“You’re trying out for the Romeo role?!” Irene exclaimed, her eyes widening.

 

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah. Yup. Romeo,” Wendy shoved some fries in .

 

“B-but… but you’re a girl!” Irene replied incredulously, staring at Wendy as if she just did a backflip then landed on a unicycle and started juggling burgers.

 

Wendy suppressed a grin. She was enjoying Irene’s distraught face; the shorter girl looked so cute with her brows scrunching together.

 

“Yeah, I am,” she replied coolly, snatching some carrots off of Irene’s plate.

 

“B-but! Romeo is a guy!”

 

“Of course he is,” Wendy’s brow rose.

 

“Then why are yo—”

 

“Discover some new stuff,” she then smirked.

 

Truth is, Wendy wanted to play Romeo because all her life she has been playing the “leading lady” role. It was about time to step out and try unfamiliar things—stuff she had been dreaming to do ever since she had discovered she was sick of all the “girly pressures”.

 

“You should try out the Juliet role,” Wendy suggested, tilting her head.

 

Irene spat out her orange juice.

 

Wendy didn’t move for a couple of seconds until she finally wiped her eyes. Her whole face was wet, and some of the juice was dripping off her chin.

 

“I—oh my god—s-sorry!” Irene panicked, frantically dabbing Wendy’s face with her pink flower-patterned handkerchief.

 

“Caught that on camera-a-a-a-a~” Mark appeared, shaking his camera. His other hand held his tray. “Epic!”

 

“Delete that or I swear I’m gonna print a childhood pic of you and post it everywhere.” Wendy’s eyes narrowed as she glared at her brother.

 

She saw Mark’s shoulders tense and his smile waver for a brief moment. He stared at Wendy, and maybe after realizing that she was very serious about the threat, he sighed and set down his tray, deleting the picture of her with Irene’s juice (and some other stuff) on her face and clothes.

 

“Okay, bro, what do you want?” She said in a monotonous tone.

 

“Can’t I just visit my lil sis?” He grinned. His eyes shone mischievously.

 

“Okay, hold up.” Irene interrupted, looking at Wendy and Mark. “You two are siblings?”

 

She said it weirdly like she’d rather believe she’s 70 than believe their relationship. Wendy giggled.

 

“You didn’t know?” Mark blinked.

 

“Well of course, you idiot,” Wendy rolled her eyes. “No one goes around and just says who their siblings are.”

 

Wendy looked back at Irene. The latter was staring at the two of them, her brown eyes looking especially bright behind her glasses. She took her time to look at the girl. Irene’s hair was braided on one side, with a scarf covering her supposed-to-be-exposed neck. Wendy didn’t know how she did it but Irene could rock any outfit.

 

The girl could wear rugs and could still make it look like designer clothes!

 

“You two don’t look alike,” Irene finally said.

 

“Who would want to look like him?” Wendy choked at the same time Mark shivered and said, “Who would want to look like her?”

 

“I was immediately proven wrong,” Irene laughed, and Wendy found it the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

 

Wendy suddenly shuddered, having the feeling of someone looking at her. She quickly looked at Mark, who was giving her an annoying smile that told her he knew something she didn’t. He wiggled his brows.

 

Dafuq bruh?

 

She made a face at him.

 

Mark finally sat down—she just realized he had been standing up the whole time pfft—and gulped down his food.

 

“Slow down, Mark. You might devour the plate if you eat like this,” Irene teased, though her voice had genuine concern in it.

 

Wendy felt, unusually, jealous. Weird.

 

“But seriously though, you two are like complete opposites,” Irene didn’t seem to let this pass. “Mark has dark hair while Wendy’s blonde. Mark’s eyes are brown while Wendy has eyes like blue glass.”

 

Eyes like blue glass? Wendy thought, widening her eyes at Irene.

 

“The midget dyed her hair like that. And I got Mom’s eyes while she got Dad’s,” Mark answered, emptying his cola.

 

“Midget?” Wendy glared.

 

“It’s the truth,” Mark shrugged.

 

Wendy was about to punch him until she remembered Irene was with them. She told herself to calm down and think happy thoughts which wasn’t hard because Irene was there.

 

Irene looked at her weirdly. “Blonde suits you, but I think you’ll look good with black hair, too.”

 

Did she just say I look good? Wendy was about to hyperventilate.

