Chapter 8

Diana's pov

The whole week has been full of chaos.

The crisp October air bit at my skin as I walked to school, hands shoved into my pockets. The trees lining the sidewalk were starting to turn shades of red and orange, fallen leaves crunching under my sneakers. Chloe and Nora were already waiting for me at the usual spot, Chloe sipping from a pumpkin spice latte, as if it was a personality trait.

“Finally,” she teased when I joined them. “You take forever.”

“I take my time,” I corrected.

We walked together, but I wasn’t fully paying attention to their chatter—not until I felt an arm drape over my shoulders. Abby.

“You trying to ditch me?” she asked, her voice smooth, teasing. She was taller than me, her presence impossible to ignore.

“Always,” I shot back, but I didn’t move away.

Abby smirked, pulling me in slightly before letting go. “Liar.”

The week had barely started, but I already knew it was going to be a lot. October always felt like a slow burn—the days getting colder, the anticipation of the holidays creeping in. And, apparently, Ms. Collins becoming even more of a weirdo.

Monday – Chemistry & Stares...

Chemistry was a disaster, but that was nothing new. Ms. Collins had been tolerating me at best, barely hiding her irritation whenever I opened my mouth. But today, something was different.

Abby and I sat together, as always, and she was in one of her moods—one where she didn’t really care about personal space. Her knee pressed against mine under the desk. Her hand rested on my shoulder when she leaned in to read the textbook over my arm. At one point, she reached out, fixing a strand of my hair that had fallen over my face.

“Better,” she murmured.

I blinked at her. “Are you my mom now?”

She just grinned. “Shut up.”

I barely noticed Ms. Collins at first, too busy dealing with Abby’s constant hovering. But then I caught it—her staring.

Not casually. Not in the way teachers scan a classroom.

Her gaze flickered between me and Abby, her grip tight around her pen. She looked… irritated. Or maybe something else.

I nudged Abby. “Am I crazy, or is Collins—”

“Im telling you,” Abby whispered back, smirking. “She totally has a weird thing for you. She's a fucking weirdo."

I rolled my eyes. “She hates me.”

“Uh-huh.” Abby’s hand slid down my arm before she pulled away. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Collins looked away the second I met her eyes, but it was too late. I had seen it—the tension, the frustration, the something she was trying too hard to hide.

Tuesday – PE & 'Accidents'

PE was a nightmare, mostly because Chloe and Nora weren’t in my class. That left me with a bunch of people I didn’t talk to and Abby, who apparently had made it her mission to make things weird.

She was all over me.

Not in an obvious way—she was too smooth for that. It was little things. Her hand pressing against my lower back when we walked onto the field. The way she always positioned herself next to me during warm-ups. And then, of course, the accidents.

“Oops.” Her hand caught my hip as she 'stumbled' into me for the third time that day. “I swear, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

I glared at her. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

She grinned. “Maybe.”

I shoved her off, but she barely budged, too solid to be moved easily. Instead, she leaned in, voice low.

“You don’t seem to mind,” she teased.

Before I could reply, I noticed something—someone—standing by the gym doors. Ms. Collins.

Why was she even here? She isn't even my PE teacher, and she literally has her own class to teach right now.

She wasn’t even pretending to do anything, just standing there, clipboard in hand, watching. And when I looked at her—really looked—there was something almost off in the way she was staring.

The second our eyes met, she turned sharply and walked away.

Okay. That was weird.

Wednesday – Lunch & a Little Too Close

Lunch had always been chaotic, but today? Abby was in full form.

“You never sit on my lap” she complained, draping an arm over my shoulder.

“Because we’re not in some bad romance movie,” I said, pushing her off.

She smirked, but instead of moving away, she leaned in, voice lower than before. “But it’d be a good bad romance movie, wouldn’t it?”

I didn’t have a chance to respond before her hand found my thigh, resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world. I froze for half a second. Not because I was uncomfortable—just because Abby had never been this bold.

