The rest of the school day was simultaneously fast and slow, like the dips and peaks of a rollercoaster. But finally, finally, when the bell rung for the final time, I could go home.

Yas and I where puffing dramatically, our feet dragging behind us as we forced our aching legs to walk the few meters left to the car. Physical Education was no light task.

Although Yasmine also has her license, she doesn’t have a car yet. Her mum has been single for as long as she can remember, never having had the opportunity to meet her dad before he left, so they only had enough money for one car. Usually, she caught the bus to-and-from school.

After hours of trekking through hills and mud (okay, not actually, but my legs hurt so much, I actually need to start going to the gym), I finally unlocked the Toyota and immediately turned the air con on. But then it started blowing heated air right in my face, so I rushed to turn it off again and opted to just open the windows.

We sat in comfortable silence for the first few minutes of the ride, humming softly to songs on the radio and enjoying the breeze flowing through our matted hair.

Yas cleared her throat dramatically, catching my attention. "So, who's the guy?"

"What guy?" I asked, trying to sound innocent and unbothered, like I had no idea who she could possibly be talking about.

"You know. The guy who bought us lunch," she said, a slight sarcastic tone to her voice. One thing about Yas: she had no patience and no time for bullshit. There was no worming my way out of this inevitable conversation.

"His name is Jacob Cruor. I met him in drama today."

"You guys seemed to get along. Did you talk much?"

"Our teacher wanted someone to be my 'buddy', and he was the only one who volunteered."

I saw a spark in her eyes. "Oooo, Kay, I think he likes you."

“Yas,” I sighed. “He’d met me all of a few seconds earlier.”

“So? I met Luca a few seconds before I decided he would be my husband.”

"I seriously doubt it, Yas, hate to break it to you.” She pouted, crossing her arms across her chest. "and Jake was just being nice. He said so himself – he wanted us to have a good first day."

"Yeah, but guys don't just go and buy a random chick lunch. He's into you, and there's no doubt about it. What did you think of him?"

"Well, he's—" my breath caught, unsure of how much I’d be willing to admit. If I say something to her, it will just make it more truthful. I don’t want to have a crush on a boy I just met. We know how that turned out in Frozen.

But what was I supposed to say anyways? Cute? Attractive? Surprisingly Nice? I left Yasmine without an answer, but she apparently deciphered my silence into the answer of I like him too, as she started giggling uncontrollably and clutching her stomach.

Yes, Yas was my best friend. Yes, I loved her to pieces. And yes: I was relieved to finally drop her off at her place.

I didn’t want to talk about Jake. It was difficult enough trying to figure out what I was already feeling, about why I’m love-struck by a guy I’ve known for less than a day, why his presence feels achingly familiar, and why I feel so comfortable around him – even if he does make me giddy and flustered.

Letting muscle memory guide me back home, I allowed myself to finally organise my thoughts.

Jacob Cruor is a cute guy. He’s going to be my buddy for the rest of the term. So what if his presence makes me feel all gooey and excited? It doesn’t have to mean anything. I’m allowed friends too.

My thoughts stayed that way for the rest of the drive, and before I knew it I was pulling into the driveway, my body bumping against the seat.

Mum smiled widely as I entered, already sitting at the couch with a cup of tea. My heart swelled with appreciation, a soft smile pulling at my lips.

"Hello my darling!” She said enthusiastically, smiling through every word. “Tell me all about your first day at school.”

"It was good. My teachers where nice, and my classes are okay."

"Just okay?"

I looked her in the eyes and sighed. "I mean, school's school. It isn't any different to how it was back home."

She nodded. “I guess that makes sense. I never particularly enjoyed school myself. Did you make any new friends?"

"I—," I was about to tell mum about Jake, but I stopped myself short. I’d known him for less than a day. I didn’t know much about his personality – other than that he was generous and witty – or how well he did in school.

For all I know, he could be some drug addict who smokes and drinks and wastes all his money gambling. My mum was always quite protective over me (I am her only child after all) so I would need to make sure he wasn’t some hobo before I told her.

"No." I answered finally, after probably just too long of a pause. "It was just me and Yasmine today."

I could see the slight disappointment clouding mum’s eyes, but she forced a smile and rubbed my shoulder gently. “That’s okay. I’m sure you two will meet some knew people soon enough.”

