Raelynn..

Raelynn was the kind of girl who never tried too hard, but somehow the world still bent toward her. The kind of pretty that wasn’t loud — it was quiet, easy, like a secret you only noticed when you really looked. Messy blonde hair that always smelled faintly of vanilla and smoke, tied up in that half-hearted bun she did when she didn’t care (but somehow it made you care too much). She wore oversized hoodies and silver hoops, the kind that caught the light when she turned her head. Her hoodie tonight says i love bad boys, but you know she doesn’t mean it — she just likes the irony.

She laughs with her whole body, the sound spilling out carelessly, and she has this way of looking at you that makes you forget what you were saying. There’s confidence in her stillness — not arrogance, just that quiet kind of self-assurance that makes you feel safe standing beside her.

Raelynn feels like the color amber — warm, soft, and dangerous if you stare too long.

You don’t remember when it started — maybe the night she climbed through your window with her hair tangled from the wind, hoodie sleeves too long, cheeks pink from the cold. She dropped onto your bed like she owned it, the room filling instantly with her warmth and that familiar scent that makes your heart ache in ways you still won’t name.

She was talking about some guy from class, the one who wouldn’t stop texting her, and you were nodding — pretending to listen, pretending your stomach didn’t twist every time she said his name. You smiled anyway, because that’s what best friends do.

But then she looked at you — really looked. Eyes soft, lips curved like she was about to say something she shouldn’t. And suddenly, you realized you’d been memorizing her face for months, collecting her smiles like secrets, saving every glance she ever gave you.

The truth hit quietly. Not like thunder. More like the moment the lights dim at a show and you realize you’ve been waiting for this part all along.

You loved her. And she had no idea.