No really, I'm okay. I'm also a great liar.

me and my datemate make references and i buy oreos while being judged

Two hours stuck in a hot room with twenty other people racking their brains for something a professor said eight months ago can really take it out of a girl.

I basically topple out of the room, into the refreshingly not-two-hundred-percent-humidity corridor. Thank goodness that was the last one. Psychology might be my favorite class, but Professor Fischcaster isn't the proctor and we're not taking the exam in his classroom.

It's almost June now. The year has gone by so quickly.

To think it's been ten months since I met Annabelle, eight since we first said "I love you," and two since we first kissed is incredible.

I'm basically living with her now. I sleep in my room sometimes, but more often if you asked Jenna or Jacob where to find me, they'd tell you probably at Annabelle's.

Rose and Jack are graduating this year.

I regret not having more time with Rose, but we've grown closer. Not what we were in high school, but still pretty good.

I have a lot of faith in technology, though, and Rose promised to keep in touch. They're probably not moving anywhere that far, anyway.

As I'm thinking, I sidle into the bathroom on the right side of the hallway and turn on the sink, splashing my face with cool water. I twist my hair up into its two buns and cool the back of my neck.

I pick my backpack back up and head out the side door into the sunshine.

It feels like seventy-six tons of weight have been lifted off my shoulders, and there's a noticeable spring in my step. My hair bounces in its buns, and I fiddle with a loose thread inside the pocket of my (Annabelle's) overalls. I've taken partial custody of all of her clothes, and a special liking to her overalls, even if I have to roll up the cuffs every time. I keep pens in the middle chest pocket. When I put anything of Annabelle's on, I feel her scent and her aesthetic overwhelming me. It's a wonderful feeling.

I beam at everyone I pass. I'm in a great mood. In case you couldn't tell.

It spreads to everyone who comes into the ice cream shop.

And when I get home, it spreads to Annabelle.

She's on her computer when I swing in. She looks up at me for a couple moments, then smiles up at me.

"What?"

"I love your smile," she says, getting up from her position and kissing me on the cheek on her way to the kitchen. I hear rummaging, and then she tells me to turn around.

I do, with the grin still on my face, and there's a snap before I can really comprehend anything.

"Hey!"

"Aw," she breathes, looking at the photograph once it's developed. "I just can't get over your cheeks."

I blush, unable to stop the smile from growing. There's another click.

I roll my eyes in exasperation towards my grinning girlfriend, who I suspect has been in her pajamas all day. Her hair's tied back, as it always is when she doesn't go out.

"I love you," I sigh.

"I love you," she replies.

"You're gorgeous."

"You're radiant."

"You remind me of a former love."

"That you once knew?"

"Marry me."

"I'd love to."

"We need more eggs."

"I know. I was going to text you at one, when your exam ended, to ask you but then y'know Weightless came on and I kinda forgot."

"I guess it just wasn't your weekend."

"But it's my year." She pauses. "It actually has been, though. The last twelve months have made up one of the best years of my life. I mean, I met you and my life changed. Like, this isn't just to say: you've seen my blog. I wasn't lying in the slightest, you are the reason it's in color and I have enough confidence to post pictures."

She's suddenly speaking into the top of my head, because I've pulled her into a huge hug. A little squeak escapes her mouth, and we both giggle.

Sometimes I feel like Annabelle associates my size with my strength, especially when it comes to hugging. She forgets that I've had a job (for a good two years now) scooping sometimes rock-hard ice cream into a ball with a metal spoon.

"I can go get eggs if you want. You've got your air of productivity around you. Anything else we need?"

"Ooh, can you get Oreos?" she asks, looking down at me with her pretty brown eyes and pleading with her face. I laugh, and gently push her off.

"Sweetheart, you do know I was planning to get them anyway, right? They are, like, permanently on our grocery list."

"I know, just wanted to make sure." She leans down to kiss me on the temple.

When I'm in line at the store, my phone vibrates in the chest pocket of my overalls. I pull it out and it's an update from a blog called No really, I'm okay.

The smile that spreads across my face is rival to the one I wore after my exam at the new name, and I tap on the notification to see two new posts, both Polaroids of me earlier.

There's a caption under the one of me smiling. It's something in French, because Annabelle's that cool. (She's fluent in French. I learned this a couple days after my birthday, when she decided to just speak to me in French without explanation.)

à mon amour

The next one is the one of me smiling and blushing at the ground.

merci d'aller au magasin

I look up the translation and laugh. I don't even feel self-conscious when a couple people look at me, because I'm pretty sure I'm radiating golden light.

I open my conversation with Annabelle, and send her a quick message.

No problem, my love

a/n: hi i don't really have anything to say here (except i hate myself so earlier i went on youtube and watched videos of panic playing northern downpour and started crying)

here have a hug in case you are in a similar situation *hug*