Note: inspired by the Olivia Rodrigo trend.
'One night I was bored in bed and stalked you on the Internet'
There was this boy. His hair was a deep, dark brown, short—though on some days he’d style it into a casual, spikey texture. He had warm brown eyes framed by the sharpest, most defined jawline you’d ever seen, and a pair of effortlessly perfect lips.
You knew his name. James. But that was the extent of your knowledge. The only reason his name had even registered in your mind was because a mutual friend from your college art class happened to run in the same circles as one of his buddies.
Despite being complete strangers, your paths crossed in that passive, repetitive way college campuses dictate. You’d pass each other in the crowded humanities hallway, or catch a glimpse of him cutting across the quad.
A few times, you spotted him in the quietest corner of the library, always sitting by the tall arched window but facing away from the view.
On those specific afternoons, a pair of dark rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, giving him an entirely different, focused energy. You didn’t know him.. you just observed him.
Then came a random Thursday night. After hours of draining your brain over textbooks, taking a scorching shower, and wasting an hour doom scrolling through TikTok, boredom finally morphed into curiosity.
A quiet, rational part of your brain told you to just leave it alone, but the impulse to search for him won out. You spent twenty minutes typing variations of his name into the search bar, praying he didn’t use some obscure, unsearchable handle. Finally, a profile popped up, and the tiny circular thumbnail was the dead giveaway. It was him.
You tapped on his profile and began to scroll, sinking deeper into a digital rabbit hole. His feed was a chaotic, charming mix of blurry, goofy selfies that proved he didn't take himself too seriously, group shots hanging out with friends on weekends, and sudden, artistic snapshots of random things he’d passed on the street. He seemed genuinely chill, the kind of person who was magnetic without trying to be.
Before you could talk yourself out of it, your thumb hovered over the blue message button.
The question hung in the quiet of your bedroom. You let out a heavy sigh. It was a shot in the dark, but what did you really have to lose? Even if he decided to click on your profile to investigate, there was enough there to show you were a real, normal person.
You pressed the button, the keyboard clicking in the silence as you typed out a sudden burst of confidence:
They say dating is a numbers game, so can I get yours?
The second your thumb hit send, a wave of intense, visceral cringe washed over you.
Why did I say that? you thought, staring at the screen in mild horror.
It was cheesy, but you reasoned it could have been worse. Desperate to escape the immediate regret, you locked your phone, tossed it face down onto the nightstand, and clicked off the bedside lamp.
Plunged into total darkness, you pulled the blankets up, determined to fall asleep before you could dwell on the terrifying reality that James might actually read it.
He read it. He actually read it.
You woke up to the blare of your alarm on its fifth consecutive snooze cycle. Yawning heavily, you dragged yourself into a sitting position and blindly reached for your phone on the nightstand.
The moment your screen lit up, your morning groginess completely evaporated. There, sitting right at the top of your lock screen, was a direct message notification from Instagram.
James had replied. According to the timestamp, he’d sent it just a few minutes after you’d fallen asleep the night before.
You stared at the notification, frozen in a mix of absolute horror and morbid curiosity. Your heart began to hammer against your ribs. Taking a deep breath, you tapped the screen to open the chat.
Your heart rate spiked, but you didn't panic. It wasn't a brutal rejection. It was just the objective truth. Capitalizing on the sudden burst of adrenaline, you typed back before you could overthink it.
As soon as it sent, the nervous energy kicked in. Your fingers anxiously fidgeted with the edge of the blanket beside you, watching the screen.
In less than a minute, the little 'Sent' text flipped to 'Read.' A wave of nervous nausea hit your stomach as the typing bubbles appeared, danced for a second, and vanished, replaced by a gray box.
Before you could even process that, another bubble popped up immediately after.
my classes get done at two. Are you free??
A massive, uncontrollable smile broke across your face, your brain screaming,
You quickly tapped out a response before he could change his mind.
The second the message went through, you threw your phone onto the mattress, jumped out of bed, and let out a muffled squeal into your hands.
You ended up doing a ridiculous, victorious little celebration dance right there in the middle of your room completely forgetting about your early morning exhaustion.
'It's feminine intuition'
What started out as a connection quickly blossomed into a routine you looked forward to every single day. In the beginning, it was simple. Meeting up at the library, tucked away in a quiet corner to swap the basic puzzle pieces of your lives.
You talked about tedious lecture professors, debated the best colors, and shared your favorite weekend hobbies. It was the standard, comfortable script of two people getting to know each other.
But gradually, the casual nature of it shifted.
The brief smiles and polite waves you used to exchange in the hallways evolved.
Suddenly, James was stopping in his tracks whenever he spotted you, adjusting his pace to walk you all the way to your next class. He’d leave you at the door with a bright, effortless smile and a warm, "See you later."
