Now for Neil
I own nothing. Not Herry, Jay, Archie, Odie, Atlanta, Theresa or Neil. Or COTT, or the song Buddy Holly, by Weezer.
Neil stood transfixed, staring pointedly at the object of his desire, admiring every inch of glorious perfection.
"And you know I'm yours, and I know your mine."
Neil didn't care what the rest of the team said, about the team being in danger, or about it being an unhealthy obsession, he was in love.
"I don't care what they say about us anyway, I don't care about that."
Maybe if the rest of the team looked as good as he did, Neil thought, they would understand what is was like to be in love with the reflection in the mirror.
