Lila Hart's Diary

I kicked off my sneakers at the door, dropping my bag with a heavy thud against the side table. Another brutal day of lectures, but the weekend was finally in reach. I peeled off my hoodie, my tank top clinging to the curve of my breasts with the lingering warmth from outside.

That's when I saw it.

A small box, perfectly wrapped, sitting dead center on the kitchen counter.

No note. No card.

Just a simple, pastel ribbon tied into a delicate bow.

Curious (and a little weirded out, honestly), I grabbed a knife and sliced it open carefully.

Inside was a journal.

Smooth, thick leather the color of cream. A tiny silver heart was stamped on the bottom corner, and when I flipped through the pages, they were crisp, blank, untouched. It smelled faintly of vanilla and something warmer — almost like... skin.

No name. No explanation.

I bit my lip, glancing around like whoever left it might jump out and yell "surprise!"

But I was alone.

Weird. But... also, really cute. And honestly, I needed a new diary anyway. My last one was stuffed under my bed, its pages full of half-finished rants and terrible poetry.

Shrugging, I grabbed a pen from the drawer, curled up cross-legged on the couch — my shorts riding high on my thighs — and opened the new journal to the very first page.

I tapped the pen against my lip for a second, then wrote:

Dear Diary,

Today was... kind of amazing.

There's this new guy in my Psychology class — I think his name is Ethan? Ethan Moore?

He's tall. Like, tall-tall, not just regular-tall. Dark hair, green eyes, and he has this lazy, crooked smile that makes my stomach do stupid flips every time he flashes it.

He sat two rows in front of me today. I spent more time staring at the back of his neck than I did taking notes — like a total idiot. At one point, he dropped his pen and it rolled back toward me. I gave it back, and he actually smiled at me. At me.

I wanted so bad to say something. Anything.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Hi, I'm Lila Hart."

"Can I sit in your lap and have your babies?" (okay, maybe not that one.)

But I just... chickened out. Smiled like a loser and watched him walk out after class.

Pathetic.

Anyway... maybe next time I'll be braver. Maybe this journal will be my good luck charm.

Whoever sent it — thanks. I think I needed this.

Love,

Me.

I closed the journal and hugged it against my chest, smiling like a total dork.

I didn't notice the faint glow that shimmered across the cover when I set it down.

I didn’t notice how the ribbon from the box had slithered its way quietly under the couch.

I didn’t notice the subtle change in the air — thicker, sweeter, humming with anticipation.