how to get a gf in 5 steps (megan skiendiel x fem!reader)
summary: megan just wanted help asking out her crush. yn agreed to coach her through it. five steps later, meganâs starting to realize she might be falling for the wrong girl.
genre: fluff, slowburn, megan is a loser, reader is also kind of a loser.
warnings: not proofread.
wc: 14k
a/n: this is my longest fic i've ever written fhshdhsh (kinda nervous) i hope this is up to your expectations. i worked rly hard on this one đ«¶đ«¶
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youâve been in the library for three hours, but youâve only read, like, maybe four pages. and by read, you mean your eyes have been skating across the words while your brain replays danielleâs voice on loop.
you donât even have feelings. youâre like a robot. who the fuck dates a robot?
a month later, it still stings like she said it yesterday. maybe you are roboticâorganized, efficient, put together. maybe you do come off cold sometimes. but that doesnât mean you donât feel. if anything, you feel too much.
you drag your highlighter across a sentence you definitely didnât process and sigh.
thatâs when you hear it.
âi fucking told you, lara, i panicked!â a voice echoes through the quiet study floor.
heads turn. yours too, unfortunately.
and there she isâmegan skiendiel, bright as a highlighter with pink streaks cutting through her black hair, storming in like she owns the place. lara raj is right beside her, grinning like sheâs here for the carnage, and sophia laforteza trails behind them with her giant purse and the patience of a saint.
âwhat the hell did you even say this time?â lara snorts, tossing her burgundy hair like sheâs on a runway.
megan slams her bag onto the nearest table. âi told eunchae⊠i liked her fucking elbows.â
you choke. literally choke.
lara bursts out laughing so hard she nearly slides out of her chair. âher elbows? youâre kidding.â
âdo i look like iâm kidding?â megan groans, face in her hands. âthey were just⊠there, okay? all bendy and pointy and iâfuck, i donât know, lara!â
âyouâre a menace,â lara wheezes.
sophia puts down two iced coffees with the calm energy of someone who has done this fifty times before. âmeg, sweetie, you canât just compliment someoneâs elbows. thatâs serial killer energy.â
âiâm aware!â megan flails dramatically. âdo you think i wanted to say it? no! my brain short-circuited, and now eunchae probably thinks i have an elbow fetish.â
âi mean,â lara says, straight-faced, âdo you?â
âfuck you.â
you try to focus on your book, really you do, but their voices keep carrying and now youâre invested against your will.
megan groans again, this time smacking her forehead against the table. âiâm never gonna get this right. iâm doomed. eunchaeâs never gonna look at me without thinking about goddamn elbows.â
lara spins lazily in her chair, eyes scanning the room until they land directly on you. you freeze like she just caught you doing something illegal.
âoh my god,â lara says slowly, devilâs grin spreading. âwhat about her?â
âwhat about who?â megan mumbles into the table.
lara points. right at you. âher. yn. sheâs, like, perfectly put together. maybe she can teach you not to sound like a fucking idiot.â
you blink. âexcuse me?â
megan jerks her head up so fast her pink streaks practically whip. her eyes land on you, and she points before she can stop herself.
âwaitâyouâre yn, right? oh my god, iâve seen you in class. youâre, like⊠the girl who always has her notes color-coded and shit.â
you blink. âiâwhat?â
lara grins. âyeah, thatâs her. yn could probably run a small country with her planner.â
âexactly!â megan slaps the table like sheâs just solved world hunger. âyouâre perfect! you actually know how to use words like a normal person. please, help me before i tell eunchae sheâs got⊠i donât know, nice kneecaps or some shit.â
lara is losing her mind beside her. sophia just sips her coffee and shakes her head.
âyou donât want me,â you say flatly. âiâm notââ
âyes we do,â lara cuts in, grinning like sheâs just thrown you to the wolves. âcome on, yn. do us all a favor. you look like you could teach someone how to flirt in a powerpoint presentation.â
âyouâre such a bitch,â you shoot back.
lara smirks. âi know.â
megan leans closer, hands clasped like sheâs praying. âplease. iâm desperate. one more flop and eunchaeâs gonna get me banned from campus.â
sophia pats your arm gently, mom-friend mode activated. âsheâs not exaggerating.â
you stare at them. at meganâs wide, hopeful eyes. at laraâs smug little grin. at sophia, who looks like she already knows youâre going to cave.
and against every ounce of common sense, you say: âfine. but no elbows.â
âdeal!â megan beams so brightly you have to look away.
â
step 1: confidence & compliments
youâre starting to think youâve made the worst decision of your life.
somehow youâve become megan skiendielâs dating coach.
you tell yourself itâs temporary, one little favor, and then you can go back to being the quiet, slightly bitter girl in the library. but now youâre standing on the quad, and megan is bouncing on her toes like this is the olympics. lara and sophia sit nearby with all the smug energy of judges waiting to give scores.
âalright, so.â you cross your arms, trying to sound like you actually know what youâre doing. âstep one is basic introduction. nothing complicated. no weird body part comments.â
megan gasps. âyou say that like iâm gonna do it again.â
âyou are gonna do it again,â lara says. âyouâre incapable of being normal.â
âfuck you, lara,â megan shoots back.
âlove you too, babe.â lara blows her a kiss.
sophia nudges your arm. âdonât worry, yn, youâll get used to them. eventually.â
youâre not sure if thatâs comforting.
âokay,â you say, rubbing your temple. âpractice. megan, pretend iâm eunchae. youâre walking up to me after class. go.â
megan instantly straightens her spine, face brightening like sheâs about to deliver a speech to the nation. âhi, uh⊠nice shirt! it really, um, compliments your⊠torso?â
you close your eyes. âmegan.â
lara is already doubled over, wheezing. âtorso! oh my god, youâre actually insane.â
âwhat?!â megan throws her hands out. âtorsos are underrated! people always go for eyes, hair, whatever. no one appreciates the torso!â
âbecause it sounds like youâre about to dissect someone,â sophia says flatly.
megan groans, dragging her hands down her face. âugh. fine. redo.â she shakes her shoulders out, takes a deep breath, and looks at you again. âhi. i liked what you said in class today. it⊠made me think about stuff.â
you tilt your head. ââŠthatâs actually decent.â
her eyes widen. âreally?â
âyeah. just⊠keep it casual. no one expects you to come up with a sonnet on the spot.â
lara pouts. âbooo. boring. whereâs the spice?â
âdo you want her to crash and burn?â you snap.
âyes,â lara says without hesitation.
sophia elbows her. âignore her. megan, try again, but less panicky this time.â
megan inhales dramatically, then lets it out and softens her smile. âhey. you seemed really into the debate earlier. i thought that was cool.â
thereâs something steady in the way she says it this time, less like a girl fighting for her life, more like a person who actually gives a shit.
you nod slowly. âbetter. keep that tone.â
megan beams like you just handed her a gold medal. âfuck yeah. see, iâm getting it.â
âone (1) normal line does not equal success,â you say, but your lips twitch.
lara groans. âthis is taking too long. just let her compliment eunchaeâs elbows already.â
âlara.â sophia smacks her arm.
âfine, fine. god. fun police.â
â
the first real test comes the next day after class.
youâre pretending to read your notes when you hear megan whisper, âokay, okay, itâs happening,â like sheâs about to storm a battlefield.
sophia nudges her forward. lara snickers like sheâs watching a live prank show.
you keep your head down, but your ears perk.
megan walks right up to eunchae, whoâs packing her bag. âhey. umâŠâ she pauses, and you swear you can feel the entire quad hold its breath. âi thought what you said earlier was really cool. about, yâknow, the reading? i, uh, actually looked it up after.â
thereâs silence. then eunchae looks up, blinking in surprise. âoh. really? thatâs⊠wow. thanks. most people donât care.â
megan shrugs, suddenly casual in a way she wasnât with you. ânah, i think you explained it really well.â
and thenâeunchae smiles.
megan looks like she just discovered oxygen for the first time. âuhâanyway, yeah. cool. see you later.â
she scurries back to sophia and lara like a soldier retreating to base, face red, grin unstoppable.
sophia claps her hands. âshe did it! no elbows!â
lara whistles. ânot bad, meg. still think ânice torsoâ wouldâve been iconic, though.â
megan practically bounces in place. âdid you see that?! she smiled! holy shit, she smiled at me!â
you keep your eyes glued to your notebook, trying not to laugh at how giddy she is.
sophia leans toward you, whispering, âsee? youâre a good teacher.â
you roll your eyes, but you donât argue.
