Am I Actually In Love With You, Abby Wilde?
"You know, I always thought you and Harold were great friends."
"Oh, right, just friends."
"Oh, Kevin! Did you think that I-- like you-like you?"
"No! Abby, I would never like you in that way!"
Why do I feel weird all of a sudden? Like I just said something wrong? Like I lied---wait, I did not lie! I told you the truth.
But at first, I thought that you liked me in that way. The sort-of-crushing way that people usually have.
So you've noticed me staring at you tonight. Any guy, maybe even girls, would stare at you right now. Hell, you're freakin' hot! Puberty really went to you when you were thirty. Wait, that didn't sound right. Puberty will get to you when you turn thirty.
Anyway, even if I liked you-liked you, you wouldn't share the same feeling. You always get excited when you see Pete Klesko in the hall at school. Then when I come along, you immediately get annoyed. Okay, maybe that's understandable, considering how I usually throw a "smart remark".
I remember that concert that we all wanted to attend. Actually, you only wanted to go because Beth told you Pete would be there. What do you even see in that guy? Then Beth "lost"the ticket and instead you went to eat some food at Eats-a-Pizza with your little lover boy. God, it's too much to think that guy's taking you away from me. Wait a minute---taking you away from me?
What is going on to me? I cannot possibly like you in that way! Never! I'd rather like Beth or Iris---not you!
I cannot like a know-it-all, good-girl like you. Not even if you were pretty or smart or...
Dear God, no! Please don't make me---not me---why me?
Oh, I can't fight it anymore. Am I actually in love with you, Abby Wilde?
"Mudslide," I reply as I slide downwards