the next couple weeks were boring. bo was busy, and work got in the way either way. but, as you lifted your head from your pillow, you heard a familiar *ding* as the screen of your phone lit up.
reaching for your phone, you lifted it to read:
bo
hey
y/n
hey
bo
the screening of eighth grade is next week
you could come if you want
y/n
i'll get back to you on that
one week later
what the hell do people wear to film festivals?
she didn't want to look like she was at a wedding, but she didn't want to look like she didn't give a fuck. and the uber was supposed to be here in thirty minutes.
but after a considerable time of cursing, running around, and freak outs, you managed to settle on something you were happy with, all with two minutes to spare.
the film itself was great. but honestly that was just a bonus. you came to see bo. in a...not creepy way. it'd been a while since you'd send your friend, anyway.
finding bo proved to be a little more difficult than you'd anticipation—the crowds didn't help either. and when you did find him he had to be very quick about his hello, which left you a little disappointed.
but on your ride back, you received another text, saying:
sorry i was in such a rush. hope you enjoyed the movie.
and for some reason, you were satisfied with that.
