I screamed.

The eyes of the study hall were on me as I pressed down on the pages of the romance book in front of me. Angelo was sitting next to me, attempting to write his novel while I conducted my research. I shrank into my seat and people eventually looked away to focus on their work.

"What is it?" Angelo asked.

My hands clutched the book as if I was cutting off its source of oxygen and Angelo tentatively pried a hand off the book.

"What are you even reading?" Angelo asked incredulously.

That prompted me to search for a specific line in the book with a finger. When I found the passage, I tapped it frantically. Angelo's eyes skimmed the text and his face only warped into confusion.

"What? It's just a romance book," he said.

"Excuse me? Are we reading the same thing?" My eyes snapped to the book and I began to read the text out loud. "'He smelled of smoke and clean male skin.' What... is clean male skin? How does she know what that smells like? Did she murder someone?"

"You know um," Angelo looked up as he seemed to think about what to say next. "Like the smell of skin."

"No, I don't know. Why do you know the scent of skin? Also, there are some implications of saying the scent of male skin. Does 'female' skin smell different?"

I began to pack my things as I can tell we weren't going to do any more quiet studying and buried my head in my arms in hopes that people will stop staring.

"Maybe? Everything has a smell, right?"

"I know everyone has a smell unique to them according to science but I don't think it's divided by gender."

His eyes crinkled as he thought for a moment. "Maybe girls smell more flowery?"

"That's called perfume and soap. Anybody can do that."

"You need to suspend your disbelief a little more, it's just a story." Angelo handed the book back to me with a sigh. "It's more about the feelings in the focus of romance books and not really the descriptions. It's an exaggeration of what we actually experience."

"I can almost see that, it's just—" a gargle of frustration bubbles up in my throat "—clean. Male. Skin."

"You're exaggerating how bad it is."

"Didn't you just say exaggeration is the point of romance?" I wave my hand to the book in my hand. "If exaggeration is fine in romance, then this was so exaggerated that it's a horror line."

"Horror has blood though."

"And the blood is exaggerated! People don't spew blood when stabbed."

"You got a point, I'm curious if there's a smell for guys." Angelo sniffs his own armpits. "I don't smell anything."

"You're not going to smell anything. You're obviously going to be used to your own smell," I scoffed.

"Then let me smell you."

"What the fuck? No."

I jumped back in my seat and it caused some heads to turn again. I felt my face heat up and I went back into my hiding position, making sure that my bag was between me and Angelo.

"How has your novel been going?" I asked. "We've barely talked about your progress especially since you had to restart."

"That wasn't my fault." He threw his hands up with a dejected sigh. "I don't know what to write about."

I thought for a moment before speaking. "Well, what are you scared of?"

His eyebrows knitted together. "What?"

"It's horror, if you're not scared while writing it, you're not going to scare your reader."

"I don't know... the only thing I can think of is just creating monsters like zombies or something but they end up feeling like a joke."

"Horror also relies heavily on suspending your disbelief," I remarked.

"Well people aren't really scared of that stuff anymore," he mumbled. "It's usually just people with weapons going on rampages."

"It doesn't have to be people going on rampages," I scoffed. "They can be something that represents something in your real life. Something that tortures you from day-to-day life that the only way for anyone else to understand is to write a monster that holds all your issues and destroys everything in its path."

I suddenly noticed how quiet the study hall had become and turned my head to see that no one was sitting in the area anymore. They either had class or our conversation scared everyone off. I looked back to Angelo and he seemed to be mulling over what I had just said with a frown.

"So, what are you afraid of?" I asked again and his eyes snapped up to meet mine.

"I..." His voice faltered.

He didn't speak for the rest of the session and I didn't know if it was because he didn't know what the answer was or because he did know it.