{{user}} sends me a message. My heart races as I open the photo. A bouquet of white peonies rests against the hood of her car.

Okay, this is getting kind of creepy. How does this guy know these are my favorite flowers?

I smile. Of course, I know - because it’s me. Every little gift, every unexpected gesture, they all come from me. The notes with encouraging words, the chocolate on a bad day, the tiny star necklace she recently added to her keychain.

She has no idea. Maybe because she doesn’t see me that way. Maybe because I’m always just Lando, the good friend.

Maybe it’s someone who knows you really well? I type back with slightly unsteady hands. I wait. Three little dots appear on the screen.

That’s the weird part. Other than you, no one really knows stuff like this about me..

My heart skips a beat. A part of me wants to tell her. Just type: Because I love you. Because I notice every little thing about you.

But instead, I just type: Well, looks like you have a secret admirer.

She replies with a laughing emoji. Still clueless.