CASSANDRA HAYES is a hopeless romantic. When she has a crush, they'll stick around in her head for years. She's never been good at getting over them, either; her remedy for a despairing heart is to write songs about it.
Walker Scobell has been the...
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♡167.3k liked by walker.scobell and others
lilypad welcome to cassandra hayes room folks!!!
cassandrahayes
I literally watched you find this on Pinterest
↪ walker.scobell she totally found It in your room
↪cassandrahayes don't speak to me again loser
↪ walker.scobell I didn't believe her I promise
↪ user whipped
walker.scobell
lily actually posts something decent for once
↪ lilypad I'll let this one pass because it's technically a compliment
user
bye this is my room
↪cassiehayesmegafan you're a real one
↪ lilypad you're not slick cass
"Lily will be the death of me," I grumble, shaking my head at my phone. Walker is still pissing himself, even after five minutes. I'm staring angrily at my ceiling, seething for no good reason. "On her main account too! Preposterous."
"You know, I completely support you if you missed me that much you made me a shrine-" Walker starts, but I fully lunge my body over him and press my hand against his mouth.
"You're in my room right now, you tart. I don't have vines!" I snap, but my voice sounds like I'm suppressing a laugh more than anything. His hands find my hips and try to roll me so I'm beneath him, but I'm quicker, slapping his hands away and victoriously caging them together.
We wrestle for what seems like forever, my bedsheets resembling a really ugly, old rug and my hair probably like a nest.
I end up starfishing on my bed, with Walker's mess of curls sprawled over my stomach and my hand buried in them. A mix of emotions swirl around in my head like a tornado, gathering everything I've ever remotely considered and manipulating it into my feelings for Walker. All I see is his face, all I hear is his laughter, all I feel is my heart pounding.
I wonder if this what love feels like. That gives me a song idea. I wriggle breathlessly out from under him and stretch across my bed to grab my notebook from my nightstand and start writing.
He tilts his head up, looking grumpy that I've moved, before smiling. He rolls over, chin on his hands as he watches me furiously scribble out a lyric and try a different approach. "Am I your muse?" He asks me with a daring grin. I respond by chewing my lip. If I tell him, he'll discover my feelings straight away. I mean, he's never been bright about love - he didn't even know about Percabeth until their first kiss - but he knows me better than anyone. I guess all that knowledge just doesn't extend to my heart.
