Of course, she thought. It always has to be me.

Obviously she didn't want to go. It was a Sunday afternoon, it was cold and she had been reading all morning until she remembered she needed something from the pharmacy. But her mother was busy, so she couldn't go.

So there was Cammie, walking along the sidewalk with her earphones in her ears playing from her iPod. She could drive, but it had just snowed, and she lived the sound it made under her favorite boots. Plus, the pharmacy wasn't too far from her small yellow house her and her mother lived in.

She took her time, and wasn't mad about having to go anymore. It happened quite a bit; her being lazy and getting agitated when she had to get up and do something physical. Yet, once she did actually get moving, she couldn't stop. She just needed a little push at the beginning, that's all.

As previously mentioned, it was a Sunday afternoon after a long snowfall the night before, so Cammie wasn't surprised to see not many cars in the parking lot as she came around the large brick building that held the items she needed.

The wind suddenly hit her face as she rounded the corner towards the automatic doors. It ran through her hair and chilled the back of her neck although it was covered by her favorite purple scarf. She dug her hands further and further into her pockets, dreading the decision she made to wear one of her lighter jackets. She did have layers on under it though.

She quickly slid her hands out of her pockets, hoping to fix her hair before her fingers got frost bite. She could barely feel the softness of her light brown locks, however. She did notice how her hair was smoother than normal, which made her smile. Her eyes flickered to her light pink shirt, almost covered by her light grey jacket. She had just bought it, and was quite pleased to how it looked on her-it made her look relaxed, yet girly.

The automatic door slid open to reveal a smell unique to the pharmacy. It was a rather large convenient store for its kind, but Cammie liked it. It always held everything she needed. She usually could get in and out in a good five minutes, but she suddenly didn't want to go home, so she found herself roaming the aisles slowly, just looking at the merchandise.

She started with the make-up section, since it was the closest to the entrance. All the different types of mascara and blush amazed her, so did the model's pictures on the products. They always looked too flawless. She wasn't stupid; she knew they were photo shopped.

She passed the deodorant, tooth brushes and tooth paste, the shampoos and conditioners. She studied the face washes and lotions carefully, knowing she needed some new products. She didn't pick anything up though, because she knew she could come back and get some if she decided to.

She didn't realize it until she rounded the aisle into the large collection of Valentine's Day candies and stuffed animals. She mentally slapped herself for walking into what she thought of as a death hole, but she couldn't find herself to turn back.

For some reason, the massive amount of red and pink controlled her, and she shuffled her black boots to the very front. First it was the almost dying flowers, red, pink, yellow and white roses that she knew were less than quality, daisies that were turning brown and leaves all over the floor. Then it was the cheesy pet sweaters with hearts all over them. She laughed to herself at the thought of actual pets wearing the ridiculous things.

What she didn't realize, when she picked up the first box of paper valentines, was that she would feel obligated to pick up them all. Each box was different; with either a different character or characters, or a fun design. They made her stomach hurt, just looking at them.

She had never liked Valentine's Day like the rest of the world had. Sure, the candy was good, and most of the flowers were nice, but she thought it was just a publicity stunt and a reminder for men to tell the women in their lives they love them.

Honestly, she didn't know why she was still in the aisle, after leaving one side and turning to the other, which was conveniently stocked well with millions of candies. Perfect for the longing emotion of depression or loneliness she felt in her gut.

But she couldn't just pick up any candy. No, she had to look at all of them, even though she knew what was her favorite.

She was admiring the nutritional facts of Butterfingers when the calorie total made her scoff and toss them back on the shelf. Sure, they were good, but not that good.

"You have something against Butterfingers?" a strong voice said beside her about four feet.

She snapped her head in their direction, she had no idea somebody else was in the same aisle. "Oh! No, no, I like Butterfingers, its just…they are so fattening for such a small amount," she tried to defend herself, she didn't want to look like an idiot in front of this guy, who she had to admit, was extremely good-looking.

"Ah," he smirked and grabbed the bag off the shelf. "So you are one of those types of girls."

She panicked. He was calling her out and thought she was anorexic. "No, no I swear, I love food!"

He chuckled. "I know, I know, I was just messing with you."

"Well thanks," she felt her cheeks get red. "For that…you know, messing with me."

"Anytime," he smirked, letting the last syllable draw out. He didn't want her to think he was that type of guy, so he decided to try something.

"Can I mess with you some more and ask for your name?"

She felt herself blush again. "Only if you tell me yours."

"Zach."

"Cammie."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he chuckled and smirked again, making her laugh too.

