Something hit the side of my laptop screen and fell onto the floor. It was a paper airplane. There was a message written inside. "You look pretty hot in a towel. You should wear that more often." -Colton I was shocked when I read the note. I looked out my open window to see a guy sitting on the edge of the window of the house next door. He was looking right at me. _____________ At the start of Rachel Summers' senior year of high school, new neighbors move in next door. One of these neighbors is Colton Miller, who is also a high school senior. First impressions can say a lot about a person. Colton learns this the hard way when he first meets Rachel. Starting out on an unpleasant note, Rachel and Colton must learn how to accept each other for who they are, as they are forced to spend time with each other. This marks the beginning of their story and all they will encounter together. ---------------- *Some Mature Themes*

Quiet girls don't get the basketball star. At least that's what she's convinced herself. Everyone at Duke knows her - the volleyball sophomore with nice curls, a perfect Instagram, and millions of followers who somehow still feel invisible. Pretty, polished, impossible to truly know. Then there's Cade Mercer. Duke basketball royalty. Future NBA star. Campus obsession. The kind of guy girls fall for instantly. And somehow? He keeps choosing her. Not the loud girls. Not the girls who seem perfectly confident. Her - the quiet girl who overthinks everything and refuses to believe a guy like him could actually mean it.

Oscar Piastri was never supposed to matter. Quiet. Precise. Sharp. He moved through the world like a straight line-disciplined, steady, predictable. He didn't chase anyone. He didn't flirt. He didn't smile unless necessary. And yet, he kept finding Lando. A chocolate bar left on a desk. A sticky note in looping handwriting. A soft voice beside Lando's ear. "This is for you. Eat, please." Lando hated it. Hated the way Oscar seemed to anticipate his next move. Hated the hand that appeared just to shield him from bumping into corners. Hated the look in Oscar's eyes-slow, deliberate, almost gentle. One afternoon, under a sunlit tree, Oscar said, "Your star hairclip suits you. You look cute today." No one had ever watched Lando that closely. No one had seen past the showmanship, past the bravado. He pulled away. Snapped. Ran. Heart pounding, throat tight. And Oscar? He stayed. Patient. Quiet. Collecting the pieces of Lando's chaos like it was natural. The strangest thing, when others got too close to Oscar, Lando stiffened. His tone sharpened. "Why him? He doesn't even look at you properly." Oscar's voice was soft, patient. "Lando, why do you care?" "I... I don't. Just forget it," Lando muttered, looking away. He didn't care. But Oscar kept choosing him. In small ways, unnoticed ways, the kind that made Lando's chest tighten. If Oscar was pretending, Lando's heart might not survive. But if he wasn't, then maybe Lando was already falling. Hard. And he wasn't sure he wanted to stop.

Lando Norris isn't dying. That's what he keeps telling himself. He's just-tired. Too tired. The kind of tired that makes your hands tremble when you paint, that makes your world fade to white under fluorescent light. When he collapses in the middle of the street, it should've just been another headline: Campus art boy passes out, again. But that day, someone caught him-literally. A photography major with shaking hands and a camera still strapped to his neck. Oscar Piastri didn't mean to care. But he did. They meet again, the sunlight from the tall panes framed him in soft gold-Lando slumped over a desk, heartbeat uneven, breath too shallow. Oscar's voice cuts through the silence. "Sleep well." And somehow, Lando listens. He shouldn't feel anything. Not this warmth blooming in his chest. Not this quiet safety whenever Oscar looks at him like he's not fragile. "Why do you keep helping me?" Lando asks one day, voice cracking between guilt and hope. Oscar shrugs, eyes soft. "Because you keep falling." Then there's George-best friend, chaos incarnate-who would fight the whole hospital if he could. Feeling Max's quiet stare on him, George yanks Lando up to use him as a shield. "What?! You wanna fight, huh?!" His little fists tremble inside his cardigan sleeves. Max doesn't even blink. "Try me," the doctor deadpans, flipping a chart. Between sleepless nights, half-drunk cups of coffee, and the hum of a heart that beats too fast for its own good, Lando begins to draw again. And maybe-just maybe-he's learning how to live again, too. Because this time, when Oscar offers his hand, Lando doesn't pull away. a slow heartbeat turning into melody. a story about falling, again and again, and choosing to stay.

When you're the biggest entertainer on Earth, you can't walk down the street without causing chaos.That was the thing with Michael Jackson. He couldn't enjoy the magic of Disneyland in peace because his daring fans would always bombard him. Though it was with love, it didn't allow him to experience normalcy in such a public place. But on Valentine's Day 1987, Michael does meet a girl one magical day at Disneyland and quickly gets hooked. The only problem is, when he met her, he was in one of his many disguises. The bigger problem: the fiery Latina Liliana Lopez has no idea the man she's falling for is in reality Michael Jackson.

[Landoscar - Lando x Oscar] Lando Norris Didn't Really Want Another Brown-Haired Aussie Teammate, But Oscar Piastri Was Excited To Meet Him, For Some Reason. The Aussie Made The Move From Alpine To McLaren After Some Nonsense From Alpine About A Contract. The Aussie Delt With It Well, Maturity Riddled In His Response. It Made Lando Feel A Little Something For Oscar. But A Boat Trip Had Lando Over The Edge. Will It Become Something Else? Find Out!