MBTI high school

Chapter 17 :

Chapter 17 : INFP is in Love

INFP wasn’t the type to openly talk about her feelings. She loved imaginary worlds, sad poems, and romantic sunsets. She kept her emotions well hidden, like precious secrets. But that morning, something had changed.

Sitting in the cafeteria with her friends, she wasn’t eating, and she wasn’t talking. She was staring at the horizon... or rather, a certain person a few tables away.

ISFJ: "INFP, are you okay? You haven't even touched your dessert, that's not like you!"

INFP sighed deeply, her dreamy eyes fixed on a tall, brown-haired boy with a dazzling smile. INFP: "I... I think I'm in love."

The table froze. Shock. INFP, in love? That was as rare as a solar eclipse. ESFJ almost spilled her juice. ISFJ stared at her wide-eyed. Even ENTP, who was at the table next to them and probably hadn’t been listening to the conversation, stopped fiddling with his phone.

ESFJ: "Wait, WHAT?! You're in love?!"

INFP blushed, hiding her face behind her hands. INFP: "Yes... I think so."

ISFJ: "But... but with who?!"

With dramatic slowness, INFP pointed at the boy in question: Sam, the jock of the school, known for his skills on the field and his charming smile.The Sam. A silence followed, then an uncontrollable burst of laughter from ENTP.

ENTP: "Sam?! The guy who doesn't even know what poetry is?! Are you sure you're not living in one of your imaginary worlds, INFP?"

INFP shot ENTP an indignant look, but before she could respond, ESFJ took charge. ESFJ: "Okay, it's decided, we're going to help you win over Sam."

ISFJ: "Uh, are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, Sam’s not exactly... your type."

INFP sighed again, her thoughts already miles away, imagining a future where she and Sam walked hand in hand through a field of flowers under the sunset.

---

The battle plan was quickly set. ESFJ, ISFJ, and even ENTP decided to transform INFP into a true goddess of love... or at least, that was the idea. They spent the rest of the afternoon giving her advice, often contradictory.

ESFJ: "You need to dress more... you know, attractively. Like, a red dress! It screams confidence!"

ISFJ: "Or you could write him a letter, it's more romantic and personal."

ENTP: "Nah, you just need to challenge him to some stupid competition. Guys like him love competition. Maybe an arm-wrestling match?"

INFP: "An arm-wrestling match?! But I don’t want to beat him at arm-wrestling, I just... want to talk to him."

---

The next day, INFP was nervous. She had followed a mix of advice, wearing a red dress (because ESFJ had insisted) and carrying a carefully written letter in the pocket of her cardigan (thanks to ISFJ). The plan was simple: wait until Sam was alone, then go talk to him... calmly. Easy, right?

Of course, things didn’t go as planned.

As INFP approached Sam, everything seemed to slow down. Her heart was racing. But just before she could say a word, Sam sneezed violently, knocking his entire meal tray onto her.

INFP, covered in spaghetti and tomato sauce, stood there frozen, while Sam awkwardly apologized.

Sam: "Oh, uh... sorry! That was... an accident."

INFP, her cheeks red with embarrassment, tried to smile. INFP: "I-it's... it's fine..."

---

Back at the table with her friends, INFP was mortified. ENTP: "Well, that wasn’t exactly like one of your poems, huh?"

ESFJ and ISFJ tried to console her, but it was clear the plan had failed. But just as INFP was about to retreat into her imaginary world to drown her sorrow, Sam approached their table, looking embarrassed.

Sam: "Hey, uh, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. Do you want to grab something to eat together to make it up to you?"

Everyone at the table was speechless. INFP, blushing from head to toe, nodded frantically.

ENTP, smiling smugly, leaned toward INFP. ENTP: "Well, who would’ve thought that spaghetti would be your best weapon of seduction?"

---

So, against all odds, INFP got what she wanted. Maybe not in the most elegant or romantic way, but the important thing was there. And as she walked with Sam toward the cafeteria, her eyes sparkling with excitement, she knew that no matter how this story ended, at least she had dared. Even if it involved a little tomato sauce.