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...
A few weeks have passed. I've been talking about music with Dior, chatting relentlessly with Walker, practising walking like a goat with Aryan or exploring aimlessly with Leah. We hang out as a group every other day, eating, walking or swimming. I end every night on my side of the bed, and start every morning in Walker's arms. I'm always up before he notices.
I call Lily whilst he's in the shower, curled up on the windowsill. The sun beats down on my face, and I revel in the warmth.
"What do you mean? You're spooning with him?" Lily hisses.
"It's not my fault! I probably just move a lot in my sleep?"
"I bet he's moving you. Come on, how does he end up with his arms conveniently wrapped around you and your legs entwined like a fucking twirl?"
"God, I could eat a twirl right now. It's literally an accident, Lil. We are not spooning."
"Don't lie to me, Cassie. I know you better than I know the creak of my stairs."
"The analogies are getting weird, Lils. And anyways, it's probably nothing. He doesn't know anything about it. We remain friends. We've been friends, and I'm delusional," I exhale, trying to convince myself and failing horridly.
"Friend's don't look at each other like you two do. Friend's don't sing a duet about love! I saw your finsta post, babe. He was serenading you. Literally."
"You're getting ahead of yourself. I don't want to get my hopes up on nothing. It's a stupid crush."
"No, it's not," Lily pleads with me. "I've been here for all your silly crushes. You didn't write songs about them or end up in their arms even when you were unconscious."
"Who's unconscious?" Walker walks out of the shower and I quickly end the call, jumping to my feet. "Nobody. Lily was making a joke," I reply, my voice unusually high-pitched. I clear my throat, smiling awkwardly.
"Oh, how is she?" Walker asks as he approaches, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He grabs a towel and starts gently drying his hair with it.
"She's great," I reply quietly, fumbling through my bag for my Eilish perfume. "Are you doing anything today?"
"I'll probably just hang out with Aryan."
"Yeah? I have a photoshoot today that my agent managed to get, if you're free to come. If not, I'm probably just gonna go alone."
"I'll come with you," he says hastily.
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