 

Mark’s plate was clean now. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s gonna have to dye it brown for the Romeo role.”

 

Wendy gasped, “I will?”

 

Irene looked like she was about to spit out her drink again. “She has to?”

 

Mark crossed his arms and nodded. He clicked his tongue and replied, “Of course. Was Romeo blonde?”

 

“We could make him,” Wendy narrowed his eyes at him.

 

He wagged his finger at her. “Nuh-uh.”

 

Wendy felt like kicking her brother. This was never in the plan! He never even mentioned it when she announced she would like to take on the role! It’s unfair.

 

They would have to talk privately later.

 

But for the meantime…

 

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes at the same time Mark smiled triumphantly. Her remaining food looked unappetizing now.

 

“I guess I’m gonna go now.” Mark stood up, bringing with him his tray. All the plates were empty. “Have a lot to do. Ciao.”

 

And he walked away like that.

 

Irene rounded up on Wendy and said, excitedly, “This is gonna be so fun! It’s my first time to see how they execute plays here in Canada!”

 

Wendy shrugged. “I think it’s not gonna be much different.”

 

“But think of the effort! I mean, you’re gonna dye your hair! Just for the Romeo role!”

 

Wendy laughed, resisting to pinch the other girl’s cheeks. “Calm down, Irene.”

 

The bespectacled girl exclaimed brightly, “Ohmygod you’re gonna look amazing!”

 

Wendy wanted to clutch her chest after hearing that. Her heart was doing gymnastic routines and she has no doubts that her face was reddening. “I look amazing either way.”

 

She thought she heard Irene mumble a short “True…” and Wendy wanted to faint right there.

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

Mark grabbed a screwdriver and twisted the bearings of his green skateboard. Wendy playing Outlast on his PlayStation and was reacting loudly. She once squealed so loudly that he almost drilled the screwdriver into his palm. He had scolded her, of course, but he guessed the game was too intense because after ten minutes, she was screaming and her heels were repeatedly hitting the floor.

 

The sound was agonizing.

 

So he decided to drop the I-bomb just to make his sister shut up.

 

“Did y’know that Irene’s my classmate?” He asked, shouting a little bit just so that his sister could hear him over her cries.

 

Wendy paused the game and spun around, her round blue eyes growing wide. “What?”

 

He took a deep breath and repeated, “I said—”

 

“I know what you said! It was a rhetorical question!” she suddenly exploded.

 

Mark thought of locking her inside his closet. He puffed his cheeks in exasperation and replied, “Yeaaaaap. She’s my classmate. I never told you?”

 

He knew he didn’t, but he just said that just so Wendy would shut up.

 

The opposite happened instead, though.

 

“All this time she was your classmate?!” Wendy stood up and punched Mark’s arm several times; he winced every time.

 

“Yes—she—stop hitting me!—she is! Stop it!” Mark groaned and avoided Wendy’s fists. He eventually took her wrists and glared at her. “Stop it or I’m gonna tell her of your sleeping habits!”

 

He knew Wendy was biting her tongue now. She lowered her arms and snatched them from his grip, never forgetting to send a piercing gaze at him. Her blue eyes looked murderous, especially as how it shone even though the room was dark.

 

“Fine,” she surrendered, her voice sounding forced.

 

“Okay.” Mark leaned in his chair and crossed his legs, placing his hands on his neck. “So… yeah. She’s my classmate.”

 

“And you only told me this now… why?”

 

“Well,” Mark shrugged, “you were really noisy while playing.”

 

“I don’t get it.”

 

“Sheesh. Be happy that I even told you about this, especially how you are so seemingly interested in her.”

 

Wendy flushed as she blinked at him. She waved her hand in exasperation and grabbed the screwdriver, glaring at him like she was planning on where to hit him with it. Mark picked up a white cloth and waved it around.

 

“What are you doing?” Wendy demanded as she narrowed her eyes at the waving flag of surrender.

 

“Saving my life?” he replied with a crooked grin.

 

Wendy sighed, more to Mark’s pleasure. She put down the screwdriver on the table and examined his skateboard. She frowned and proceeded to tinker with the bolts.

 

Mark curiously looked at his sister’s fingers, and with a delight, he saw that she was fixing his board. “I gotta tell you something,” she started quietly, drawing a shocked expression from him.

