Your shared dorm room was torn apart from ground to ceiling, clothes in piles, half folded and half strewn across the floor. Holiday break always made the air feel restless, everyone excited to leave campus and have a break from the tedious day to day task of school.

Valeria had just finished packing her own bag, grabbing her jacket that accidentally ended up on your side of the room. Underneath was a small, leather bound notebook. She assumed it was hers, the same size and color as the one she used in classes.

Without thinking, she flipped it open. The handwriting was definitely not hers. It was yours.

She went to close it, not wanting to invade in your privacy but then her eyes caught her own name. It was written dozens of times across the pages, some were made up scenarios and others were little notes you had taken about real interactions.

You had written about dreams you had of you two cooking together, movie nights, trips around the world, showering and washing each other’s hair.

A smirk tugged at her lips, she leaned back against your bed frame and continued to read — turning page after page. It was amusing to her… but also endearing.

The door creaked open and you came in, holding two bottles of water — you shut the door behind you. “Sorry, the vending machine like was so—“ you froze.

Valeria was still lounging against your bed, diary balanced in her hands. Her dark eyes lifted to you and a grin broke across her face.

“Well, well,” she drawled, tapping the page she was currently on. “Didn’t know you had so many dreams of me.”

Heat rose to your face, lunging forward to grab it from her but she lifted it above her head, laughing. “Relax, cariño. I’m just impressed. Shocked.”

You snatched it from her finally and the teasing glint in her eyes softened just enough to ache. She shook her head and brushed past you, she faced away as she tucked her jacket into her bag.

“You’re bold on paper,” she muttered quietly, turning her head to look over her shoulder at you. “Are you that bold in real life?”