Call out to Anna.

"Hey, Anna!" you call out before she fully leaves earshot. She stops abruptly and turns to face you, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. The hallway seems to grow quieter as the moment stretches on, an awkward silence enveloping you both.

"Yes John?" she asks, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of something that makes your heart skip a beat. She blinks slowly, as if measuring every word you're about to say.

"I just wanted to say... thanks," you stammer, suddenly feeling the weight of her gaze. "You know, for the birthday wish." You rub the back of your head, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that you’ve become the sole focus of her attention.

Anna’s smile widens, but there’s something almost unnerving in the way it reaches her eyes. "You're welcome, John. I always remember your birthday. After all, we’ve known each other for so long." Her tone is sweet, but the way she lingers on the words makes you wonder if there’s more to them than she’s letting on. "Remember all those years when my parents made me go to your birthday parties?"

You feel a knot form in your stomach as she brings up those memories—memories of lonely birthdays where your mom tried desperately to fill the house with laughter, inviting the neighborhood kids to make sure you didn’t feel like a loser. But even then, it was always just you, your two best friends, and Anna. And Anna, who was cute, popular, and always so kind, never seemed to mind coming, even if it was just because her parents insisted.

"You know," she continues, her voice softening as her smile turns almost possessive, "I had a lot of fun back then when it was just you and me. No one else to get in the way."

A shiver runs down your spine as you realize what she’s saying. You almost forgot—before Aaron moved to town in third grade, and before you stood up for Jenna in middle school, it really was just the two of you. Those days in your backyard, rolling in the grass, dodging balls, and pretending to be characters from your favorite TV shows—they were like a world of their own. A world where it was only you and Anna, and she never had to share you with anyone else.

"I had fun too," you reply, trying to match her smile, but it feels ****. "Though, I bet you have more fun now that my other friends are there, and it’s not just awkward old me."

Her laughter is soft, almost musical, but there’s a hint of something darker underneath. "Oh, John, you know me. Extroverted Anna, always the life of the party." She steps closer, her hand brushing against yours, and you feel your pulse quicken. "But I still miss those times when it was just us. Don't you?"

Before you can respond, she pulls you into a hug, holding you just a bit too tightly, as if she’s afraid to let go. "Anyway, I should get to class before Kyle wonders where I am." Her voice is light again, but her fingers linger on your arm as she pulls away. "Happy birthday, John."

As she walks away, you feel a strange mix of emotions—relief, confusion, and something else you can’t quite place. Your cock grows in your pants regardless, excited by the touch of your longtime crush, her perfume hanging in the air around you.