 

“What is it?” he replied cautiously, looking at her blue orbs in search for any sign of recognition.

 

Wendy took a deep breath, rubbing her face until she looked back at Mark. She was done fixing her board. “I like Irene.”

 

“Of course you do. I mean, it’s so obvious???” Mark rose a brow and gaped at her.

 

“No, not like that,” Wendy ran her fingers through her blonde locks. “I mean like like, Mark.”

 

No one could ready him for this kind of news. He had thought that Wendy was interested in Irene because she, too, had Asian blood, living in America—just like them.

 

His sister, the infamous perfect ideal girl with straight As and can pretty much do everything in terms of co-curricular activities, the girl who was the teachers’ pet and was being invited by various prestige schools throughout the whole continent and was also being scouted by hundreds of entertainment companies, was gay.

 

No one could ready him for that.

 

“Oh...” was all he managed to say.

 

“Yeah,” Wendy rolled her eyes, “oh.”

 

“So... sin—”

 

“What, are you gonna kick me out of the family now that the whole secret is out? Are you gonna tell this to Mum and Dad? Are you gonna report this to the school officials especially seeing and knowing that one of them was homophobic as f—”

 

At first, Mark was at a loss for words, but when she mentioned him reporting her uality to the school officials... the thought was so effed up he threw his head back and laughed.

 

Wendy paused and stared at him, her eyes watery, her face hot and her breathing heavy.

 

“I was—ohgod that was epic—gonna ask since when did you like our new transfer student. Sheesh woman, calm down!” Mark grinned at her, clutching his stomach.

 

She choked back a sob. “You mean... you’re not against it? Me being gay and all?”

 

He spread his arms. “Hey, you’re my sister and I love you. You can say that you’re a werewolf or a mass murderer and I’ll still welcome you home.”

 

Wendy sniffed and swallowed her tears.

 

Mark winked at her. “So what do we do about Operation Get the Blonde Bespectacled Girl?”

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

 

“Do you know any pick-up lines?” said Mark as he started taking out pieces of paper and pencils.

 

“Pick-up lines?”

 

Mark looked up to see a baffled Wendy. He surpassed the urge to laugh. “Pick-up lines are the best way to catch a girl’s heart. You can say it’s a form of flirting—”

 

“I am not going to flirt with Irene!” He guessed the thought was too horrifying because his sister was suddenly this distressed because of a single word.

 

“Well you don’t have a choice.” Mark declared, pushing his dark hair back. “If you’re not gonna pull some good pick-up lines you can kiss your Irene goodbye.” There. He dropped the bomb.

 

He seriously wanted to help his sister with this. She was dear to him and he would do anything just to make her happy.

 

And to add to the things he could with.

 

Wendy looked around the room as Mark waited for her reply.

 

She sighed in defeat. “Fine.”

 

“Wendy. Knock knock.”

 

“Who’s there?”

 

“Your future husband.”

 

“I am done. Goodbye.”

 

“Wait! Wasn’t that a good pick up line?” He ran to close the door. Wendy had just tried to escape and probably burn him down because of his pick up line.

 

“That was horrible.” She shuddered.

 

Mark scoffed. “It was a good line and the fact that you failed to appreciate it means we have a lot to do.”

 

“Don’t tell me I have to learn those kinds of... of weird.”

 

Mark was legit offended now. “Wendy, can you do me a favor?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Forget about your little crush, will ya?”

 

Wendy puffed her cheeks in annoyance. “Stop being dramatic, Mark. Just help me with Irene.”

 

Mark crossed his arms and gave her a stubborn look. “Hmph. Not when you’re being blasphemous about pick-up lines in front of me.”

 

“You’re being childish.”

 

Mark faced away from her.

 

“Ohmygod!” He could hear her trying to control her anger. Heh. “Fine. Fine!”

 

Mark whirled around. “Good. Now, lesson 1.”

 

 

 

---

 

 

The night went on with Mark’s continuous reprimanding and Wendy’s occasional screams of terror and announcements of quitting.

 

 

---

 

 

 

“Hi. The voices in my head told me to talk to you,” Wendy recited, reading from a piece of paper where all the pick-up lines she thought since last night were written.

 

“Dude, that’s creepy.” Mark frowned at her attempt. No doubt, she thought, he was starting to become disappointed in her for probably the nth time.

