Over the next few days, I tried my hardest to come to terms with losing Nate. I stayed with the two of them in lessons, but after that I tried to mingle with the other popular girls and the jocks. Things weren't the same. I don't laugh the way I did with Mollie, and I don't feel safe like I did with Nate. I spent most of my time sat in our room, writing my blog, about my life in New York and the turbulent things that happened to me. It created a moment of solace, when I could read my problems on a screen and not feel like they were my own.
Prom was coming up in just over a week, and I seemed prepared. My dress was finished, my makeup was planned and so was my hair, but the only thing I lack is someone to spend the night with: laughing and joking, dancing and falling in love.
I'd had a few offers, but I couldn't help but feel that no other boy could fill the gap Nate had left in my heart. Could anyone? Ever?
I blogged that evening, posting a picture of my outfit (a regular feature of my blog), which this evening happened to be a pair of white lace shorts and a cream shirt, knotted at the waist. It made my waist skinnier and my legs seem longer and more tan, so it did me a ton of favours. I anticipated the positive response: men and women alike revelling in my ability to match items in a way that few people could. I added a caption to the bottom of my picture, above the details of my outfit, which said:
'You got a girl, that doesn't look a thing like me. The girl your mother always said it would be. So you could say that I'm hopeless'
Any regular followers of mine would know what I meant, and more importantly, they knew it was about a certain golden couple.
I closed my laptop as Mollie entered. She looked across at me and smiled. She knew not to bother me when I was social networking, and she never did. She was good like that. She opened her closet and picked out a dress, and headed into the bathroom. She exited moments later, in a gorgeous gold dress that fell half way down her thighs, making her legs look longer and more tan than mine could ever be. She slipped on some black heels, and her look was complete. She undid her hair from the fishtail plait she'd had it in all day, and shook her long golden hair out, like a supermodel does, after getting off a motorbike.
I didn't need to ask where she was going, as I knew she was seeing Nate. My heart sank again, and as I started to lie down, my laptop beeped, alerting me to a new notification.
I flicked down the ten or so comments on my latest post, before noticing one from Nate_Cole. I was immediately drawn to it, was that my Nate? I read on, and what was written down stunned me. So much so that I didn't hear my best friend leave for her date with him.
'That ain't the girl he wants you to be, or the girl you should be. She isn't the girl he sees in his dreams, or keeps him up late at night. Trust me. X'
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