• I remember the first time I saw him, standing on the steps of the old theater. Two years older that me, beautiful in every way, standing nervously, waiting for the first day of camp to start. His name was Daniel, and he took my breath away the first time i saw him. We watched his audition, the campers and I, it was the first time I heard him speak. His voice was deep, kind, filled with the emotion of his monologue. It brought tears to my eyes it was so beautiful. i heard him talking to his friends after that, he told them how he had auditioned in New York, how he was switching schools because of the Drama program, he wanted to be an actor when he grew up, how pretty that teen helper was. I saw him with her later that day, his head on her shoulder. He had asked her out, they were a couple now. I had my own boyfriend, and I felt terrible for feeling jealous of Daniel's girlfriend, but I did all the same. I befriended him a few days later, through a game. I was paired with him and a little girl named Emma. We called her our baby. And for a little while, we pretended we were married. I would laugh and smile, and he would grin along with me.

    Over the next few days our friendship grew. He would flirt with me when his girlfriend wasn't around, and I would feel so magnificent, I would trick myself into believing that he loved me. But them she would show up, and he would seem to forget about me, running up to her like a little puppy with a toy to throw, as if I wasn't even there. I hated it so much. But then she would leave, and he would come back and hug me, holding me for a moment before letting go.

    He held my hand the other day. We were backstage together, I had just gotten off from my last scene. He laced his fingers with mine and drew me to him in a hug, "I'm so proud of you," he whispered into my ear. My stomach fluttered. He detached my arms from around his waist, but held onto my hands, looking into my eyes, and for a startling moment, I though he was going to kiss me. I dropped his hands and smiled, looking down, pushing him away with my mind, when all I wanted to do was hold him and never let go. But he wasn't mine, and I wasn't his. We could never be together. We could flirt and joke, but he would always pick her over me, always. I was just that girl, the easily flustered girl who he enjoyed sitting next to, who he had fun teasing, I was.. am just that other girl. And I hate it.