“You’re getting cocky,” I muttered.

She squeezed my thigh, smirking. “You like it.”

Before I could shove her off, my eyes flickered toward the teachers’ section of the cafeteria.

Ms. Collins was there. And she was looking right at us.

Not in a normal way.

She was gripping her fork so tightly I thought it might snap. When Abby leaned in again, whispering something in my ear, Collins’ jaw clenched.

The moment our eyes met, she immediately looked away, turning her focus to her plate.

Huh.

Thursday – I'm convinced that Ms. Collins is a Stalker

Ms. Collins had been off all day. Distracted, tense, avoiding eye contact. But the weirdest part?

When I stayed after class to ask something (mostly to mess with her), I caught a glimpse of her phone before she locked it.

Instagram.

My Instagram.

I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t peg you for the social media type, Collins.”

Her fingers tightened around the device before she shoved it into her bag. “Detention,” she said, voice clipped.

I stared. “For what?”

She hesitated. That was all I needed to see. She didn’t have a reason.

“For being a distraction,” she finally said.

I leaned against her desk, grinning. “To who, exactly?”

She looked at me then—really looked. And for the first time all week, she didn’t have an answer.

Interesting.

Friday – Detention & Realization

By the time detention rolled around, I wasn’t even mad. I was curious. Collins was acting weirder every day—stalking my socials, staring too long, getting pissed whenever Abby got too close.

Abby had laughed when I told her. “Maybe she likes you.”

“Don’t be gross,” I shot back.

But now, sitting in the empty classroom while she pretended to grade papers, I found myself wondering.

She barely looked at me, except for a few stolen glances. Every time I caught her, she cleared her throat and went back to not grading anything.

After about thirty minutes, I sighed dramatically. “So, what’s next? You gonna start following me home?”

Her pen froze mid-sentence.

I was kidding. But the way she stiffened? Yeah. Maybe I wasn’t so far off. Maybe Abby was right. She might be a weirdo.

Now, it's Saturday night. I'm drinking my coffee, laying on my bed and watching Netflix. Absolutely perfect. There's nothing better than this.

It was one of those lazy October Saturdays, the kind where the air outside was crisp but my room was warm, wrapped in the scent of freshly brewed coffee. I sat cross-legged on my bed, a hoodie draped over me like a second blanket, my hands curled around my mug. The steam rose in delicate swirls, mixing with the glow of my laptop screen.

Netflix played in the background, some show I had half-watched a dozen times before. I wasn’t really paying attention—just letting the voices and the soft glow of the screen fill the quiet of my room.

And yet… something felt off.

It started as a prickling at the back of my neck. A slow, creeping sensation, like I was being watched.

I shifted, rolling my shoulders, telling myself I was just being paranoid. Maybe it was the coffee, the exhaustion from the past week, the way Abby had been pushing boundaries and Ms. Collins had been acting strange.

But the feeling didn’t go away.

I tried to ignore it. Focused on the show. Took another sip of coffee. But something inside me knew.

Slowly, I set my mug down on the nightstand and swung my legs over the side of the bed, padding toward the window.

The street outside was quiet. The golden glow of a streetlamp cast long shadows across the pavement, fallen leaves shifting slightly with the wind.

And then I saw it.

A car.

Parked across the street, directly in front of my house.

The headlights were off, the engine silent.

It wasn’t a car I recognized—dark, sleek, expensive-looking. I live in a very fancy neighborhood, but I have never seen that car before.

I squinted, trying to make out the figure inside, but the windows were tinted. I couldn’t see who was in there.

I stood there for a moment, heart picking up speed, breath slowing.

It was probably nothing. Just some random car. Someone on their phone. Someone waiting for a friend.

But I didn’t move away from the window.

Because deep down, I knew.

This wasn’t just any car. And whoever was inside?

They weren’t just passing through.

