So there's this boy. There's this one stupid boy and his stupid boy habits. And there's this girl who likes to think that she's smarter—better—more mature. Above it all, looking down on it. The high school-ness, I mean. She's not the extremely pretty one but she's not the awkward outcast. He's not the ridiculous class clown, but not the subdued quiet one. And why do they have to fit into categories anyway? Why does everyone have to be stuck in these molds. The cheerleaders. The preps. The goth kids. The art freaks. The importantly why does everybody ask that question?

But "above it all" means generalizations. And generalization means that there's this boy. And this girl.

That's the way it always starts out, though, isn't it? A boy and a girl and their eyes lock and they mean the world to each other. A boy and a girl and their hands touch and it ignites such fire that it's a shock no one else within a ten foot radius is burned. A boy and a girl and breath hits cheek and she's stunned into silence, he's consumed with her scent and we all live happily ever after.

A boy and a girl who fall in love in two weeks.

A boy and a girl who face the trials and tribulations of a storybook romance.

A boy and a girl who do not have stupid habits or mature reflexes border lining cynical.

But then you hit reality. Where there's this boy. And this girl.

And his stupid boy habits and her critiquing girl eyes.

And his genuine laugh and her little-girl smile. One that she doesn't even want to admit is there but keeps it up anyway because there's this boy who makes her surrender her cynic tongue to him whenever he says the things that she wants to hear—even if it is clichéd.

So there's this girl. This one stupid girl who is not the smarter, better, more mature one. Because this girl doesn't know maturity. She doesn't know smarter, she doesn't know better. Not when he's around. Because the worst habit that he has is making her fall for him.

"Fall for him" is a dumb phrase, she thinks.

But that's where she is. She's falling. She's falling, hearts racing, breath catching, dreams soaring all because of that boy and his stupid boy habits.

And it happens in the most romantic setting of all—high school of course. Where all romances grow and die among the shallow halls filled with chatter of no importance and "oh my GOD"s ringing more than the late-bells do. And there's that dance that he doesn't go with her to (because he hates dances, because he can't dance, because he doesn't want that embarrassment). And there's that time where she's hurt and a little bit broken even though they haven't really had much to say to each other all year and it's February.

Then there's that detention they served together where there was the awkward heart-to-heart, words spoken that really shouldn't leave their lips. Or the room. Sacred, unknown to all but them.

Fast forward to another dance, he's said things, she's listened. He showed his Super Sensitive Side, she became that Crying Shoulder. He's had a Rough Family Past, she's had the Been Hurt Before relatable story. They bond, they connect, they graduate.

And there's this boy and his stupid boy habits. And there he is as he's standing there with that cap and gown, diploma in hand. There's that girl and she's all grown up but has been sent back into childhood where dreams really do come true, she feels like a princess at the ball and he's the one twirling her around nonstop endless, endless, endless.

Too bad they aren't together. And it's obvious from the chemistry, from the unspoken thoughts that they both know it's there, from the notes that he left in her school mailbox, from his glances. From her pulse. From his heart.

So there's this girl. And he changed her in every way possible. Metamorphosis transformation Austen Bronte Classic Romance. Or at least that's always how she's pictured romance to be. Classic. Timeless.

Instead she wants Disney. Fairytale. Shallow. Unrealistic.

And he walks out with his friends to a party that she wasn't invited to (they don't share friends). And he glances back at her and she looks up at him with meaning behind her eyes.

And there's this boy who she thinks she's critiquing for the last time. There's his eyes leaving hers.

There's this boy. And she wants him so badly. There's this moment, this image and she can't let it go.

There he goes, turning around, swiftly running over, and kissing her. There's that graduation wish fulfilled. There's that chemistry there's that light there's those sparks and there's this boy and this girl.

And there's that happily ever after. That happily ever after lasting just for that night. The happily ever after that is enough for her. The happily ever after that his stupid boy habits and her stupid girl thoughts and their dumb teenage racing romance and the satisfaction they each have.

There's this cliche. And it's nowhere near believable. But somewhere there's this boy and this girl and to them? It's real.