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❛ ʟᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ & ʟᴀᴄᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ғɪʀsᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꒱


❝ IF I FALL IN LOVE WITH
SOMEONE AGAIN SOMEDAY
I'LL REMEMBER TO LOVE
YOU TAUGHT ME HOW ❞

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Needless to say, the events of the afternoon made for a very awkward departure once Miya and Jonah returned home. They stood silently outside of their respective apartments for a few moments, neither one quite knowing what to say. Jonah's eyes were downcast as he fiddled with the wire of his headphones. Miya stood frozen, steps away from her door, with her hand on the knob, her gaze focused on the solid panel of wood that stood between her and her escape route.

As they stood there, unsure of how to proceed now that their easy friendship had become. . . complicated, the other sounds of the apartments around them began to fill the space. They could hear the water moving through the pipes as someone on the floor below turned on the tap. Music played softly from the third apartment on their level that was down the hall from theirs. Underneath it all was the steady, distant noise of traffic outside. Although the extra noises helped, not even the laughter that came from upstairs could ease the tension between the pair.

After several long, uncomfortable minutes, Jonah finally mumbled, "well, see you, I guess."

The brunette startled at his unexpected words. "Uh. . . um, yeah. See you."

With that, she wrenched the door open— having previously unlocked it upon her arrival— and fled inside to the familiar safety of her home. Once inside, she dropped her backpack and lunchbox in the kitchen on her way to her destination: Juliet's bed. There, she flopped face-down with a groan of embarrassment. The motion of smushing her face against the pillows caused her bangs to be pushed messily off her forehead, but she couldn't be bothered to fix them. She couldn't believe she'd been that stupid!

Actually, scratch that— she was that stupid; her grades were enough to prove it. She didn't know what she'd been thinking (or, truthfully, hadn't been thinking.) It was just that Jonah had always stood up for her. He'd been her champion since day one, cementing their friendship with his assertiveness when it had come to Alyssa and her friends; he'd even nicknamed them 'triple A' so they could trash-talk them in code. From there, she supposed, it had been simple enough to mistake his kindness for reciprocated feelings.

Miya remained in that position for hours, oblivious to the passage of time as the sky darkened outside of her mom's bedroom window. All she could do was replay the disastrous events of the day. In fact, she had half-convinced herself to not even bother writing to Maya to get a forged excuse note; her mother's punishment would be a welcome distraction from her current mortification.

Eventually, enough time passed where the sound of her apartment's door opening and closing registered faintly as Juliet returning home from work. There was the distant rustle of bags as the older woman set her things down before she called out: "Miya? Honey, are you home?"

The Asian girl let out a muffled 'mmph,' which she wasn't sure was loud enough for her mom to hear. There was the clicking of heels as Juliet crossed through the kitchen to reach her room, then her voice sounded much closer than before. "Miya? Why are you sitting in the dark?"

She guessed her mother turned on the light to see better as, in the next moment, the bed dipped under Juliet's weight. There was concern in her tone when she spoke next. "What's wrong, darling? Did something happen at school?"

Although the dark-haired woman's voice remained maternal and caring, Miya knew her well enough to know what was coming. If she did allude to any difficulty in school besides academics, her mother would be up in arms in seconds. The briefest mention of trouble would have Juliet raring to march down to the school and demand justice for her daughter because that was the kind of person she was— and it was the reason why Miya refused to say anything about her encounters with 'triple A.' While she was grateful that her mom loved her so much, it would be downright embarrassing (even more so than her current Jonah situation) for her mother to show up at school for something like that. It was better to say nothing and suffer silently.

So, she shot up into a sitting position to reassure her quickly, "no, nothing at school. Everything's fine." She hesitated as she debated on whether to tell Juliet about what had happened that afternoon (an abbreviated version, of course. She didn't want to get in trouble unnecessarily.) "It's. . . well. . . Jonah."

Juliet frowned as she reached out to gently smooth her daughter's bangs. "What about Jonah? Did you two have a fight?"

Again, Miya hesitated. "Well. . . not exactly." She chewed on her bottom lip as she tried to figure out how to best describe the situation. After a couple minutes of thought where any explanation wrapped itself into a tangled knot, she blurted out: "I kissed him."

