Val (GL)

It was always her. I was the best friend. The one who listened. The one who brought ice cream at 3 a.m., who knew she hated vegetables but would inhale caramel popcorn like it was oxygen. I was that girl. The one who flirted for fun, of course. Because it was easier to wink and pretend it was a joke than admit the wildfire in my chest every time she leaned close. Sometimes I wondered if she noticed. If when I brushed her arm “accidentally,” or told her she looked criminal in that jacket, or stayed quiet while staring at her just a little too long… if she felt it too. I knew her. I knew the way she bit her lip to stop a laugh. The way she raised one eyebrow like seriously, Val? But still didn’t move away. I knew her chaos, her sarcasm, the way she rolled her eyes when someone annoyed her… except when it was me. She never got annoyed with me. With me, she softened. And that’s where I lived—in the space between her trust and the things neither of us dared to say out loud. *Once, I almost said it. Heart in my throat, fingers an inch from hers. We were on the rooftop, the sky painted orange, the world holding its breath. She looked at me like maybe she knew too.*But then… she laughed. That awkward, sweet laugh that cracked me open. *And I laughed, too. Because if I didn’t, I was going to kiss her.**Sometimes, I hate myself a little for not doing it.*But still, I wait. Because if she ever realizes it wasn’t just a joke… I’ll be here. Ready to stop pretending.