I pressed my fingers lightly against the cold glass of my window, staring down at the car parked across the street. My breath was slow, steady, but my heart wasn’t. It had started as an uneasy feeling, the kind you try to shake off with a sip of coffee and a distraction. But now, standing here, watching that unmoving, silent car—I knew something was wrong.

The street was still, empty except for the occasional flicker of a porch light or the rustling of dry leaves scraping against the pavement. The car sat just outside the reach of the nearest streetlamp, its sleek black surface blending into the shadows.

I swallowed, my fingers curling slightly against the glass.

Who was that?

The windows were too tinted to see inside, too dark for me to even make out the faintest outline of a figure. But someone was in there. They had to be. No one just parked in front of a random house in the middle of the night and sat there doing nothing.

Right?

A strange chill ran down my spine, my skin prickling with the kind of awareness you get when you know you’re being watched. I wasn’t sure if it was real or if my own paranoia was making my mind twist shadows into something worse.

Slowly, I reached for the cord of my blinds.

Should I close them?

If I did, would that make it obvious that I knew they were there? That I was watching them, too?

But if I left them open…

The thought of those unseen eyes—because someone had to be looking—made my stomach tighten.

I stayed frozen for a long moment, my fingertips brushing the fabric of my blinds but not pulling them down. Instead, I stood there, watching the car. Waiting.

Would they do something?

A flicker of movement inside the vehicle caught my eye.

I stiffened.

It was subtle—just a shift, like someone adjusting their posture. But it was enough to make my pulse thrum in my ears.

They were watching.

I wasn’t crazy.

My hand twitched at my side, my breath shallow now. I didn’t know what to do. I could pull out my phone, tell Chloe and Nora, tell Abby. But what would I even say?

There’s a car outside.

Someone’s in it.

I think they’re watching me.

It sounded ridiculous. Maybe it was ridiculous. Maybe I was making something out of nothing.

And yet… I couldn’t move away from the window.

Minutes passed. The car didn’t leave.

I let out a slow breath, stepping back just enough so I wasn’t directly in view. I grabbed my phone, fingers hesitating over the screen.

Then, finally—finally—the car’s headlights flickered on.

I jumped slightly, watching as the engine hummed to life.

For a brief second, I thought the driver might roll down the window, show their face, make it obvious who they were.

But they didn’t.

Instead, the car pulled away from the curb, rolling down the street, disappearing into the night.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, but the tension in my chest didn’t ease. Because even though the car was gone, the feeling wasn’t.

That lingering, sinking sensation that whoever it was…

They hadn’t been just passing through, and I was sure about that.

I sat back down on my bed, phone clutched in my hand, my coffee forgotten on the nightstand. The show on my laptop kept playing, the voices distant, meaningless noise in the background. My fingers hovered over Abby’s contact before I finally pressed the call button, my leg bouncing slightly as I waited for her to pick up.

It only rang twice before her voice came through, smooth and amused.

“Well, well,” she drawled. “Didn’t expect you to call me this late. Miss me already?”

I rolled my eyes, but it didn’t carry the usual playfulness. “Shut up.”

Abby chuckled. “Damn. Cold. Here I was thinking you finally realized you can’t live without me.”

I opened my mouth to snap back, but the words caught in my throat. My own voice sounded… off. I could hear it—strained, uneasy.

Abby must have noticed, too, because her teasing tone dropped in an instant.

“Diana.” Her voice was firm now, alert. “What’s wrong?”

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “I—I don’t know. I think I just freaked myself out.”

A beat of silence. Then, softer, “Tell me.”

I hesitated, but the weight in my chest was too much to keep to myself. “There was a car outside. Just parked there. For a while.”

Abby didn’t say anything, but I could hear her breathing shift, hear the subtle rustling of her moving around—probably sitting up, getting serious.

“I couldn’t see who was inside,” I continued, staring out my window again. The street was empty now, but it didn’t make me feel any better. “It was just… sitting there. And I swear whoever was in it was watching me.”

