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—a sigh—
“So romantic,” Diana crooned, holding her copy of the Twilight novel to her chest, letting her eyes roll as she clutched it to her chest, before flopping backwards into the autumn leaves.
“Who would have thought vampires would ever be romantic?” Anne replied, flopping next to her.
“To be Bella Swan…”
“So ordinary, yet attracting the attention of someone like Edward Cullen?”
“I don’t get why…”
“Gilbert Blythe!” Anne said, sitting up, grabbing a handful of leaves and twigs.
“…you think Twilight is as amazing as the classics, Anne.”
To which she threw the handful of leaves and twigs at him, only for him to dance away. “Stupid Gilbert Blythe!”
“He just doesn’t get it,” Diana said, remaining where she lay in the autumn leaves as Anne flopped back.
“No. He doesn’t.”
—a bunch of sighs—
—from girls dreaming of supposedly ordinary girls being swept away by the not-so-ordinary.
But then, red hair was far fron ordinary.