I was never much of an artist but something about the work Andy showed me, made me want to try to be. Every curve of his pencil and touch of detail made the picture seem so perfect and so real, it astounded me. It was like you could see the whole story behind his drawings just by one look.

We had been friends for a while now and I was starting to feel myself get closer to him. I wasn't sure if I liked the feeling, because it made me vulnerable but there was something about him that made every rule I had about being friends with someone, seem irrelevant. I trusted him, and I knew that even though we never talked about it much, he knew that I needed him.

My depression had almost gone away completely with him here. I no longer felt the need to cry myself to sleep, or stay up just to think of all the reasons I hated my life. He always called me before I went to bed just to make sure I would have a good night, and sometimes he'd even talk to me until I fell asleep on the phone. He was my best friend, and even though I'd never admit it, I wanted it to be more.

"Andy, honest question."

I smiled at him as he turned to look at me casually, holding up his latest drawing of a young girl holding an apple under the tree where it came from. Her eyes were filled with tears but her face showed hope. The tree was wilting in the background as the apple stayed fresh in her palm. Her feet were bare and her jeans were ripped against the knees with dirt against them showing that she had been kneeling. Her hands were wrinkled and dry but the apple stayed pure and beautiful. He had told me that it represented her virtue. I wasn't sure if I got it but the picture was amazing none the less.

"Hmm?" He smiled back and pinned the picture against the art wall.

"Why don't you ever enter any of these in a contest?" He stared at me for a second and laughed.

"Why should I let society see my work? All they'll do is criticize it. While here, it can just bask in its beauty without anyone judging it." He looked back at the art and I shook my head.

"You confuse me." I laughed as he wrinkled his nose and stuck his tongue out at me.

"You'll understand someday, besides," He walked over to me towering over me with a smile. "I don't see you entering your writing in any contests." He smirked as I rolled my eyes.

"That's different." I laughed as he grabbed my arms and pulled me in for a hug.

"How?" He swayed me back and forth as I let my face sink into his chest forgetting anything in our conversation.

"My writing sucks." I smiled against his scarf and he pulled me away to look deep into my eyes.

"Chelsea," I rolled my eyes again and smiled.

"I know, I know, I should believe in myself… blah blah blah." I smiled again as he shook his head.

"If only you could see the talent in you that I see."

He spoke quietly as my stomach dropped down to my feet. I felt a layer of pink cover my cheeks as I looked away from his eyes. He let out a quiet laugh before skimming his thumb over my cheek and under my chin to turn my face back to him.

"Shall we go? I heard my mom is making a mean pasta dish tonight. She asked me to invite you over, and we can watch that crazy movie you've been asking me to see with you." He raised his eyebrow as I pushed myself against him again.

"Mmm, sounds like a plan to me." I closed my eyes against his shirt as we stood their quietly for a few more seconds before heading out to his car.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we walked, causing everyone to stare. I'm sure half the school thought we were dating, and half the girls in our grade didn't see why he hung around a girl like me. Not as pretty. Not as funny. Not as flirty. Sometimes I even asked myself the same thing.

"Chelsea, honest question." He smiled to himself as he mimicked me.

"Yes," I looked up to meet his gaze. We had stopped walking now as he stared at me.

"What do you think of Whitney Smith?" My smile faded as the name brought back memories of her pushing me against lockers and down the stairs of our elementary.

"I... don' know. Why?" My voice was quieter now as he looked away from me.

"I think… I might like her."

My heart stopped for a split second as I bit my lower lip. Of course, of course he wouldn't like me. Of course, I wasn't good enough to be with someone like him. Of course, he'd want someone like her. Long blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes, and stunning smile. The body of a goddess, and the voice of an angel. Literally, that's what the guys said about her, I'm not just saying that.

"Oh…" I said continuing to walk again, focusing on his car, even though I didn't want to go over to his house anymore. My heart was aching and my head was spinning, but I had to stay calm.

"Do you think she would like someone like me?" I shot my eyes up at his and tried to ease my glare.

"What? Are you serious, Andy? Why wouldn't she? It's… you." I let my voice fade at the end and he smiled.

"Well… thank you," I watched as the red flush now flew over his cheeks and it made my heart skip beats.

"Of course." I whispered and he ran his fingers through his hair and then through mine pushing my hair behind my ear.

"I'm glad I have you here to make me more confident." He laughed a little and continued to walk; I struggled to keep up, tripping over my feet but he didn't notice. I felt sick to my stomach but I stayed calm.

"Andy," I practically shouted it as we arrived at his car. He turned to me shocked as I felt my entire body shaking. He raised his eyebrow and waited for me to speak but I couldn't speak.

"Yes?" He waited.

"I… think we should talk."