There was always that one person that the most unfortunate things seemed to happen to. The person who would stop in front of a door, conveniently in time for the door to open and hit them in the side, sending them flying. Or perhaps they were the person who would slip and fall out of their chair during dead silence in class, winding up with a painful bump on their head and blood pouring out of their nose.

Sometimes Imogen did these things on purpose.

Nasty little habit, it was, but where else was she supposed to get attention from? It didn't matter what kind of attention she was getting, just as long as people would look at her and know her name. 'Hey, there goes that girl I hit with the door.' 'She's in my English class, falls off her chair every single day.' Not that she heard people say things like this, anyway; but she liked to think they were saying them when she wasn't around.

Not that she was ever not around.

Imogen liked to call herself an observer of human behaviour. She did her best to pay attention to everything that happened to everyone, because, for some reason, that interested her. The way that kids around her age acted. She didn't understand why they did some of the things that she did but she wanted to know.

Perhaps she could do them too, and she could finally fit in – it seemed like quite the impossible task for her, though.

Imogen Moreno was the type of person you'd pass by multiple times during the lunch period as you walked through the hallway with your friends. You know the routine – she leaves class, goes to her locker, leaves locker, and absentmindedly wanders the halls simply because she has nothing better to do with her time.

She had no one to talk to so she mentally talked to herself.

Look like you know what you're doing, Imogen, look like you're looking for a friend.

And that's exactly what Imogen was doing – looking for a friend.

Not that she'd find one or anything.

It was almost like she was playing hide and seek when she did this. As the only person involved in the game, she played both roles. She hid from herself, the kids at her school, the world around her. Her only team mate as the hider was her own thoughts, though she wasn't particularly fond of that. She was a better hider than a seeker though, as she never quite found what she was looking for.

Look like you're looking for a friend.

It only takes a moment for everything to change. The moment where you find what you've been looking for, what you've been seeking, and everything is different.

And everything goes downhill.

She found what she was seeking in his crooked smirk, but he'd never notice her, would he? He was just another person who would catch her eye as she wandered down the hallway, playing her game of hide and seek.

And so a couple of months pass by. Drama club, Love Roulette.

He never noticed her.

This boy, Eli Goldsworthy, his writing was phenomenal; there was no way she wouldn't ever be a part of this. The role of Clara would be hers – she would do anything to get this part. She'd been waiting for this for way too long now, an opportunity for him to notice her. And now, there it was, displayed right in front of her on the sign up sheet for auditions.

All these days of sitting in drama, watching him and waiting for the opportunity to arise. He was one of her favorite people to observe, as Imogen could only admire him from afar. She took note of his movements and every single word he said. She kept them all hidden away in the back of her mind, pulling them out occasionally when she needed something to make her smile.

Just like she did the same when it finally happened, and this time, it wasn't a dream.

There was this burst of electricity, sort of. It ran through every inch of her body the second their lips touched for the first time. He had to feel the same way, he was kissing her back. This wasn't Clara and Ari, it was Imogen and Eli – there was no way it wasn't.

To think that he had been thinking the same things about her.

And she was Clara, and he was her Ari. So she thought, anyway. The kiss was another thing to just be filed away in her mind; he'd gotten caught up in the moment or something.

But that definitely wasn't the same case when he invited her over, and they were in his bedroom.

Electricity.

This time it wasn't like when they'd kissed during her audition. This time it really was Imogen and Eli. The way he pressed her down against the bed as he kissed her. He'd told her she was amazing. Well, he'd told Clara she was amazing, but she was Clara. She'd become Clara, since that was what he'd wanted. She'd do anything he wanted, really. She'd prove to them that they were perfect for each other, that there was a spark there.

And he kissed her, and he kept kissing her. And it turned into so much more.

The way his lips moved against hers, telling her a sweet story of complete fiction and lies. And his hands, they found their way under her clothes and drifted over her body, touching her in places she'd never been touched before.

She wanted this, she told him. She toyed with the belt on his jeans, and he gave her that smirk that made her melt as a response. He told her they couldn't, and he gave her a couple more soft kisses before letting her go on her way.

In only a moment, everything could be so perfect, and by the next day they'd all come crashing down on her again.

For that moment, Eli Goldsworthy liked her back, but it wasn't long before she returned to her game of hide and seek. It wasn't too long after that she just gave up on it completely – she'd never find what it was that she was looking for.

All hope for her and Eli together had been destroyed. Electrocuted and turned to dust. He was out of her life now, just another person for her to observe.

There were no more perfect moments for Imogen, there would be no more. As easily as she was lifted off her feet and sent higher, she was dropped back down, plummeting straight into reality. This reality where she wasn't Clara, she was Imogen, though she didn't quite know who that was yet.

She'd given up seeking a while ago.