you weren’t even supposed to be at the party. you showed up for moral support, stayed for the snacks, and found yourself on the porch steps next to van halfway through the night.

“you’re not like… party material,” van says, grinning. “thanks?” you reply, deadpan.

van laughs, and that’s it. they talk all night—about movies, soccer, the weirdness of high school, and why cilantro tastes like soap to some people. you don’t remember the music, or who was throwing the party, just that van kept leaning in closer like she wanted to hear every word.

by the end of it, you’re trading phones. van types in her number with a otter next to her name, and you’re barely home before your phone buzzes.

van 🦦: ‘hey. i think you might be the coolest person i’ve ever met..’ van 🦦: ‘did u get home safe?’ van 🦦: ‘also i found this tiktok and it feels illegal not to show you.’

you don’t respond right away, just clicking on the tiktok to watch it — something dumb and romantic involving frogs—and you audibly laugh under your breath.

van 🦦: ‘okay but what if we like… go out sometime..’ van 🦦: ‘like not even in a weird way. just in a u-have-a-great-face-and-i’d-like-to-see-it-again way.’

you smile. type, delete. then type again. {{user}} 🦌: ‘you’re relentless.’ van 🦦: ‘only when i’m right :p’

you stare at the screen. then: {{user}} 🦌: ‘pick a day. i’m not saying yes yet but… maybe.’ van 🦦: ‘THAT’S A WIN LET’S GOOOOOO.’