â
step 2: shared interests
you flip to the next page of your notes, tapping the end of your pen against the margin. âalright, step two,â you say, glancing at megan. âshared interests. the whole point is finding something you both like, so you actually have something to talk about. otherwise it feels⊠shallow.â
megan leans forward on her elbows, hair falling in her face. âsounds easy enough.â
âitâs not just about asking random questions,â you continue, ignoring the way lara is already smirking like sheâs watching a bad sitcom unfold. âitâs about listening and connecting. like, if she says she likes hiking, donât just nod. ask where she hikes. swap a story. show her you actually care.â
megan wiggles her eyebrows. âso, pretend to care. got it.â
ânoââ you groan, dragging your hand down your face. ânot pretend. actually care.â
lara snorts from the couch. âgood luck teaching her that.â
âi do care!â megan shoots back, indignant. âiâm literally here trying to learn.â
sophia hums from her corner chair, rummaging through her bottomless purse. âmmh. sheâs got a point.â she pulls out a protein bar and tosses it onto the table like a dealer throwing cards. âbut ynâs right. sincerity matters.â
you nod, turning back to megan. âso. letâs practice. ask me.â
her brows lift. âask you what?â
âabout my interests. pretend iâm eunchae.â
megan groans dramatically but straightens up, putting on a mock-serious face. âalright. yn, what are your interests?â
you pause, caught off guard by how direct it sounds, but answer anyway. âuh. i like video games. pokĂ©mon, mostly. also⊠music. musicals, actually.â
meganâs eyes light up. âno way, pokĂ©mon? like, the actual games or just the little creatures?â
âboth,â you admit, trying not to sound sheepish. âi grew up with them.â
âsame,â she says, grinning so wide her pink streaks practically glow under the overhead lights. âi still playâthough i always end up picking the wrong starter and regretting it.â
âthereâs no wrong starter,â you argue automatically. âthey all have strengths.â
âpicking charmander in gen one was definitely a mistake,â she counters, leaning closer like sheâs challenging you.
âokay, fair,â you concede, and for some reason your chest warms at the way she laughs.
âand games in general, huh?â megan adds. âi didnât peg you for the gaming type. thought you were, like, strictly academic.â
you shrug. âeveryone needs a break from studying.â
lara whistles. âoh, the valedictorianâs a nerd. shocking.â
you roll your eyes, but megan just beams, like sheâs found a hidden treasure.
âwhat about music?â she presses. âwhat musicals?â
before you can answer, she adds quickly, âi dance, by the way. so musicals are kind of my thing too.â
you tilt your head, surprised. âyou dance?â
âyep.â she pops the âpâ like itâs the easiest confession in the world. âbeen doing it since high school. hip hop, contemporary, whatever i can get my hands on. itâs⊠kinda my favorite way to de-stress.â
you nod slowly. âthat makes sense. explains why youâre always bouncing around like youâve had three cups of coffee.â
lara chuckles. âshe doesnât need caffeine. sheâs chaos-powered.â
ârude,â megan mutters, then turns back to you. âso, musicals?â
âwicked,â you say without hesitation. âand hadestown.â
thatâs when sophia perks up from across the room, her face brightening. âdid you say hadestown?â
you blink. âyeah.â
âoh my god, finally someone else who gets it.â sophia practically leaps across the space to join the table, purse still dangling from her arm. âeveryone else rolls their eyes when i bring it up. you like wicked and hadestown? yn, weâre besties now.â
âhey,â megan protests, pointing dramatically between you two. âdonât just steal her like that.â
sophia ignores her, clasping your hand like youâve made a blood pact. âi saw the tour last year. cried my eyes out.â
âsame,â you say, grinning despite yourself. âthe soundtrack wrecks me every time.â
âfinally,â sophia sighs. âsomeone cultured.â
megan throws her arms up. âiâm literally right here!â
lara laughs so hard she almost falls off the couch. âgod, i love this group dynamic. meg versus everyone else.â
you catch yourself laughing too, the sound bubbling up more freely than youâd expected. it feels⊠nice. warm. like being folded into something bigger than yourself.
later that night, megan takes her newfound confidence and goes to try it out on eunchae.
youâre tucked at a nearby table, pretending to read, though your eyes keep drifting.
âso, what about you?â megan asks, her voice a little too bright. âwhatâre your hobbies? stuff youâre into?â
eunchae tilts her head, considering. âi like painting. and volunteering. but not really games or musicals or⊠you know.â she gives a polite smile. âthose just never clicked with me.â
you glance back down at your book. the words blur.
âoh, cool, cool,â megan says quickly, nodding too fast. âthatâs⊠yeah, thatâs great.â
you shouldnât care. you tell yourself that. sheâs practicing. thatâs the whole point of this stupid five-step plan.
but the way her brightness faltersâthe way her grin strains for just a second before she pastes it back onâit sits wrong with you. like a pebble in your shoe.
you grit your teeth and refocus on the same sentence youâve been reading for ten minutes. ânot my problem,â you whisper under your breath.
by the time eunchae excuses herself, megan trudges back to your table, groaning into her arms.
âfailed. again. kill me.â
lara smirks. âdid you at least try not to sound like a malfunctioning toaster this time?â
âyes,â megan snaps, muffled against the desk.
âsmall victories,â lara deadpans.
sophia slides a granola bar in front of her. âhere. eat.â
megan peeks up, grabs it like itâs life-saving, and takes a giant bite.
you clear your throat, forcing yourself to sound detached. âmaybe just⊠try another angle next time. find something else to connect over.â
megan glances at you, crumbs stuck to her lip, and grins weakly. âthanks, coach.â
you look away, focusing on your notes again.
and when the table erupts back into its usual chaosâlara roasting, sophia fussing, megan flailingâyou let yourself laugh along. but that little twist in your chest? it doesnât leave.
you shove it down, hard.
â
step 3: vulnerabilityÂ
the cafeteria is loud in the way cafeterias always areâtrays clattering, people calling across tables, laughter echoing too sharply against too much tile. youâre halfway through stabbing at a bowl of rice you didnât really want when chaos starts three tables over.
at first itâs just noise, a crash of voices and chairs scraping back too fast. then you see it: sophia struttingâyes, struttingâacross the cafeteria with a slipper raised in one hand like some kind of divine weapon. her eyes are locked on a freshman boy whoâs already halfway to the doors, panicked arms flailing as if the slipper might actually take his soul.
âyou think you can talk shit about my friend, huh?â sophia calls out, tone scarily calm for someone brandishing footwear. âsay it again. i dare you.â
the freshman squeaks. itâs a sound you didnât know grown humans could make. he trips over a chair leg and nearly eats floor before scrambling back up and sprinting for the exit. sophia doesnât even chaseâshe just follows in this deliberate, almost elegant march, slipper still lifted.
the entire cafeteria watches in silence.
megan doesnât even blink. sheâs sitting across from you, picking at fries, pink streaks falling into her face like none of this is worth a reaction. âoooh that guy is so cooked.â she claims.
lara leans back in her chair, arms crossed, completely unfazed. âitâs a cultural reset every time she does it.â
you whip your head toward them, eyes wide. âwhat the fuck do you mean âevery timeâ?!â
lara shrugs, cool as hell. ânormal tuesday.â
ânormal tuesday?!â you repeat, choking on your own voice. âshe literally justâshe just threatened a freshman with a shoe!â
âslipper,â megan corrects without missing a beat, dipping a fry in ketchup. âthereâs a difference.â
you gape at her, searching for even a shred of disbelief in her face, but thereâs nothing. absolutely nothing. both her and lara are calm like this is routine, like cafeteria slipper assaults happen biweekly.