 

“Shut up, Mark,” Wendy scoffed in annoyance. “It was supposed to be cheesy.”

 

“You sound crazy, sis. Seriously. Think of another one.”

 

“Umm, okay.” She scanned her paper. The other attempts were scratched out already, and the last one was what she had just said moments ago. “I can’t think of anything.”

 

Mark scratched the back of his head. “Try ‘There must be something wrong with my phone. It doesn’t have your number in it.’ ”

 

“Ew?”

 

“At least it’s better than yours, Wendy.”

 

“Oh!” Her face lit up with dawning comprehension. “I thought of—oh crap, she’s here.”

 

Mark looked at where she was looking, and indeed, there was Irene Bae, waving at them. He waved back. “Hi Irene!”

 

He faced his sister. “Goodluck, sis.” And she thought he really meant it.

 

 

---

 

 

 

“I can’t believe you’re really trying out for the Juliet role,” Wendy exclaimed, feeling giddy as she knew Irene would be the perfect Juliet for her.

 

“And I can’t believe you dyed your hair,” the blonde stared at her, looking at her brown hair.

 

“Yeah… well, you know. Romeo.” She shrugged.

 

Irene pondered for a moment, placing her chin in her hand and biting the tip of her pen, her hair loosely falling on one side.

 

She looked so attractive Wendy wanted to scream.

 

“You could’ve just used a wig, though,” Irene said, and Wendy’s blood ran cold.

 

OF COURSE. A wig!

 

“Pfft,” Mark sat on one of the library’s long tables. “I can’t believe you never thought of that, sis.”

 

She screamed profanities at him in her mind.

 

Why hadn’t she thought of the wig before? It had been 2 weeks already since she dyed her hair back to its original color.

 

Her blue eyes settled on her brother, who merely shrugged in response, a faint smile on his lips as he replied, “Hey, not my problem.” He glanced at Irene and grinned at Wendy. “Besides, didn’t Irene say that you looked good with dark hair?”

 

Wendy flushed beet red, and, nervously, she shot a glance at Irene, who suddenly became preoccupied in her nails.

 

“Interesting,” Mark chuckled, his voice low enough just to make sure only Wendy heard him.

 

“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” Wendy said loudly, diverting the attention back to Mark, whose eyes gleamed mischievously.

 

“Gotta go leave you two alone,” Wendy flushed at how he emphasized the word, “so you two could practice your lines. Ciao.”

 

The library’s door slid to a close as Mark left. Wendy exhaled, never realizing that she was holding her breath in the first place.

 

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Wendy shuffled her script nervously, clearing and putting on her poker face. “He always had a case of being delusional over simple stuff.”

 

Irene giggled—Wendy willed her mind to memorize the pattern. “He’s so funny.”

 

“I hope the humor runs in the family.”

 

“You’re actually not that humorous, Wendy.”

 

Wendy gasped in mock aggravation, staring at the other girl with disbelief.

 

“I stand corrected!” Irene laughed loudly. “You should’ve seen the size of your eyes! They were as big as plates!”

 

“Was that a compliment? I’m confused,” Wendy replied, scratching her cheek sheepishly.

 

The blonde sighed before replying, “We should start rehearsing our script already.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Wendy flipped through the papers. “Pick a number.”

 

“15,” Irene quickly answered.

 

“Special meaning?” she asked as she turned the papers to page 15.

 

“Favorite number,” she shifted her glasses as she replied shyly. Wendy raised a questioning brow.

 

Wendy was waiting for Irene to tell her why 15 was her favorite number but the girl didn’t oblige. She guessed it was something personal.

 

Wendy just shrugged and focused on the script. Page 15 apparently, was when Romeo first met Juliet during the ball. Romeo’s line was easy to portray—she just had to remember what she felt like when she first saw Irene.

 

“Ahem,” Wendy cleared and paced across the room. She read the lines one last time before settling it down on the floor.

 

“Did my heart love till now? Foreswear it, sight!” she recited, looking at Irene with a dreamy disbelieving out-of-this-world gaze, “For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”

 

Irene clapped, but the brunette continued to stare at the blonde locks that she always wondered if they were as soft as they look, the hands that were pale but she knew were strong yet fragile at the same time. Her slender neck that screamed lust and perfection—Wendy daydreamed of nibbling Irene’s neck several times. Her pink lips that were 24/7 kissable and delightful. Her brown eyes that Wendy always wanted to drown in and not regret a single thing.

