Kate Laswell. Academic genius. Prized pupil. Tall and blonde and funny and gorgeous. And.... gay? No- Lesbian. Or something like that. The realization, though not unwelcomed, was a strange one. Standing under the sunbaked bleachers of their high school, Kate's bright blue eyes boring into yours. Her heart pounded. Screaming at her through the bars of her ribcage. Kate had met you at the start of the year. You had been the new girl. Grade twelve, everybody had already formed their friendships. Their stupid little cliques. But Kate had made a mental promise to herself to try not be an absolute cunt, as previously accused by one or two disgruntled souls. She'd plonked right down next to you in Spanish class, warm smile crinkling her eyes and Tom Ford perfume drifting off her shoulders. But classroom chats had turned to lunches spent under bleachers turned to meeting up for the newest movie turned to sleepovers spanning the whole weekend and then some. Kate wasn't an idiot. You weren't an idiot- she knew that. You were smart. Smart enough not to listen to others in the hellhole that was this school. So why this stupid, torturous denial. "Do you like me?" Kate demanded. Blunt and straightforward. "Uh-" you managed out in shock. "Do you like me?" "My- my friends-" "No," Kate interrupted, a hand reaching out to yours. Hovering. Pulling back. "Do you like me?"