"You're seriously going to his house?!" Carly's voice came through Sarah's phone, slightly staticky but very loud.
"It's not a big deal," Sarah replied, brushing her hair in the mirror. "It's not like… a date."
"Oh please," Carly snorted. "You're doing your edges and wearing lip gloss. That's 'not-a-date' behavior with full 'I-hope-he-notices' energy."
Sarah paused, staring at her reflection.
Was she doing too much? Or not enough?
She wasn't used to this. Socializing. Boys. Anything outside her playlists and overthinking loops.
"What if I say something weird?" she asked. "What if I just freeze? What if I "
"Girl." Carly cut her off. "He literally invited you. Chill. Worst case, he sucks at the piano, and you roast him for life."
Sarah smiled nervously.
"Fine. I'm going. But only for like, twenty minutes. Thirty max."
"Fifty-seven," Carly corrected, "because I know you, and you're gonna enjoy every second."
---
🏡 John's House – Later That Day
John lived in one of those quiet neighborhoods with trimmed hedges and moms who wore gym outfits all day. Sarah hesitated outside the gate for a full minute before pressing the bell.
He opened the door himself.
"Hey," he said, looking… annoyingly good in a plain white shirt and joggers. "You came."
"I said I would," she replied, hugging her bag close like a shield.
"You also said you might. There's a difference."
He smiled and stepped aside to let her in.
The house smelled like warm cinnamon and faint lavender. Very not what she expected from a guy. There were books on the coffee table, and a few movie posters on the wall Inception, La La Land, and Spirited Away.
"So, you like dramatic stuff?" she asked, nodding to the posters.
"I like stories that make you feel something you didn't know was inside you," he replied, walking toward the keyboard in the corner of the living room.
Sarah stopped, eyebrows raised. "Okay, philosopher."
He laughed. "You ready to judge my terrible playing?"
---
🎹 The "Jam" Session
To her surprise, John wasn't bad. He wasn't great either, but he had soul. He played a rough tune that sounded like it belonged in a rainy scene of a teen drama.
"That was… not completely awful," Sarah teased.
"Thank you," he said with exaggerated pride. "High praise from the queen of sad music."
She pulled out her phone. "Mind if I record? That piece had a vibe."
"Go ahead," he said. "Might inspire your next diary song."
Sarah paused. "How do you know I write songs?"
"You hum when you think. I saw you writing lyrics in your notebook last week during class."
Her heart skipped.
He noticed that?
"I didn't think anyone saw that," she said softly.
"I see a lot more than I say," he replied, fingers still moving across the keys.
They sat like that for a while. No awkwardness. No pressure. Just shared silence and sounds.
And for the first time in a long time, Sarah didn't feel like she had to perform or protect or pretend.
---
🌙 Walking Home – Conflicted Mind
John offered to walk her halfway home. They didn't talk much just occasional laughs, mostly soft moments.
When they reached her street, he stopped.
"Thanks for coming," he said.
"I didn't hate it," she replied with a small smirk.
He raised an eyebrow. "That's your version of a compliment?"
"It's as good as it gets."
He chuckled. "You're different."
She shrugged. "So are you."
There was a pause. The kind that makes your heart speed up.
Then John said, "You know, if this was a romcom, this would be the part where I lean in for a kiss."
Sarah's face flushed, panic and butterflies doing battle.
"But…" he added quickly, "I'm not trying to rush anything. So, see you tomorrow?"
She nodded, part of her screaming "JUST KISS HIM!" and the other part saying "Abort mission! Too fast! Too close!"
"Yeah," she said, smiling. "Tomorrow."
She turned and walked away not too fast, not too slow while replaying every second in her head.
---
📱 Voice Memo – That Night
> "I think I like him.
There. I said it.
Not in a fairy tale way. Just… in the way where he makes me forget to hate myself for a few minutes.
I don't know what this is. But it's the calmest my brain has been in months.
And I didn't even cry today. That's new."
She saved it. Titled the entry: Not a Date (But Kinda a Date)
Then she pulled her blanket over her head, smiling like a dork, and drifted to sleep with the softest playlist playing in her ears.
---