"Oh," her mom said with surprise. "That's definitely not a fight— the complete opposite, actually. How'd it go?" At her daughter's great sigh, her expression became sympathetic. "That badly, huh?"

The Asian girl nodded miserably. "He said thanks, mom. Who says that after a kiss— let alone their first one?"

Her mother squeezed her hand comfortingly. "First loves are definitely complicated and don't always work out. Mine certainly didn't."

The brunette looked up at the older woman hopefully. "Will you tell me about it? Maybe it will help me feel a little less like dying of embarrassment. Is that even possible? I mean, it is in the Sims—"

Juliet let out a quiet laugh. "I promise that you won't die from this. It might feel like it right now, but in a few years when you find someone who really cares about you, you'll be able to tell this story and find it funny, or even sentimental."

"Really?" Miya asked dubiously. "Because right now I just want to erase it from my mind— gone, buried, and never to be resurrected."

"Here, why don't we skip dinner tonight and go straight for ice cream? We can get into our pjs and I'll tell you about the first boy that I had. . . strong feelings for," the dark-haired woman suggested.

As she agreed, Miya paused at her mother's words. "Wait— you're telling me that Sh—He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named wasn't your first boyfriend?"

Despite her instinctive tenseness at the almost-mention of her ex-boyfriend, Juliet rolled her eyes at her daughter's Harry Potter reference. "No, actually, although at the time I would've given anything for that to have been true." She gestured for the girl to stand up. "Come on. First I have to call Garrett and cancel our date for tonight, but then let's get settled and we'll have story time And hey—" she continued, as if just remembering something important. "I've got just the thing to cheer you up."

"Yeah?" The brunette looked up hopefully.

Her mother gave her a cheerful smile. "I talked to Stuart earlier today and he and Farkle are good to go for our trip this summer. You'll get to see him in person in just a few months!"

Miya did visibly brighten at that as she only got to see her other best friend on school holidays, and even then it was usually just in the summer. It had been almost a year since she'd seen him last (that wasn't through a screen, at least) and she always wished that they could hang out more often. She even went so far as to claim that their annual trips to Japan were more exciting than the countdown to Christmas.

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Once they'd curled up on the couch facing each other with their respective ice creams— mint chocolate chip for Juliet and blackberry for Miya— the old woman began: "well, my first kiss was kind of. . . a game. You know seven minutes in heaven?" She was unsurprised by her daughter's nod (Miya did go to public school, after all.) "Well, my name was drawn out of a hat with another boy's, Jack. It was lucky that I knew him before that night or else I might've bailed. Anyway, our first kiss was in a closet and it was just as awkward and uncomfortable as I'm sure you're feeling right now.

"We kept asking each other 'is this okay' whenever we even moved, since we were afraid of making the other more uneasy than we already were. I mean, I would've liked it to have been He-Who-Shall— oh, to hell with that," she broke off, frustrated by her own avoidance. "Shawn. His name is Shawn, and I would've liked it to have been him in the closet with me," Juliet finished with a breath. "I'm sick and tired of claiming that I'm over him but being unable to say his name. There," she added triumphantly. "Shawn, Shawn, Shawn—"

Miya shook her head with amusement. "I think I get it, mom. I'm proud of you, really, but if you say it enough times you might actually summon him."

"Nah," Juliet said, "that's only if I say Shawn's name in front of a mirror. But, speaking of Shawn, Cory— my other best friend— did say that he and Jack were. . . unsettlingly similar to each other, since they both had really nice blue eyes and floppy hair— y'know, the '90s style." She paused to eye her daughter with interest. "Hang on, that sounds. . . familiar. What do Farkle and Jonah have in common? Appearance-wise, I mean."

The brunette's expression became wary as she listed: "well, they're both geniuses and loyal to their friends. I suppose they do have similar hair cuts and. . . blue. . . eyes," she trailed off, looking alarmed.

Her mother, on the other hand, smirked pointedly. "Well, well, well. Maybe it's true what they say— the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. It seems like you have a type."

"It's not a 'type' if one of them's just a friend," Miya insisted. "Then it's just a coincidence."

"Y'know, both Jack and Shawn started out as 'just friends' for me," Juliet replied.

"Yeah, can we get back to you telling me about Jack?" the younger girl pleaded, not wanting to hear any more about Farkle being anything more than their very platonic relationship.

