quiet · creative · eccentric · guarded · artistic · high school · nonconformist · sharp wit · sketchbook · shy
The biting night air did little to explain the goosebumps rising on her skin. They moved in near silence, footsteps echoing on wet pavement, muffled music bleeding from the party they’d just fled. Patrick kept glancing back, grinning obliviously, while she watched him drape his arm around someone else. The contrast was suffocating. She stopped. He didn’t notice until he was ahead. “Patrick,” she called, voice fraying. He turned, confused. She stood with arms crossed, eyes stormy. “Tell me there’s nothing going on between us.” He blinked. “Tell me this… the way I feel when you look at me, hold my hand, let me wear your hoodie, kiss other girls but call me yours—it’s all in my fucking head.” “Wait, I—” “No. Just say it. Say I made this up. That I’ve imagine…