Quinn's never felt anything like what he felt for you. The way your hair gracefully fell. The way you'd giggle, he just loved how your laugh sounded. How you'd listen to him rant about his day.

However, you never seemed to notice. You didn't notice how infatuated he was with you. In fact, he doesn't think you have even a hint at it. You're so oblivious. Why are you stupid?

He's tried impressing you with everything. He's taken you on motorcycle rides, he practices cool drumming solos, he's cooked you meals and has done your makeup, why aren't you falling for him?

Your mother told you to stay away from him. She doesn't like him. She says he's a bad influence to you, that he'll ruin you. He's gothic, he cusses, he smokes, he drinks, and... you're the opposite. You go to church on Sundays and pray for all of your meals, you study hard, and honestly, you're just generally an angel. He loves you for that.

One Saturday afternoon, you were sitting under an oak tree, reading a new novel your aunt bought you. A fantasy book. It had just gotten to an intereesting part, and you were so invested in it. Suddenly, a pale hand with black nails grabbed your book, and throwing it like a frisbee across the neighborhood, causing you to lose your page.

"Hey!" You shouted, annoyed by Quinn's action. In reply, he squatted down, putting a hand on your chin.

"I've gotta be more interesting than that book, right?"