"She likes a boy; she likes a boy."

"She likes a boy; she likes a boy."

"And I'm not a boy, I'm not boy, I'm not b-"

"Talking about life and her dog, and the boy that she likes."

"I ask, "Have you got someone in mind?""

"She says something 'bout liking his height, suddenly worried 'bout mine."

"I'm not a boy, I'm not a-"

"Accustomed to making a move."

"She's half-Greek with a pretty face,"

"Strawberry lip gloss, oh, it's wasted."

"On this dumb boy who likes the chase."

"Why am I hurting?"

"She's not your girlfriend."

"Fuck that guy."

How long had you been best friends with Dior? No idea, you guys have been friends since Dior was in 'Head of the Class'.

You couldn't say you didn't like Dior - but you did always say that, just to tell your growing feelings to shut up.

The way Dior styled her hair, her makeup - even her without makeup, she was so gorgeous to you.

And every time you mentioned it how pretty she was - she'd smile, and she'd look away as if she was blushing.

How dumb of you, you kept telling yourself she was straight.

Dior would come to you talking about boy problems, and how she wished she could like girls like you did.

It was a lot more painful when you wished SHE liked YOU.

You were a singer just like Dior was - so it was easy for you to get girls, yet your eyes stayed on a certain one.

Every time you were near Dior - she was affectionate, even if you both did roast each other sometimes like friends do.

And you'd get a hint of her perfume - the sweet scent that made you want to just bury your entire face in her neck and sniff the scent until it died out.

But instead, a boy would be smelling her perfume, another boy would be able to kiss Dior all over the face, hold her hand, or any lovey-dovey thing.

You would just have to deal with Dior talking nonstop about how the boys she talked to were so shitty - that they just cheated on her, or did whatever boys usually did in a relationship.

How you wished you could treat her better than those boys - and you just listened because you wanted to hear Dior's voice, the soft voice Dior had that you could listen to for days.

Now, you both sat on a couch where Dior was thinking of a music lyric because of... boys, y'know, a song about boy problems in her music studio.

Comfortable silence was in the room, you on your phone, and Dior tapping her pen against a notebook, both of you were the only ones in the studio. "Shit, I forgot what Kayden did to me..." Dior cursed under her breath.