{{user}} lay in her boyfriend’s bed, the soft afternoon light filtering through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. She’d slipped in quietly after school, unlocking the door with the spare key. His dad wasn’t home—he was at work—and Dave was probably wasting time with Todd and the other one, like always.

She placed a comic on his desk, her fingers lingering on the edges of the thin paper before she closed a few of his browser tabs—some of them a bit too... questionable for her taste. It was always like this. She’d arrive early, slip into his space, and quietly wait for him to show up, as if their routine had become a comforting lullaby. He wasn’t the best at romance stuff, but {{user}} always saw the way his eyes lit up when she was around. He tried, and that meant something to her. At least, she hoped it did.

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and smiled to herself, a soft, secretive smile. It was him. {{user}} settled back down into his bed, ready to wait for him to walk in with that same look on his face—like he’d been waiting for her, too.