"How many times have you used that one?" she said to him, smiling and staring into his deep green, captivating eyes.

"Surprisingly, this is the first," he answered truthfully.

Cammie nodded and bit her lip. She didn't know he would answer that way.

"You seem honest," he turned his whole body towards her and her folded arms across her chest.

She looked at him nervously.

"Say I am looking for a gift for someone," he started, "what would you suggest?"

"Well, who is it for first of all?" Cammie asked as she strolled along the aisle, passing everything she already looked at extensively.

"Someone I just met," he followed her.

"A girl I'm presuming," she smiled, wanting to help him.

He smirked again. "What were you implying?"

"N-nothing," she stuttered, getting embarrassed again.

He smiled genuinely. "I'm just messing with you again."

"You need to stop doing that," she giggled. "So what is this girl like?"

"I don't know a whole lot about her but I think whatever you pick out will be fine," he shrugged.

"Alright…" she looked at him with a confused expression. "Well, if all else fails, I would go with the Butterfingers."

He laughed. "Obviously you have a secret obsession."

She smiled and held her hands up. "Fine, you caught me. I was trying to convince myself to hate them earlier but it definitely didn't work."

"Then the bag of butterfingers it is," he grabbed them and studied the bag, just as Cammie did.

"Valentine's Day isn't for another three days you know," Cammie started walking along the other aisles like she had done before without even knowing.

"I like to get things done," he commented.

She chuckled. "Saving the flowers for the big day?"

"Maybe," he smiled encouragingly.

"You should get her daisies, not roses. Roses are so cliché," she smiled slightly, something in her suddenly wanted to be that girl he seemed so gaga over.

Silence filled the air then, staying put as they strolled along the small pathways, past the cleaning supplies, medicine and refrigerated food.

The trance that had engulfed them both was suddenly blown when her phone rang with a text from her mother asking her where she was.

"Well that's my cue to leave," she said as they passed the paper towels.

"You live around here?" he asked casually, sticking the hand that wasn't holding the Butterfingers in his pocket.

"Yeah, the small yellow house down the street a little," she shrugged.

"Nice," he smiled. "I haven't been here long so I don't really know my way around yet."

"Oh really?" she was now very captivated by him. "How long have you been here?"

"Eh, about two weeks. I start school tomorrow."

"Really? Where?"

"Gallagher High," he said.

Her eyes lit up. "Really?" she squeaked, knowing it was a little too much. "I go there!"

"You're a senior I'm guessing," he winked and didn't know, but made her heart melt.

"Yep," she smiled brightly, making him feel weak.

"Well I guess I will see you in class then. Us Seniors have got to live it up, right?" he got in the line for the register.

"I guess so," she awkwardly stepped away from him, not knowing how to end their encounter. "Senior year is already half way over, so hopefully it will fly by. But hey, if you ever want a tour around town…you know where to find me."

She smiled at him warmly then headed out the door, back the way she came, slightly frowning at the fact that she didn't buy anything, and cursing herself because she was not good at talking to guys, especially hot new mysterious guys like him.

He on the other hand, couldn't stop smiling. He knew she was something special and somebody other people took for granted, and he was determined not to be someone like that.

…..

The day started as any others would. She got up, got dressed and headed for school. Tuesdays sucked in her mind, maybe even more than Mondays.

She had looked for Zach the day before, but couldn't find him anywhere. He had to go to the school, he had said it himself. Maybe he was getting settled in, she thought, but again, she didn't see him at all that day, except for what she could have sworn was the back of his head, rushing in the opposite direction as her.

She didn't want to do anything else when she got home than curl up in her bed and read, but when she got to her front door, she slowly took out her earphones and picked up the brown box that laid on her doorstep. It was halfway covered in snow, but she easily brushed it off and took it inside.

Once she had gotten a pair of scisors and had cut all the tape, she carefully opened the flaps.

Inside the damp and cold cardboard box were three daisies, a bag of Butterfingers and a note that read:

Cammie,

Please don't think I am a stalker or something. I'm not, I promise.

I bet you can guess why these things are in the box, I thought it was pretty clever of me, but hey, that's just my opinion.

So now that I know where you live, I will probably show up tomorrow for that tour around the city you owe me. Unless it snows a lot. I'm not used to the snow.

On second thought, we will do it regardless, even if it snows, because you seem like you like snow since you walked home the other day.

Anyways, I hope you like the daisies, only three because the others were dead and ugly. Also, I hope you don't get fat eating the Butterfingers, but I guess I will see if you do for myself tomorrow.

~Z