âyou people are insane,â you mutter, but your fork hovers forgotten in midair, because you canât tear your eyes away from sophia, whoâs finally lowering the slipper, satisfied. she tucks it under her arm like a general sheathing her sword.
as sophia makes her way back to the table, lara lifts her soda can in salute. âmajestic as always.â
sophia drops back into her seat with a sigh, slipper thunking onto the table. âhe called lara scary. like he thought she couldnât hear him. stupid.â
lara smirks. âi am scary, though.â
âyeah,â sophia agrees serenely, âbut thatâs our scary, not for him to say.â
you press your palms into your eyes. âiâm surrounded by lunatics.â
âyouâll get used to it,â megan says cheerfully, like youâve already signed some invisible contract.
the group breaks into laughterâsophia all soft giggles, lara sharp and biting, megan bright enough to make the air hum. somehow, impossibly, you find yourself laughing too, even though your brain is still trying to process slipper warfare as an accepted part of daily life.
laraâs still smirking, sipping her soda, when megan leans across the table toward you. âso whatâs next, professor yn? whatâs the magical step three in this love boot camp?â
you snort, almost choke on your rice. âfirst of all, donât call it a boot camp. secondâfine. this oneâs about⊠vulnerability.â
âvulnerability?â sophia repeats, eyebrows raised.
âyeah.â you twirl your fork for emphasis. âlike, sharing something you donât usually tell people. insecurities, fears, whatever. the messy stuff. itâs about making space to be real, so the other person feels safe being real too. no masks, no fake coolness.â
lara barks a laugh. âso basically trauma dumping, but make it romantic?â
you shoot her a glare. ânot trauma dumping. thereâs a difference. itâs sharing, not unloading.â
sophia hums thoughtfully, resting her chin in her hand. âactually, that makes sense. you canât really build closeness without honesty.â
meganâs grin is instant, wide and mischievous. âso i just walk up to eunchae like, âhey, fun fact, i cry whenever i see sad dog moviesâ? thatâll work?â
âoh my god,â you groan, dragging your palms down your face. âno. jesus. you donât lead with that. you ease into it, naturally.â
lara leans back, arms crossed, clearly enjoying herself. âthis i gotta see.â
eventually, sophia checks her phone and groans. âugh, i promised my cousin iâd help her move her crap. lara, youâre coming.â
lara makes a face. âwhy me?â
âbecause youâre tall,â sophia replies simply, already standing.
lara groans louder but follows anyway, flipping you a mock salute on her way out. âgood luck babysitting her,â she mutters, jerking her chin toward megan.
and just like that, youâre alone with her.
the cafeteria hums around you, but suddenly it feels quieter, emptier.
megan taps her fingers against the table. âso⊠vulnerability, huh?â
âyep.â you sip your drink, eyeing her carefully. âyou game?â
she tilts her head, pink streaks catching the light. âdepends. you gonna go first or should i?â
you hesitate, then sigh. âfine. iâll start. keep it fair.â
she leans in, suddenly serious.
you exhale. âi⊠donât really connect with people easily. like, i can smile and be polite, sure, but itâs⊠shallow. i get awkward fast. i donât have a ton of close friends. and sometimes it feels like⊠like iâm on the outside of everything, no matter how hard i try.â
meganâs grin fades into something softer. she doesnât laugh or tease. âthat sounds lonely.â
âyeah,â you mutter, stabbing your fries again.
âthanks for telling me,â she says, voice low but warm.
you glance at her, caught off guard by how genuine she looks.
then she takes a deep breath. âokay. my turn.â she fidgets with the straw wrapper in her hand. âiâve got dyslexia. and i hate it. like, really hate it. words just⊠blur sometimes, and reading long stuff feels like climbing a mountain. i joke about it, cover it up with sunshine crap, but it gets in my head. makes me feel dumb. and i know iâm not, but⊠try telling my brain that.â
the cafeteria noise fades a little. you watch her, heart tugging.
âmeganâŠâ you start.
she shrugs quickly, trying to lighten it. âdancing helps. like, my body doesnât betray me the way words do. and making people laugh helps too. if theyâre laughing, theyâre not noticing me struggling with a textbook, yâknow?â
you want to say something, but the words stick. instead, you nod slowly. âthat⊠makes a lot of sense.â
you clear your throat, fingers twisting in your lap. âmegan, youâre not stupid.â it slips out before you can stop it, earnest and firm. âyouâre⊠youâre one of the smartest people i know, actually. just⊠not in the same way.â
her lips curve, but itâs a small, fragile thing. âthanks.â
thereâs a beat of silence, then she tilts her head, eyes narrowing playfully. âyour turn.â
you blink. âwhat?â
âvulnerability, remember? i went. now you go.â
shit. you shouldâve seen this coming. you fiddle with the edge of your tray, trying to find words that donât sound pathetic out loud. âfine,â you mutter eventually. âi⊠iâm not great with people. like, connecting. iâm organized and smart and whatever, but it doesnât really matter when you canât⊠talk to people right. i get awkward. i donât have many friends. sometimes i feel like iâm just⊠outside everything. like iâm always the extra, the background character.â
you laugh, sharp and self-deprecating. âdanielle used to call me a robot. said i didnât have feelings. and i guess⊠sometimes i believe her.â
meganâs chair screeches as she leans forward, eyes blazing. âokay, first of all, fuck danielle.â
you startle at the sudden heat in her voice.
âseriously,â she continues, voice low but fierce. âyouâre one of the most caring people iâve met. you care so much it practically leaks out of you. awkward or not, youâre⊠real. and if danielle couldnât see that? thatâs her loss. not yours.â
something in your chest twists painfully, and you look away, blinking hard. âyouâre too good at this,â you mutter.
ânah,â she says, leaning back with a grin that tries to lighten the weight. âiâm just honest.â
the two of you sit there, silence stretching but not uncomfortable. itâs softer than youâd expected, this momentâlike youâd cracked yourselves open and somehow found the other person wasnât looking to break, but to understand.
and thenâbecause timing is cruelâeunchae walks into the cafeteria.
meganâs head snaps up instantly, and you watch as she straightens, energy shifting like someone flipped a switch. âoh shit, okay. time to try it for real.â
you force a smile, shoving the ache in your chest into a tiny locked box. âgo for it.â
megan strides over to eunchae with a wave thatâs just this side of awkward. you watch from your seat, tray untouched, as they start talking.
âhi eunchae!â
eunchae blinks, then smiles. âohâhi, megan.â
âneed help?â megan gestures at the tray like itâs a heroic task.
eunchae laughs lightly. âi think i can manage, thanks.â but she lets megan fall into step beside her anyway.
they find an open spot, and megan, nerves buzzing, blurts out: âso, uh, random question. do you ever⊠like⊠hide stuff? not, like, stolen silverware. i mean insecurities.â
eunchae tilts her head, surprised. âthatâs⊠a random question.â
megan laughs nervously. âyeah, i guess iâm trying to be more real these days. not just jokes, yâknow? i, uh⊠iâve got dyslexia. reading long stuff feels like climbing a wall half the time. i usually cover it up with humor, but⊠yeah.â
eunchaeâs eyes soften. âthat must be hard.â
megan shrugs. âeh. dancing helps. makes me feel capable again.â
âthatâs really brave to share,â eunchae says gently.
megan swallows, searching her face. âwhat about you? something real?â
eunchae stirs her soup thoughtfully. âi guess i⊠hate letting people down. i try to meet everyoneâs expectations, and sometimes i lose track of what i actually want. i donât usually admit that.â
megan nods quickly. âthatâs⊠yeah. i get that.â
but the silence after stretches. polite. kind. flat.
from across the cafeteria, you watch, and something sharp twists in your chest.
lara isnât here to make a comment this time. sophia isnât here to soften the edges.
itâs just you, watching meganâs smile falter for half a second before she pastes it back on.
you tell yourself it doesnât matter. you tell yourself you donât care.
but your spoon trembles just slightly in your hand.
â
step 4: ask them out
youâre sitting in the cafeteria with megan, lara, and sophia, and honestly, itâs chaos as usual. trays are half-covered in fries, laraâs stabbing her fork like itâs a weapon, and megan is tapping her pink-streaked bangs against the table like sheâs about to explode.
âalright, so, step four,â you say, trying to sound patient while you shove your notes aside. âthis oneâs about actually asking someone out. the⊠yâknow, date invitation step.â
megan immediately groans, dropping her head into her hands. âoh my god. iâm gonna combust. i canât even say hi to eunchae without sounding like iâve swallowed a bee, and now you expect me to be like, hey, wanna go grab dinner?â
lara snorts, leaning back in her chair. âplease. youâd be lucky if it just sounded like a bee. last time it was more like a goat choking.â
âexcuse youââ megan whips her head up, scandalized, but sophia pats her arm gently before it can escalate.