Turning, I grabbed my workbook from my satchel and made my way to the stairs. “Just going to do homework.”

"Already?" She frowned. "Let me know if you need any help."

"Thanks, Mum."

I jumped the stairs three at a time, hopping like a bunny over the landing and swinging my door open like a reality-TV star.

The bed was in the middle of the far back wall, in front of that calming blue paint. There was a desk to the right, underneath the windowsill, and an open cupboard on the left. Objectively, it was small, but it had everything I need.

Heading straight over to the desk, I allowed myself to sink into the foamy chair. It was like sitting on a cloud, floating slightly, but also entirely consumed by comfort. I hummed contentedly, allowing my eyes to flutter close and enjoy the sensation.

God I was tired. Today had taken up so much emotional energy, I wasn’t sure I would actually have the energy to do homework.

After sitting for a few moments, I felt that familiar buzz against my thigh.

I dug my phone out of my pocket, before seeing Yasmine’s name pop up on the screen.

Hey, what r u writing for the Shakespeare homework? It read.

Dunno. Just about to start.

Do u think I could get away with an impromptu broken wrist?

Mr. Martin doesn't look like the type to be easily fooled, unfortunately. 1000 words is a bit much for the first day.

Yeah but it’s not everyone’s first day. Just ours.

He could have spared us.

LOL. Listen, can u call?

I sighed, and as much as I really wanted to talk to Yasmine, I had too much homework to do. And I already knew how this conversation was going to turn. She was going to question me about Jake. Not happening. I felt guilt churn in my stomach as I made up a believable excuse.

Sorry, Yas. My mum is being strict about homework. I don’t wanna to be caught calling when im not even meant to be texting – I’ve gotta go, bye.

Oh, okay that's fine. See you tomorrow.

I sent her a thumbs up emoji, before turning my phone on silent, and opening my laptop with an annoyed huff.

Sighing softly, I typed random letters and phrases on my laptop, hoping to kick-start an idea for my Shakespeare homework essay. Every time an idea started to form, my mind went straight back to Jake and distracted me again.

I wasn't going to get anywhere just staring at my screen and thinking of a guy I'd just met, so I huffed in immense frustration and slammed the laptop screen hard. I winced. Hopefully mum didn't hear that.

I heaved myself up from the chair, collapsed onto my messy bed with a sigh. The cool fabric pressed against my cheek, soothing and inviting. Without a second thought, I slipped under the covers, pulling them over my head like a cocoon. The world outside could wait—right now, all I wanted was the quiet comfort of my bed.

When I awoke, the soft glow of the afternoon was gone, replaced by an endless stretch of darkness beyond my curtains. I bolted upright, only to be hit with a dizzying wave of disorientation. I had only meant to rest for a few minutes—just close my eyes, nothing more. But as I turned to check the clock, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. 1:30. Not in the afternoon. The next morning.

Just great.

And I still had a 1,000-word essay to write.

Cursing myself for falling asleep, I jumped out of bed and crossed the room in one stride, dropping into my chair. With a flick of my wrist, I flipped open my laptop and pressed the power button, bracing myself for a long, miserable night of writing.

But when the screen lit up, I froze.

There it was—a fully written essay, exactly 1,000 words. Perfectly structured, flawless grammar, not a single mistake in sight.

My heart pounded as I scanned through the document, my mind racing for an explanation. Had I somehow written it in my sleep? Was this some bizarre dream?

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a small, handwritten note stuck to my desk. Flicking on the lamp, I leaned in to read it, a slow smile forming on my lips.

I felt a grateful squeeze in my stomach. My eyes glanced down to the bottom of the note.

P.S. There's some left-over spaghetti in the fridge,
in case you wake up hungry.

I placed the note carefully on my desk, opened my door, and headed down stairs for dinner. I walked into the kitchen – a rather tight space with barley enough room for two people – and opened the fridge. It was packed with food, and I scoped out a red Tupperware container filled to the brim with spaghetti. My favourite. I placed it in the microwave, heated it for two minutes, then walked over to the kitchen table to eat.

After my extremely late (or early, I suppose) dinner, I tip-toed back up the stairs being careful not to wake my mum. Sprawling in bed again, I closed my eyes and slept for the rest of the morning.

At exactly 8:00, my alarm clock screamed for me to get up, and I willingly accepted. I felt fully rested due to my long, thirteen-hour slumber.