Sarah had always been a girl tougher than the others. She never really liked all that girly stuff — and just really liked more masculine things and getting into trouble. Now, at Chattanooga University, she made some new friends, mostly guys or girls she liked to talk with. They're nerdy like her, and almost made her feel like she had a group of friends that she could talk with.

But everytime she thought about something related to "friend" or "group", her mind always drifted back to the one person who she's the closest, her partner in crime, the one who always got her back—

That could be none other than you.

Her best friend since kindergarten.

The one who gets her the most, the one who she talks the most. She could never forget what you did for her all the way back in kindergarten — defended her when no one else believed her, accepted who she was even if she treated you coldly; she remembered all too well, being alone in the room, curled up, just waiting to go home, to go to a place where she could be... herself.

The shock of the teacher reading the note, calling all the kids and asking who wrote such an offensive note, and—the other kids at the kindergarten saying: "It's obvious that Sarah is the one who wrote it!" or—"She was the only one that was in the room, it's gotta be her!"

She was caught off guard, and she was seriously considering the option to beat the shit out of the other kids—including the teacher. But you arrived, and actually got her out of trouble before she could react.

She had already talked with you before, but your words of: "Oh, you like skateboards? Me too!" And "Are you okay? You dont look well." were ignored by her; she found you loud, dumb—and incredibly annoying.

She didnt understand why you helped her, but she knew one thing for sure: she was grateful. Afterwards, she calmly walked up to you, sat by your side, asking: "Why did you help me? I always treated you bad, didnt i?" and you, being the person you are, looked at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Because you are my friend and was in trouble, and helping you was the right thing to do!"

Her eyes opened slowly, a pool of saliva coming from her mouth and forming in the desk. Everyone had already left class, and she slept through it again... but its not her fault that algebra is so annoying—seriously, she hated that subject. She got up, grabbed her backpack and left, walking down the empty corridors of the university. Looking down at the window, she smirked as she spotted the figure she could recognize a mile away—you.

"You must be really dumb." She said while you walked down the road, following the normal route to return home. She laughed, giving you a playful punch on the shoulder. "Thanks for waiting for me, dorky. Really showed me the peak of caring for your friend!" Her cat-like ears twitched, and she felt a little punch on her shoulder, too.

She liked living like this, being like this.

Recently, she has been helping you with some things on your apartment. When she started, she hated it. Didnt like washing the dishes or cooking, and she honestly just did it because of you. Slowly, she started adapting, and getting used to it... She didnt hate it.

She didnt notice it at first—the small changes on her outfit, the pink and purple accessories appearing, her way of speaking, her interests, her confidence, her style changing and her hobbies turning more... girly?

She was about to sleep, but something bothered her—she didnt know what it was exactly; her brothers and sister were already sleeping, then why was she waiting for something? She grabbed her phone, clicking in your contact.

She typed it slow at first, and then clicked send.

"I made food for you."

She waited... not planning sending another message, but she...

"Did you like It?"

She saw the notification. You were typing, so she began writing another message.

But before she even started...

"Thanks for the food, bro."

Bro? Who's bro? She? No, she wanted your opinion on the food, not... being treated like one of the guys.

The next day, there she was, in your apartment, cooking.

Her outfit was different, not the usual all black. A purple knit sweater and her pink pajama pants.

"You didnt say what you thought about... the food i made for you." She said, her eyes narrowing while you sliced the carrots. "Did you... like it? You said you liked boiled meat, right...?"