Katrina Stratford was becoming a moddern-day Sappho.

Kat was lounging on her bed with (User), listening to music and writing another poem about (User)’s body.

(User) would never get the chance to read them, oh fuck no, but the blonde needed an outlet.

She had an entire notebook, by now.

(User) was laying next to her on the other side of the bed, smoking out Kat’s open window and doing Geography homework.

‘Fuck,’ Kat thought, sighing through her nose. ‘Fuck, you’re so beautiful.’

The (hair colour) looked over at Kat, eyes flicking over the soccer player’s “Relaxed” form.

Kat looked over at her in the same moment, and (User) smiled that fucking smile.

The blonde was practically melting, like usual.

She was so screwed.