âno, but laraâs right,â sophia says, soft but mischievous. âyou panic too much. you need practice. real practice.â she glances at you for a second, and you swear thereâs a glint in her eyes like sheâs plotting. âwhat if you went on a practice date first?â
megan blinks. âwith who? i canât exactly bribe some strangerââ
lara smirks, already pointing her fork straight at you. âoh, thatâs easy. yn.â
you choke on your drink. âwhat?â
âwhat,â megan echoes, nearly knocking over her plate.
lara waves her fork like itâs obvious. âcâmon. ynâs organized, she knows the steps, sheâs⊠not terrible companyââ
âwow, thanks,â you deadpan.
ââso it makes sense. sheâll keep you from flopping. also,â lara adds, grinning now, âi wanna see you two go on a fake date. that sounds hilarious.â
sophia swats her arm but doesnât deny it. instead she looks at you, steady and encouraging. âit makes sense though, right? yn already knows what youâre trying to do. if you practice with her, you wonât feel like youâre gonna die in front of eunchae.â
megan turns to you like youâre her lifeline, eyes wide. âwould you⊠actually do that? likeâjust for practice?â
your brain screams no, but your mouth says, âyeah, sure. practice.â
lara claps her hands. âperfect. letâs set it up before either of you chickens out.â
you and megan share a look across the table, both of you trying to play it cool, both failing miserably.
â
you donât know why you said yes.
actually, you do. because lara wouldnât fucking shut up about it.
âif weâre doing practice dates, weâre doing them right,â she declared last night, standing in your doorway like she was about to pitch a pyramid scheme. âa whole day. full girlfriend package.â
you almost slammed the door in her face. âdonât call it that.â
but now itâs saturday afternoon, and youâre regretting every life choice that led you to following megan into an arcade that smells like stale popcorn and broken dreams.
the place is buzzing. neon lights flash, coins clatter, kids scream at machines. meganâs eyes light up like sheâs found her natural habitat.
âholy shit, skee-ball,â she says, already fishing tokens out of her pocket.
âmegan, weâre notââ
âyes we are.â she grabs your wrist, drags you over.
before you can protest, sheâs launching balls like sheâs in the fucking olympics, racking up tickets while you can barely get yours into the ramp.
âthis is rigged,â you mutter as another ball bounces pathetically into the gutter.
ânah, you just suck.â she smirks, her machine spitting out tickets. âdate tip number one: always let the other person win at least once. itâs called generosity.â
âyouâre not letting me win.â
âyeah, but i could. thatâs what counts.â
youâre still grumbling when she drags you to dance dance revolution.
âabsolutely not.â
âabsolutely yes.â coins clink, the screen flashes, and suddenly youâre on the platform as techno music blares.
megan stomps like sheâs performing in front of a stadium. you, meanwhile, look like a malfunctioning pigeon.
sheâs laughing so hard she nearly misses a step. âholy fuck, yn, you dance like youâre trying to summon satan.â
âshut up! iâm trying!â
âtrying to break the machine, maybe!â
you nearly trip off the edge. sheâs howling.
by the time you finally stumble away, sweaty and humiliated, she buys you a consolation soda and shoves a tiny pikachu keychain into your hand.
âfor effort,â she says casually.
you blink. ââŠyou won this?â
âduh. you werenât gonna.â she shrugs, sipping her soda. âdonât make it weird.â
you slip the keychain into your pocket, hiding the way your chest feels weirdly warm.
dinner ends up at a little diner near campus. megan props her chin in her hands, staring at the menu like itâs a math exam.
âwhatâre you getting?â she asks.
âburger, probably. easy.â
âwow. safe choice.â she smirks. âyou donât strike me as a plain burger girl.â
âand what do i strike you as?â
âmmmâŠâ she taps her chin theatrically. âspicy noodles. or like⊠something with way too much cheese.â
âyouâre not wrong,â you admit, and she beams like sheâs won a prize.
the food comes fast, and conversation drifts. she tells you about how she used to sneak into arcades as a kid, you mention how you once beat a rhythm game on expert mode, she groans dramatically again.
âgod, youâre such a nerd.â
âtakes one to know one,â you retort, and she laughs so loud the table behind you turns to stare.
â
back at your dorm, the air feels too still without sophiaâs constant humming in the background. megan barges in like she owns the place, tossing her bag onto the chair and immediately flopping across your bed with the grace of a starfish.
âmovie night,â she declares, muffled into your pillow. âyour bed is comfier than mine. iâm not sorry.â
âyou didnât even ask,â you say, exasperated, but youâre already pulling up the streaming app.
âconsider this⊠my tax for being emotionally traumatized by air hockey,â she says, rolling onto her back with a dramatic sigh.
âyou were the one who suggested it,â you remind her, but she only sticks her tongue out.
you throw a blanket over her face. she squeaks, flails, then yanks it off, glaring. âunnecessary violence! iâm a guest!â
âyouâre impossible,â you mutter, trying not to laugh.
the movie starts, the glow painting the room in shifting blues and golds. megan pulls the blanket around herself like a cape, then gestures for you to sit. âcâmon. floor goblin or couch potato, pick your poison.â
with a resigned sigh, you sit beside her. somehow, the blanket ends up draped over both of you.
at first, itâs easy. the two of you heckle the opening scene, argue over the main characterâs outfit, toss popcorn at each other like children.
âthatâs not how swords work!â megan yells.
âyouâve never even touched a sword,â you shoot back.
âiâve touched chopsticks. same vibe.â
you snort so hard popcorn almost comes out your nose.
half an hour in, though, the noise settles. your laughter tapers into quieter giggles. the blanket shifts, your knees brushing hers. it should mean nothingâjust a crowded dorm bed, just two people sharing space. but the way your pulse jumps makes it feel like the entire world shrank down to this one spot.
at one point, she spills soda on herself, yelps, âbetrayal!â and waves her hands like sheâs been mortally wounded.
âyouâre so dramatic,â you say, grabbing her a hoodie from your closet.
she pulls it on, sniffing the collar. âwow. smells like you.â
your brain short-circuits. âshut up.â
âno, really. comfy.â she burrows into it like a cat. â10/10 would steal again.â
you roll your eyes, but your chest feels too warm, too tight.
the movie keeps playing, but your focus drifts. you notice the way her hair curls slightly at the ends, the way her laugh softens when sheâs not trying to be loud, the way her knee keeps pressing against yours like sheâs forgotten she could move away.
megan leans forward during an intense scene, eyes wide, lips parted. the blanket slips, and without thinking, you tug it back over her shoulders.
she glances at you, a small smile flickering. âthanks.â
simple. ordinary. but it lingers.
âyou know,â she says after a long stretch of silence, âif this was a real date, i think iâd be killing it.â
you raise an eyebrow. âyou spilled soda on yourself.â
âbattle scars,â she says solemnly. âchicks dig âem.â
you snort. âyouâre ridiculous.â
âand yet youâre still here,â she teases, nudging your shoulder.
âonly because this is practice,â you shoot back, but your voice doesnât carry as much bite as it should.
her grin softens into something quieter. âpractice. right.â
the room feels different after that. the jokes donât come as easily. the silence isnât emptyâitâs loaded, heavy in your chest.
on screen, the characters are confessing, music swelling. beside you, megan shifts closer without realizing, her head tilting toward yours.
you turn to make a comment, and suddenly sheâs right there.
her breath brushes your lips. her eyes flick down, then back up, wide and uncertain.
for a suspended heartbeat, the world holds its breath.
this could happen. this almost does happen.
your heart slams against your ribs so loud youâre sure she hears it.
then she jerks back, laughing too loudly. âuhâpopcorn! you, uh, dropped some.â
you blink, dazed. âright. yeah. popcorn.â
the rest of the movie is a blur. neither of you look directly at the screen. every brush of the blanket feels like static, every laugh feels like itâs covering something heavier.
when the credits roll, megan stretches like nothing happened, though her ears are pink. âso, uh. practice date⊠success?â
âsure,â you say, trying to sound casual. âyeah. success.â
âcool. cool cool cool.â she edges toward the door, hoodie still hanging off her shoulders. âgoodnight then.â
âgoodnight.â
the door clicks shut, and you collapse backward onto the bed, heart racing, the smell of popcorn and her shampoo still tangled in the blanket between your fingers.
â
the morning after the movie night feels⊠weird.
you run into megan in the cafeteria. sheâs already at the table with lara and sophia, stirring her cereal with a spoon like sheâs mixing cement. her hoodieâs hood is pulled halfway up, and her pink streaks are sticking out at odd angles.
when her eyes flick up to meet yours, both of you freeze.
