1 01

Gᴡᴇɴ Eᴠᴀɴs

Hi. I'm Gwen Evans. And I don't give a fuck.

I know, I know. Such a negative introduction, blah blah blah. But it's the truth, I really don't care. Well, I once did but not now. Not after what happened to me, which is quite a lot.

I look.. beautiful? I'm not one of those people who would call myself ugly so people tell me that I'm beautiful and shit. I'm 5'2, yes, I'm short, I know. I have brown hair that looks golden in the sun. I have brown eyes, I really think brown eyes are really underrated. My nose is a fucked up piece, not gonna lie about it. I have a bump on my nose from every time I got hit there, accidentally of course. And my lips are kinda messed up too, my lower lip is bigger than my upper one. But my nose and lips look fine together. As you might've heard, "two negatives makes a positive".

I know I'm pretty and I don't need anyone telling me that. Although, I would like if someone calls me pretty. Sad, I know. I don't have any friends so I've never really got any compliments. The only person who gives me compliments is my mother.

I was once an extrovert. Not the best phase of my life, I'll admit it. But I was like 13 that time so I got over it in the last 4 years. Being an extrovert doesn't matter when you're 12-13. But being an extrovert at the age of 16-17 does change your whole lifestyle. I once heard that- ah fuck it- I always hear that being not-so-social will mess up my life and I will end up alone. And that still gives me hope. Thanks, Aunt Karen.

I started smoking at the age of 15. I still don't drink or do drugs but I do like to smoke a cigarette once in a while. I read somewhere that smoking cigarettes can help through panic attacks, it wasn't true of course but now I have a bad habit of smoking through my panic attacks.

My parents are divorced and I live with my mother now. My dad cheated on my mom with his boss. I read his chats with his boss when I was 12 and told my mom everything. My dad still doesn't talk to me because of it. It's kinda funny.

Sorry dad, but it isn't my fault you don't know how passwords work.

I love One Direction and I'm mostly just singing their songs sitting alone in my room. I think it's safe to say they cured a quarter of my depression. But then they split up and left me in more depression so that's exciting.

But I still love their songs nonetheless.

Oh and also, Louis and Harry are married. I'm sorry antis, opinions are opinions.

I'm not really into flowers but if I had to choose a favourite, I would choose sunflowers. They are beautiful, I'm not gonna lie. I often lay in a field of sunflowers alone with a romantic novel in my hand, it makes me calm— me, just laying there with my earphones plugged in my ears, repeatedly listening to Sunflower, Vol. 6 by Harry Styles while reading. And the fact that they turn towards each other when the day is cloudy will always be the best part about them.

Drawing is one of my escapes from this world. I'm pretty good at it, naturally, might I add. I love drawing random strangers walking down the street, watching them from my window. I still don't like people though, it's purely for my own entertainment. I don't like adding colours to my drawings. My mom told me once about how I'm going to fill colours in my drawings and sketches when I actually meet the right person. Gross.

I hate people. I try to avoid them as long as I can. But it's easier now, since I don't have any friends. I hate people and they hate me, we have a mutual understanding now. I usually glare at people when they try to get close to me in school so they get scared of me and don't ever come back.

I had a sister. I loved being with her. Keyword being 'had'. But that's a story for another day. Because it's also the story of how I acted the way I did.

Right now, I'm walking down the street to get to school with my earphones plugged in my ears as Cupid's Chokehold blared through them.

I walked through the school hallways to find my way to my locker. I saw some blonde chick and a typical American bully type looking guy making out through my journey to my locker, making me mentally gag.

Gross.

I opened my locker as soon as I reach it. I took out my history book, yeah I know, first period and history. It sucks. I made my way to my first class without looking at any more make out sessions to ruin the day.

As I was going to my class, I felt a push on my right shoulder and my history book fell out of my grip, with all the sketches I did in my history class. Should've put it in the bag, I thought. I didn't have time to see who bumped into me as I started to collect my pieces of art and started placing it back in random pages of my history book.