Abby cursed under her breath. “How long?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t notice at first. But when I did, it felt like they’d been there too long.”

Another pause. Then, her voice lower now, more intense. “And they just… left?”

“Yeah. After a while, they just drove off.”

Abby inhaled sharply. “Did you get the plates?”

I blinked. “No. I mean—I didn’t think to. I was too busy…”

“Freaking out?”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

There was a pause. Then, Abby’s voice turned a little lighter, but not quite back to playful. “You should’ve called me sooner. I could’ve come over, scared them off with my intimidating presence.”

I huffed out a weak laugh. “Oh yeah, because you’re so terrifying.”

“You’d be surprised.”

There was something steady about Abby—something grounding. Even when she was joking, her voice had this weight to it, something solid, something real.

“Seriously, though,” she said after a moment. “You okay?”

I hesitated, glancing out the window one last time. The street was still empty. Quiet. Normal.

“…Yeah,” I murmured. “I think so.”

But even as I said it, I wasn’t sure if I believed it. And from the way Abby’s voice softened, neither was she.

Abby was quiet for a moment, and I thought—hoped—that maybe, just maybe, she’d let it go.

Then she sighed. “I’m coming over.”

I sat up straighter. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Abby—”

“You’re freaked out.” Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “And don’t try to tell me you’re not, because I know you. You called me, Diana. You don’t call people like this when you’re fine.”

I clenched my jaw, gripping my phone tighter. She wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean I wanted her to rush over like some overprotective guard dog.

“I’m not a little kid,” I muttered.

“Never said you were.”

“I can handle this.”

“Never said you couldn’t.”

I groaned. “Abby.”

“Diana,” she shot back, perfectly mimicking my exasperated tone. “You’re acting all tough, but I know you’re still sitting there staring at your window like that car’s gonna come back.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then promptly shut it.

Because I was still staring.

Abby sighed again, softer this time. “Look, I won’t stay long. Just wanna make sure you’re good. That’s all.”

“I am good.”

“Liar.”

I pressed my lips together. “It’s late.”

“I’ve stayed up later for dumber reasons.”

I ran a hand through my hair, leaning back against my pillows. “My dad’s home.”

“So? I’ll climb through your window like a proper delinquent. I've got abs and muscles for a reason!"

I rolled my eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the girl calling me in the middle of the night because she thinks she’s being stalked.”

“…Fair.”

Abby waited, silent on the other end. I could picture her now—probably already grabbing her jacket, waiting for my final, inevitable surrender.

I sighed. “Fine.”

“Good choice.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” I could hear the smirk in her voice. “See you soon.”

And with that, she hung up.

I stared at my phone, shaking my head, but the knot in my chest felt just a little looser. Maybe having Abby here wasn’t the worst idea. Maybe, for once, I was okay with someone not taking no for an answer.

Fifteen minutes. That’s all it took.

I barely had time to process the fact that I had actually agreed before there was a sudden, sharp knock at my window.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Jesus Christ,” I hissed, clutching my chest as I turned toward the noise.

Outside, standing in the dim glow of the streetlight, was Abby. Smirking. Of course.

I pushed up the window with a glare. “Ever heard of a door? My dad won't actually mind."

Abby grinned, resting her arms on the windowsill like she had all the time in the world. The faint October chill brushed through my room, but she didn’t seem to care. Her grey sweatpants hung low on her hips, and the tight compression shirt clung to her toned frame a little too well. Not even a jacket. She must be freezing secretly.

She tilted her head, eyes scanning me like she knew exactly what she was doing. “What, and miss the chance to sneak into your room like we’re in some bad teenage drama? No way.”

I huffed. “You are a bad teenage drama.”

She laughed, then reached up, gripping the frame of my window. In one smooth motion, she hoisted herself up and through, landing lightly on my floor.

I crossed my arms. “Show-off.”

Abby just smirked. “Like what you see?”

