Just watching her - her long pretty hair twirling with her as a guy, someone who isn't me, spins her around - it hurts. She's got someone, her boyfriend of the week, someone who's not me, and I have Tyler. He's great, but he's not Heather.

Watching her flirt with Alejandro, who she doesn't even care about, it makes me want to cry. Watching her kiss some boy whose name I can't remember - he looks familiar, almost like my boyfriend - it breaks my heart.

Seeing her hang out with other people, leaving me all alone surrounded by strangers, it makes me feel lonely.

And they say I shouldn't talk to her, they say she's just a whore; they don't know her like I do. They'd say I shouldn't love her if they knew that I did.

Listening to her voice, hearing her say my name without that 'what-the-hell-do-you-think-you're-doing' tone of voice, it makes me happy. Talking to her about nothing, not saying a thing about the stupid guys who try to take her from me, it makes my day.

That day she kissed me, even though she was drunk, it almost made my week.

But the next day, aside from her massive hangover, she acted like nothing had happened. Leaving me hurt and brokenhearted all over again.

I just wish that, for one night, I could have her undivided attention. Me, not some guy, not Alejandro. But I can't get that, can I? 'Cause I'm Lindsay, her friend, a girl. She could never love me.

Can't I dream, though? Can't I hope?

Can't I pretend I'll ever have a chance?