part II. 2-24-15
I get so mad sometimes.

You can't help but be mad when you're in love with someone like Arabella, I suppose. She's not someone you can treat like any other girl. No. She is an exploration. And in case you didn't know, people get lost on explorations all the time.

Some people never come back.

She sat next to me, and I smelled something heavenly billow around her. We sit together in French. I watch her mouth form foreign vowels each class, and it's beautiful. I am in love with her. She doesn't notice. I think that is why I'm frustrated.

"Harry," she said in a breathless whisper. "What's luh bow pair?"

I laughed softly. "Stepfather."

She nodded at her paper, and bit her lip. "Alright, okay," she said, distant and focused. I watched how red her bottom lip became as her front teeth dug into it. For a red, red moment, my attraction to her was primal, as I stared at the fullness of her mouth, a pencil pressed to the corner.

"Arabella?"

"Yeah," she said softly.

"You want this?" I'd noticed her empty plastic container of cafeteria apple juice, and held out mine.

She gave me this smile I'd never seen, as if she was amused and intrigued all at once, like she was seeing me for the first time, and wondered why she'd been so silly not to see in the first place. I'd like to think that was what she thought behind that smile. I was very convinced. Arabella was a girl who made you think she loved you. I thought that she could've, right then.

Then, she shoulder-shoved me into the friend zone.

"Thank you, Harry," she giggled, giving me the dreaded, fond shoulder-shove. Then she went back to her French work.

I was so mad. I'm mad just writing about it. I don't know why I'm mad at her. It's been many hours since today's French class, but I still feel upset. I don't know. Love is just so infuriating.