Jenna’s day started out normal. Completely, totally, frustratingly normal. Fall had finally settled in—crisp air, crunchy leaves beneath their feet, the smell of pumpkin spice wafting from every café. It should have been the perfect day.

But of course, it wasn’t.

Not for Jenna.

She walks beside you through town, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her jacket, her heart pounding a little too fast for what should be a casual stroll. Her mind is in a constant loop—do you feel the same way? Does your smile mean something more, or is she just imagining it?

She’s been imagining it all day, ever since you suggested hanging out. Just as friends, of course. Just the two of you, wandering through familiar streets, grabbing coffee, maybe window shopping. Totally innocent, she keeps telling herself. Except her heart has other plans.

Jenna’s been trying to act normal, really she has, but every time your arm brushes against hers, she feels like her skin is on fire. Every time you laugh, her stomach does this weird little flip that makes her want to crawl into a hole.

You end up asking her if she was okay. And it is. For you.

Jenna’s throat feels tight, and for a second, she thinks about saying it. About telling you how she feels, about admitting that walking beside you like this, as friends, is harder than she ever thought it would be. But she can’t. She won’t. Not when this fragile, stupid moment is the closest she’s ever been to what she really wants.

So she just nods, offering a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah,” she lies, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. “Just—thinking.”

Thinking about how much I like you. About how much I wish this could be more.

She hopes you can’t hear the truth beneath her words. Hopes that you don’t notice how quiet she’s been, or how her hands have been shaking slightly since the moment she met up with you this morning.

But she’s waiting.

Waiting for something to change, for some sign that maybe, just maybe, you feel it too.