Seafoam

It's his favorite word. Seafoam. He loves to say it. He loves to think it. He loves to see it.

He loves when everyone says, "Your eyes are the most beautiful color I have ever seen. Seafoam green..."

He loves that. He loves the attention.

I hate the attention. I hate when every girl slithers up to him, pressing her perfect body against his perfect body, and saying things like, "Your eyes are so beautiful, Vince. You should model...you'd earn so much money for your looks."

And Vincent would just smirk and pull her body closer.

It disgusts me.

"Lighten up, Eva," Vincent nudges me, rolling his eyes. I hate when he calls me Eva. My name is not Eva.

I do not lighten up. I am angry that every girl is allowed to touch Vincent like that, except me. Every girl is allowed to say flirty things to Vincent, except me. Every girl is allowed to be with Vincent, except me.

Vincent does not think of me in that way.

I wish every night that he does.