I saw a hand come in my view as I was busy collecting the papers— veiny, rings. It looked attractive. Yes, I have a hand fetish, don't even get me started. The hand collected some of my sketches before I heard a voice, "Wow. Did you make it?"

I looked up to meet eyes with the guy who was helping me. He had a cheerful expression on his face. He looked like he could be that one guy who works at the bakery and greets everyone with a smile. He was a brunette, his hair not too straight and not too curly. His eyes were green, like the beautiful green that sparkles in the sunlight. He looked a bit.. Hispanic?

That's a new face.

"Yes, of course, I made it. Why would I carry it with me if I hadn't made it?" I said, annoyed that I had to open my mouth this early in the morning.

"Woah. Stop glaring, woman." He chuckled at me.

Glare intensified.

"Okay, okay," he laughed, "I'm sorry for bumping into you, though. I was getting late for my class and had to run."

"Oh, so you were the one who bumped into me." I said.

"Yes, and I'm sorry." He says as he just fucking smiles. I hate people who smile all the time, like— what the hell do you think is so funny?

"Nevermind." I huffed as I started to make my way to the class again.

I entered the class to see Mr. Ravi already there in the class. Fuck.

Mr. Ravi was a fine man, I don't even want to lie. But he was rather bitchy with his students. He was in his mid 30s and had black hair which perfectly matched his brown eyes. And the one thing I would ask him if I had a chance is that what skincare he does, his dark skin even glows when the sunlight from the windows covers his face. I'm jealous.

"Late again, Ms. Evans." I heard Mr. Ravi say as I tried to tiptoe my way to my usual seat by the window. "I actually got—" I got cut off as I heard another voice from behind me.

"She's late because of me." The voice said. I sighed, he was the guy who bumped into me.

"And why are you late, may I ask?" Mr. Ravi queried.

"I.. am late because of her." The guy said.

Bitch what?

"I'm too tired for all this." Mr. Ravi sighed before shooing us to our seats. I was a little pissed that he let us go because some new guy explained it to him. He would never let me get out of this without detention if only I was late.

I took my usual spot by the window. I felt a presence beside me and I looked up from my seat to see who it is. I saw the new guy standing there with a stupid smile on his face.

"May I?" He asked, referring to the seat beside me.

"What? No—"

I didn't get to finish when he suddenly spoke up.

"Wait, really? Thank you so much for letting me sit here!" He chuckled before sitting next to me.

Yeah, right. Just invite yourself.

"What's your name?" I heard him say.

"Gwen," I muttered, "Gwen Evans."

"Well hey, Gwen. I'm Miller. Asher Miller." he smiled and offered his hand for me to shake, but put it down once he realised I wasn't going to.

"You look like a guy who would introduce yourself like that." I said.

"Why do I always hear people say that?" He said, pretending like he was in deep thought.

"Maybe because you are like that?" I reasoned.

"You're probably right." He said.

I've avoided him for almost the whole class now. He's looking at me right now. Oh no, he's about to speak again.

"Do you ever smile?"

There it is.

"None of your business."

He chuckled before speaking again, "Well, Wendy, it is my business now."

"Wendy?"

"Yeah. That's short for your name."

"My name is Gwen."

"Your full name is Gwendolyn, isn't it?"

I looked around, trying to see if anyone heard him. I sighed in relief as I saw everyone minding their own business. I turned to him to see him ready to burst out laughing.

"Your reaction just proved I was right." He mused. "My grandma's name was Gwendolyn. But her friends called her Gwen, so I asked."

"Well, no shit, Sherlock. I hate the name though, sounds like Gandalf." I said.

"You've got quite a humour on you, Wendy." He chuckled.

The bell rang and I quickly stood up, not wasting any more time getting out of here. "Maybe you could show me aro—" he started but I sprinted before he could finish his sentence.

That's an interesting person.