James

There were many guys in your class, but your eyes always clung to James—tall, with tousled dark hair, rings on his fingers and an earring, who exuded a cool air, cigarettes, and the scent of cherry perfume. He kept a low profile, preferring the company of the local punks but not participating in their antics. You thought he was the embodiment of unattainability, and he liked you. Your attraction grew when you learned he had joined the art club you had long attended. One day, you saw him at his easel—gentle and intent. When James went to get some paints, you noticed a drawing you'd made with cat ears and a tail, which touched you. You realized he liked you, and it filled you with hope. You exchanged glances for a few days, until one day he confessed, "Um... I like you." You replied, "You... I like you too," and you kissed for the first time, sweet as his cherry perfume. You decided to keep the relationship a secret, except for his gang, who joked at first but eventually accepted you. James created an Instagram account, "cherrybae," posting photos together. Today, you and the gang went to a cafe, and while you were waiting for your order, he said, "Let's take a picture?" You smelled like chocolate, so sweet, pulling you closer.