He was miles away and he was famous. He might as well have been worlds away. It wasn’t like you could just show up at his door, and he probably wouldn’t remember you anyway.
However, life was full of possibilities, and your chance to see him came at a convention: Comic-Con. His attendance was confirmed, and so was yours.
And now you stand in the middle of the crowd at Comic-Con in San Diego. It’s time to see him again after years of one-sided feelings. How are you going to manage to talk to him, through all the fans? You have no idea. You like to think life w
ill give you a hand after all this time of silent love.
He is here. The mere thought of sharing the same place with him makes your heart race. Your hands are sweaty and you clutch your purse for dear life.
Cameron is going to be on a panel soon. You enter the assigned conference room, swallowing because the place is so packed. Cam is going to be up there with other famous Viners, like his friend Nash Grier.
You sit and you wait.
Dozens of girls are around you, giggling and whispering in excitement. You see so many beautiful girls that you start to doubt yourself.
How is he going to notice you among all of them?
You look down at your outfit, and your favorite flowered dress doesn’t seem so beautiful anymore. You feel more average than ever. You know that this day is not going to be some fairy tale. He’s not going to be interested in the shy girl he met back in high school who he probably doesn’t remember anymore. He has gorgeous girls chasing after him. How can you be different from them?
You know him, they don’t, your subconscious cheers, but it’s still not enough. You haven’t talked to him in more than two years. You don’t know him anymore.
The announcer starts the panel, inviting the Viners to walk in and have a seat.
“Cameron Dallas!” the announcer exclaims, and the crowd goes crazy.
You hold your breath as Cameron walks in, and your heart melts in your chest. He’s taller and looks stronger, with more defined arms. He’s not the skinny boy from high school; he’s a handsome man now. He wears a plain white shirt that looks great against his tanned skin. His hair strikes you as soft and well cared for. His smile is dazzling and lights up the room. He waves his hand at the crowd and sits down.
You can’t believe he’s there. The announcer introduces the others—you hardly notice—and quickly starts giving the audience the chance to ask questions.
A gorgeous brunette holds the microphone and looks up at Cam. “My question is for Cameron.” He smiles politely at her. “Would you go out with me tonight?”
Your jaw almost touches the floor. Wow, that girl is blunt.
Cameron chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “We’ll see how the night goes.” He winks at her and everyone cheers. A pang of jealousy crosses you, and you take a deep breath. You have no right to be jealous; he’s not yours.
The questions keep coming, and many girls shout I love yous to Cameron and the others.
Now it’s your turn to ask a question.
You move forward to the microphone and swallow. Your hands are sticky, your heart is on the brink of failure. He’s going to see you. The moment has come. Will he remember you?
“Hi,” you whisper shyly into the microphone.
Cameron looks at you without expression, just his usual polite smile.
Your heart falls and you bite your lip to avoid getting emotional. He doesn’t remember you. You knew that was a possibility; why does it hurt so badly?
“My question is for Cam, I mean Cameron,” you correct yourself.
Cameron narrows his eyes at you. There is a moment of silence that feels like an eternity.
You lift your gaze to look straight into his eyes. “It’s not a question, Cameron. It’s a delayed confession, I guess.” He looks confused. “I love you.” His eyes widen. “And I mean it, it’s not a fan love thing. My feelings for you were born way before all this.” You motion at the crowd. “I am in love with you. Gosh, it’s a relief to finally say it after all this time.”
The place falls dead silent.
“That’s all,” you finish nervously.
The announcer steps up to fill the void. “Well, that was intense. Cameron, do you have anything to say to this brave girl?”
Cameron smiles. “I’m flattered,” he says politely. Your chest tightens. “She’s a beautiful girl.” His compliment hurts because he’s talking like you’re just a girl in the crowd.
The announcer grins. “And I’m going to ask the question everyone has in mind right now. Do you know this girl?”
You stop breathing right there.
Cameron glances at you, then says, “No.”
Your heart falls to the ground and tears fill your eyes, blurring your sight.
“I wish I knew her, though. She seems like a sweet girl.”
You’ve had enough. You turn your back to him and start walking away through the crowd. For a moment, you wish this were like a romance movie and that he would chase after you.
But, of course, he didn’t. Why would he?
Tears stream down your face. The quiet murmurs of people and the soft music seem like too much. You want to run away from there, but don’t want to look crazy.
