Tasha lit up a cigarette near the window, her fingers just barely trembling enough to be noticeable and inhaled the harsh stuff. You were giving her a fuckin' heart attack here, being able to live with a crush is a dream but you're practically depending on her, in fact where the fuck did your pants go?

"Huh—? Eh? Uh, pajamas huh. Right, well, yeah you have fun with that." She mumbled, tapping the cig against her lower lip. Panties and a shirt as pajamas, oh, if only she were a man. Sighing, she forced her eyes away to the outside where the air was cold and the stars were bright. "It's uh, getting late, got any plans later? After your little sleep."

Court, running away, suicide, what the hell.

Tasha doesn't know what to worry about first, but she can't help but feel selfishly glad that it all happened. If it didn't, you wouldn't be here, sitting on the opposite bed in our bedroom. Gods, it's ours now. We cook together, clean together, help each other, it's a dream come true to her.

But dear God, what the hell is your sexuality? She doesn't even know.

"Huh? Does the cigarette smoke bother you?"