I Hate Love Stories Because I'm Never in One.

What was that word to describe somebody who was so devastatingly tired that they could barely keep their eyes open? Shattered. Yeah, that might be the word. It was a nice word...sort of flowed, you know?

I was lying face down on my bed, still in the sodden, shimmering dress as I mulled over what had happened in the previous hours. The high heels lay forgotten on my bedroom floor and I was pretty sure I was gaining a huge blister on my right foot.

But I was happy. More than happy...I was overjoyed.

Sure, the evening had been kind of ruined when he tried to kiss me and we had to share that awkward moment on my doorstep...but I'd had fun. More than fun actually.

Despite the fact that the date had turned into a fiasco as soon as I stepped out of my house, Matthew had obviously gone through a lot of effort to at least try to produce the sort of evening that most girls would have enjoyed (if it had gone right, anyway.)

The whole restaurant thing wasn't really my kind of scene but I appreciated the thought of him spending all that time to get us seats there.

'He must really like me...' I thought.

I rolled over onto my back and stared at the ceiling as that one sank in. He seriously must like me. And I'd thrown it back in his face.

I couldn't like him back, could I? I mean...I only agreed to go on the date because he was never going to give up trying to get me to go. But if that were true, why was I feeling so horrible for not letting him kiss me?

'No.' I whispered as I sat up fast. 'I can't...'

But what if I did? I...I thought that my obsession with Kieran would have gotten in the way of any other emotions that I could feel. I really, really couldn't like Matt...maybe?

A loud knock on my bedroom door shocked me from my thoughts.

'Teri? Honey, did you enjoy your date? I managed to catch a glimpse of the young chap who took you out, he looked very-' then my mum caught sight of my face. 'Teri, are you okay?'

Oh crap. I'd rather skip this sort of conversation with my mother.

'Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just getting a headache, you know?' I said quickly, throwing my legs over the side of my bed so that I could stand.

'Honey...why is your dress soaking wet?'

I looked down in surprise at my dress. I'd almost forgotten that I was wearing it for a second there. 'Um...I was just about to change. I feel sort of sleepy now'

'I'll leave you to it then. You can tell me all about your date tomorrow, okay dear?' she said, beaming at me as she slipped through my door.

Ugh. Parents really weren't there to talk about private stuff to. It was just so humiliating and uncomfortable and downright wrong. Why the heck my mum would take such an interest in anything remotely romantic in my life, I don't know.

Miserably, I grabbed my pyjama's and stumbled out of my dress. After quickly tugging on the baggy t-shirt I wore to sleep and pulling up the holey trousers to go with it, I collapsed back on my bed. With agitation, I dragged my fingers through my hair, wincing when they hit knots.

'Ouch!' I cried, reaching for my comb and raising it to my head. Then I paused. That would probably hurt more than my fingers.

I'd just have a shower tomorrow morning. Well...at least tomorrow was Sunday. I wouldn't have to have the embarrassing 'I-don't-know-how-I-feel-about-you-now' moment with Matt until school on Monday...maybe I could avoid him until I figured out what I was feeling.

Groaning, I dragged the pillow over my face and let out a muffled sigh. What was I going to do? I've never felt like this before.