It’s done. You should go. You did what you came to do. You were publicly rejected, but you have finally let him know of your feelings. You can move on now. Rejection feels terrible and devastating, but it’s closure. You can do nothing about it. You can’t force someone to like you, much less love you.
You wipe your tears away and let yourself get distracted by the amazing costumes and displays around you. You’ve never been to Comic-Con before and you regret it because it’s certainly entertaining. Eventually you start to smile at some of the funny costumes, and the bright and colorful surroundings distract you. You’re still smiling when you hear someone call your name from behind, though, figuring it’s your imagination, you ignore it. Not until you feel a tap on your shoulder do you turn around.
A blond guy with a bright grin on his face stands there. “Hi. Can you follow me?” He extends his hand.
You frown. “Do I know you?”
He shakes his head. “No, but you need to follow me now.”
“Why would I?” You take a step back.
“You don’t take risks, do you?” He sighs. “He said you’d be like this.”
Your frown grows bigger. “He?”
The guy runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, Cameron.”
Your heart starts hammering against your ribs. “Cameron?”
“Yeah, he sent me to get you,” the guy explains tiredly. “Which was not easy, by the way. This event is huge.”
“But what—why—”
“Just follow me. Leave the questions to him.” The guy takes your hand and pulls you to walk behind him.
Is this guy telling the truth? Why would Cameron send for me? He said he didn’t remember you. He broke your heart in front of everyone.
Curiosity and anticipation get the best of you. You cannot help but follow this stranger, even though you’re skeptical about Cameron being behind it. You face a door where a giant guard is standing. The guard gestures at you, and your guide says, “She’s with me.”
That’s all it takes for the guard to step aside. You enter a maze of dark hallways with what look like dressing rooms at the sides. You are breathing erratically. Your heart is about to jump out of your chest. Your mouth is dry and you bite your lip nervously.
The guy stops walking and lets go of your hand. “Go.” He points to a door at the end of the hallway. “He’s waiting for you.”
You nod and head in that direction.
What does he want? Why did he send for you? Maybe he thinks I’m sort of an obsessed fan or something, you think, but you push through your negative thoughts.
You knock on the door and then hear his voice: “Come in.”
It’s real. He’s actually there on the other side of the door. . . .
You open the door slowly, as if waiting for him to shut it in your face and say again he doesn’t remember you. But then you see him and nothing matters anymore. You forget his public rejection. You forget all those years of silent love. It all goes away when you meet those beautiful eyes, those mesmerizing eyes that got your attention back in seventh grade.
Cameron leans against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. His brown hair looks softer than ever and nicely styled. Those plump lips form a sincere smile and your heart gives out.
“Close the door,”
he commands softly.
Shaking, and without looking away, you close the door behind you.
“Lock it.”
You swallow but do as told. He stares at you and it becomes so hard to breathe. You’re alone with him in a small room. You weren’t prepared for this. You don’t know what to say. You said enough. You can’t stand his fervent gaze, so you look away.
But then it happens.
He calls out your name, drawing out each syllable slowly.
He remembers your name. He actually remembers it. You’re about to ask him why he said he didn’t remember you out there, but he speaks first.
“Why are you here?” His question catches you off guard. “Why?” He sounds angry, and you have no idea why.
“I just . . .” But even when he’s keeping his distance from you, it’s hard to articulate words right now. “I came to . . . I needed closure.”
“Closure?” He clenches his jaw. “Closure on what, exactly?”
“On . . . you, us, I—”
“Us? There was no us.”
That hurts. “I know that. I—”
“No, wait. There was no us because you fucking disappeared on me.” You’ve never heard Cameron swear before. “You vanished. You didn’t even leave a note, something. There was no explanation, there was nothing. I just went to your house on Saturday morning to watch some TV with you—as usual—only to find an empty house with a SOLD sign. Do you have any idea how I felt? I was pissed, frustrated, and desperate. I looked for you until I realized you didn’t deserve it.”
This stuns you. “What?”
“Yes, you heard me right. You didn’t deserve it. You left me with no explanation. You didn’t care about me, because if you did, you knew I’d be worried. You left like I was nothing.”
“That’s not true,” you say, needing to defend yourself. “I left because I needed to let you go. I was tired of one-sided love. I—”
Cameron laughs with irony, “One-sided love? You never said anything to me. Never. How can you talk about one-sided love if you never told me a thing? You couldn’t know if it was one-sided until you asked me about the way I felt.”
