There was something so endearing about this notification – the fact that this person was her favourite author on the app. She felt their books were charming, making her swoon. Although they mostly wrote fluffy romance stories, a few mind-wrecking erotica they had written captivated her, and she loved reading them repeatedly. To her, those books felt like expertly crafted stories that perfectly captured her attention, as if they were made just for her.

"Oh my God."

She clicked the notification.

"Hey there, fellow writer!
I love your book.
When are you going to update it? I am dying to know what happens next.

She felt like she was going to explode. Because of this message, she decided that another night mustn't pass before she updates the book.

"Oh, hi! I will update it soon! I promise! I love your works too!"

When she sent the final message, she was on cloud nine. This was the writer whose books she had spent dear time reading. She often neglected her duties because of their books, even her SCHOOL WORK, which was dear to her, but she would forsake it just for them.

She brought out her laptop and her jotter, then she started to work on the next chapter.

"Would this be the right time to introduce that bunny?" she debated but decided to leave it for the next chapter.

"Maybe I should add a love interest?... I'd rather not... at least not yet. I hope they really like this chapter."

She continued typing away on her laptop. She loved writing but had never had the zeal that made her write like this until that message.

*2 new messages from @Wordsarewritten*

Oh, thank you!

I try my best.

"Try your best, my foot. You are literally on the god-tier level of writing," she scoffed.

If you say so. I am working on the new chapter right now!

Then she continued typing away, and her phone lit up with another notification.

Your work inspired me. I'm going to dedicate my next book to you. 😊

She was so elated.

Omg, ty so much!

I am so honoured.

Now please let me write this so I can update!

Chasing me off already?

I'm hurt.

Her breath got stuck in her throat. She didn't mean to come off as rude.

No, I didn't mean it in a rude way, I just wanted to upload the next chapter so you can read it.

Oops, did that sound serious? I guess I forgot to send it with this '😊' emoji.

Please, let me excuse the master so they can create their masterpiece.

Oh, okay then!

Thanks again!

She continued to write for about a good hour or two before she decided it was too late for her to continue, and she had school tomorrow.

"Nóma, eat your food quickly; you are going to be late," her mum said in a hasty tone.

"I'm done now. Let's go," Nóma said as she carried her school bag and dashed out the door. It was 6:52 am; she had to be in school by 7:15, but her school was 45 minutes to an hour away from the house.

"Why did you even wake up so late? You are usually so early," her mum said as they entered the car, then she drove off.

Nóma knew she messed up this morning, but she felt it was worth it, although she had made up her mind that she would not be doing that AGAIN.

They arrived at the school by 7:38, and she dashed out of the car to make it to the assembly; luckily for her, she wasn't asked any questions.

While she was at the assembly during the school anthem, all her forgotten worries revisited her.

Folarin Bakare.

The damned boy who ruined her mood this morning. She took a deep breath to try to calm herself down.

During the anthem, someone came to stand by her side, and she decided to see who it was.

It was HIM.

Everything that gave her troubles stood right by her side.

She quickly looked away, hoping he didn't catch her staring. His face annoyed her more, and now she was more fuelled and ready to beat him at all costs.

The assembly soon came to its closure, and the students departed and went to their classes.

Nóma was in deep thought about his return. What could this mean? She then decided that it wasn't worth brooding over, but she must devise a way to defeat him.

A flashback of when they were little came to her head.

"Sweetheart, how has preparing for your spelling bee been going?" Her mum asked while patting the head of her 7-year-old daughter, who was currently at her study table reading a "Children's Dictionary."

"It's been going well, mummy," a much younger Nóma replied. She had been studying for this spelling bee like there was no tomorrow.

"What is this you are reading? Can I see?" Her mum said, then she took the book.

"Baby, why are you reading this? Didn't they give you a list of words to study? Don't you want to play with your dolls?" Her mum said with concern. She had always been worried about her daughter's obsession with studying. Nóma picked up this habit at just 5 years of age, and her mum wondered why she was always studying like she was in a competition with someone. It wasn't limited to studying alone but also included games like "X" and "O's," or "Who can fill up the cup the fastest," and she would always drag her mum to join her to compete against each other, and her daughter would specifically tell her that she should not let her win, and it should be a fair game. It bothered her deeply: why wasn't she like other children.

"No, mummy, I want to study. I have a competition this Friday," Nóma replied. It was a Tuesday afternoon, an odd day to go out, isn't it? But her mum couldn't take it anymore.

"No, sweetheart, wear your shoes; we are going out. No more studying for today," 

Her mum has had enough. 

'Kids are meant to be playing outside, with toys, and watching cartoons, not studying all their life.'

'I can't bear to watch this anymore. She even wants to study on her birthdays,'

Her daughter came back with her shoes on.

"We are going to see some animals, okay? And don't think about any spelling bees while we are there; we are going to have a great time," Her mum said while they entered the car and drove off.

"Spell octopus," The teacher that was in charge of the competition directed his statement at Nóma.

"O-C-T-O-P-U-S, Octopus," She said, and everybody in the room clapped.

"Okay kids, this is the final round; whoever wins this round is the final winner,"

"Okay," The both answered. Folarin and Nóma, that is.

"Spell 'Flabbergasted'," The teacher said, pointing to Nóma, then there were a few side talks in the room about how complex the word was for a

7 and 8-year-old.

"F-L-A-B-E-R-G-A-S-T-E-D," she answered,

"It's incorrect, sorry," She felt her eyes welling up.

"F-L-A-B-B-E-R-G-A-S-T-E-D," he answered.

"Correct!" Folarin is the winner! She found her way offstage and ran to her mum to cry in her arms.

She quickly snapped back to reality and rubbed her cheeks; a tear had slipped out of her eyes.

There were more painful memories like this that she couldn't erase, and she feared that there would be more to come now that he was back.

"Do you have an extra pen?"

----~-----

Hii, it's me again! I hope you loved this chapter! Please don't forget to give me your feed back! 

p.s this isn't not a teen love story.