A/N Brief mention of adult behaviour.  

She couldn’t get her mind off him. She thinks about him constantly and she hates herself for feeling something for a man that doesn’t feel anything for her. She hates him for making her feel again.

She avoids him because that is what she does best. If avoidance were an Olympic sport, she would have been a gold medalist. They don’t talk anymore. When he teases her, she looks at him blankly. She doesn’t know how to feel anymore and she doesn’t trust her body not to betray her innermost thoughts.

She turns down his offer to have dinner. It was too much for her. She wonders when this torment would end, when her crush would dissipate.

He watched forlornly as she walked away from him, her winter coat flapping against the wind as she crossed her arms tightly across her body. He wished she would feel the same for him as he feels for her.

His attempts at showing concern had gone over her head and he wonders to himself if he had placed himself too firmly in the friendzone or if she had only ever saw him as a brother figure. He loves her. She doesn’t. Or does she?

Love is complicated, she decides. Why would one want to define a feeling, an emotion so strange that a single word can’t seem to encompass or exemplify. The strange physical sensation of her heart feeling like it has been squeezed into a place that is too small to contain, it feels as though her heart is swelling and contracting simultaneously