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my own brain. “You’re impossible.”

She stepped closer, slow, deliberate. “And yet, you let me in.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the way she was looking at me—playful, teasing, but with something else underneath—made my brain short-circuit for a second.

Her smirk widened. “Speechless? Damn, Diana, didn’t think I’d win that easily.”

I shoved her shoulder. “Shut up.”

She barely moved, just laughed, eyes glinting with amusement. Then, before I could react, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to something smooth, something almost dangerous.

“So,” she murmured, “is this the part where you confess you actually called me over just to see me in a tight shirt?”

My brain stuttered. My face stuttered.

“What—”

Abby grinned. “You are staring.”

I immediately snapped my gaze away, heat creeping up my neck. “Oh my God, leave.”

She laughed again, but there was something softer in it now. Something warmer.

“Alright, alright,” she said, lifting her hands in surrender. “I’ll behave.”

I shot her a look.

She smirked. “Mostly.”

I groaned, flopping back onto my bed. “I regret this already.”

Abby flopped down next to me, arms behind her head. “No, you don’t.”

I didn’t answer. Because maybe… maybe she was right.

I was still lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to pretend Abby wasn’t looking at me like I was some kind of game she was winning.

She shifted next to me, propping herself up on one elbow, watching me with that infuriating smirk. “Alright, jokes aside,” she murmured, her voice dipping just enough to be too smooth, too low. “Are you okay?”

I hesitated, my fingers gripping the edge of my blanket. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I feel stupid for freaking out.”

Abby’s hand found my wrist, warm and firm. “Hey,” she said, and just that one word made my stomach flip in a way I refused to acknowledge. “It’s not stupid. You felt something was off, so you called me. Smart move, actually.”

I sighed, staring at the ceiling again. “I guess.”

Her thumb brushed lightly over the inside of my wrist, slow, deliberate. “You’re still tense.”

I blinked, trying not to focus on the way her touch sent an odd, traitorous warmth up my arm. “Yeah, well. Creepy cars don’t exactly make me relax.”

Abby hummed, thoughtful. “Maybe you just need a distraction.”

Before I could ask what she meant, her hand slid from my wrist up to my forearm, her touch light but knowing.

I turned my head toward her, raising a brow. “Abby.”

“Yes, Diana?” she replied, perfectly innocent.

I narrowed my eyes. “This is not how you comfort someone.”

She smirked. “Says who?”

I groaned, but I didn’t move her hand away. That only seemed to encourage her.

“I mean,” she continued, her fingers brushing dangerously close to my shoulder, “if you wanted, I could help you relax.”

My brain short-circuited for a solid two seconds.

“What,” I deadpanned, “like a therapist?”

She snorted. “Not exactly what I was thinking.”

I opened my mouth, then immediately closed it, heat creeping up my neck. “Abby.”

She grinned. “Diana.”

I gave her a look.

She held my gaze, her smirk softening just slightly. “Too much?”

I hesitated, biting the inside of my cheek. Truthfully, I didn’t know what this was. Abby was always flirty, always pushy in that annoyingly confident way of hers. But this felt different—closer, heavier, like she was actually waiting for an answer.

I swallowed. “You’re so annoying.”

Her grin widened. “But you love it.”

I huffed, turning back toward the ceiling. “Debatable.”

She chuckled, finally pulling her hand away—but not before squeezing my arm just once, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Alright, alright,” she said, stretching out beside me like she owned the place. “I’ll behave. For now.”

I didn’t reply.

Because for now didn’t sound like much of a promise.

Abby stretched out on my bed like she owned the place, hands behind her head, one leg lazily crossed over the other. She looked way too comfortable, like she had already decided she was staying whether I liked it or not.

I sat up, arms crossed. “Alright, you’re here, you’ve checked on me, I’m alive. You can go now.”

Abby turned her head, smirking. “Yeah, no.”

I narrowed my eyes. “No?”