The dark-haired woman shrugged. "Honestly there's not much to tell. Aside from the fact that I wanted to reassure you that most first kisses are just as awkward and uncomfortable as yours was, it was a very short-lived relationship. We started dating a bit after our first kiss, but we were kind of already doomed since I still had feelings for someone else— Shawn," she added purposefully. "His dad didn't approve of me and then we broke up. It was very unremarkable."

"But he was still your first love," Miya argued. "Everyone always says that your first relationship is most important."

"Well, that must not be true for me, then," she said. "If anyone were to fall into that sort of category, it would be my second relationship. Although," Juliet allowed begrudgingly, "I suppose that, if anything, Jack taught me how to be a proper girlfriend— and at the very least, what not to do. Perhaps Jonah will be that sort of person for you."

"Maybe," the Asian girl agreed doubtfully. "I doubt it will ever go anywhere, though. I'm not even sure that I want it to anymore," she added. "I mean, if I really liked him like I thought I did, wouldn't I feel more than just embarrassment? Because Uncle Kendrick said that when Shawn broke up with you—"

"O-kay!" Juliet cut her off unnecessarily loudly. Her hand gripped her ice-cream spoon a little more tightly than strictly necessary. She glanced at the clock as she changed the subject gracelessly. "I think that's enough talking for tonight. It's not too late that we can't watch a movie. Why don't you go pick one out?"

Because although she proved to herself each day that she was well and truly over Shawn Hunter, Juliet Caplewood would be damned if anything or anyone— even her own daughter— made her relive the darkest part of her life again.

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Unfortunately, the rest of Jonah's evening did not play out in a similar cozy, familial manner. After saying goodbye to Miya, he'd opened the door to his equally quiet apartment. He silently flicked on the lights and dumped his backpack in the kitchen in an eerily parallel manner to what his best friend was doing next door. However, instead of throwing himself onto the nearest bed like the brunette had done, he turned to a different source of comfort: cooking.

This had been a hobby of his for as long as he could remember; his earliest memory was his mom leaving for work with an explanation that 'dinner was in the freezer' vaguely in his babysitter's direction. He'd eaten several frozen and pre-packaged meals before he decided that he could do much, much better. If he didn't want a life subjected to high cholesterol and the buzz of the microwave, he'd have to take matters into his own hands. Luckily, he'd taken to meal preparation quickly and had found that he enjoyed the process. Of course, when he'd been little, he'd been limited to sandwiches and things that didn't need heat or knives. As soon as he was old enough, though, he'd bridged the gap to 'higher cooking' and took on making difficult meals with ease.

His mother had been surprised by his efforts after finding leftover pasta primavera in the fridge, but she'd accepted his talents as similarly as she had his genius: with full and enthusiastic (albeit absent) approval. Her only request had been that he cooked under adult supervision, but even his sitter, Maeve, recognized his proficiency and usually scrolled on her phone while she waited for dinner to be ready instead of actively watching him.

Today, since he and Miya had skipped school, Jonah had arrived home before Maeve was due to show up. Forgoing his mom's request, he set the pan to heat as he took out the necessary ingredients. As he usually did when he felt that his mind was overflowing with thoughts, he secured his orange headphones to his ears— they had been a gift from Juliet a few years back as they often talked about their music tastes. The lyrics and instrumentals of the song provided the essential background noise to drown out his whirling feelings about the day's events. Still, a few of them managed to get through his protective bubble.

"Jonah," Miya's voice in his head whispered, the same way it had sounded by the lake.

He turned up the volume on his headphones.

He remembered the rush of panic that had followed her breathless call of his name, the way it felt as if he'd suddenly been cornered and there was no escape. He didn't want to hurt her feelings and run away, obviously (even though he desperately wanted to), but he didn't want what was going to happen, to happen.

"What-what are you—? I should know. But, I don't, and I-I could guess, and, if I had to guess. . ." His own reply echoed in response, full of confusion and the hope against hope that he would be wrong.

Jonah turned up the volume on his headphones again. The music was so loud now that he couldn't even hear the meat sizzling on the pan behind him, a sound that usually calmed him as much as his music did. He chopped the vegetables he needed to prepare aggressively as he tried to work out his feelings on them. He deskinned the potatoes with short, sharp strokes of the peeler due to his frustration at the fact that he hadn't liked the kiss.

