Dear Jake,

"Hey Kennedy," Harrison smiled, leaning in to kiss my cheek. Then I shoved him away, tears building up in my eyes. "What's wrong?" He asked. "Stop kissing my cheek. You have a girlfriend," I muttered. "Oh. Oh, Lord, you thought I liked you. In that way," he whispered. I sighed angrily, wiping my face. Then I turned, muttering "Go." Harrison tried to grab my hand, but I started running home. And here I am right now. Writing a note to you, explaining what happened. This is the second time we met to go drink coffee. Jake....why does he keep kissing my cheek? Why?

Love,

Your Confused Kennedy