Quentin was spellbound by her.
It was not her personality, that much was certain. Kitty was not nice. She could be okay, if no one she deemed 'important' was around, but she could not be nice. Sometimes, Kitty was even sweet. But she was like most magic spells: there was always a price in the end.
Her looks did not attract Quentin either. A hippy by nature, he despised her make up and her hairdo. They were almost scary. On a good day, they were bearable. Yet her face floated before his eyes when he was thinking. He imagined her cold face, and somehow the sight was addictive. Like a love potion in the real world.
Phoebe knew there was something wrong with him. She knew by the way that he stared, and the way that he picked at his food, that something was wrong. And she tried to talk him out of it. But Quentin's ears were deaf to her; he had ears only for the words of Kitty, and eyes only for the smile of his Itty Bitty. He tried to put the feeling down in words, but it was impossible. He tried to ignore her; also impossible. And at one point, he tried to listen to Phoebe's advice, but what did she know?
She'd never been spellbound.
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A/N: I'm almost done with the next chapter of Rascals, but here's something to hold you guys over. Fluff out!