Sloane;

This wasn't supposed to happen.

The obsession—that was expected. The wanting—that was the point. The constant fantasizing, the touching myself while thinking about him, the stalking his social media at 3 AM—all part of the game.

But this?

This tight feeling in my chest when I see his name on my phone. The way my stomach flips when Thursday approaches. The fact that I dream about him—not just sex dreams, but dreams where we're doing normal shit like grocery shopping or watching TV on his couch, and I wake up feeling hollow because it's not real.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

I wasn't supposed to actually *feel* anything.

It's...