Love, @((Y^!@ Allyvia [books to read for self improvement txt] 📗

had the bluest eyes, and this cute little curl above his ear and-

Was practically suffocating Veronica Pieper with his mouth, who, blond curls and pouty lips, seemed to be taking it in stride. Great, Kate thought bitterly, watching as the two, like Barbie and Ken, pranced over to the Quad. The Quad was the place the gods of Hamilton High sat during lunch, and drank out of little Dixie cups filled with Le Pin wine and Coke, to cover up the scent of liqour.

"Katie," Sara chuckled, rolling her eyes and sticking a Post-it in her text book, giving her friend that 'get-over-that-tool' look every girl gets when enviously staring at Eric and his arm candy Veronica. Sara's hair, almost glittering in sunlight, was up in a messy knot, the red and orange and fiery yellow strands and streaks falling out to create tendrils that framed her pretty pale face.

Kate, snapping out of her envious trance, jerked her hand, accidentally spilling juice all over her textbook. "Shit," she sighed, grabbing her textbook and shaking it, hoping the apple juice wouldn't stain the pages. Sara just laughed.

"Katie, I think you were having a wet dream about Eric Kingston," she giggled, and then, catching her friend's glare, added, "Again."

"I wasn't... I didn't...," Kate stuttered, before admitting defeat and grabbing a large wad of disintegrating cheap napkins. Placing the large pile in the middle of the table and ineffectively mopping up the juice, Kate sat back down, dabbing her textbook with a seperate stack of napkins.

"Katie Summers," Sara purred amusedly, helping her friend by throwing away the sopping mess of napkins int he middle of the table, "you have it bad. I've never seen your face so red, and I was there in second grade, when you had to be the pea in Mrs. Cole's play, and got so nervous you threw up all over the first two rows. You really are a theatrical genuis, by the way-- that green shade in the vomit really pulled the whole show together."

Kate just rolled her eyes, before smiling just a bit, and throwing the damp wad of napkins at her best friend. "Whatever, doofus. Just... shut up."

Sara laughed, her husky, raspy voice sounding so sexy and seductive. Why, Kate thought, can't I have such an awesome voice? Or, she mentally added, glancing over at Veronica Pieper, C cups. Are C cup really too big of a wish?

Kate was one of those girls you see everyday on the street, and forget five minutes later. It wasn't that she was ugly, she was just bland looking. She had stick-straight, brown, shoulder-length hair that acted more as a curtain half the time than actual hair. Her eyes were a bright hazel color people always commented on, but she insisted on wearing her horrendously thick glasses, and was against make-up.

As if to prove her invisibility, Taylor Merrick barreled into her, his grease stained hands grasping her arm right before she fell onto the cold hard concrete. Taylor, shaggy blond hair falling into his eyes, fumbled before steadying her properly, and shot her a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, didn't see you there," he grinned, before taking in her yellow-stained t-shirt, and the grease he had smudged on her t-shirt. "Jeesh, are you the community napkin or something?"

Kate just rolled her eyes and glanced at the newest stain on her t-shirt. This was just great. It wasn't even first block, and she was already dubbed the community napkin.

The Backstory

 

Once upon a time, Ronnie was just Veronica Pieper. Not 'Ronnie Pieper, Eric Kingston's beautiful girlfriend'; not 'Future Mrs. Kingston'; not 'Law School Applicant of 2013'. Instead, she was a gangly, freckled fourteen year old who felt ugly. That's when everything happened.

It was the night of the eighth grade winter dance, and Ronnie had been brushing and straightening and spritzing her usual golden ringlets into partially straight strands. She stared in the white vanity mirror and touched the soft flesh of her cheek. Maybe, she thought, maybe Eric will finally notice me, and as more than his adopted sister.

She had had a crush on Eric for almost a year now, not that she had breathed a word of it to anyone. If she told her mother, he mother would tell her father over the salad bowl at dinner time, who would mention it to Eric's father while playing their ritual game of golf and beers at the Hamilton Golf Course, who would blurt it out late at night to Eric's mother, who would bustle into the kitchen the next morning, ordering Eric to pronounce his love for Veronica Pieper. And Ronnie was not taking her chances on that happening-- not only was it embarrassing, having your parents be your wingmen, but Eric would have been pressured into it, whether he actually liked her or not.

Ronnie tugged at a blond lock of hair that refused to stay straight, and sighed. It was official-- her lion's mane hated her, with a passion. She finally gave a gargling cry of desperation and turned to the pile of cosmetics she had snuck from her mother's bathroom drawer. It was the first tiime she'd ever wear make-up.

