or when late night talks are bedazzled with stars.
snapchat was always our go-to for communication. capturing pictures of merely darkness, sans-flash, felt much more intimate than any conversation i had ever held via text with the boy who i have since decided was a douchebag.
we played truth or truth, asking each other questions about how we could make this work, this thing called "us," and where we would go with it.
he acted like all of it was casual, didn't put too much weight on romance. but the ways in which he talked about it, the more he showed that he truly was invested in it.
we went to sleep at 1 am, tired and satisfied with our little talks of what could be.
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
