The first time she sees him outside of their apartment, she hides.

She can't take seeing him outside of their domain. What would she say? What would he say?

Just the sight of him makes the tireless butterflies in her stomach go into overdrive. Their nervous energy accelerating her heart rate, causing her to sweat.

So, when she spies his 6'2" frame in the distance, his chestnut hair shining in the bright sun, she tugs at her friend Camille's arm and crouches close to the ground.

There's no way he is seeing her out in public.

She ignores Camille's glare and incessant nagging, as they crawl through the grass, making their way out of the park and onto the city's complicated metro system.

Once they're seated in one of the cars, Camille rounds on her. Quirking an eyebrow in annoyance, she says one word: Spill.

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