Ordinary, average, plain.

Those three words are often used to describe me. I'm nobody special, I'm just me. I'm the girl you sit next to in school for years, but don't know the name of. I'm the one chosen last for sports teams. I'm the one the teacher constantly overlooks in class. I'm the one who has never had a date to a dance. I've never missed a day of school, yet my grade hovers between an A and a B. I can speak three languages (English, French and Latin), yet I couldn't tell you how to spell half the words. I'm neither brainy nor beautiful. I just drift through life wishing I had the courage to really tell people how I feel I'm constantly ignored, consistantly dismissed. The day I wished for someone, anyone, to notice me, my whole life changed.

It was storming heavily on a Tuesday morning, which is not unusual in La Push, Washington. Our professor was discussing the writing styles of Homer versus Virgil when he entered. Jared Pluskot. He was soaked to the bone; his dark brown hair plastered to his face and water dripped from his six foot and change frame. Over the past few weeks he had grown immensely, but he looked so beautiful standing in the doorway, too flustered for words. The professor gave him a pointed stare and Jared glanced at his seat, which happened to be dilapitated enough that if he sat in it, it might break. I reached over and tapped the empty desk beside me, it's normal inhavitant was home sick. He looked up at me and I forgot how to breathe.

I didn't believe a man could be so perfect. His eyes were like roasted chesnuts, so deep and dark. His chest, from what I could see, was chiseled and broad. His hips tapered nicely and led to powerful legs that looked impressive through his soaked jeans. My gaze returned to meet his and I noticed his expression. His jaw dropped slightly and I felt my cheeks flush, so I looked down. The professor resumed talking, so I continued writing notes, pretending I didn't just openly ogle one of, no, the hottest boy in school.

"Hi, my name is Jared. What's yours?" His words were a thick, husky whisper. My heart began to race and my pulse picked up.

"Kim."

Since that day, we've been inseparable. Wherever I go, he goes. Wherever he goes, I go. We can't get enough of each other. Finding out he was a shape shifter was hard, but discovering that destiny chose us to be together from the start slaughtered my self-confidence. It ruined the romanticism, the thought that he loved me for me was shot down in flames. I felt inadequate. Jared can't understand my reasoning. He says that fate chose me out of every other girl on the face of the planet. I told him that I didn't want fate to choose me, I wanted him to choose me. He could only stare at me blankly. To him it was the same thing. Talk about a foreign concept. From the time I was a little girl, I wanted a prince charming to come in and wisk me away, to save me from the mundane. Instead, I got a predestined future, a shape shifter and myriad complextities.

Despite my grievances about destiny, I have to admit that Jared is the best thing that's ever happened to me. He adores me, takes care of me and makes sure I never lack for anything. But most of all, he makes me feel perfect.

Beautiful, intelligent, complete.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

(A/N) I made up Jared's last name, so obviously it's wrong. This is not edited (like the majority of my stories); I just sort of write them as I feel them and never look back. Until years down the road when I realize it wasn't a half bad idea and decide to revamp them. If you take a look at my profile, you will see which ones are on the revamping list and which ones are complete and will never grace my eyes again. Please review.