âuh,â she says.
âuh,â you echo, because apparently your brain has forgotten every word in the english language.
lara blinks between the two of you. âwhy do you two sound like broken printers?â
âwe donât,â you say too quickly.
âtotally normal,â megan adds, stabbing her cereal so hard milk splashes onto the table.
sophia raises an eyebrow but doesnât comment. instead, she just pops a grape into her mouth and hums like she knows something you donât.
youâre halfway through your food when eunchae walks in. she waves at the group, smile bright.
megan perks up instantly, almost knocking her spoon over. âhey, eunchae!â
your stomach does a weird twist, but you keep your face neutral, biting into your toast.
eunchae slides into the empty seat across from megan. âhey, whatâs up?â
âuhââ megan scratches the back of her neck, then blurts, âdo you⊠wanna go out sometime? like, on a date?â
you choke on your toast.
lara smacks your back helpfully. âsmooth, yn.â
âshut up,â you hiss, face burning.
eunchae tilts her head, then smiles. âsure. iâd like that.â
megan looks like sheâs just won the lottery. âreally? awesome.â
âyay,â you say, forcing a grin that feels plastered on. âgo megan, go. you got this.â your voice cracks halfway through, but you pray no one notices.
megan beams. eunchae beams. and you sip your orange juice like it might drown the strange, heavy ache curling in your chest.
â
the date itself is a nightmare. not for megan, not for eunchaeâoh no, they look perfectly fine, laughing and chatting as they stroll into the arcade. itâs a nightmare for you, because youâre lurking two machines away with a boba tea in hand, trying to look invisible.
âwow, yn, real subtle,â lara had muttered earlier when you admitted you might âjust happen to be there.â sophia had rolled her eyes and muttered something in tagalog that you didnât understand but definitely wasnât flattering.
you stick to the shadows anyway.
meganâs competitive streak kicks in immediately, dragging eunchae toward skee-ball. âokay, iâm warning you, iâm basically a pro at this,â she says.
she proceeds to miss the first three shots. eunchae laughs, covering her mouth, and offers a tip. megan grins sheepishly.
you sip your boba so hard the tapioca pearls nearly choke you.
dinner is worse. they get pizza at the same place you and megan had gone. you sit at a corner table with your drink, pretending to scroll your phone while watching them.
they talk, they smile, they share breadsticks. and you realize youâre not just uncomfortableâyouâre jealous. bitterly, painfully jealous.
you hate how natural megan looks leaning across the table. you hate how she lights up at eunchaeâs stories. you hate that someone else gets to see her like this.
halfway through the meal, you canât take it anymore. you toss your empty cup, shove your hands into your pockets, and leave.
meganâs eyes flick toward the door as you walk out, but she doesnât move.
the rest of the date plays out fineâpizza, laughter, a stroll under streetlights. but for megan, something feels⊠off. she canât shake the hollowness, the nagging thought that itâs fun, itâs nice, but itâs not sparking. not the way it did when she was yelling about popcorn with you the night before.
when eunchae says goodnight, megan smiles, thanks her, but her headâs somewhere else.
â
youâre curled up on your bed when the door bangs open and megan storms in like she owns the place. sheâs flushed from the night air, hair frizzed around her face, pink streak catching the light. she doesnât even hesitateâjust slams the door shut behind her and plants herself in the middle of your dorm like sheâs about to demand rent.
âhey,â she says, voice breathless but sharp.
you donât look up from the book in your lap. âhey.â flat. clipped. a shield of a word.
she crosses her arms. âyou left.â
âyeah.â you flick a page you havenât read. âi was tired.â
âdonât give me that.â her tone cuts through the room. âyou didnât even say goodbye. you justâvanished.â
âyou were busy.â
âso?â she takes a step closer, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the tile. âyou couldâve tapped me on the shoulder, said, âhey, iâm going.â thatâs what normal people do, yn.â
your jaw tightens. âmaybe iâm not normal.â
she blinks. âwhat the hell is that supposed to mean?â
âit meansââ you slam the book shut, the sound ricocheting between the walls. ââmaybe i donât make sense to you. maybe thatâs just how it is.â
her mouth opens, then snaps shut, frustration flaring across her face. âno, no, donât do that cryptic bullshit with me. iâm not a mind reader. if somethingâs wrong, just say it.â
you throw the book onto your desk, the pages fluttering open. âwhat do you want me to say, megan? that i didnât feel like third-wheeling your little romcom with eunchae? that maybe watching you smile across a table with someone else felt likeââ you cut yourself off, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek. the words you donât want spilling out are pressing hot and heavy at the back of your throat.
megan stares, eyes narrowing, trying to piece you together. âfelt like what?â
you shake your head, forcing your voice cold. âforget it.â
her hands fly up, exasperated. âgod, youâre impossible sometimes! you shut me out and then act like iâm the one not trying.â
âmaybe you arenât trying hard enough!â the words leap out before you can stop them, raw and jagged.
her mouth falls open. the silence that follows is deafening.
you swallow, guilt twisting in your gut, but your pride wonât let you take it back. âjust drop it, okay? i donât wanna do this right now.â
meganâs jaw clenches. her eyes shine, hurt and confusion flashing beneath the anger. âfine. whatever.â
she turns on her heel and yanks the door open. the slam rattles the walls, and then sheâs gone, leaving nothing but the echo and the ragged pounding of your own heartbeat.
you sit frozen, every nerve buzzing, every unsaid word pressing like glass shards against your chest. you press your palms to your face, but it doesnât stop the sting or the hollow ache spreading through you.
the dorm feels too quiet. too empty. and for the first time in a long time, you feel small.
â
the morning after feels like sandpaper against your skin. your alarm shrieks at 8:00, but youâve already been awake for an hour, staring at the ceiling and replaying every word from last night until they blur together like static.
meganâs voice, sharp and hurt.
your own, sharper and meaner.
the door slam.
you drag yourself out of bed anyway, hair a mess, hoodie half-zipped, the weight of exhaustion clinging like fog.
sophiaâs already up, perched at her desk, humming softly while brushing her hair. when she catches sight of you, her humming stops. her brows pinch together.
âyou look like someone ran you over,â she says, voice gentle, but the words land like a motherâs scolding.
âthanks,â you mutter, grabbing your toothbrush.
âyn.â she swivels in her chair, crossing her arms. âwant to talk about why youâre radiating doom energy this early?â
you freeze at the doorway, toothbrush in hand, debating whether to lie. âjust⊠tired.â
sophia raises an eyebrow. âtired, or the kind of tired where you fought with megan and now youâre spiraling?â
your stomach knots. you glare weakly. âdo you have to be so psychic?â
she smirks, but itâs soft around the edges. âiâm not psychic. i just know you. and youâve got that post-fight slump face.â
before you can respond, the door creaks open again, and lara strolls in like she owns the place. burgundy hair shining, oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder. she has a coffee cup in one hand and pure judgment in her eyes.
âwell, well, well,â she drawls, leaning against the doorframe. âif it isnât the ghost of bad decisions past.â
you groan. ânot you too.â
lara sips her coffee loudly, savoring the moment. âsophia texted me. said you were brooding like a victorian widow. i had to see it for myself.â
sophia swats her lightly. âstop being dramatic.â
âme? dramatic? never.â lara plops onto your bed without permission, kicking her shoes off. âso. you and meg had a blowout?â
âit wasnât a blowout,â you snap, then sigh. âokay, maybe it was. a little.â
lara tilts her head, assessing. âwhatâd you do? call her an idiot? she can take that. tell her sheâs bad at dancing? unforgivable.â
you bury your face in your hands. âi just⊠snapped. she asked why i left last night, and i couldnât explain withoutâŠâ your throat tightens. ââŠwithout saying too much.â
sophiaâs gaze softens. âso you pushed her away instead.â
you nod, the weight of it pressing harder.
lara leans back, exhaling. âlook, i get it. feelings are messy, terrifying, all that shit. but bottling them up until you explode? classic yn move. and now megâs probably pacing her dorm like a golden retriever who lost her ball.â
that earns a faint laugh out of you, though itâs bitter at the edges. âgreat. i made her miserable.â
âand yourself.â sophiaâs tone is gentle, not accusing.
you slump against your desk, forehead pressed to the cool surface. âi donât know how to fix it.â
âstart by talking to her,â sophia says. ânot cryptic riddles, not sarcasm. just⊠talk.â
lara nudges your shoulder. âand for the love of god, donât run away next time she looks at you like you hung the moon.â
your head snaps up. âshe does notââ
lara grins. âuh-huh.â
sophia smiles knowingly, not saying a word, but the look in her eyes tells you she agrees.
you groan again, grabbing a pillow to smother yourself. the sound of your friendsâ laughter fills the dorm, warm and grounding. but under it all, the ache in your chest lingers, sharp and unrelenting.
you donât even get the chance to wallow. lara steals your pillow after your half-hearted attempt to suffocate yourself, and sophia claps her hands like a kindergarten teacher.