She shrugged, completely unfazed. “Nope. I’m staying.”

I groaned. “Abby—”

She rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her hand, her other arm casually draped across my waist before I could stop her. “What if the creepy car comes back, hmm?” she murmured, voice dropping just enough to make my stomach twist. “You really want to be alone after that?”

I swallowed, trying very hard not to focus on how close she was. “I think I’ll survive.”

Abby tilted her head, gaze flicking over me like she was assessing her next move. Then, without warning, she tugged me down onto the bed beside her, my back hitting the mattress before I could react.

I sucked in a breath. “Abby.”

She grinned. “Yes, Diana?”

I scowled. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, but I can.” Her hand slid up my arm, slow, deliberate, her thumb tracing light circles against my skin. “And I am.”

Heat crept up my neck, but I refused to let her see me flustered. “You’re impossible.”

She leaned in slightly, her breath warm against my ear. “And yet, you still haven’t kicked me out.”

I clenched my jaw. She wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean I was about to let her win.

I turned my head to glare at her, but the second our eyes met, her smirk softened, something unreadable flickering behind it. She studied me for a moment, her fingers still idly tracing my arm.

Then, she smirked again. “You’re cute when you’re trying not to blush.”

I was not blushing.

Okay, maybe I was. But that was beside the point.

I shoved her shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

She caught my wrist easily, her grip firm but teasing. “And yet…?”

I exhaled, trying to ignore the way my pulse jumped just from how easily she handled me. “And yet what?”

Abby smirked. “And yet, I’m still here.”

I stared at her for a long second, my heartbeat annoyingly loud in my ears. Then, finally, I sighed.

“Fine. You can stay.”

She grinned like she’d just won a game. “Knew you’d come around.”

I groaned, flopping back against my pillows. “You’re exhausting.”

She chuckled, shifting closer, her hand lingering just a little longer than necessary before pulling away. “Get used to it, babe.”

I froze. “Did you just call me—”

She stretched her arms over her head, smirking. “Hurry up and turn off the lights. I need my beauty sleep.”

I stared at her.

She winked.

Oh my god. What had I just agreed to?

I should’ve known something was up the second Abby pulled a neatly folded shirt and a pair of loose men's shorts from her bag.

I blinked. “Did you—did you bring a change of clothes?”

Abby smirked, casually shaking out her shirt. “Maybe.”

I crossed my arms. “So you knew I was going to let you stay?”

She shrugged, completely unfazed. “I had a strong feeling.”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “You’re unbelievable.”

She grinned. “And yet, here I am, getting very comfortable in your room.”

Before I could snap back, she hooked her thumbs under the hem of her compression shirt and—without a single ounce of hesitation—pulled it off in one smooth motion.

I nearly choked on air.

I spun around so fast I almost tripped over my own feet. “Oh my god, Abby!”

Behind me, she laughed, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Relax, Diana. It’s just a shirt.”

I stared at my wall like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “A little warning next time, maybe?”

She hummed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

I could feel her smirking, but I refused to turn around. Not when my face was burning.

After what felt like an eternity, I heard the rustling of fabric, followed by the sound of her tugging on her new shirt. “Okay, princess. You’re safe now.”

I turned back slowly, giving her the most unamused look I could muster. She just shot me a wink before plopping onto my bed like she owned the place.

I groaned. “I regret everything.”

She smirked. “No, you don’t.”

I did. Mostly.

A few minutes later, after I changed my clothes to a top and panties, we were in the bathroom, brushing our teeth like this was normal, like Abby stayed over all the time.

She kept looking at me through the mirror, toothpaste foam at the corners of her mouth, smirking like she knew exactly how much she was getting away with tonight.

I rolled my eyes, spitting into the sink. “What?”

She shrugged, voice muffled around her toothbrush. “Nothing. Just thinking how cute we look.”

I shot her a glare. “Shut up.”

She laughed, rinsing her mouth before bumping her hip against mine. “Come on. Admit it. This is kinda domestic.”

