I was leaning against the window that ran from the ceiling to the floor when I heard another person talk about Alec Westbrook.

I took out my phone amd pretended to be occupied on Instagram or Twitter as I waited for the tree
exhibit to begin.

I live in Los Angeles, and I like to go to museums by myself and explore art.

I was listening to other people's conversations when I heard someone else talk about Alec Westbrook.

I remembered hearing his name but I couldn't remember what he looked like so I Googled him.

He was really tan, had a 6-pack, and messy dirty blonde hair with electric blue eyes.

Considering he was the same age as me, he was hot.

But even if I saw him, I'd never be able to talk to him, or look at him, or even breathe.

All of a sudden, a bunch of teenage girls huddled in the corner started screaming and freaking out.

"Alec Westbrook!"

"He's coming here!"

"He looked at me!"

"OMG!"

I never really had a clique or squad of friends, so I didn't understand why they got so excited for nothing.

I'm not weird, like creepy.

People say that I'm pretty, but they just don't talk to me.

I have long straight brown hair with caramel highlights (I did them myself) and green eyes that my mom refers to as
"emerald wonders".

I'm thin and tan, my mom's Italian side, and 5'8, so tall.

In Brookfield High, I was kind of a loner, but the good kind. I had great grades, and everyone would want to be my partner, but I usually declined.

I spent most of my lunches in the library, researching random things or watching documentaries, but I
didn't mind.

I just wanted to get out of high school, leave the party scene, the ongoing judgements, and live my life.

I only had one best friend. Her name was Sage Brennan. We did everything together; had sleepovers, ate ice cream, hung out on Friday nights, swam in our pools, went on vacation together...

Until the summer of 9th grade. She told me that she had to go to sleepaway for the first three weeks of July and we could hang out after.

I asked her why she hadn't asked me to sign up with her and she said her parents signed her up with her cousin.

That was the first sign.

That was around the time Instagram was created, so of course Sage had one.

I didn't really want one, but I quickly realized if you were public you could just type their username online and look at their pictures and they wouldn't know.

Of course that's what I did.

I expected to see pictures of her and her cousin making tye dye t-shirts, riding horses, or kayaking.

But I gasped when I saw her first picture she ever posted.

She was at the beach with 4 other girls: Alana, Nikita, Kayla and Meghan.

I wasn't really friends with them, but I knew that we had a few classes with them.

Sage had mostly kept to ourselves though.

Her post was titled: 'good times with new friends'

I looked at the comments, there were a bunch of them.

'it was a good time for a change' - Nikita

'you look so hot!' - Matt

'your beach house is awesome!' - Meghan

'lets do this again friday!'
- Alana

'glad dalia wasn't here'
- Kayla

'so true @kayla' - Alana

'yeah, totally' - Sage

'what happened to dalia?'
- Matt

'we just grew apart' - Sage

I remember feeling my chest constrict and my eyes fill up with tears.

She had lied to me.

I threw my phone on the floor and sobbed on my bed.

Later I texted her in my anger,

"hey" - me

"hi, can't talk, at camp"

I typed about five different responses before sending my final one.

"i know you aren't at camp, you lied to me,"

"what?"

"stop lying,"

"i think we should take a break, i didnt know how to tell you. im sorry"

"ok whatever"

I cried that night.

And the night after that.

I hadn't felt so alone
in a long time.

I spent most of my summer alone, and when we went back to school it was terrible.

Sage had grown, thinned out, got highlights and was wearing tons of makeup and new clothes.

She surrounded herself with her new friends and didn't even look at me in the hall.

I stopped myself.

I took a deep breath, why am I reminiscing someone like Sage when
I'm done with her.

I turned around, ready to walk into the exhibit when I felt something smack into my head and I dropped my phone and my ticket
and felt backwards.

Rubbing my head, I looked up and saw Alec Westbrook, on his knees, hands reaching out towards me.

I breathed in sharply and froze in terror.

"I'm so sorry, that was my fault. Are you okay?"

Alec had dropped his phone too. We had the same type, weird. I grabbed the phone closest to me and my ticket and pulled myself up.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Are you sure? We collided pretty hard. You want my security to make sure you don't have a concussion?"

"No, I'm fine, really."

I looked around and to my worst nightmare, I saw that every single person had their eyes on me and Alec.

I quickly recollected myself and started to walk away.

"What's your name?" Alec questioned as he grabbed my arm. I felt the electricity race through my arm as he quickly pulled away.

"Dalia Dawson."

"Cute, I'm Alec."

"I know." I said as I raised my eyebrow and smirked.

"You're sure you're okay? They can take you to a different room if you don't like everyone watching,"

"Im fine, I'm just going to go, I, uh, forgot to close
my car windows." I lied.

"Oh, okay." Alec said slowly.

I turned away and walked outside, where I leaned against the railing and
tried to calm down.

I just met Alec Westbrook.
I just made thousands of teenage girls jealous.

Wow.