There seemed to be nothing wrong with him.
He was good-looking, smart, and the kind of guy many girls had a crush on.
But he was aloof, and most girls gave up after failing to win him over.
Only I stayed persistent.
I brought him breakfast, bought him drinks, and saved his seats. Anything I could do for him, I did.
I even stood in line all night to buy him limited edition sneakers for his birthday.
All because he liked a post about those shoes on Twitter.
My teenage crush was bold and passionate. I wanted to give him my whole heart.
Back then, many people mocked me, saying I wasn't bad-looking and came from a good family. Why was I acting like a lovesick puppy?
They wondered if Dylan had saved my life or something.
They were right. In a way, Dylan had saved my life once.
From the first moment I saw him, I recognized him as the boy who had helped me long ago.
The crescent-shaped scar on his forehead, hidden by his hair, was something I could never forget.
Sadly, Dylan didn't like me. He was always so cold toward me.
He had a high school sweetheart, a girl who had left the country.
He wanted to follow her, but his family couldn't afford it.