Her eyes sweeping across the tops of the glass containers and oddly shaped bottles and wrinkle-spot-correcting serums, Ronnie grasped onto the small bottle of foundation and half-heartedly opened the bottle. Squirting a loud, wet glob of the pale paste onto her fingers, Ronnie dotted her face with the foundation. Was she doing this right?

After attempting to even it out, she sighed in defeat. Now, with splotches of ivory, freckle-less skin and her normal rosy flush, she felt like a Dalmation. Just great.

This is embarrassing, she told herself as she grabbed hold of her mother's eyelash curler. Bringing it to her long lashes, she stared at her reflection. Her dark lashes were pushed and tugged at, making her eyes water as she accidentally pulled a lashes from her eyelids. Blinking back the pained tears, Ronnie grabbed hold of the tube of mascara.

She could feel the real tears brimming now. She felt ridiculous! Not only did she have uneven skin, but her lashes were resembling spider legs with each coat of mascara she applied. She was ugly; Eric would never like her back. Just then, as she dabbed at the tears that had collected, she heard her mother calling her name.

"Veronica," her mother yelled, before knocking on the door. Ronnie hastily gathered the make up she had stolen and shoved as much as she could into the drawers, only to end up dropping a large glass jar of face powder all over her fresh, fluffy white carpet. "Veronica, sweetie, what ar-"

Lisa Pieper pushed her way into the doorway, freezing when she caught sight of her daughter. Tears staining her unevenly colored cheeks, Veronica tried to wipe at the wet, slick spot on her skin.

"Veronica, what are you...? Sweetie, why are you crying?"

Veronica wiped at her cheeks, and shook her head. "I... It's nothing, Mom. I-I'm just getting ready and-"

"Sweetheart, you're ruining your make-up! C'mere," her mother cooed, hugging her daughter before wiping her cheeks and placing a kiss on her forehead. After removing the makeup and making her daughter smile, Lisa Pieper smiled, and began to work her magic.

~~~

When Eric saw Ronnie, he had to blink a couple hundred times. Her flowy white dress made her porcelain, rosy skin glow and look dewy and soft. And Ronnie, who spent the summers in t-shirts and chasing frogs, never looked soft.

Her usually unruly golden hair was up in a wavy, loose side bun that left those curly little tendrils hang around her face. Her cheeks looked even pinker than usual, thanks to the pale blush her mother had applied. Glittering mint green irises were rimmed with smoky eyes purple eyeshadow.

This wasn't Ronnie, Eric decided as his date Andrea DePaolo pulled on his arm and whined about taking a picture, as he stared at the alien in Veronica's body. She descended down the stairs, her silver heels clicking against the dark wood steps, looking like an angel.

He almost hadn't realized he was staring until Ronnie's date, Jack Santree, pushed past Eric and offered his arm for the alien. Veronica smiled, those rosy cheeks becoming full like the moon, and took his hand, her gaze never tearing from Jack's. She hadn't even looked at Eric!

 The night changed when, on the dance floor, Veronica awkwardly dancing with Jack, Eric decided to cut in. Angela had practically thrown a fit, and yet Eric didn't really care. 

Ronnie's skin was softer than he remembered, her hair shinier. Maybe it was just his imagination. People always told stories of their partners becoming cuter as they more and more in love, but Eric wasn't in love with Veronica.

Dark, long looking lashes fanned her eyes, as she daringly peeked up at him. A slow song lulled from the speakers at the front of the stage, where their teacher Mr. Waltz was the DJ. Balloons littered every corner of the room, and chairs lined the walls for the lonely one's who didn't have a date. Ronnie was, for once, not sitting in those chairs. No, she was dancing with Eric.

The Bad Boy

 

Taylor Merrick hated just about everyone in his Art 1 class. Literally, he could count on his hand the people who didn't nauseate him with every giggle and hair flip, and every jock's complaint of last night's Rumor. The few freshman who were in his class looked green at just the mention of tonight's Rumor: eating an entire goldifhs, gills and all. Taylor, who just a few years ago would have laughed with them, was now rolling his eyes and crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

Freshman year might have been a little different for him if Alex hadn't died. Freshman year, he would have been on the footballl team with all the other guys; he would have fit in. Now, in one of his last few months of high school, Taylor had done some major reflecting. Not only did he realize the sole reason some people bothered to remember his name is becuase of Alex, he also figured out his only possible friend was the sandy-haired kid named Laker Keating. Laker was a sophomore, and everyone knew about him, and his infamous brother who somehow managed to steal Hamilton's heart. 

Nick had graduated two years before, when Taylor was only a sophomore himself, and Taylor faintly remembered him. He sat on the Quad, with the rest of the varsity team, laughing and smiling and looking like a king. Taylor tried