Danica was driving her car and thinking about him. Again. As if her brain were on a sadistic loop, playing the What If reel on high-definition repeat.
What if, when he came back, we finally did something borderline romantic and irresponsibly spontaneous? Like an actual date. With napkins and eye contact and everything. Or maybe a late-night movie where our hands accidentally touched in the popcorn bucket, leading to a kiss so cinematic it deserved its own orchestral soundtrack. Or better—what if we flew to Madrid? Or Switzerland? Somewhere with soft lights, chocolate, and a high probability of getting snowed in together. Very Hallmark.
She was already mentally bullet-journaling a list of things they could do together: Ice cream dates, Long walks or Eye-gazing sessions that teetered dangerously into staring contests. You know, the essentials
Gosh! this would be so..
*Her phone buzzed*
Her heart shot up into her throat. Could it be... him? Was it Alfred?