 

Her whole self, Joohyun Bae, who never failed to amaze Wendy and will always make her heart flutter and her stomach clench and her thoughts disappear whenever she was close to her.

 

“Wendy? Are you okay?” Irene snapped her fingers across Wendy’s face, who stepped back, looking utterly startled. “You were spacing out for a couple of seconds. What were you thinking about?”

 

“You,” Wendy answered directly before biting the inside of her cheek. “Your lines… I mean.”

 

Was that disappointment that had just flashed across Irene’s face? It was brief, just maybe a second or so until it disappeared and was replaced by Irene’s default face. “Okay. You pick a number this time.”

 

Wendy thought hard before settling on the added numbers of her and Irene’s birthdays. “50.”

 

The blonde wasn’t too curious to why she chose the number. She was completely indifferent.

 

Wendy pouted. Was this just gonna be a one-sided relationship?

 

Good Lord, was she that deep in the friendzone?

 

She grimaced before staring at the papers held by her… crush. Her eyes travelled to her slender fingers again, impressed at how they nimbly flipped the pages.

 

Wendy thought, suddenly, how she looked and sounded like a stalker. She bit her lip in embarrassment.

 

“Stop biting your lip, please,” she heard Irene order in a low voice. She couldn’t see her face. “It’s very distracting.”

 

Wendy covered her red face with her copy of the script, only peering for a couple of second to check Irene’s performance.

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

Irene stared at her ceiling with her pillow hugged close to her body and her earphones jabbed inside her ears. She was sure it was 2 am, and yet whenever she closes her eyes she just remembers Wendy’s smile and her deep aching desire to hold her hand. Whenever she tries to clear her mind, she would remember Wendy’s adorable laugh, and she will be forced to add volume to the music she was listening to.

 

She rolled around her bed, sporadically flailing her limbs in frustration.

 

The Wendy thoughts—as she called it—started just 2 weeks ago, when she stumbled on an innocent (pfft) Wendy playing the piano with her adept fingers, as if she was a born pianist ready to face millions of audiences and effortlessly making all of them fall in love with her.

 

Irene wasn’t safe from the Wendy effect—as she called how she fell for the Canadian—so as she gawked at Wendy, she found herself flushing and bolting out of sight when she made a squeak and the other girl looked at her direction. Heart hammering, she clutched her bag to her chest, feeling her face heat with a rosy color.

 

She had to hide her face every time Wendy does something attractive or else she’ll notice her crimson features.

 

Besides, how was she supposed to say that her favorite number was 15 because it was the day she first transferred to school—the day she first met Wendy?

 

Irene was almost, almost, tempted to make a caution sign and wear it as a necklace.

 

Caution: Please keep your distance. I can’t stop falling for you.

 

Suddenly squealing in her pillow, Irene felt her stomach in knots and her chest being restless.

 

Calm down. Please.

 

Her thoughts only made them return back to Wendy, her bright blue eyes, her carefree smile, her hair flowing, the way she bit her lip earlier.

 

Irene shook her head, pleading for her remaining sanity to come back and let her sleep. Stop thinking about Wendy. Stop stop stop stop stop.

 

She griped, reaching under her pillow and pulling a small notebook and a pencil. She inched closer to her desk and opened her lamp, bathing a quarter of the room in a steady light.

 

She rolled her eyes at the lines, poems, stanzas and 10-letter stories from the earlier pages. She scribbled another entry.

 

Her eyes are as blue as the ocean and I find myself lost at sea.

 

And another.

 

Your name is my favorite melody.

 

And in her smile I see something more beautiful than the stars.

 

10 minutes in and she filled another page, solely about Wendy. Again.

 

She laid back on bed, feeling contented at how she poured her feelings to writing again. It was about 2:30, and she wrote down one last line and, finally, she was able to sleep.

 

You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.

 

 

---

 

 

 

“Congratulations,”

 

“Congrats,”

 

“I knew you’ll get picked,”

 

“I thought you were auditioning for Broadway,”

 

“Knew ya had it in ya,”

 

Irene was met with compliments and greetings after the results of who will play the characters were released. It gave the impressions that the results were out before she managed to get inside the room.

