I have such a fucking crush on Troy and it's SO annoying.

It's the last thing I thought would happen to be honest, but it doesn't help that we have class together. And the we're studying.

He's currently over at my place and we're scattered around the living room desperately trying to learn these art images for our test coming up and we have most of them down, but some dates and places are tricky and it's so fucking hard, ugh. All I really want to do is lean over and kiss him or something.

"Okay," he says holding up a picture, "who painted this one and when?"

Fuuuck. "Um, Donatello, 1917."

He looked at the back of it to see the date and then gave me a smile. "Yeah, good job, I think you're going to ace it."

"Well, you are, too!" I tell him even though he is having a little harder of a time than me but I think he'll get it come test day, it'll just come to him. I hope so, anyway. I wouldn't want to get a better grade than him when we both studied the same thing, the same way. "Can we take a break?"

"Sure," he laughs, putting the stack of pictures down.

"I'm hungry," I say, getting up, slipping on my sandals, "do you want anything?"

He got up and followed me to the kitchen where I was headed. I have so many things since I went grocery shopping. I kind of went overboard, but it's better having a lot of things here than having to go out and grab food whenever you're hungry, right?

I opened the fridge and looked at everything I had. I could literally whip up turkey burgers, regular burgers, or a sandwich.

"Oh!" I say, grabbing the whip cream out of the fridge and then turning around to face Troy, "crepes. Nutella crepes. I'll make you one!"

"What?" he says, "oh, you don't have to."

"It's honestly not that hard," I close the fridge and put the whip cream down, "it'll take like less than 20 minutes."

He didn't fight it. Instead, he asked if he could help with anything, but nope. I made crepes so often I have this routine down. So he sat around the counter and sort of just watched me while he went on his phone.

I went over to the fridge and took out everything I needed from there. Butter, eggs, milk and strawberries. And then I grabbed the flour and the powdered sugar from the cabinet we keep it in. I laid everything out on the counter and then grabbed a bowl to put everything in.

But before that, I washed the strawberries and cut them up to fill the crepes.

"You're doing everything so fast."

"I've been making crepes for years," I look over my shoulder at him, "I can do it with my eyes closed."

He laughs a bit and then just looks down at his phone again.

And then I throw everything together in the bowl before grabbing a pan from the cabinet by the oven and put it on the stove, drizzling olive oil inside. I don't turn on the stove just yet, though, because the batter isn't mixed yet. So after that, I go back to the batter and throw everything together. I then melt 2 tablespoons of butter in the oven before mixing it in the batter as well. I grab my electric mixer and mix everything as smooth as I possibly can.

I bring the bowl of batter over to the stove and turn the heat up to medium and let it get hot for a minute.

While it's doing that, I grab two plates from the cabinet and a couple forks from the drawer and set them off to the side of the stove.

"Are you seriously making them already?"

"What?" I turn around, a spatula now in my hand, "yeah, they're ready to make."

"Wow, impressive."

I just give him a small smile and turn around to continue making them. You don't want to put too much batter in the pan because crepes are supposed to be really thing and if they're thick, it doesn't really taste as good. So I fill the pan with half and then move it around so it covers the whole thing and I let one side sit there for a little less than a minute before flipping it over.

And in less than two minutes, it's done.

I bring it over to the counter and spread some nutella on it and fill it up with strawberries and then grab a banana and cut some pieces in there.

"And then you just cover it up and eat it?" Troy asks as he's watching me move the strawberries and bananas around.

"Pretty much," I make sure everything's in the center of this thing so I can fold it up perfectly. "And then you fold it... like this. Add some more nutella on top, a little bit of strawberries and bananas, some powered sugar... wait, do you like whipped cream?"

"Love whip cream," he nods.

So I put it on both ends of the crepe for him. "And voila."

He grabs the plate from me as I'm handing it to him and he looks a bit impressed. They're SO easy to make, though. "Wow, this looks really good."

"Try it!"

"No, make yours. I'll wait for you."

Oh... okay. Well, that's sweet, I guess. I really want one now, so I hurry up and make mine so he doesn't have to wait much longer to eat his. And after I'm done with mine, I take a seat next to him on one of the stools and we both look at each other and exchanges smiles.

"Um, okay, this is so good," he tells me as he's getting ready to grab his second bite, "seriously."

"They're so easy to make," I tell him, "I'll give you the recipe."

"Thank you."

I just smile at him. And think about how weird this is.

This is so fucking weird that he's in my house and I'm making him crepes. But I don't think I really hate it. I think I like it.

I like hanging out with him. He's nice. He's funny. He's helpful... with the homework.

AND FUCKING HOT.

"I think I really liked that one," Summer tells me, pulling out of the parking spot we're in, "did you?"

"Yeah, I loved it," I buckle up, "I really did."

It's in a nice neighborhood, Westwood, so it's a little pricey, but I think we can afford it. And we'd feel safe there because this building has security. I don't know, obviously, we're going to keep looking, but I really loved this place. It's close to the heart of Los Angeles and close my parents house so it's perfect.

