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ೃ༄ CHAPTER ONE — blushing, breathless mess!
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MARIANA SUMMERS was stalking him. Plain and simple. She knew the poor boy left his house around three in the afternoon and got home sometime near eight. She knew that he went straight to his room, opened the curtains, and sat in front of them doing god-knows-what. She knew he had a fucking owl, and she was well aware of how he was treated by his family. She knew he had no friends, no social life — nothing.
Maybe that's why she took such an interest in him ( or maybe it was because he was hot as fuck ). Mars knew that Harry Potter was supposedly a "bad kid", but she didn't buy it for one second. She refused to admit to herself that maybe the boy with rosy cheeks and bright green eyes, with whom she played House, had turned into a delinquent ( I mean, really — he hung out at the playground most days, just swinging with a book, minding his own business. ). He was strange, she'd admit that much — last summer she saw him point a stick at the Dursley boy with such infuriation that Mars was positive she was about to bear witness to a suburb-murder ( no such thing happened though, instead they both sprinted away leaving her quite confused. Dudley Dursley never ran, and what caused them to scurry away from the rain? What a bunch of nutters, she mused. ).
Though, if Mars knew anything, it was that she pitied Harry Potter ( she pitied anyone who had to deal with the Dursleys for more than a minute or two ), and also that she wanted to slam him against a wall and make out with him until he was a breathless, blushing mess. She wasn't ashamed to admit it, either — he was cute as hell. Plus, what girl didn't go for the supposed "bad-boy" ( Grease, The Outsiders, Clueless, Dirty Dancing, The Breakfast Club — Mars could go on and on! ) — not that she was necessarily a "good girl ", but compared to a kid who got sent to a delinquent school, she was alright ( this was only because she had never been caught, though ).
But nonetheless, Harry intrigued her, and she spilled all this into her diary with pink-tinted cheeks and a dully-pulsating forehead from where she beat it against the book due to recounting her — embarrassing — first meeting with him.
