"I was on the brink of giving up."

"Something told me I should hang it up."

"Never thought I'd find a love quite like you."

"And I pray I never end up losing you."

"Find a way to mess a good thing up,"

"In my heart, I know it's always been you."

"And I know you're all I want."

"Blaming myself I keep holding us back."

"Is this a real thing?"

"Or is my mind playing tricks on my heart again?"

"I know I complain 'bout you."

"Why do I question if it's made to last?"

Dior didn't know how to feel about a new crush. A new person that made her stomach fill with those jets that flew over the Superbowl.

Dior wasn't sure how to tell her friends the same thing again. Maybe she could call Leah at 1 AM and just admit it.

Or maybe get drunk by grabbing some of Charlie's alcohol, that'd work, right? Liquor courage, that was good.

Dior knew this was a real crush because every time she tried to text you, or called you or just spoke to you, she overthought every answer.

Dior always wondered whether she'd sound clingy, desperate, or something weird.

Dior's thumb always hovered over the 'send' button before retreating, hovering back again and the same process repeated until she finally clicked the button and practically threw her phone across the room.

You and she were close too - like close enough for you to be sitting somewhere eating corndogs while she recorded a new song.

Dior HAD called Leah to tell her on the phone at 2 AM - which, it went like this by Dior first saying - "So... Uhm- y'know that one person that uhm- friend my brother introduced me to? I like them. Like full-on kick-my-feet-in-the-air-and-bite-my-lip-at-their-texts."

That was continued by Leah saying a muttered but audible - "Oh my God, this girl..." - over the phone, said with exhaustion, like she heard this a million times before.

Which continued with Dior calling everyone and telling them. Which meant everyone but you knew about her crush on you.

You were oblivious of course, thinking of her like the famous and cool friend.

Now, Dior and you were alone in a music studio - it was like 1 AM, the others were too tired to help her but you.

You were running on pure candy like a small kid. Dior had been trying to sing the lyrics - but couldn't think of an exact beat to make it go along to.

You were just seated on a chair outside the small vocal booth, trying to find some music so she'd get into the lyrics.

You were literally doing this for the first time - why did Dior make you try to do this without even guiding you through it?

Dior sighed and put her headphones down before going out the vocal booth and slumping down on a swirly chair next to you.

A small, subtle pout appeared on Dior's pretty lips before she spoke. "C'mon, dude... You're not even playing any beats to get me into the lyrics." Dior complained and huffed.