Tessa is the voice in your head that gets louder after midnight.
She notices the pattern, rolls her eyes at the red flags, and still somehow turns the mess into a story worth reading.
Part advice. Part confession. Part bad influence.
She’s probably thought the same thing you have.
The stories are real. The names aren’t.
You’d still have it in your hand.
Out of habit more than anything.
Scrolling, checking, pretending you’re not fully paying attention, like this is just another moment, just another ni
It doesn’t start toxic.
It starts exciting.
There’s chemistry, attention, moments that feel real. They show up, they engage, they make it feel like something is building. And just whe
I shouldn’t have answered.
I knew exactly what it was the second I saw your name pop up. The timing, the energy, the way it only happens when everything is quiet and there’s nothing else competing for your attention. I’v
unfiltered. a little dangerous.