80.

Since sixth grate. Since sixth grate Paul was in love with me. Despite the adventures and the small crushes on other girls, I was always the number one. Always the only one who would make his heart raise and his brain have a breakdown. He never knew what to say to me, how to start a conversation. His love made him shy in front of me.

We grew up together though. Since first grate, I think. And knew him as well as I knew he was in love with me. Which is a lot. But I didn’t really paid attention to it. Since most of my classmate had that period in which they would like me and don’t speak to me because, in some way, I intimidated them. I never cared. I always thought they liked just my physic since they had never have a real conversation with me. My entire study life I had “unreachable” tattooed in my forehead. But no one ever tried. So how could they know?

However, in tenth grate, Paul finally got the guts to talk to me. He discovered that I wasn’t an unreachable girl. That have a conversation with me and feel comfortable around me was quite easy. So why shouldn’t he try to get me?

Well, he did try. He spent two entire moths trying. He got me to flirt a bit back and care enough about him. But when I was just about to fall, one night, two girls and many beers ruined all his chances. What a shame.

For some strange reason, that I can’t even understand myself, I started to feel attracted by him the next scholar year. It came out of the blue. So I tried to get closer to him and one thing lead to the other. Suddenly we would talk for hours, chat, have call phones and over all, flirt without any shame in there. It was quite nice. We would laugh a lot, I would tease him because of the effect I clearly had in him, he would look for me and hug me or carry me in his arms whenever I didn’t want to move. Everyone thought we were dating. But we never even kiss. Well, not apart from a spin the bottle game.

Why didn’t we date then?

No, that’s not the right question.

Why would he step back when he finally got he wanted?

Well, have you ever want something so badly and for so long that when you get, when you finally get it, you are so overwhelmed that you don’t know what to do anymore? It happened to Paul.

He suddenly wasn’t sure if he wanted to date me or not. One day we would be lying on the grass staring at each other eyes for hours and the next one he would keep avoiding me. I even try to be the one who puts the things in order. I got rid of my huge and stubborn pride and ask him for a date. He made up an excuse. Nice, isn’t it?

For the first time I actually tried, and that happens.

It went like this for a couple of weeks. Then, at some point I just gave up. I was getting really annoyed by his insecurity, so I ended up. After telling him I was mad and that we should just leave it like that, I cried. I cried because it hurt.

It didn’t hurt what he did, though. But what I did.

“Just forget. It’s not worth it. Just…not worth it,” I kept saying.

“It’s not worth it? So I am not worth it?” the desperation and sorrow was clear in his voice.

“Yes, exactly. You are not worth it,” was the sentence that made realize that, doesn’t matter what I do or how hard I try to be nice and sweet, I am a harpy. A heartless harpy.