Your hangouts expanded beyond the campus too. He took you to a hidden, cozy cafe he’d discovered down a side street, and in return, you showed him the dusty, nostalgic record store you liked to wander through on quiet afternoons.
By the time evening rolled around, your phone was constantly lighting up with his name. Either a text checking in on your night, a chaotic meme, or another goofy, candid picture of himself that made you laugh out loud in your room.
Which brought you to today, sitting inside that very same cafe he had introduced to you. You were tucked into a small, sunlit booth, watching him as he navigated the counter line.
When he returned, he slid a rich chocolate chocolate-chip muffin and a sweating glass of iced coffee toward you, keeping a classic glazed donut and a steaming mug of hot chocolate for himself.
Settling into the seat across from you, he immediately asked about your day before leaning forward, genuinely curious. "How’s the art portfolio coming along?"
You let out a soft sigh, stirring your drink. "I don't know... I don't want to just base it on a random mix of everything. I want to connect deeply with one specific subject and really express it."
James nodded, his expression shifting into one of total understanding. While your medium was physical art, his was captured through a lens; he knew the weight of trying to find a vision.
He looked at you, a small, gentle smile playing on his lips, and a subtle, unreadable warmth flickering in his eyes.
"Anything specific in mind yet?" he asked softly.
You shrugged, looking down at the table pattern. "I don't really have any inspiration right now."
James leaned in a bit closer, his gaze softening completely. "Then draw or paint with your heart. Just sit down with a blank page and start doodling without a plan. Sometimes letting your hands move leads to exactly what you're looking for. Sitting and overthinking just causes stress, when really, you just need to let your feelings guide you."
His words hit home, truer than he even realized. Your heart always beat a little faster whenever he was around, a constant, humming rhythm of excitement and comfort that you hoped—secretly, desperately—he might be feeling too.
As you looked up from the table and met his gaze, you realized the block was gone. You had just found your inspiration, and it was the boy with the sharp jawline and the soft smile, looking right back at you.
'Cuz I always had a vision of a standing like this'
Looking back on the trajectory of how you and James had grown together, it felt almost surreal. There had been a time, not so long ago, when he was just a striking silhouette by a library window or a name dropped casually by an art class acquaintance.
Back then, you could only imagine what it would be like to actually be a part of his world. Visualizing the quiet thrill of him asking for your number, the sound of his laugh up close, or the simple comfort of having him walk by your side.
But reality had completely eclipsed those late night daydreams. The actual, lived experience of his presence was infinitely better than anything your imagination could have manufactured. It was the unscripted, low stakes moments that really began to shift the gravity between you.
Lately, the hangouts had migrated to the quiet sanctuary of your dorm room. He would wander over after his afternoon photography labs, kicking off his shoes and settling onto your small sofa as if he belonged there.
You’d pick a random movie, pile up a ridiculous assortment of snacks between you, and spend the next two hours offering a running commentary, making fun of bad dialogue and laughing at the predictable plot twists.
During those movie nights, the space between you seemed to shrink naturally. James didn't sit on the opposite end of the couch. He sat close enough that your shoulders occasionally brushed when you laughed.
On one particularly chilly evening, without a word, he stood up, padded down the short hallway to your closet, and retrieved a thick, oversized throw blanket. When he came back, he didn't just hand it over. He sat back down and draped it carefully over both of your laps, sharing the warmth.
Halfway through a slow paced indie film, the exhaustion of a long week finally caught up to you. Your eyes grew heavy, and before you could consciously fight the fatigue, your head drifted downward, settling gently against the solid warmth of his shoulder.
When you jolted awake forty minutes later as the credits started to roll, panic immediately set in. "Oh my god, I am so sorry," you stammered, pulling back quickly and rubbing your eyes, convinced you had just crossed an unspoken line.
James didn't look bothered at all. He just shifted slightly, a relaxed, easy smile spreading across his face as he shrugged it off. "Hey, it's fine. Don't worry about it," he said softly, his voice low in the quiet room. "I really didn't mind."
As your brain scrambled to process his reassurance, a sudden swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach. It wasn't just his words. It was the sudden awareness of where his hand was.
While you were asleep, his arm had found its way along the back of the sofa, resting gently around your shoulders to keep you comfortable. The casual intimacy of the gesture made your heart race, the heat rising rapidly to your cheeks.
Terrified that the bright blush on your face would give away exactly how deeply he affected you, you quickly turned your head away, pretending to fixate on the scrolling credits on the television screen.
You stared at the black and white text, trying to deep breathe your way back to a normal temperature, completely convinced you had successfully hidden your reaction.
In the dim light of the room, James noticed the sudden shift in your posture, the way you carefully avoided his gaze, and the unmistakable pink hue tracing your jawline.
