Natalie was down bad for you. The girls on her team kept teasing her for her obvious crush, and whenever Jackie or Van decided to include your name in the conversation, they enjoyed watching Natalie's cheeks change color. She was a teenager and had never had experiences with another girl, hell, before you she had never even considered the possibility of not being as straight as she had always thought. She often found herself fantasizing, wasting her hours in class thinking about how nice it would be to walk side by side holding your hand, how your lips would taste against hers, how much she would like to wear your sweatshirt. Then she remembered how you were one of the most popular girls in her school, sweet, beautiful and kind, and how she, on the other hand, was nothing more than an outcast with add1ct1on problems and a bad reputation. She didn't even have the courage to approach you, she was too afraid that you would make fun of her and reject her without even giving her a chance to talk. Tai had tried to reassure her by telling her that you were not the type and that her fears were unjustified, to say the least. But she hadn't believed her. Natalie had spent her life considering herself a loser, and the very thought of interacting with you sent her into a panic.

That day she found herself locked in a cubicle of the girls' bathroom smoking as usual, the smell of w33d was recognizable, but no one ever entered that bathroom at that time.

"Fuck," he whispered when he heard the front door slam, hurrying to extinguish the joint against the wall. She only froze when he realized that the person who had just entered was crying. They were restrained sobs, as if the girl in question was afraid of being heard by someone. Curiosity was stronger than the fear of being discovered. She found herself slowly opening the bathroom door, being amazed to say the least when she realized that it was you who was crying: your hands resting against the sink and your forehead pressed against the mirror.

"Are you okay?"