Ok, background on this fic: it's actually a true story. It's happenin with me. I think I'm love with a girl, I'm not sure. I think it's love, or I'm just obcessed with her. I'm not a psycho or something like that, really. I'm just really curious for her. She's probably the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and it's a bit scary. So I decided to write about this with a Spashley twist. It was actually really hard to choose wich one of them she would be (specially cause we're both blondes), so I've choosen the one who looks probably more like her phisically. Everything written here it's true. It's quite sad, I know. Just, don't think I'm crazy please! If you read this, you could review, it would be cool...

As always: I own nothing but the fact that I can't sleep at night.
Here we go...

Ashley. I suppose that's her name. I don't know, but I heard one of her friends calling her by that one day. So it's probably her name. It's beautiful, but not as much as her.

I've nerver talk to her, and I don't think I will. But it's ok to watch. I like to watch her. She's fun. I'm not crazy. I'm really not. But she's just so... interesting. The way she walks, not giving a crap about what other people may think about her. The way her hair falls on her soulders and swings as the wind hits her beautifull face in almost slow motion. She's probably untouchable, cause no one ever touches her; she touches them.

Labels don't suit her, colors cannot describe her eyes or her hair.

I've never had a problem about being lonely. It's not that bad, it's actually good. I'm lonely, so I aprecciate moments of connection with other people. But not talking to her makes me feel te loneliest person in this world.

It's not sex. It's not just about talking to her. It's to know her. It's to know every sinlge part of her: what makes her cry, all the things that bother her, all the things she knows, all the she believe.

I don't believe in many things. And I don't know a lot of things. But I do believe that everyone has, at least, one sad story. I want to know the sadest srory she has to tell.

I wish she could hold my hand and tell me that everything's gonna be ok. And, for the frist time, I would be believe.

I'm doing a preparation course so I can go to the college I want. She's in the same class as me.
She used to sit with her friends behind me, and it was quite annoying cause they couldn't stop talking. But after a few day I was praying so they could talk, and I would hear her voice.

Her voice. So soft. So husky.

What I know about her is what everyone knows: she's called Ashley, she has a husky voice, she's beautiful.

I've nerver even got close to her. I mean, it's quiet pathetic. And sometimes I keep looking at her from my spot of the classroom and I miss everything around me.

I'm Spencer. And I like to watch Ashley.

And I'm sure sometimes I dream about her.

I don't like physical contact. I'm not into hugs and stuff. It's because I'm afraid of what people may discover once they hug me.
But I really don't care about that when it comes to her.

I really, really, want to touch her. And I'm sure her hand is just as soft as I think it is and her curly hair would feel perfect around my fingers.

I don't think she has ever look at me. I'm pretty sure she hasn't. She probably doesn't even know I exist. But that's ok.

No. I'm lying. Thta's not ok. That's absolutely not ok. I really wish she would know I exist. SAnd maybe she would come and talk to me, cause I'm too shy to do that, and maybe while we're talking, she would accidentally touch my hand and I would feel my heart beting faster and my cheeks blushing.

That would be ok. That would be wonderful.

Should I mention her lips? And how much I wish I could touch my lips on hers?
It's innocent. It's just touching them. Like they we're meant to be. And, maybe, if they we're meant to be, we could meant to be too.

I could just picture it. We kissing. I would probably be afraid of opening my eyes, cause I would thought it could be a dream.
And her tongue would touch mine, and I would an eletricity running through my vens, my body would shudder as her hands went through my waist and I would her neck not ever letting it go.
This is so real to me. I can almost feel it. Just like I can feel her presence even when she's not close to me.

I don't know if it's love. But I never felt this way before.

Maybe someday I'll tell her my name, and she'll tell me all her storys (the sads and the happy ones), and we'll talk all night, and she'll hold my hand.
And I'll keep wathcing her. But she'll know I'm watching her. And she'll be watching me too.