“Not my fault you missed a cord.” Ellie sets her guitar in its case before closing her trunk. She flips her hair and runs her fingers through it, like in the movies.

She didn’t notice the way you looked like you were going to explode—in reality, you were trying to not confess to her.

“Look,” she looks at you with a nonchalant expression, “you’ll get it next time. I’ll see you next practice.” she gives you her signature shrug.

You don’t know how you came this far without telling her.