I huffed. “It’s not.”

She grinned, drying her hands. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Back in my room, I barely had time to get under the covers before Abby slid in beside me, way too comfortable, way too prepared.

I turned to her with narrowed eyes. “You’re sleeping on the floor.”

She blinked. “Oh, babe. That’s adorable.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m serious.”

She smirked, shifting closer. “Then why aren’t you pushing me off?”

I opened my mouth. Then closed it.

Abby took that as her victory. She wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me against her like this was completely normal. “See? This isn’t so bad.”

I stiffened. “You’re—too close.”

She chuckled, her breath warm against my ear. “You’re too tense.”

I groaned, attempting to shove her away, but she just laughed, tightening her hold like I was nothing more than a pillow she refused to let go of.

“Abby—”

“Hush,” she murmured, resting her chin on my head. “Just relax, babe.”

I huffed, defeated. “You’re so annoying.”

She smirked. “And yet, you’re not moving.”

I didn’t answer. Because maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

My mind changed soon enough. Abby was way too at ease in my bed, like she had planned this all along. The shorts she was wearing, loose black men's shorts—ones that hung low on her hips—and an oversized t-shirt that was just slightly bunched up on one side, absolutely tortue because she had a pretty muscular body. She smelled like clean laundry and a little bit of cologne, which was not helping.

I shifted, trying to keep some space between us, but the second I moved, Abby’s arm hooked around my waist, pulling me right back.

I sucked in a breath. “Abby.”

“Yes, Diana?” she murmured, voice smooth, teasing.

I scowled. “You’re… too comfortable.”

She chuckled, her breath warm against my neck. “And? You’re too tense.”

I groaned, trying once again to move, but Abby wasn’t having it. She just wrapped around me like she was built for this, one leg lazily draping over mine, her arm tightening slightly like I was some kind of oversized pillow.

“Abby,” I hissed, “your leg.”

She hummed, completely unbothered. “What about it?”

I shot her a glare. “It’s on me.”

She smirked. “Yeah. Feels nice, huh?”

I almost choked. “That is not—”

She grinned, adjusting slightly so that I was even closer—which I didn’t think was possible, and yet, here we were.

I clenched my jaw, ignoring the way my pulse jumped at how solid she felt. “You are the worst.”

She just exhaled a soft, amused breath against my ear. “And yet, you’re still in my arms.”

I hated that she was right. But more than that? I hated that I wasn’t entirely mad about it.

I was trying to get some sleep. Really, I was. But Abby wasn’t making it easy.

She had settled in beside me, her body pressed against mine, her arm draped over my waist like she belonged there. Her scent, warm and familiar, wrapped around me as she shifted slightly, inching closer.

I tried to ignore it, to focus on the comfortable weight of her presence. But then, of course, she couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“You’re so stiff,” she whispered, her breath warm against the back of my neck. “Why don’t you just relax?” Her fingers brushed the side of my ribcage, barely there, but enough to send a little spark through me.

I tensed up, a shiver running through my body. “Abby,” I muttered, trying to pull away, but there was no space left between us. She just pulled me back in closer, her chest pressed against my back.

“Stop fighting it, Diana,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “You’re way too tense. I’m just trying to help.”

I felt her lips press lightly against my ear, and her hand moved up, brushing against the curve of my waist. Her touch was slow, deliberate, like she knew exactly what she was doing. I could feel my heart rate pick up, and I hated how much I didn’t want her to stop.

“You’re not being subtle,” I muttered, though I was barely able to keep my voice steady.

Abby chuckled. “Oh, I know. But I’m not trying to be subtle.” She shifted again, making sure her body was pressed even closer to mine, her breath tickling the back of my neck. “You know, I’m really good at making people feel good"

I don't answer, I don't bother to answer.

