notes. Another random idea where some parts are actually true. Except the end. Mostly the first part's true, though.
He sent her sweet, joking texts saying, 'ily too', but they were never for me. They were just a joke. Always just a joke. Or that's what I thought. Ugh. Evil vagueness. Honestly.
disclaimer. I own nothing you notice. I do own things you don't. ^^

Never For Me

by; toffeecakesxox.



ily too, was the oh-so-heartwarming message staring at me mockingly on the screen of my best friend's cell phone. I blushed. It wasn't for me. The message was a joke directed to Karissa, not to me. Never to me.

I sighed, blinking back the tears that just happened to wet my eyes. "Riss, I have to go. I'll talk to you later, k?"

She smiled sympathetically, taking her phone back from me, and wrapping her arms around my shoulders in her way of a hug. "You know I don't like him, Kryss, you know that."

"I know, but it's just so saddening—to me, anyways—when he sends you that kind of text."

"I'm sorry. If you want, I'll ask him to stop." God, I loved her. She was just way too nice to me, but she liked showing me the texts, saying that they were meant to be for me, but, since I couldn't text, he sent them to her. I laughingly declined that notion, saying that she was kidding, but she insisted.

"No, no it's okay. I'll live with it. Maybe I'll finally be as optimistic as you are, and admit that they are for me"—I scoffed—"but I doubt it."

She tsked. "There you are again. Miss Pessimistic."

"That's how I am, Riss!" I whined. "I wish I was optimistic—maybe I wouldn't be so infuriating—but I can't help it. No guy's ever liked me before, so why would he, of all people, like me?"

"'Cause you are hot and smart and sweet and innocent and maybe a little bit infuriating, what with your pessimistic ways, but he'd learn to get over that. You know he would." Her voice turned teasing. "You know he would," she repeated.

"Ha," I laughed quietly to myself, walking away since I was due to be home in a few minutes, but I knew she could hear me. "As if."


"Kryssa!" he called, and I closed my eyes, willing myself not to betray my feelings by blurting them out to the world.

I turned to look at him, an immediate smile appearing on my face. He just did that to me. "Hi, Owen!" I greeted him cheerily, a far cry from my earlier mood.

What could I say? He just did that to me. (Repetition intended.)

"What's up, Kryss?" he asked, slinging an arm over my shoulders. I shivered at the simple touch.

Oh, Owen, when will I be able to tell you how I feel about you?

I could answer that:


"Nothing, actually. Just a report on Pride and Prejudice for English."

He laughed. "You never could get over Mr. Darcy, now could you?"

I smiled. "Never can," I whispered, not meeting his magnificently blue eyes. He was my Mr. Darcy… if only he knew that and if only I could tell him.

"Kryssa! Owen!"

"Hi Riss." I gave her a lighthearted smile under-toned with a fierce sadness. She understood. Of course she would.

"I have to talk to you, Owen!" She gave me a smile, fingering her cell, and I gulped. She wouldn't.

Oh, yes, she would.

Vehemently, I shook my head. No. No. No! She didn't do anything, instead chattering incessantly as she led him to somewhere I could see them clearly.

Desperately, I craned my head for somewhere to hide until, oh, say, forever.

Why would she do this, now, of all times? Why couldn't she wait until I was absent or something, or, better yet, never?

"So, yeah, she was wondering about that. The texts are about her, aren't they?" I could practically hear the excitement in her voice.

I couldn't hear his reply, but I did hear Karissa's loud slap as she clapped her hands to her mouth. "No!" she gasped, sounding amazed.

"It's true," he said, and I fought back tears. He had said the texts were meant for her. I knew it. Before they could see my inevitable tears, I ran.

Screw school, I wanted to go somewhere where it was completely quiet and I could concentrate. And, most importantly, where I could shed my tears without anyone watching, least of all Karissa and Owen.

I knew the perfect place. Without hesitation, I tore onto the sidewalk, my heartbeat racing and my breathing coming in long, drawn out breaths. I'd run track before, so my body was accustomed to running fast and hard.

My special place was a hidden meadow a considerable distance behind the local park, complete with wildlife that I never usually saw. They were almost as quiet and as shy as I was. Taking deep breaths to calm my breathing as I arrived, I walked to a tree I'd fallen completely in love with. Cherry blossoms had already appeared on the branches, adding color to the generous amounts of green, brown, and varying shades of the rainbow surrounding the aesthetic quality of nature.

I absolutely loved this meadow.

My heart finally calmed down, I sunk to the cool earth, resting my head against the soft bark of the tree. In what seemed only a few minutes, a voice that sounded very familiar was in my ear. "Kryssa, I never knew you could run so fast." He was panting.

I held back tears. Did he want my heart to shatter even more?

"That's something you've never known about me," I whispered. "How do you feel about that?"

