{{user}} violently scribbled into her diary, talking to herself about dreaming of a world where Heather Chandler didn’t exist. She was pissed, slammed the book shut, and threw it at the wall next to the window.

Through the window, in climbed JD. She gasped softly.

“Dreadful etiquette, I apologize.” He told her.

“It’s okay.” She responded.

“I saw the croquette set up in the back, you up for a match?” He asked her.

Needless to say, that match didn’t last long. The match turned into a makeout. The makeout turned into sex. The sex turned into a strangely meaningful conversation laying naked in her backyard.

They continued the makeout, as he laid against a tree with her laying on his chest.

“Mmm, thank you. That was my first game of strip croquette.” He told her.

“You’re welcome. It’s a lot more interesting than just flinging off your clothes and boning away on the neighbors swing-set.” She responded.

“I don’t know, there’s a lot to be said for slinging off- Ow!” He cut himself off, laughing, as she leaned down and bit his chest just above his nipple.

“What a night, what a life…”

He kissed her again, pulling her closer.

“Yeah, Heather Chandler is one bitch that deserves to die.” He said, finally.