I growled, forcing the thought aside. It was getting fucking pathetic. I felt like a thirteen-year-old with a crush. All I ever did was think about her and fantasise about her, wonder what she was doing or if she was thinking about me too. Only to remember that even if by some miracle her thoughts fell on me from time to time, I’d done a bang-up job of making sure that every single one of them would be filled with hate. So as far as hopeless crushes went, I was pretty much fucked.
