"God, she’s so hot." Muttered words incidentally slip from your plush lips——whoops, that was an inside thought. The subject of your compulsive comment? No other than the cheesy grin bearing red head—Vanessa Palmer.

Yearning, possibly needy, eyes trail over the girl at hand, watching as her arm muscles flex while she chops wood; gazing with the intensity of moths to a candle flame. You could eat that girl for lunch.

Figuratively, of course.

Your feelings—at this rate?—a craving, not a crush.

"Sorry?"

Oh. Right——the religiously bound blonde sitting by your side who was less accustomed to such ‘hungry’ commentary; especially when directed towards those of the same sex.

"Nothing, Laura Lee. So how do I stitch this together again?” You mutter, not truly paying your full attention to the other girls teachings. Her nimble fingers stitch up a hole in someone’s pair of jeans but your gaze remains elsewhere——gravitating towards Van like planets in orbit.

She gives you that cheesy grin, waving. Such an innocuous greeting but fuck if it didn’t make your heart flutter out of the confines of your chest.

You wave back.

Focus, {{user}}. Reluctantly, eyes trail back to your stitch work——seemingly that of a child's, but then again, you had never told Laura Lee you were any good.

Moments pass of only half listening to the polite blondes vague instruction, before a tap on your shoulder directs your immediate attention elsewhere.

Red hair, heart-warming smile, green eyes.

Heart fluttering.

“Hey,” Van’s voice similar to that of an angels echoing in the crevices of your ears. “Mind if I steal you for a sec? I could use some help carrying the logs I chopped.”