Disclaimer: I don't own South of Nowhere yet because the person I hired to kill Tom Lynch got caught...
Author's Note: This is an experimental story in second person. I don't expect... actually I don't know what I expect from this story but anyone is free to read. A future warning however there will be NC-17 chapters later on in this story.
For now however we will keep it PG-13 . Read it and enjoy. Oh and sorry it is so short.
Intro
Your hair is blonde but you wish it wasn't. You don't like the stereotypical comments you receive because of you blonde locks. People think it defines you, who you are, and how you live your life. People believe on first sight that you are stupid and that common sense will forever elude you. You are expected to run into doors and make stupid comments such as "why is the sky blue?"
You are a cheerleader. Not by choice but in fear. Fear of losing your status and becoming a no one. It is better to be fake then to be a no one…isn't it?
Once again your hair comes into play. You look just like a cheerleader should, your whole body, from head to toe. You sometimes wonder if you were accepted onto the squad because of your hair.
You consider dying your hair a different color to avoid all of the comments but she always stops you. You are scared that if you change your hair she will forget you. The only time you get to spend time with her is when she is playing with your hair in the back of the class.
You're scared that if she no longer admires your hair, she will no longer pay any attention to you and you don't think that you could handle that. You live for that time of day when she sits behind you and diligently strokes your hair.
You want to talk to her and many a time you are drawn to the point where you open your mouth to form words, but they never come out, because your fear immediately brings you to snap your mouth closed again. You cannot bring yourself to do it because above all else you fear rejection. Not all rejection just rejection from her.
You don't know how to tell her how you feel because you, honestly, don't even know how you feel.
So for now you stay quiet and let her soft fingers run up and down through your hair. You find it sickingly amusing that the one thing you hate is the one thing you cannot live without.