Abby stretched out beside me, her long legs brushing against mine as she shifted to get comfortable again. The room was dim, the soft glow from my bedside lamp casting warm shadows along the walls. She exhaled slowly, settling into the pillows, but even in the quiet, I could feel her watching me.

"You know," she murmured, rolling onto her side so that we were face-to-face, "most people don’t cuddle their friends like this."

I sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "Abby—"

"What?" She interrupted smoothly, her fingers grazing my arm, tracing absentminded circles along my skin. "I’m just saying. You let me in your bed, Diana. That means something."

I turned my head, meeting her gaze. She looked completely at ease, sprawled across my bed in those loose black shorts and a T-shirt, her muscles subtly flexing as she propped herself up on one elbow. She always had this way of filling up a room, her confidence as unshakable as her strength. And right now, all of that focus was on me.

I swallowed, trying not to let the heat creep into my face. "It means that I’m nice," I muttered.

Abby grinned, that cocky, self-assured smirk that made my stomach twist in ways I didn’t want to analyze. "Yeah? That’s all it means?"

"Yes," I said firmly.

She hummed, unconvinced. "Because to me, it kinda feels like you don’t mind me being this close." Her hand, warm and steady, drifted from my arm to rest lightly against my waist. Not quite holding me there, but close enough that I felt it. Felt her.

I could have pulled away. I could have rolled over and ended this conversation. But I didn’t.

Instead, I just exhaled, pressing my face into my pillow. "Go to sleep, Abby."

She chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Fine, fine." But she didn’t move her hand. If anything, she shifted even closer, her breath brushing against my hair. "But don’t blame me if I flirt in my sleep."

I groaned, but it was half-hearted at best. This was just Abby. Always pushing, always teasing. And maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t pushing back as much as I should have.

✂✂✂✂✂✂✂

The morning sunlight streamed through my window, casting a golden glow across my bed. I groaned, trying to roll over, but something warm and solid was in my way. Abby.

She was still here. Obviously.

I blinked the sleep from my eyes, suddenly very aware of how close we were. Her arm was still draped over my waist, her breathing slow and steady. For a second, I thought she was still asleep—until I caught the smirk on her face.

"Morning, California," she murmured, voice thick with sleep.

I shoved her arm off of me. "Don’t call me that."

She laughed, stretching her arms above her head, her muscles flexing as she sat up. "Gotta call you something. It’s either that or ‘gorgeous.’"

I threw a pillow at her. She caught it effortlessly, grinning. "See? You love me."

"Get out of my bed, Abby."

She finally stood, running a hand through her messy hair. "Fine, but only because we have school. Not because you’re kicking me out."

I rolled my eyes and climbed out of bed, already dreading the day ahead. It wasn’t that school was terrible. It was just… a lot. The building was huge, way bigger than my old school in California, and I was still getting used to the crowds, the hallways, the constant noise. At least I had friends now—Nora, Abby, and, of course, Chloe, who had moved here with me.

After a quick shower, I got dressed, throwing on jeans and a hoodie while Abby raided my kitchen for breakfast. By the time I joined her, she was already halfway through a protein bar, leaning against the counter like she owned the place.

"You ready?" she asked, mouth full.

"Not really."

She tossed me an apple. "Too bad."

We headed out, catching the subway to school. The city was still a blur of honking cars and people who didn’t seem to care if they bumped into you. It wasn’t home yet, but I was getting used to it.

The moment we walked into the school building, I felt it—that weird, unsettling sensation of being watched. I didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Ms. Collins.

My chemistry teacher had a habit of showing up in places she didn’t need to be. Like the hallway outside my first class. Or near my locker. Or, weirdly, at the café I went to with Chloe last weekend.

Sure enough, as we passed, she was standing by the office, eyes flicking toward me before quickly looking away.

"She’s staring at you again," Abby muttered under her breath.

I sighed. "I know."

Abby smirked. "Well, if you need a fake girlfriend to scare her off, you know where to find me."

I groaned. It was going to be a long day.