Summer put her car in drive and glanced over at me, "I want it."

I laugh, "yeah?"

"I think so. I really, really liked it and I don't want to see another one and really like that one and be completely torn, you know?"

"You're right," I agree with her. I would hate to be completely torn between two places and have to go back and forth, and maybe regret my decision later on or something. "Okay, yeah, let's just get this place. I love the area, it's nice, it's clean..."

"Okay, yay!" She claps, taking her hands off the wheel for a second and then chuckles, gripping it, "sorry."

Summer is not a bad driver... but in San Diego. In LA, it's, like, you have to constantly be on guard and watching the road at all times. So much traffic.

But she drove us up here so she's driving us around today.

"Well, since you're going to be living here, let me give you a taste of all the great things you can have," I tell her, "turn right at the next light. I'm taking you to Casa Vega, one of the best Mexican restaurants in all of LA. You're going to love it. And then we're getting Sprinkles."

"Oh my gosh, Sprinkles," she gets all excited, "Kate and I once drove to Orange County just go get some of their ice cream, isn't that insane?"

I laugh. It is a bit insane. "Well, now it'll only be a ten minute car ride. Or less."

She looks excited about it.

I'm so excited she's going to be living in LA with me. Over the years, she's come home with me. Two years ago, I celebrated my birthday in LA and she came with me and Emily and I spent the whole weekend taking her to our favorite places. And throughout the years, she'd come here and there for a couple days so she knows a bit about LA, but living in it is going to be a whole different story and I'm so excited. I'm sure she's a bit nervous, but she has me and she has my family, who loves her, and she's going to be fine.

Thirty minutes later, we're seated in a booth at Casa Vega munching on the chips and salsa.

"God, these chips are SO good," she grabs another one, drenching it in the delicious hot sauce, "I love this place already."

"Good," I laugh, "it's mine and Emily's favorite. We would come almost every Friday after school, before a football game or whatever we had going on that day. The enchiladas are to die for. And so are their tacos. Oh my gosh..."

"I'll get the tacos," she says, "you know I'm always down for tacos, they're my fave."

True. This girl lives for Mexican food, which I'm so happy about because I do, too, and she's always down to get some with me, whenever.

Our waitress comes and brings us our drinks and takes our order and then tells us it'll be out in a bit.

"So, how's Troy?"

"Sum," I roll my eyes as I grab another chip.

"What?" she acts all defensive, "can't I ask my best friend how the guy she's crushing on is doing? I mean, you guys have been hanging out, haven't you?"

Yeah, but for like school. Okay, maybe we made crepes and watched TV together much longer than we spent doing homework, but whatever. The less I talk about this crush, the better. I just really wanna stress about it too much and be disappointed or anything like that.

I think I do like Troy, but I don't think I'm ready to put myself out there.

"Sure, but it's for school," I shrug, grabbing my coke and taking a sip, "very platonic."

"Maybe he's just waiting a little bit to ask you out, giving it some time since he knows you went through a bad break up or whatever."

"Uh, yeah, I don't think that's it," I laugh, thankful she's trying to be supportive and positive, "guys don't care about that. It's fine. I'm crushing on him, he's probably not crushing back, it's fine, maybe it's better that way because I definitely don't need to be in a relationship right now. Too fucking stressful."

Summer shrugged, grabbing some more chips, "whatever. If you like this guy and he's not making a move, though, you make it."

Whaaaat? Does she not know me? "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"True," she laughs, "maybe the best way to get over someone is to meet someone else and develop a connection with them so you can realize that there is life after Chris and having feelings for someone else could happen, you know? It wouldn't hurt."

"It wouldn't," I agree with her, "just don't think I'm ready to put myself out there... with anyone, not just Troy."

"Do you think he likes you?"

Do I think Troy likes me? Hmm, that's a tough question.

But I have thought about it, to be honest. "There are times where I think, maybe he might be leaving the bar and asking for a ride home or whatever. Asking Cooper if I was gonna go watch the game. But then he hasn't asked me out and we see each other in class, we've studied and hung out. And I know he's not shy, so that's probably not the problem. I don't know, he hasn't asked me out... so."

"He's obviously interested if he left the bar early where he was watching a game to get a ride home with you," Summer concludes.

"I don't wanna jump to conclusions," I shrug, "it's this weird thing. But God, I have such a fucking crush on him and it's so annoying, Sum."

"It's not going to be when he asks you out, trust me," she says, "it's going to happen sooner or later."

Maybe she's right.

But maybe she's dead wrong. Either way, the thought of it terrifies me. Going out with Troy in a romantic setting, it's kinda all I want, even though I don't even think I'm ready. I'm scared to get hurt again. I'm scared to go through that process and it's just all kind of scary to me. Ahh.

Troy Bolton is fucking hot, though, so if he does ask me out, I have to take advantage of it.

Right? Right. Because this crush is too real.