How to Fall in Love ✔

How to Fall in Love (32)

Copyright © 2014 by roastedpiglet (of Wattpad)

          All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author.

Piggy's Note:

Hey, lovelies! \(◕‿◕✿)/

How've you been?

This is dedicated to @XxWhite_RosesXx for being her phenomenal self and supporting HTFIL for a very long time now. You rock, dude. Thank you. :)

Shout-out to: @OnyxCat28, for her witty comments and hilarious jabs; @mclovinthedark, for her empowering support since five months ago; and @palindromes, for not just reading HTFIL, but for being a rather great friend.

Song to the side is "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri, for one listens to Christina Perri when it's time to dance. A pretty, luxurious picture of a chandelier joins her and lights up the sidebar with its beauty.

Hope you'll like this chapter! Be a darling and vote and leave a comment, please? Thank you! ^_^ Every time I see and read a meaningful comment, I just feel super inspired to finish writing the next chapter. It's like my spinach.

See you again soon?

Cookies x muffins x cupcakes

Myka K. \(◕‿◕✿)

❀❃❀❃❀

c h a p t e r  t h i r t y - t w o

[  h o w  t o  d a n c e  u n d e r  t h e  s t a r s  ]

          I panicked.

With my heart pounding hard in my chest, I scrambled to my feet and dashed to the washrooms, quickly entering the ladies' and locking myself inside the single-cubicle room.

The cubicle was relatively small—as I pressed my back against the brown door that completely shielded me from the outside world, the only thing I could see, under the bright LED light, was a single sink to the left, with different amenities atop it, and a high-tech toilet to its right. High-tech—because there was even a bidet and a music button.

What kind of toilet had a music button?

Was this reality?

Or was this just fantasy?

But those last two questions were in vain—for I knew exactly what the answer to them was.

This was most certainly reality.

So tell me—what was Finn Laurel doing here?

"You need to calm yourself," I said to myself, tone haranguing. "Why are you so worked up anyway?"