"Strangely endeared," he replied. "That's something I hadn't known about you, and now my knowledge of who you are seems, to me, anyway, very inadequate. What haven't you told me, Kryss?"

I took a deep, shaking breath, and turned to look at him, my hazel brown eyes meeting his blue ones. I was shocked breathless for a moment. His eyes, usually such a dark blue color, were now light, and I was amazed. Every emotion he was feeling flitted through his eyes one by one.

Curiosity, confusion, surprise, and, what surprised me most, rejection, but a very strong hope. Unlike me, he was optimistic. Had I rejected him? Hadn't it been him?

I took another breath, just wanting this confusion to be over and done with. Might as well tell him now.

"Well, the most important one I can think of right now is… is that—is that, I-I love you, Owen. I always have."

He was quiet for a moment, and I could already feel the tears coming on. I knew it—he liked Karissa, I knew it.

He finally noticed the silently slow downfall of my tears, and he cried out softly, "Hey, don't cry. Don't cry, Kryss. Please. I feel so freakin' helpless when you cry."

I stopped as soon as I could, sniffling, and looking at him with wet, red eyes. "Really?"

He smiled down at me, brushing my bangs out of my eyes. "Of course. You didn't know that?"

"No, I didn't."

Owen laughed; throwing his head back, and making his shaggy blonde hair flop over his eyes adorably when he looked at me again.

I grinned, but I didn't laugh. I was upset and confused and I was wondering why he was here and not blushing like crazy—something I was sure to be doing in a few seconds.

Finally, I gained enough courage to ask, "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with Karissa?"

"Karissa?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, something I found so cute I lost my train of thought. "What do you mean 'with Karissa'?"

"Oh, I meant shouldn't you be with her since you told her the texts were really meant for her and not for me, something I don't mind 'cause I'm a good friend like that and I knew you didn't like me anyway, and I am perfectly fine if you left and went to her, 'cause she'll be upset—well, actually, I don't think so 'cause she's a good friend, and she understands I'm your friend too and you're very nice and wanted to make sure I was okay—"

He cut me off. By placing his lips over mine, and moving his lips lightly to make sure I wasn't going to push him away or anything like that. Something I did a few seconds later when my abnormally-slow-because-of-current-events brain caught up to me. "You!" I gasped. "Y-you're with Karissa!"

Owen stared at me for a few seconds, and then he burst out laughing. Uch. The nerve to kiss me and then laugh. Ugh. Honestly.

"What is it?" I asked irritably.

"You think I'm with Karissa?" he asked incredulously. I nodded as if it were completely obvious.

"Well, duh."

"Kryssa," he started. "I'm not with her. I told her that, yes, the texts I sent her were meant for you, and that…" So now he was blushing. He gathered his courage. "And that I meant every single letter I'd texted."

"Oh," I stated dumbly. "Okay."

Oh, such articulation Kryssa! Such articulation, I am so proud!

"Okay?" he asked softly.

"No, it's more than okay. This is—this is good, right?"

He smiled. "This is very good."



We both spoke at the same time.

"I don't want this to be awkward—"

"God, I want to kiss you right now—"

We both stopped, blushing furiously.

"This isn't supposed to be awkward!" I cried.

"Okay. Not awkward. Loving my best friend isn't awkward?!"

"Loving?" I gasped. Maybe that was why Karissa had been so surprised.

"Yeah, loving. Do you love me too?"

"Of course I do. I always have."

Both of us smiled at the other. His hands cupped my neck, and my breathing turned shallow.

The life-changing event—well, not really, but for me it was—wasn't in slow-mo or anything like that, but when his lips touched mine, I had to say that time did stop for the two of us, for the purpose of our lips connecting and joining and creating this huge shiver running down my spine very deliciously.

Soon, he was deepening the kiss, angling his head, and burying his hands in my hair, while I played with the hair at the back of his neck. He was a really good kisser, and that was something I had never known about him. Add, like, what, 3 to my list.

"O-Owen…" I breathed.

Sure, it was weird kissing one of my best friends, but, maybe, just maybe, our relationship would work. After all, I didn't know everything about him.

"Kryssa…" he moaned, making me blush as he pushed me back slightly, gently, making my back touch the bark of the tree once again.

No matter how pessimistic I was, maybe this was the beginning of my optimistic outlook on life.


notes. Hope you enjoyed! I loved writing this. It was longer than my usual oneshots. And written in only one day! Yay!

Please R&R. I'd love to hear what you think! :)

I know there are more of you lurkers out there - honestly, 310+ views and, like, 6 reviews? That's sad. If you review, I usually look on profiles to see if there's a story on your profile worth reading (and I always reply to the review anyway). I hate being all annoyed like this, gah. I should just shut up now. I will not grovel. Even though this is, like, a contradiction. sigh