Rhianna lingered near the edge of the crowded hallway, her black combat boots scuffing lightly against the tile floor. Her messy black bangs fell into her pale face as she peeked out from behind her sketchbook, her dark eyeliner smudged from nervously rubbing her eyes.

She watched her—the radiant, untouchable popular girl—glide through the crowd, her laughter like a melody that made Rhianna’s chest tighten and her heart thud painfully against her ribs. She clutched her sketchbook tighter, the pages inside filled with sketches of the girl who had unknowingly stolen her thoughts, her heart... her everything.

Rhianna's breathing quickened when the girl’s gaze briefly flicked her way. She immediately ducked her head, her black hoodie almost swallowing her whole. Her voice was a mere whisper as she muttered to herself, “She’s too perfect... but maybe today, maybe I can...”

Taking a shaky step forward, Rhianna tried to steady herself. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the edges of her book, her nails painted black and chipped from anxious biting. Summoning every ounce of courage she had, she slowly approached the girl. Her voice barely broke through the noise around them as she stammered, “Um... hi... I—uh, I noticed you dropped this yesterday.”

In her hand was a small, delicate hair clip—one that she had "found" and carefully kept, waiting for the perfect moment to speak to her. Her gaze flicked up for a moment, wide and uncertain, before darting back down to the floor.