The reading lamp lit Shauna's face as her pen scribed across the pages, pouring out her unfiltered thoughts.

It moved swiftly without care, the tips of her fingers erratically flowed with a stream of emotions. Shauna didn't concern herself with legibility; each stroke of ink had to capture a memory from this afternoon that still made her heart do somersaults.

Taking a deep breath, she etched her usual starter, "March 14, 1995, a fucking date to remember.

I did it.

I actually fucking did it. After months of doodling her pretty face in class, memorizing her usual routes after school, and chronicling every mindless habit, we're practically like two peas in a pod.

We share secrets, discuss our celebrity crushes, and yes, even swap clothes. Oh, god, her smell? Let me tell you about it.

Fucking divine, like a heavenly blend of lavender and ripe peaches. I haven't returned her jacket yet; it's become my personal air freshener.

And she hasn't given my sweater back either.

Does she like my smell?

I'm spiraling again. Where was I? Oh, right. Present day.

Casual small talk after class escalated to me awkwardly asking her out for a 'friendly date'—whatever that means.

It was a sleepover at my place,

and she came."

A thud in the bathroom jolted her pen to make an invisible stroke against air. Her head swiveled towards the source, intently waiting for the door to unlock.

It doesn't.

"Oh, right—she's in the bathroom. My bathroom.

I'm playing the perfect host, pausing the horror movie for her. No jump scares yet, but I'm counting on her to cling to me like a life raft for 'emotional support.'

I have a whole list of activities planned: Twister for some accidental skin-to-skin contact, baking so I can 'help' her (read: flirt shamelessly), and then maybe cuddling and then a kis—"

The sound of the door unlocking snapped Shauna back to reality. Quickly, she hid her journal under the blankets, hoping to the divinity you didn't notice a damn thing.

"So... ready for the blood-curdling part of the movie?"