A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. While you were staring intently at the TV, he leaned back against the cushions, looking down at you with a quiet, lingering warmth in his eyes—a look full of unspoken affection that you missed entirely, but one that changed everything.
'Most alive I've ever been'
He had this rare, unexplainable ability to make you feel completely alive. Before James came into the picture, your world felt small, confined to the quiet hum of a dorm room shared with a barely there roommate. Most nights were a blur of endless studying or passive phone scrolling, watching strangers live these wildly happy, vibrant lives while you sat on your bed, wondering if you were even heading in the right direction.
But James changed the gravity of your routine. He made a conscious effort to always be by your side, pulling you out of your head.
He started taking you to places he easily could have gone to with his close friends, but whenever you brought it up, he’d just shrug and say he wanted it to be just the two of you. He wanted to experience things with you.
That’s how you found yourself standing in the doorway of a massive, two story entertainment complex tucked inside a mall you’d never fully explored. You were genuinely shocked you had never heard of it before.
The first floor was an absolute playground. A sprawling arcade, a neon lit mini golf course, a vibrant food court, and a bowling alley humming with energy.
Up on the second floor, the distant roar of electric go karts echoed down. Your face lit up instantly, a massive smile taking over as you looked around, wanting to try absolutely everything.
"Let's do it all," James said, matching your excitement.
He paid for the arcade card, and the next couple of hours vanished in a blur of flashing lights and competitive banter.
You played target shooting games, raced side by side on virtual motorbikes, and went head to head in air hockey—where James ruthlessly kept winning, laughing every time the puck slid past your defense.
But your comeback came at the axe throwing cages. It quickly became your absolute favorite, mostly because you completely outshone him, sticking the target almost every time while he shook his head in mock defeat.
Next was mini golf, which you quickly realized you were terrible at. James took the win again, teasingly defending himself by saying, "Hey, maybe it's just because I used to play hockey."
By the time you sat down at the mini food court to grab a bite, you were practically vibrating with leftover adrenaline. You ate your food, chatting a mile a minute, entirely happy. Sitting across from you, James just watched you, a soft, steady smile resting on his face. He leaned back, crossing his arms. "So, what's next? Bowling or go karts?"
"Bowling," you decided, pointing toward the lanes nearby.
As it turned out, you both absolutely sucked at it. You found yourself laughing until your stomach hurt at James’s impressive streak of consecutive gutter balls. You didn't do much better, but your score was just high enough to beat his abysmal run.
"Okay, how are you actually good at this?" he asked, throwing his hands up in defeat.
You laughed, nudging his shoulder. "Wii Sports."
He chuckled, bumping his shoulder back against yours, and for a second, you just leaned into him, the warmth of the moment settling deep in your chest.
But whatever gentleness you shared in the bowling alley completely evaporated the moment you strapped on your helmets at the go kart track.
All the niceness was gone. This was pure, unadulterated competition. You gripped the steering wheel, flooring the pedal around the tight corners, exchanging leading positions with him on every lap. On the final stretch, you managed to cut inside and cross the finish line just a fraction of a second ahead of him.
The second you stepped out of the kart, you ripped your helmet off, got right in his face, and playfully danced around him, chanting, "I won! I won!"
James just stood there, hands in his pockets, shaking his head with a broad, amused smile. He let you have your moment, never planning to mention the fact that he had slightly eased off the throttle on the final turn. He just loved seeing you look that cheery. Your absolute happiness had become his favorite thing to witness.
It wasn't until you were finally walking out toward the parking lot, the cool night air hitting your faces, that the shift happened. James was talking about a funny moment from the arcade when the words accidentally slipped out.
"Seriously, though... this was a really fun date."
You stopped dead in your tracks. James paused a step ahead of you, turning around to face you.
"Date?" you repeated, your voice trailing off. "Was this a date?" You looked at him, your brow furrowing in genuine confusion.
The confident, competitive guy from the racetrack vanished in an instant. James suddenly looked incredibly shy, his eyes dropping to the pavement as he kicked a loose rock with the toe of his shoe. "Um... yeah. I wanted it to be."
A small, knowing smile slowly tugged at the corners of your lips, and you tilted your head, watching him. "You know, you could’ve just asked."
He looked up, his cheeks flushing a prominent, dark red in the parking lot lights. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back nervously. "I know, I know. I just... I got nervous at the last second, so I called it a hangout. But really, the whole time, I wanted to say date."
It was your turn to look down at the ground, a sudden rush of butterflies invading your stomach. You nodded slowly, letting the feeling sink in. "Okay. Well... I had a really fun date, too."
You looked up just in time to see his entire expression light up, a relieved, brilliant smile breaking across his face. The tension left his shoulders as he took a step closer to you, closing the distance between you. He reached out, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was warm and deliberate.