âup,â sophia orders. âweâre going to breakfast.â
âiâm not hungry,â you mumble, trying to wrestle your pillow back from lara, whoâs now hugging it like a prize.
lara smirks. âbullshit. youâre always hungry. you sulk better with pancakes anyway.â
âseriously, i justââ
ânope.â sophia cuts you off, already grabbing her purse. âyou havenât had coffee, your face looks like death, and if i let you sit here, youâll spiral so hard youâll start writing sad poetry. weâre not doing that.â
âyeah,â lara says, hopping off your bed. âweâre doing carbs and intervention.â
you groan, but theyâre immovable forces. before you know it, youâre trudging out the door sandwiched between them, hair messy, hoodie zipped all the way up. sophiaâs arm is linked with yours, warm and steady, while lara walks a half-step ahead, tossing back commentary like sheâs narrating a reality show.
the campus café buzzes with early chatter, the smell of butter and syrup thick in the air. sophia corrals you into a booth by the window, shoving a menu in your hands. lara immediately steals it.
âyouâre not allowed to pick,â she says, scanning. âyouâll order something depressing like plain toast.â
âtoast isnât depressing,â you mutter.
âit is if thatâs your whole meal,â lara shoots back. âyouâre getting waffles. extra whipped cream. i donât make the rules.â
sophia flags down a waiter with the calm precision of someone who always knows what she wants. âthree coffees. two waffles, one omelet. thank you.â
you blink at her. âwhat if i didnât wantââ
âyou wanted,â she says, sipping her water. âtrust me.â
when the food arrives, the table fills with the kind of chaos only the three of you can manage: lara stealing your bacon, sophia sliding a protein bar across the table âjust in case,â and you swatting at both of them like itâll make a difference.
âso,â lara says around a mouthful of waffle. âwhatâs the game plan with meg?â
your fork freezes mid-air. âwhat do you mean?â
sophia leans in, eyes kind but unwavering. âyn. you two fought. sheâs probably hurting. and you⊠well, youâre obviously hurting too.â
âiâll survive,â you mutter.
lara snorts. âyeah, but surviving isnât the same as fixing it.â
you frown at your plate, pushing syrup around with your fork. âi donât even know what to say to her.â
âstart with sorry,â sophia suggests. âthen maybe⊠honest words? youâre good with words when you let yourself be.â
lara smirks. âor just send her a meme. nothing says âolive branchâ like a cursed cat picture.â
you roll your eyes, but a tiny laugh escapes before you can stop it. âyeah, real mature.â
âhey, it works,â lara insists. âlow-stakes, opens the door. then you can actually talk.â
sophia tilts her head, watching you carefully. âshe means a lot to you, doesnât she?â
the question lands heavy in your chest. you donât answer right away, instead stabbing at your waffle like itâs to blame for everything. âsheâs⊠sheâs my friend.â the word feels too small, too flimsy, but itâs the only one you can manage.
lara and sophia exchange a look you pointedly ignore.
âtext her,â sophia says softly, sliding your phone across the table. âjust⊠something. let her know youâre here.â
you stare at the screen, Meganâs name sitting at the top of your messages like itâs waiting. your thumb hovers, heart pounding.
lara leans back, arms crossed. âdo it. or iâll draft something myself and itâll be way worse.â
you glare. âyou wouldnât.â
âtry me.â she grins, all teeth.
a beat of silence. then, with a resigned sigh, you type out something small, neutral, stupidly safe: hey. hope you got home okay. you hit send before you can second-guess yourself.
sophia smiles, warm and approving. âsee? not so bad.â
but as you shove another bite of waffle into your mouth, the weight in your chest doesnât lighten. if anything, it presses heavier, because you know one small text isnât enoughânot when what you really want to say is clawing at the edges of your throat.
â
megan had been stabbing at her muffin for ten minutes before lara finally said something about it.
âjesus christ, meg, what did that muffin ever do to you?â
megan blinked, snapping back to the present. the fork in her hand was bent at an odd angle, crumbs scattered across the plastic tray like debris after a storm. she hadnât even tasted the thing.
ânothing,â she muttered, dropping the fork. âi justâiâm not hungry.â
lara leaned back in her chair, balancing it precariously on two legs, eyes glittering with mischief. âyou look like a cartoon villain plotting world domination over baked goods.â
âiâm fine.â
âliar,â lara sing-songed.
sophia, ever the calmer presence, sipped her coffee and gave lara a pointed look. âstop teasing her.â then, more gently to megan, âsweetheart, youâre clearly not fine. whatâs going on?â
megan pressed her palms against her thighs, trying to ground herself. the cafeteria buzzed around them â students laughing, trays clattering, the sharp hiss of the coffee machine. it shouldâve been background noise, but everything felt too loud, pressing in on her from all sides.
she wanted to say nothing. she wanted to swallow it down like she always did. but the weight of last night â the almost-kiss with yn, the way it had thrown her entire axis off balance â was still too fresh, too raw.
her mouth opened, then closed again.
laraâs smirk widened. âohhh. this is about yn, isnât it?â
meganâs head snapped up, heat flooding her cheeks. âno!â
the denial was too sharp, too fast, and both lara and sophia knew it.
lara slapped her hand dramatically on the table. âguilty!â
sophia sighed. âlara, donâtââ
âno, no, listen.â lara leaned forward, chair clattering back onto four legs. âsheâs got that look. the i-almost-did-something-stupid look. am i right?â
megan groaned and dropped her forehead to the table, muffled. âi hate both of you.â
âno you donât,â lara said cheerfully, plucking a crumb off meganâs tray. âmmm. angst-flavored carbs. delicious.â
sophia rubbed small circles on meganâs back, voice soft. âweâre not trying to make you feel bad. but, honey, avoiding it isnât going to make it disappear.â
megan forced herself upright, crossing her arms. âyou guys donât understand. i canâtâI canât screw this up. so⊠iâm going to ask eunchae out again.â
that shut both of them up.
sophia blinked. âiâm sorry, what?â
lara gawked. âthatâs your solution? really?â
megan bristled. âsheâs nice. sheâs safe.â
lara smacked her forehead. âsafe? meg, you donât pick a date like youâre picking insurance coverage.â
âyou donât get it,â megan muttered, suddenly very interested in a crack in the table.
sophiaâs tone sharpened, though it was still kind. âyou donât need safe. you need honest.â
before megan could reply, the cafeteria doors swung open, and eunchae walked in, sunlight spilling in behind her. she looked effortless, easy smile as she scanned the room. meganâs stomach dropped.
lara muttered under her breath, âoh, perfect timing.â
meganâs pulse pounded. she stood too fast, chair screeching across the floor. âuhâhey, eunchae!â
eunchaeâs eyes found hers, surprised but pleased. âoh, hey, megan.â
lara and sophia both looked like theyâd just been handed front-row seats to a slow-motion car crash.
meganâs throat felt dry. âdo you, uh⊠want to go out again? likeâanother date?â
lara fake-coughed, âsmooth,â earning herself a sharp elbow from sophia.
eunchae blinked, then gave a soft smile. âoh. um, sure. yeah, iâd like that.â
meganâs heart jumped, relief loosening her chest. âgreat! awesome. yeah.â
lara groaned audibly. sophia pinched the bridge of her nose.
megan ignored both.