Why hadn't he liked it? Miya was his best friend; he was very fond of her and there was very little that he wouldn't do if she asked him. From an objective standpoint, he could even admit that she was pretty: her almond-shaped eyes were a rich, chocolate brown, her fringed, dark hair framed her face nicely and she was always quick to smile (unless they were at school, that was.) He knew her better than anyone, and it wouldn't be that much of a stretch them to become a couple. Except. . . well, he just simply didn't like her like that. 

In fact, he wasn't sure if he liked any girls like that. He'd never paid much attention to them as a whole, being mostly focused on school work to maintain his excellent grades. When the other boys in his class were 'mean' to the girls they liked, he could never seem to understand why. Surely if you liked someone then you should be nice to them? (After all, he could never imagine being mean to Miya because of feelings that he may or may not have.) And so, his thoughts kept up this circular pattern of why don't I like Miya-why don't I like any girls-surely something's wrong with me for the next several hours.

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Maeve arrived at the Harrison residence at the normal time, and she was surprised by the rich smells that drifted down the hallway. She and Jonah usually got to the apartment at the same time, so it was unusual that he'd have enough time to start cooking before she got there. She was only more concerned when she let herself in with the key that Marie had given her to find him nearly finished with the dishes that he was making. How long had he been home?

Since he hadn't acknowledged her entrance (and she could hear the music blasting from his headphones), she made her way towards him and gave her customary greeting, which was to ruffle his hair. "Hey, kid."

Jonah jumped slightly at the interruption, though when he saw the older girl, he smiled guiltily and lowered his headphones. "Hey."

"When did you get here?" the redhead asked. (Unlike Juliet's once-red hair, however, Maeve's hung down her back in tight curls that were always a trial and a half to brush through, leading her to wear them in two French braid that fell over her shoulders.)

"Um. . ."

She raised an amused eyebrow. "Gotcha. That long ago, huh?"

He sighed in defeat, though he knew that she wouldn't rat him out to his mom. "Yeah."

"You skip school?"

"Uh-huh."

She frowned at his odd lack of response. Most of the time when he made dinner, Jonah was excited to tell her about what had happened during the day. He would often rant about the girls he called 'triple A' who were mean to Miya, talk about how class was so boring since he did the work beforehand and was always prepared (unlike most of the other students), et cetera. Now, he stood silently in the kitchen, blocking her out with music as he violently cut some carrots.

After a few minutes of his harsh chopping, Maeve put her phone away and stood from her seat across from him. When she'd made her way over to him, she carefully avoided being sliced by his knife as she put a hand on his shoulder. Jonah paused in his task to look over at her with a semi-annoyed 'yes?' expression. She tapped a finger to her ear, prompting him to lower his headphones.

"I don't know what those vegetables ever did to you, but it looks like you could use someone to talk to," she offered. "So spill it, kid."

He jerked lightly out of her grasp. "No thanks. I can handle it."

"I'm sure," the redhead scoffed. "But I'm older than you, so that's an order."

"Yeah, well, I'm smarter," the brunet retorted.

She pointed a finger at him, half-jokingly, half in warning. "Hey, let's not bring my brains— or lack thereof— into this." Her tone became softer when she realized he wasn't in the mood to take things lightly. "Look, I know you're smart, but even the smartest people need someone to talk to sometimes. What's bothering you?"

Jonah let out another sigh, knowing that Maeve wouldn't stop pestering him until he finally shared the problem with her. He set the knife down and glanced at the stove to make sure that everything was warming and not burning. "Can I tell you during dinner?'

Hearing his concession, she nodded in agreement.

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Once the steak, potatoes and side salad had been served, Maeve waited for the boy to speak. Instead of digging in like she usually did, she watched him impatiently as Jonah purposefully took his time to cut his food. He avoided her gaze as he took his first bite, knowing that once he met her eyes, it would all come spilling out.

"You should eat before it gets cold," he mumbled after he finished chewing.

She pointed a finger at him again, this time sternly. "You're not getting out of this, kid. If you're having such a hard time sharing whatever's going on, then you definitely need to talk about it."

