I'm always revising, so here's the edited version of "Special". Enjoy!
Special
...
She had never been special. Clever and mature, yes, but she never was able to shine. Too quiet, perhaps, or maybe she simply lacked that element. Either way, she lived in a state of perpetual near-existence. Not quite there, but always ever so close, infuriatingly close. In all emotions, she retreated to her books. In them, she could imagine no fantastic and mythical lands, no knights in shining armor, nor dragons, nor wizards, nor magic, for she knew that such things did not exist, but they proved to be sufficient bulwarks. No harm could be done, and she could do no harm. This balance ruled her life; all was teetering, always on the edge of better, constantly between average and greatness, living off of possibilities.
...
He had never been good. A boy to be proud of, a boy who thrived off of pride, but also one to be mocked. A boy who was not the same, but not different enough, not different in the right regard. And so, silent and seething, he would go back to his ordered room, in the decidedly unorganized house, where he might sit for hours, fingers tracing diagrams, lips forming spells. Memorizing and hoping and living off of possibilities.
...
One day, when he had been browsing in a book store, trying to find a book for his father, she saw him. He was not extraordinary, but an overgrown, slightly pompous, boy, awkward in his movements and embarrassed in his speech, one who mouthed the words he read and turned the pages ever so slowly. She had talked to him for a moment as she grasped for some interaction with a fellow being at odds with himself. He had laughed nervously and gone a shade of crimson she wasn't sure she had ever seen.
"Oh, the book isn't for me."
It was on the mechanics of spark plugs.
"Oh."
She had walked away, her face a peculiar shade of red too. He had looked at her back for a moment, watched as she stepped away, walked away. He had stared at a spot just above her left shoulder, where some of her hair was caught in a fallen pin. It had shined under the dim store lights. He had called after her.
...
When he first brought her to his family's house, she thought she might have a panic attack. It was only the third time she had met his family and never at their house. She could only focus on one stone, on each weed that grew between, at a time as they walked toward the home. They had been in the car earlier, laughing at a joke the man on the radio had said, when he told her. He hadn't meant to, but it had slipped out. Her face turned solemn as he rambled on about his childhood and schooling and life and ambitions and how strange all this was, this love. That night he proposed.
...
She had never been special, always lacking. It was then that the ordinary girl realized that in his extraordinary world, she was more. So Audrey said yes to Percy.