She laughed gleefully as he picked her up and twirled her in the air, spinning them in a full circle. This was like nothing she’d felt before. In the warmth of his gaze and strong capable hands that held her, everything suddenly felt possible.

He didn’t let go of her, even as her feet touched the ground again, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer. She didn’t want him to let go. She wanted to smother this distance between them, however small and tedious it was.

Because to feel this way, to have him feel the same as her, it was like a magic she’d never known.

Love.

The love of a lifetime and she didn’t want it to end–

I sighed.

How was it that I could relate so much to someone who didn’t exist?

I closed the book I held in my hands, slipping a bookmark in to not lose my place, although, I supposed, it wasn’t really necessary. I knew what page it was. I’d read it upwards of a hundred times.

To think someone could feel the same as me. To think the main character could have the same thoughts. For a second, I wondered if the story had somehow influenced my thoughts further, had made me realize my own feelings, my own hopes and desires. But, the reality was that I’d never get to reach that ending that they’d found. The main characters had captured everything, my heart and soul, by the time I finished reading the first time.

And they lived happily ever after.

Me? Who knew what would happen?

I wondered if someday I’d get caught up in a sort of scheme and have to be rescued by the main male character too. Or would I have to fight alone, like the villainess? Becoming stronger without the help of anyone else…

I liked the thought of romance more.

It seemed otherworldly and fascinating.

It felt real.

Real…

Reality.

It didn’t do any good to fall for someone that would never be real. To ponder over scenes that would never happen. It only led to that feeling of loneliness and grief over a relationship that was never real to begin with.

I sighed.

The reality was that it was problematic. Troublesome.

But I couldn’t help it.

They drew me in.

One after another.

The characters.

Hair of all different shades. Eyes that glittered, eyes that glowed dangerously. Scarred hands and beautiful pristine fingers. Those with smiles akin to evil masterminds, and smiles that were rare and warmed you from the depths of your soul.

As they gallivanted through their world and charged through their own obstacles and found love worth dying for, I held open the door to my own heart and they raced into it without turning back… that is, until I closed the pages and opened a new story. Then, with backward glances and small smiles, they faded into the darkness, only reappearing when I needed them most. When I needed a hand up, when I cried over something trivial, they stood there and watched over me.

They gave me dreams of romance and fun and intrigue. They held my hands in theirs and promised me that everything would work out just as it should. They’d play with my hair and spin me around in circles as they lifted me into their arms.

But I knew…

Nobody was truly there.

It was all in my imagination.

Sometimes, it hurt too much to say that’s all they were.

Somehow, they always still felt real in my heart. Their heart became mine. When theirs was crushed, mine was pulverized. Even if it was on the outside looking in, it always felt so real, so true, that I couldn’t help but feel everything they felt.

Yet, I stood up and endured it for the next one, and the following, and smiled through the hidden pain that was written on the pages.

I caressed the binding of the book as I set it up on the shelf again.

They were my heart.

I looked out my window at the dark sky.

My eyes found the constellations, the connected stars above.

A smile found me.

Gazing up at the vast universe didn’t make my world seem small.

It made it big.

Just think, had those been angels looking down at Earth, they’d still be able to see me. They’d be able to notice the way I always gravitated to them. They’d notice my gaze upon their bright figures.

Sometimes, I wanted to fly up and touch them. I knew it was impossible. How could someone touch the stars? Lack of oxygen would kill me before I got there. But still, in my head, I could imagine my own story.

The love of a star.

Gaining it.

Holding onto it.

Enduring.

I closed my eyes.

I wanted to be loved like the main character in the book. I wanted to feel his hand caress my cheek. I couldn’t help but long for that undeniable connection, the overwhelming feelings. In the human world, those feelings might seem over-exaggerated or unrealistic. But in the shifter world, where true mates exist, it was a reality. I wanted that. I wanted my true mate.

I wanted someone to make me blush, but at the same time, make me certain of my world, of my feelings.

To be there holding my hand fondly.

To smile at me gently, like a caress on the cheek from a lover.

Someone to guide me through the dark woods of my insecurities and faults, and help me realize that it wasn’t a dark forbidden wood, but a vulnerable one, susceptible to disease and heartbreak. That the forest was a magical place where I didn’t need to worry about doing something wrong. That it just needed to be taken care of. Cherished. Loved for its faults.

I needed a man with wings to fly me up to the stars.

His face appeared in my mind the instant I thought those words, the soft white feathers he had to shed every time he wanted to walk without wings.

I could imagine him cocooning me in the warmth of his embrace, his wings wrapping around me in a hug as we soared through the sky. The wind would rush through my hair as his fingers tangled in it.

Then suddenly, he’d hold me in his arms and reopen his wings and take me higher in the sky than I’ve ever been.

He’d stop, hover for a moment, as the sun began to set. He’d rest his head on my shoulder and we’d fall together, the clouds around us painted orange and pink.

He’d lift his head and wings to slow our descent and he’d put his hand on the back of my neck…

My eyes snapped open.

Goodness gracious, Elizabeth, pull yourself together.

I shook the daydream from my head, stunned I’d let it go that far.

A useless use of my imagination. It’ll never happen. Not with him. Stop thinking about him.

I looked over at the photo on my bookshelf.

It’s been years. He’s probably forgotten my face by now. I’m probably just the kid who was obsessed with flying in his eyes.

The weird girl who demanded he take her to the atmosphere.

I need to stop thinking of my 11-year-old crush.

Because that is all it was.

A crush.

Nothing more.

There would never be anything more than that.

He’d find his true mate and live happily ever after without me.

He’d smile.

He’d laugh.

He’d cry.

I would be involved in none of it.

I would just be a story, the smallest fragment, a small footnote, in his past.

Something wet fell on the back of my head.

I touched my face.

Why am I crying?

A heroic looking man like him would be better suited with someone else that has powers.

It’s possible he’d already found his mate.

My eyes stung, almost painfully as the tears continued to fall down my face in a rush, blurring my vision.

It wasn’t like I’d get notified if he had. It wasn’t like we were in a relationship beyond that of friendship. The bare minimum at that.

Nobody ever said you couldn’t love someone you’re not meant to be with. Nobody said it was impossible to love someone besides your true mate.

And him and I…

It just wasn’t.

It wasn’t meant to be.

But… even as I knew he’d likely forget me someday, he’d likely never speak to me again or even let me see those treasured wings…

I curled up on my bed and cried harder. Silently, or as silent as I could.

Even if I never saw him again… he was still there. He was always there in my mind, without my permission. Because I wanted him to see me. I wanted to say hi to him. I wanted to laugh about how demanding of a kid I was and silently scold myself for ever entertaining such thoughts of a future with him.

This was becoming a habit.

And in the depths of my heart, I made the tiniest plea.

Just let me see him one more time.

One more and I’d be done.

Once, and I’ll let him go.

This time…

I won’t ask for more.

Just once.