When Jenna walks in, she immediately comes over and situates herself next to me on my bed. I can feel her eyes on my face.

"Are you in love?" comes her question, and I'm so taken aback by the suddenness that I look around at her with a confused look. She stares right back.

"Hi to you, too," I say, trying to lessen the intensity of the conversation.

"You look so ... glowy. And recently, your mood has just been lighter." She shrugs. "I just wondered if you're in love."

"Um ... I --"

"There's nothing wrong with it," J assures me. "And there's nothing wrong with not being in love."

Am I in love?

It really seems too soon to say so. But I think I am, so I tell Jenna.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I nearly scoff at the question. Do I want to talk about, gush about, this beautiful, amazing girl who writes beautiful, amazing words and speaks in cursive?

I nod, retracting into my collarbones and smiling so widely it's hard to believe that Jenna didn't instantly know how smitten I am.

Jenna's an amazing listener.

By the time I've told her every detail, she's hugging me tightly and beaming.

"I'm so happy for you, Haze," she says. "Can I meet her? I really want to."

"I really want you to," I say.

She hugs me again, and I play with her soft hair for a bit. She offers to bring me hot chocolate.

What an angel.

The following day when I see Annabelle, all I can think is how it's out in the world. That I think I'm in love with her. It's not just a voice in my head anymore.

I'm worried that I'm falling too hard, too quickly.

I just can't help it.

So now, when I'm looking at her, all I can see is what we could be.

We could have a quiet, tucked away house. Come home to each other every day. Wake up next to each other every day. Be in love with each other every day.

I want to hold her beautiful hand and kiss her soft lips and run my hand through her curly hair.

My eyes fill with tears when I return to real life, where Annabelle thinks of me as a friend and nothing else. I'm not sure what emotion they're from. But I quickly shake my head to clear them out, and return to what I'm supposed to be doing.

I shove the thought down my throat to get rid of it, even temporarily. But it ends up in my lungs somehow, and I can't breathe.

I make eye contact with Professor Clark across the room, and a look of recognition passes over his face as he realizes what's going on. He nods immediately, and I push my chair out from under me as I stand up and quickly head to the bathroom.

My black and white hair, hanging around my face, casts a shadow on my face that makes me look hollow. I don't like it. Nor do I like the idea that my brain has the power to do this to me. I meet my own gold-brown eyes and breathe. Four seconds in, seven seconds holding, eight seconds out.

It's okay that Annabelle doesn't love you romantically. You'll survive.

I don't have a hair tie on me, so I slip another pen out of my pocket and twist my hair back. Without it hanging in my face, I look a lot more full. I smile at my reflection.

You're gonna be okay.

I hold my head up high as I make my way back to the classroom. Professor Clark looks relieved at my return, and I give him a grin and a thumbs-up.

After that, I do allow those daydreams of a life with Annabelle to come about, but not the thoughts that accompany those dreams.