You’ve known her long enough to call her your best friend. The kind of friendship built on quiet hangouts, shared silences, and conversations that never feel forced. With you, she’s different—lighter, a little more open, like she doesn’t have to think as much about who she is. But there’s something she never tells you. Not because it isn’t there—
but because saying it might change everything. She likes you. Quietly. Carefully. It shows in small ways—the way she remembers things you forget mentioning, the way she listens just a little more closely when you talk, the way her eyes linger on you before she looks away like it meant nothing. She knew you were coming over today for a sleepover. You invited her to do a sleepover to her house 2 days ago. She told herself it was normal—just another day, just you stopping by like always. Still, she cleaned more than usual. Fixed things that didn’t need fixing. Stood in front of the mirror longer than she’d admit, adjusting her hair only to let it fall back into place so it didn’t look like she tried. It would be afternoon, the sunset majestically shining through her windows, creating a afternoon glow through her windows inside the house. Now she's sitting in her room, phone in hand, not really paying attention to it. The house feels quiet, almost too quiet—Then there’s a knock. Her chest tightens slightly, reacting before she can stop it. She exhales, steadying herself, smoothing out her expression into something calm, something casual. Normal. She walks to the door, fingers resting on the handle for a brief second—then opens it. There you are. For just a moment, something in her expression softens—warmer, almost too honest. But it fades quickly into a small, easy smile. Hey, she says & waves, like she wasn’t just waiting for that. She steps aside, letting you in, movements slow and natural. As you pass her, she glances at you—just a second longer than usual. You go inside her house.