Although the redhead's insistence was annoying, he was still grateful for her presence. There had been many times throughout the years that had required a parental figure, such as signing a permission slip or listening to any difficulties he was having, and Maeve had been there for all of them when his mother had been unavailable. Even though she was only half a decade older than him, it (sometimes) seemed like she had answers that even he didn't.

The problem with this situation was that he wasn't quite sure how to explain exactly what was wrong. He was pretty sure normal people didn't make such a big deal about being kissed, so Maeve might not understand the angst he was currently feeling. He'd thought about how he could come out and say it all through plating up dinner, but nothing had been particularly forthcoming. So, he went with the first thing that came to his mind: "Maeve, how did you know that you were bi?"

Maeve's fork paused in mid-air, as she'd finally been about to start eating. She blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected question. After a moment of contemplation, she decided to set her utensils down and give Jonah her full attention.

"Well," she began slowly, trying to understand exactly what answer he was looking for. "It was just after my break-up with my first boyfriend. Although it had been a good relationship, we just agreed that we were better off as friends. I wasn't particularly sad about it or anything like that. Then one day I was watching Huntsman and while my— female— friend could only focus on Chris Hemsworth, I realized that my attention was on Kristen Stewart." She shrugged, pushing some of her potatoes around on her plate. "After that I figured out that I liked both guys and girls— but I definitely have a type."

"So, it just happened like that? Out of the blue?" Jonah asked, frowning. It seemed like discovering your preferences was some big moment that sounded like angels singing in the background, not just a random Sunday afternoon.

Maeve nodded. "Yeah, it kind of did. I mean, I guess I had been noticing people of different genders before, but I never really thought about it. That moment with Kristen Stewart just made it all click. I think sometimes, it can take a while to figure things out, and that's perfectly okay." She studied him with concern. "May I ask why you're asking?"

The brunet reached for the salt shaker in front of him to twirl it between his fingers as a helpful distraction. "Well. . . the reason I skipped school today was because Miya was having a hard time in class, so I thought she'd feel better if we took a break. I know we can't do that all the time," he added quickly, "today just seemed particularly bad. But while we were having lunch, she. . . well, she kissed me," he finished miserably. "I don't even know if I liked it."

"Hey, kid, it may seem like I'm wise and all-knowing— which I am— but it took me ages to figure this stuff out, too. And just because I know I'm bi doesn't mean I've stopped having questions. Do I like girls more than boys? Or the other way around? Do I have more than one label? Do I even want labels at all? So it's only natural to keep asking questions. The only time you won't have any is when you're dead."

Jonah huffed slightly. "Thanks for that. It's just that. . . with all this questioning, I don't want to hurt Miya's feelings. She likes me, and I like her, but I also want to be true to myself, whatever that means."

The teenager nodded in agreement. "I would definitely talk to her. It's important to have an honest conversation with Miya about your feelings, but also reassure her that you value your friendship. Miscommunication makes for an awful plot device. That's only for lazy writers and people living in the 1800s."

"Thanks, Maeve. I'll talk to her and try to sort things out. It's just been such a confusing day."

The redhead reached out and patted his arm companionably. "Hey, I'm here for you, kid. I've basically raised you, after all. You might as well start calling me 'mom.'"

"Sure, mom," he replied sarcastically, only for the girl to reach over and ruffle his hair extra-messily.

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Although he would have liked to put off the necessary conversation with Miya for as long as possible, it was only natural that he saw her the next day, seeing as they lived on the same floor. The brunette was returning to her apartment empty-handed, but Jonah knew that today was chore day, and she'd just returned from taking out the trash. He felt a little pang of regret since, usually, they did chores together; she hadn't even knocked on his door for him to come with her.

He set his own trash bag down and called out quickly to her before she could escape back inside. "Miya— hey."

He saw her freeze for a moment before she turned around, though he was relieved to see a natural, warm smile on her face as she greeted him (even if she did avoid his eyes.) "Hi, Jonah." She cringed a bit guiltily. "Sorry I didn't come get you for the trash trip. I, well. . . you know."

Jonah's expression softened. "I know. Do you want to come inside and we can talk?"

". . . Sure."

She followed him into the living room, where he sat on the couch. They very rarely ever did anything formal, usually preferring to the park across the street to play games. Miya stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking extremely uncertain about where to sit or what to do.

The brunet patted the seat next to him. "Come on, Miya. You can sit next to me— I don't have the plague."