â
the park was alive with weekend noise. kids chased each other down winding paths, couples sprawled on picnic blankets, dogs darted after frisbees. megan and eunchae found a bench under the shade of a sprawling tree, a shared bag of chips between them.
they laughed about nothing at first â professors who wore too much cologne, classmates who talked too loud, the time megan tripped on the practice room stairs and tried to style it out like a dance move. it was easy.
and that was the problem.
megan kept waiting for that little spark, that electric pull sheâd read about in bad romance novels. but instead, there was just⊠quiet comfort. nice. safe. like talking to a friend she respected.
eunchae brushed crumbs off her lap. âso. what kind of people do you usually like?â
megan chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her neck. âuh⊠chaotic, apparently.â
eunchae laughed. âthat tracks.â
âand you?â
âpeople who make me laugh without trying,â eunchae said, smiling warmly at her. âpeople who feel comfortable. like you.â
megan shouldâve felt something then. shouldâve felt her pulse quicken, shouldâve lost her words. instead, she just smiled weakly and felt the hollowness in her chest widen.
they let the silence stretch.
finally, eunchae tilted her head. âmegan. are you okay?â
megan sighed, shoulders sagging. âhonestly? i donât know. i thought this was what i wanted. practice. butâŠâ
âbut?â
the words came out before she could stop them. âiâve been getting help. from yn. sheâs been coaching me through all this.â
eunchaeâs brows lifted. âoh. really?â
âyeah. sheâsââ meganâs throat tightened. âsheâs incredible. patient. funny. smart. just⊠yn.â
there it was, plain as day. the way her chest ached just saying your name.
eunchae studied her for a moment, then gave a small, knowing smile. âso⊠you donât feel a spark with me, do you?â
megan winced. ââŠiâm sorry.â
âdonât be.â eunchae shook her head. âi kind of figured.â
megan blinked. âyou did?â
âthe way you look at her? the way she looks at you? itâs obvious.â
heat rushed to meganâs cheeks. âit is?â
âpainfully,â eunchae said with a soft laugh. âbut thatâs not a bad thing. it just means you already know who makes you light up. itâs not me. and thatâs okay.â
meganâs throat tightened, words breaking. âyouâre⊠way too nice about this.â
ânah.â eunchae smiled, gentle as ever. âi just know when to step aside. you should tell her, megan. before itâs too late.â
meganâs chest felt heavy and light all at once. âthank you. seriously.â
âgo get your girl,â eunchae said, rising from the bench with a little wave.
megan watched her go, heart hammering, eunchaeâs words echoing in her head.
the night after that, megan didnât sleep well. she tossed, she turned, she stared at the ceiling until the shapes in the plaster swirled into nonsense. every time she shut her eyes she saw eunchaeâs face, kind but firm, the words replaying like a drumbeat. go get your girl. it shouldâve felt like encouragement, like a green light. instead it weighed on her chest, a reminder that everyone seemed to know what she hadnât dared say out loud.
by morning she was a mess. hair sticking out in too many directions, shirt wrinkled from falling asleep on top of it, under-eye circles dark enough to pass for war paint. she shuffled into the cafeteria with her tray, scanning for familiar faces, and spotted lara and sophia at their usual corner table.
lara spotted her first. she let out a low whistle and clapped once. âlook alive, skiendiel. you look like you just wrestled a raccoon for dumpster rights.â
âshut up,â megan mumbled, dropping her tray with a clatter and collapsing into the chair beside them.
sophia took one look at her and slid her own coffee cup across the table. âdrink this before lara makes it worse.â
lara leaned her chin in her hand, grinning. âmegan, honey, i donât think anything can make this worse. unless you tell me you actually confessed last night and yn laughed in your face. did that happen?â
âno,â megan snapped, then immediately deflated. âbut it might as well have. eunchae knows. she told me to tell yn before itâs too late.â
sophia raised her brows. âoh.â
lara let out a bark of laughter loud enough to make the table behind them turn. âyou mean she gave you the âgo get your girlâ speech? iconic.â
âitâs not iconic,â megan groaned, dragging her hands down her face. âitâs humiliating. iâve been stringing eunchae along whileâwhileââ
âwhile youâve been pining for yn like a sad victorian poet,â lara supplied.
âiâm notââ megan started, then stopped. because she was. oh god, she was.
sophia gave her that soft look, the one that always made megan feel both seen and unbearably vulnerable. âitâs not humiliating, love. eunchae was honest with you. she gave you space to be honest with yourself.â
âi donât want to talk about it,â megan muttered, stabbing her fork into the eggs she didnât want to eat.
lara plucked a piece of toast from meganâs tray, unconcerned. âcool. then letâs talk strategy.â
meganâs head shot up. âstrategy?â
âyeah, genius,â lara said around a mouthful of toast. âconfession strategy. the big plan. the dramatic moment where you bare your soul and yn finally realizes sheâs been in love with you the whole timeââ
âlara,â sophia warned.
âwhat? iâm just saying, if this were a k-drama, weâd be two episodes away from the finale kiss.â
megan groaned so hard her head thunked onto the table. âkill me.â
ânope.â lara kicked her under the table. âyou donât get to die until you confess. those are the rules.â
sophia slid the coffee back toward her. âmegan. drink.â
she did, mostly to hide behind the cup. it burned her tongue but she didnât care.
lara leaned back, smug. âso, step one: you stop acting like ynâs a plague victim you need to quarantine yourself from. step two: you find the right moment. not too crowded, not too quiet. somewhere she feels comfortable.â
megan lifted her head, skeptical. âand where would that be?â
sophiaâs lips curved. âher dorm. her safe space. or maybe a walk. she likes parks.â
âoh my god,â megan muttered. âyou two are literally plotting this like an ambush.â
lara shrugged. âbetter than watching you mope yourself into a tragic folk song.â
megan chewed her lip, staring at her plate. the thought of confessing made her stomach churn, but the thought of not confessing made something else twist tighter. eunchae had been right â she couldnât keep circling forever.
sophia tilted her head, studying her. âwhatâs the worst that could happen?â
megan laughed, sharp and humorless. âuh, rejection? ruining everything? making her hate me?â
âor,â sophia countered gently, âthe best thing could happen. you just donât know until you try.â
lara snapped her fingers. âexactly. this is like ripping off a bandaid. except the bandaid is your entire chest cavity.â
âthanks, lara,â megan muttered.
but despite herself, she could feel something shifting. a slow, reluctant crack in the wall sheâd been bricking up around her feelings. eunchaeâs kindness, laraâs teasing, sophiaâs quiet support â it all pressed in on her until the thought sheâd been trying to avoid was suddenly impossible to ignore.
she liked yn. not in the abstract, not in a maybe-kind-of way. she liked her. wanted her. cared about her in a way that made her both exhilarated and sick with nerves.
and now everyone knew.
lara saw the look on her face and smirked, victorious. âthere it is. the dawning horror of realization. welcome to the club, meg.â
âwhat club?â
âthe club of idiots in love,â lara said cheerfully. âmembershipâs free, but the emotional damage is permanent.â
sophia rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. âignore her. youâre doing fine. just take it one step at a time.â
megan let her head fall back with a groan, but for the first time the noise carried a thread of laughter too. âiâm doomed.â
lara leaned across the table, stealing another piece of toast. âyep. gloriously doomed. but donât worry â weâll make sure your downfall is at least entertaining.â
megan didnât know if she was ready. didnât know if she ever would be. but with her friends flanking her, teasing and scheming and pushing her forward, she felt something like courage start to stir beneath the nerves.
she still had to face yn. still had to open her mouth and say the words that had been strangling her for weeks. but maybe â just maybe â she wasnât as alone in this as she thought.
and that was enough to keep her sitting there, sipping burnt coffee and listening to lara and sophia argue over confession venues like two event planners on a deadline, her heart racing with something terrifyingly close to hope.
â
you hate mornings. not because of the sunlight through the dorm window or the alarm that always rings too early, but because mornings are quiet. quiet means thinking. and thinking means megan.
itâs pathetic, you tell yourself. itâs been days since the almost-kiss, days since the fight, and still she lingers in your chest like a bruise you canât stop pressing. every time you catch yourself replaying the way her laugh slid under your skin or the way her hand brushed yours, you shake your head and bury yourself in homework. as if grades will save you from feelings.
danielleâs voice creeps in sometimes, sharp and cold. robot. no feelings. you grind your teeth against it, because you know itâs not true. if you were really heartless, you wouldnât ache like this. you wouldnât miss someone who drives you absolutely insane.
you tell yourself you donât miss megan. you just⊠miss having someone to banter with. anyone would leave a silence behind if they were loud enough, bright enough. thatâs all it is.
sophia doesnât buy it. she comes back from class one afternoon, drops her bag, and fixes you with that too-gentle look that makes you want to hide under the desk. âyouâve been moping.â
âi donât mope,â you say flatly, not looking up from your laptop.
