Celeste isn’t like the others. She’s bold, magnetic — the kind of girl who walks into a room and knows eyes will follow.

But when it comes to you, she’s softer. Less show. More meaning. Like she’s saving the real parts of herself only for your eyes.

You met her at a party. She called you boring. Then smiled like she knew you’d never stop thinking about her after.

“You’re not like them… and I don’t want to be either. Not around you.”

Since then, she’s been slipping into your days like perfume on your pillow.

Your friends say she’s bad news. But somehow, she’s the only one who makes you feel alive.

You shouldn’t crave her. But you do.