She relaxed a bit at his teasing tone and did as he offered, taking a seat several inches away on the edge of the cushion. She chewed on her bottom lip as her eyes darted anywhere but to him. Seeming to need further distraction, she fiddled with her bangs, brushing them out of her eyes and smoothing them down on her forehead. Jonah sighed at the sight of her customary anxious habits, knowing that this was his fault.

"Well, first I'd like to say I'm sorry about yesterday— on my end," he added quickly. "For the record, I do like you Miya. A lot." He took a deep breath as he recalled the words he'd been practicing in his head for the last twelve hours. "It's just that. . . I wasn't expecting anything like that from you, and. . . it caught me off guard. But I've been thinking, and. . ." Another deep breath. "I'd like you to kiss me again."

Miya's gaze jerked up to meet his, her dark eyes widening with surprise. "R-really?"

"Yeah," Jonah said with a firm nod, still in the process of half-convincing himself that he did want this. "I just needed some time to process what happened, but. . . I liked it. Really."

Her expression brightened visibly. She was still nervous, but now it was for a whole different reason. Kissing Jonah yesterday had been a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing, something that she hadn't really needed to think about. Now, in the quiet of the apartment and his blue eyes watching her with anticipation, the thought was suddenly much more daunting.

"I. . . okay," she agreed shyly. Her gaze fell to her hands, which were now tangled together in her lap. On the count of three, she thought, deciding that it was better to get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid.

Three.

Two—

Now!

She leaned forward and aimed for the boy's lips, hers pecking more harshly against his than she'd intended. It was certainly far less graceful than her attempt yesterday but she pulled away, flushed with her victory. Jonah looked as equally startled as he had the day before, but he nodded in satisfaction after a moment. (At least he didn't say 'thanks' this time.)

"That was. . . good. Yeah. That was good," he allowed. "Do you. . . want to do it more often?"

Miya gave him a curious, hopeful look. "Are. . . are you asking if I want to be your girlfriend?"

He thought about it for a moment before he replied, "yes. Miya, would you like to be my girlfriend?"

She gave him a soft smile. "I. . . okay."

A/n: ahh! Finally done with this chapter! I really thought I'd written all the hard ones and was out of the woods, but I guess not. This time I will apologize for taking so long (sorry.) Last month was a SUPER busy time for me since that's the peak season for one of my part time jobs. Plus I got a second part time job, so now it's like I have one full-time job. And then on top of that, I also have school, so I was very stressed. Luckily things are a bit slower now. 

But, I will promise you this— writing will always be a passion of mine and, no matter how busy I get, I will do my best to make time for it. I've seen a lot of authors leave Wattpad because of their schedules and I won't let that happen to me. I may take an unofficial hiatus or two, but as a completionist, it's also very important for me to finish my books, lol.

As for the plot of this chapter, it was hard for me to write since— once again— I've never experienced anything like this (both the kissing and gender identity.) It wasn't that hard for me to figure out that I'm aro/ace since I basically hate people and being around them. I never want to "waste" my "me time" by spending it with someone else, and I have no romantic attraction to anyone, ever. (Except for fictional men (and some women), lol.) I know other people's journeys are much more confusing and (as you guys know) diversity is important to me, so I wanted to show other sides of the LGBTQ+ spectrum. 

Jonah's arc will be a side story to the GMW canon universe. As I mentioned last chapter, I did want him and Miya to date, so I figured out a way to include both. And don't worry— Miya/Jonah won't last as long as Juliet/Jack did :) (Did you catch my reference at scolding myself for using miscommunication as a plot device? Lol.) 

The title for this chapter comes from the Japanese drama, First Love. (And the song it's based on.) It's really good, and basically what a drama would look like if I wrote one. There were little references sprinkled throughout that were brought back later and everything connected in some way, even the smallest details. Plus it has a happy ending, so that always makes for more enjoyable watching.

I made this chapter a little longer than usual to make up for the wait, so hopefully you guys enjoyed it. I think you'll really like the next update since there will be more Farkle/Miya (and going back to the reference thing— I'll be making some that will be important later on!)

I know I've been doing the countdown for the Christmas episode basically since I started this book, but say it with me: THREE MORE CHAPTERS! THREE MORE CHAPTERS! THREE MORE CHAPTERS!