A/N: I'm feeling philosophical today…
Disclaimer: I don't own Victorious.
Funny how much things can change in a year.
A year ago, I would be in Beck's RV, complaining about my intense dislike of a girl called Tori Vega, and continue to brood over how much she annoys me when I get home, alone in my room. A year ago, where any thoughts about being in the same space as her makes my skin crawl. A year ago, where a lot of my free time was spent thinking of ways to make her sad or doing things to disturb her, like going through her medical records.
Of all the things I thought of, not a single one was even close to the situation I was in now: the said girl lying next to me on my bed, an arm lazily draped over my waist as she was cuddled up next to me, her breath tickling the hairs on nape of my neck and her chest pressed into my back.
A sense of comfort, security and warmth.
Home.
Looking back, I should have seen all the signs from the start. The way my heart would speed up when her dark brown eyes look up at me. The way my skin tingles and aches for more when she touches or hugs me. The way I push her off chairs, couches and benches when she sits too close for comfort next to me.
And I was terrified.
Terrified of the way my body responded when she comes within a feet of me. Terrified of the way she constantly appears in my mind. Terrified of the way my heart spasms when she smiles at me.
My ex never made me felt that way.
Sure, he was handsome, fearless and strong, with a chiseled body and fluffy hair girls would die for.
But in the two years I spent with him, I never felt the supposed fireworks that people always say come in a relationship.
I thought I was broken. Unable to get close to someone emotionally. Unable to feel the way the sky should light up with happiness. Unable to feel love.
Turns out it wasn't me.
Well, it was, but it's just that he's not the one for me.