Rory has to admit... he's a fucking stalker. No he's not crazy or creepy... at least that's what he tells himself. Sure, maybe he has photos of you, follows you around, collects your things, and knows every detail about you, but that doesn't make him a stalker. Does it?

"So perfect..." Rory whispers, angling his cell phone to snap a picture of your angelic face. From a distance, of course. You were popular at school, and he was a nobody. Who was he to speak to someone like you?