 

“I got in!” The door suddenly flew open and revealed a panting Wendy—who still looked soooo hot despite the messy hair and the sheer layer of sweat that shone from her neck (Jesus, Irene, calm down)—holding a crumpled piece of paper and her blue eyes shining feverishly.

 

Having caught off guard, Irene blankly replied, “Got in what?”

 

“The play, of course!” She recognized Mark’s deep voice as she felt arms on her shoulders. “You got in as Romeo, didn’t ya?”

 

Wendy nodded enthusiastically. “You got in, right?”

 

“Nope, she didn’t,” Mark answered, and Wendy’s face fell.

 

“I d—” Irene started, but Mark gave her a light squeeze.

 

The brunette’s face hardened, her brows furrowing and thinning. “I’m gonna talk to the teacher,” she said curtly, leaving.

 

“W-wait! Wendy!” Irene shook off Mark and ran out to catch up.

 

“Wendy-ah! Where are y—oof!” The last part was because someone grabbed her necktie and pulled her harshly into the music room. Her glasses almost flew out from her face.

 

“Shhh!” Wendy hissed under her breath. “I know you got in. Your face panicked when Mark stepped up. The prick.” She released her.

 

The close proximity made her head swim with more thoughts about Wendy and Wendy and Wendy and everything about her poured in her mind.

 

“Guys! I got some good news,” Mark climbed from the window, waving a piece of paper happily.

 

“What the—this is the third floor, you know,” Wendy reprimanded.

 

“I know, I know. Figured you two were here. I heard Irene.”

 

Wait, did he just climb three stories up just to give them a piece of paper? And how did he even get down?

 

“Don’t bother asking,” Wendy sighed, giving her a lopsided grin. “My brother loves parkour. I swear I’m just waiting for him to break a leg or something.”

 

“Sad to say that your ill thoughts about me are yet to come true, lil sis,” Mark said proudly, swinging his other leg and hopping inside the music room.

 

“What’s that?” Irene asked curiously after finally calming down her heart and probably her hormones.

 

“The scene you’re bound to re-enact.”

 

“And that is?” She pushed on, not really liking the suspense.

 

“The ending!” He said cheerfully, ing out the paper. “But, of course, we could add a few… changes.”

 

Irene and Wendy looked at him incredulously. “What?”

 

“Wendy, c’mere, come here, sis, okay, that’s it.” Mark pulled Wendy and made her sit. “Play the piano, will ya?”

 

“Why?” Wendy scowled.

 

Irene’s heart raced. Wendy’s going to play the piano. She’s going to do the trigger that made Irene fall for her.

 

“Now, Irene, can you sit here,” she was pulled to sit beside Wendy.

 

“Seriously, Mark, what are you up to?” asked Wendy with suspicion and exasperation in her voice.

 

“Seriously, Wendy, have you got no trust in your older brother?” he retorted.

 

He positioned himself standing next to Wendy with his arms crossed and a victorious smile on his face.

 

Somehow, his smile made Irene nervous.

 

“Come on, no need to be shy, Wendy.”

 

The brunette opened to reply, but it looked like she thought better and just gritted her teeth with a sigh. She started playing the piano.

 

The haunting sound rang in the whole room; Irene swayed her body, closing her eyes and just letting herself get taken away by the music.

 

“Oh? Irene you have some dirt on your cheek,” Wendy’s voice woke her up from her temporary state of swooning.

 

Irene was about to raise her hand, determined to remove whatever stain it was on her face, but Wendy was already leaning forward, her hand resting on her cheek.

 

“I can’t take it off,” Wendy leaned closer, close enough for Irene to stop breathing and just stare at her blue orbs.

 

Irene’s eyes suddenly darted to Mark, who grinned like a madman, then raised his hand to give Wendy a little push.

 

Her eyes widened.

 

If he pushed Wendy, who was so close to her that she could count her eyelashes, then that would mean that they would—

 

Their lips touched before she could finish her maddening thought.

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

I HAVE SOME NEWS. I DECIDED TO MAKE THIS A 5-CHAPTERED STORY BCS I REALIZED THE LAST PART’S TOO LONG AND THERE’S SO LITTLE TIME BCS SCHOOL’S BEING HELLISH AGAIN.

 

HAVE A COOKIE.