3rd of December; you bundled up in Callum’s sweater, wrapped up tightly in his arms in an attempt to staying warm. This moment felt so right, like this was exactly where you belonged. He would compliment and snuggled himself further into you, explaining that the sweater looked much better on you than it did him. He was completely oblivious to your feelings.

If only he knew how much you liked him.

The moment was perfect… or, it was. Everything seemed to fall apart as you noticed Heather walking by. Callum looked as if he had just been struck by Cupid himself, his eyes practically glued to Heather. “What a sight for sore eyes…” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

You knew that he liked her, it was the most obvious thing in the world… but… why couldn’t that have been you? Why couldn’t you look as beautiful as Heather did? Why couldn’t you catch Callum’s eyes like she did?

But then again, why would he ever kiss you? You weren’t nearly half as pretty as she was. She was an angel, in Callum’s mind.

I wish I were Heather.