"Would you like to go on a second date then?" he asked, his voice low, his eyes locked onto yours.
You bit your lip, your smile widening as you met his gaze. "Yes."
'But kiss me now and I might drop dead'
It wasn't even the second date when he finally kissed you.
Instead, it happened on a quiet, unremarkable Tuesday night. The two of you had ended up staying late at the campus library, tucked away in your usual corner. For hours, you had just enjoyed each other's company in a comfortable, domestic silence.
James was wearing his glasses. The ones that always made your heart skip a beat because of how effortlessly good he looked in them.
The university kept the library open until ten, but by nine o'clock, your brain was completely fried. With a heavy sigh, you shut your textbook, the loud snap echoing softly in the quiet room.
You glanced out the tall arched window, noticing for the first time that a sudden, heavy downpour was slashing against the glass.
Turning back to James, you watched him for a moment. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed in deep concentration as he finished a chapter.
"Hey," you whispered, breaking the silence.
"Hmm?" he murmured, instantly looking up. The moment his gaze locked onto yours, you had his absolute, undivided attention.
"The library closes in an hour," you said, gesturing toward the window. "We should probably head out before they kick us out."
He nodded, closing his book and sliding it into his backpack while you gathered your own things. As you walked down the stairs and approached the heavy glass exit doors, you looked at the sheets of water falling outside. "Do you have an umbrella?"
You both stepped out onto the covered concrete porch, the cool, damp air hitting us instantly. James looked out at the storm, then looked back at you, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "No. I really should've checked the weather forecast before leaving my dorm."
You let out a soft laugh. "Okay, well... we could always just run for it?"
James looked at you, then measured the distance of the downpour, and turned back to you with a thoughtful expression. "Your dorm is all the way across campus. Mine is much closer. How about we run to my building instead? At least we’ll be slightly less soaked."
"All right," you agreed, looking out at the deluge. "But I think we're still going to get absolutely drenched either way."
He chuckled lightly, stepping right up to the edge of the roof's shelter. "Fair point." He reached down and caught your hand, wrapping his fingers securely around yours. "Ready?"
You nodded. He tightened his grip, a playful smirk throwing itself across his face. "Don't fall."
And then he leaped out into the storm, pulling you right behind him. A shocked laugh escaped your lips as the freezing rain instantly soaked through your clothes. James let out a loud, breathless laugh, his long strides cutting through the puddles as he guided you through the dark campus pathways.
It only took a few minutes, but by the time you sprinted under the covered awning of his dorm complex, you were both completely breathless.
The rain was streaming down your face like sweat, and your clothes were plastered to your skin. James’s hair was completely flat, water dripping steadily from the dark strands, but he was staring at you with a brilliant, unbothered smile.
"Well," he panted, wiping a hand across his forehead, "guess running to my place didn't save us from the downpour after all."
You smiled, wringing out the edge of your jacket. "Not really, but at least we spent less time running in it."
James nodded slowly, his laughter fading into something much quieter. He took a deliberate step closer to you, closing the distance on the empty porch. A sudden, intense look entered his eyes. One that made your chest tighten in the best way possible.
You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowing slightly in curiosity, a lingering smile still on your lips. "What?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze traveled over your face, taking you in entirely, before finally lingering on your lips. "You are so beautiful," he said softly.
You scoffed gently, looking down as if you couldn't quite believe him. "James, I literally look like a drowned rat right now."
"Still beautiful," he insisted, his voice dropping an octave.
He stepped even closer, so near that a stray drop of water fell from his wet hair and splashed onto your cheek. Your breath caught in your throat. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down, his nose grazing against yours. He looked deeply into your eyes, down at your lips, and then back up to meet your gaze, silently asking the question.
When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was slow and gentle, as if he wanted to savor the exact moment. His hands found their place at your waist, warm even through your damp shirt, while your arms slid naturally up his neck, pulling him closer.
The initial hesitation melted away into a deep, genuine passion. You could both feel the sheer happiness radiating between you, to the point where you both started smiling into the kiss, breaking the contact for a split second just to laugh softly against each other's lips.
Eventually, you pulled back just enough to breathe, though neither of you broke the embrace. Your arms rested comfortably around his neck, and his hands remained anchored at your waist. He leaned down, placing a tender kiss on the corner of your lips.
"I was actually planning to wait for our second date to do that," he admitted, a teasing note in his voice.
You shook your head, your smile widening as you looked at him. "I like this way much better. Kissing in the rain feels way more romantic."
He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your chest. This time, you didn't wait for him to ask. You leaned in, closing the gap between you.
The second kiss wasn't slow or hesitant. It was confident and certain. As the storm continued to rage around the covered porch, you held tightly to the boy you liked, completely grateful for the random Thursday night intuition that had told you to send that stupid pickup line.
