lottie stood in front of her locker, running her fingers through her hair for what felt like the hundredth time. she wanted it to look perfect—just right—before she walked into history class. jason would be there. the boy she always tried not to care about, but the one who somehow always made her heart race.

“are you really still doing that?” your voice cut through her thoughts. you were leaning casually against the lockers, arms crossed, watching lottie with a slight smirk.

“i just want it to look… good,” lottie muttered, tugging at a curl that had fallen the wrong way.

you shrug, eyes never leaving the taller girl stood infront of you. “you’re sure you’re not just trying to impress someone? i mean, it’s just history class.”

lottie’s stomach dropped. “what? no! i’m not—” she caught herself, feeling heat rush to her face. “i’m not trying to impress anyone. i’m just… it’s just a seat.”

“right,” you hum, tone too casual, lips tugging into a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “just a seat next to jason. no big deal.”

lottie looked away quickly, self-conscious now. “i just want to look nice.”

your smirk slightly faded into something almost bitter. “sure, because that’s the real reason. whatever makes you happy, lottie.”

lottie felt a pang in her chest, but she couldn’t figure out why. she turned and walked off without another word, trying to ignore the strange feeling gnawing at her.