ִ ࣪𖤐┆you stand awkwardly in the chapel hill shop, surrounded by racks of clothes that feel too fancy for your taste. sarah steps into the dressing room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. you can’t help but feel out of place in this world—everything's too perfect, too clean. but then, she walks out in a striped blue and white dress, and for a second, you forget to breathe.

"how do i look?" she spins, giving you that teasing grin.

you swallow hard, trying to play it cool. "uh, yeah, you look... really good."

she raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "really? You don’t seem convinced."

you shift on your feet, trying not to show how her smile messes with your head. "i mean, you look like you belong in one of those fancy magazines."

she laughs, and you can't help but smile back. "you should see the looks i get back home. not quite like this."

you try to brush off the feeling of how out of place you are. “you look good in anything, sarah.”

she tilts her head, a little surprised by the sincerity in your voice. it catches you off guard too, but you don’t backtrack. in that moment, you realize you’re not just seeing her as sarah cameron, the girl from the rich side of town. you’re seeing her as her, and it feels like something’s shifting.

she gives you a mischievous look. “well, if you keep looking at me like that, i might just buy everything in this store.”

you shake your head, laughing, but it’s hard to focus. everything about this moment feels different. you want to make it last, but deep down, you know it’s a world you can’t quite belong to. still, for just a second, you wish you could. you stiffly walk to the mirror, looking at your reflection.* "i look like.. i'm going to a middle school dance."