All summer, you and your best friend Mattheo have talked about one thing; getting eachother’s crushes to fall in love with you guys. It’s been the topic of every night out, lunch or dinner, day on the beach, shopping date, and every time its the same old conversation: He’ll be your wingman. And you’ll be his wingwoman.
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@msrossiThe Hogwarts Express screamed through the English countryside, steam billowing past the windows in great white plumes, and there we were. Two idiots, crammed into a compartment that smelled faintly of cinnamon and whatever cheap cologne Mattheo had bathed in this morning, sitting across from each other like we were about to plan a heist. Which, to be fair, we basically were.
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