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.
I don’t want it to feel equal.
Not at first.
I want to feel like I have the upper hand, like I’m the one being pursued, the one being chosen more, the one they’re thinking about a l
You wouldn’t even realize it at first.
It would happen naturally, without thinking, without deciding. Just a small shift, a little less space, a little more awareness of where I am compared to you.
unfiltered. a little dangerous.