âyou definitely mope,â she counters, pulling a protein bar from her never-ending purse and tossing it at you. âeat. and stop pretending you donât miss her.â
you catch the bar, scowling. âi donâtââ
âyes, you do,â sophia interrupts, with the ease of someone whoâs already decided sheâs right.
before you can argue, the door bangs open and lara strolls in uninvited, as usual. âjesus, this roomâs depressing. whatâd i miss?â
âyn denying she misses megan,â sophia supplies.
lara smirks, leaning against the wall. âclassic. you know, for a valedictorian type, youâre pretty dumb sometimes.â
âdonât call me that,â you snap automatically, heat rushing to your face.
lara raises her hands in mock surrender. âfine, fine. smartypants, then. point is, you look like death warmed over. and not in your usual tired-but-pretty way.â
you want to tell them both to shut up. you want to say you donât care. but your throat burns, traitorously tight, and you canât make the words come out.
sophia sighs and pats your knee. âcome to breakfast tomorrow. both of us. no excuses. you need air.â
you start to protest, but lara cuts in with a wicked grin. âyeah, câmon. maybe meganâll be there.â
your stomach drops. you glare at her. âthatâs not funny.â
âoh, itâs hilarious,â lara says. âbut fine, iâll shut up. just⊠stop sulking like a victorian widow, yeah?â
the next morning they drag you out anyway. you shuffle into the cafeteria between them, head down, tray clutched like a shield. the place hums with chatter, too bright, too loud.
and then you see her.
megan, at a table across the room, hair pulled into a messy bun with those pink streaks slipping loose. laughing at something lara mustâve said yesterday, shoulders loose in a way that twists something in your chest. she hasnât seen you yet, and for a split second you consider bolting.
but sophiaâs hand rests lightly at your back, steady. lara mutters, âdonât you dare,â and nudges you forward.
megan looks up. her smile falters when she sees you, just for a second, then itâs back in place â too quick, too careful.
you force yourself to wave. âhey.â
âhey,â she says, and her voice wobbles like a radio station just out of tune.
lara mutters something about needing more coffee and vanishes with sophia in tow, leaving you both standing there, alone in the hum of the cafeteria.
you clear your throat. âmind if i sit?â
âno, yeah, sure,â megan says, shifting her tray like itâs suddenly too small.
the silence stretches, brittle. you stab at your eggs just to have something to do with your hands.
finally, megan exhales. âiâm sorry.â
you blink. âwhat?â
âabout the fight,â she says, eyes on her plate. âi didnât mean to⊠i donât know. i didnât mean for it to go like that.â
your chest loosens, just a little. âme neither.â
she risks a glance up, and for a moment itâs like nothing cracked at all. just you and her, trading apologies over bad cafeteria food, the world pressing in close but not close enough to break it.
you want to say you missed her. you want to say it so badly your tongue aches with it. instead you settle for, âtruce?â
her grin blooms, lopsided and warm. âtruce.â
the rest of breakfast hums along easier, small jokes and clumsy stumbles back into familiar rhythms. not perfect. not healed. but something like a start.
and you try â really try â not to wonder if maybe this is what danielle was wrong about. maybe you do feel. too much, even. maybe meganâs the proof.
â
step 5: confess
breakfast ends too quickly. you tell yourself youâre relieved â that itâs better to retreat now, while things are tentative, while the threads are only just being mended. but when megan stands and brushes crumbs from her jeans, you feel a hollow tug at your chest.
âyou, uh,â she says, shifting her tray from one hand to the other. âyou free? i was thinking⊠maybe we could walk for a bit.â
your instinct is to say no. safer to keep things short, controlled. but the way her eyes flick away, the nervous curl of her fingers against the plastic tray, makes something in you soften. so you nod.
the air outside is crisp, sunlight muted behind soft clouds. you walk side by side, not touching, the space between you humming like static. itâs easier to start with small things â the new professor lara hates, sophiaâs habit of humming off-key when sheâs concentrating. slowly, cautiously, you trade little pieces of normalcy, like bricks rebuilt one at a time.
âi missed this,â megan admits finally, her voice quiet but steady.
you glance at her, startled. sheâs staring straight ahead, hands in her pockets.
âme too,â you say, almost a whisper.
the silence after is heavy, but not unbearable. you carry it down the path, through the faint crunch of gravel and the laughter of distant students.
eventually, you end up at the park. the same one youâd crossed a hundred times before, but today it feels different, charged. you sit on the bench, her close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off her shoulder.
she kicks at the grass with the toe of her shoe, not quite looking at you. âhey, can i ask you something?â
âsure.â
âback when you were⊠coaching me.â her lips twitch, like sheâs half embarrassed to even say it. âyou walked me through all those steps. confidence, honesty, vulnerabilityâŠâ she trails off, chewing her lip. âbut you never said what the last one was. the final step.â
you answer almost without thinking. âconfession,â you tell her. âitâs confession.â the word leaves your mouth softer than you expect, like itâs heavier than it should be.
she goes still beside you. the faint sounds of the park â someone laughing in the distance, the rustle of leaves in the breeze â feel miles away compared to the quiet between the two of you.
âconfession,â she repeats, like sheâs testing how it feels on her tongue. âthatâs what i thought.â
you shift on the bench, suddenly aware of how close your knees are to hers. your pulse is thrumming in your throat. âyeah. itâs⊠itâs the hardest step.â
megan looks at you then, really looks, and itâs so raw you almost flinch. her voice comes low, steady but shaking at the edges. âthen i guess itâs my turn.â
you freeze. your hands tighten in your lap. âwhat do you meanââ
âi meanâŠâ she lets out a breath like sheâs been holding it for weeks. âi like you. not eunchae. not anyone else. you. itâs been you the whole time, and i justââ she breaks off, shoving her hand through her hair, the pink streak catching the dim light. âi canât keep pretending itâs not.â
the air feels thinner, like thereâs not enough oxygen for your lungs. you stare at her, every muscle in your body tense, but your brain wonât catch up.
âmeganâŠâ your voice cracks, and you hate it, hate how weak it sounds.
she keeps going anyway, rushing now, afraid youâll cut her off. âi thought maybe it was just because you were helping me, you know? like, practice stuff, all these steps, the way youâre always so patient with me. i thought i was just clinging. but itâs not just that. itâsââ her breath hitches. âitâs the way i canât stop wanting to tell you things. the way i look for you when i walk into a room. the way my chestââ she presses her fist against it, helpless â âfeels like itâs gonna burst if you smile at me for more than five seconds.â
your throat is dry, your nails digging crescents into your palms. you want to tell her to stop, you want her to keep going forever.
âmegan, you donâtââ
âi do,â she cuts in, sharp but not unkind. âi do. i like you, yn. i like you so much itâs scaring the hell out of me.â
her words hit you like stones skipping over a lake, ripples spreading through every nerve in your body. you think about nj, about that night you followed them on their date like an idiot, boba cup sweating in your hand. the twist in your stomach when megan laughed at something nj said. the ache you told yourself was nothing.
you want to tell her sheâs wrong, that sheâs confused, that itâs just because youâve been spending so much time together. but your chest betrays you, too tight, too warm, too desperate.
she leans forward slightly, voice barely above a whisper now. âsay something. please.â
your silence stretches. her face crumples just slightly, like sheâs bracing herself for rejection, like she already regrets letting it out.
your silence stretches too long, heavy enough that meganâs eyes flick down, like she canât hold your gaze anymore. her shoulders hunch the slightest bit, and you can see it â the exact moment she starts preparing herself for you to push her away.
and something in you just breaks.
you donât think. you donât plan. you just reach out, fingers curling in the fabric of her sleeve, tugging her toward you before your brain can scream about consequences.
the kiss collides, awkward at first â too sudden, too desperate â but itâs warm. grounding. her breath hitches against your mouth, a startled sound that turns into the softest hum as she leans into you.
itâs not fireworks. itâs not an explosion. itâs something deeper, slower, like finally letting go of a breath youâve been holding since forever.
her hand comes up, tentative, brushing your jaw like sheâs afraid youâll vanish if she touches you too hard.
your fingers are trembling when you tug her closer, so much that you half-expect her to laugh, but she doesnât. she stumbles forward, eyes wide, and then her lips brush yours. itâs clumsy, half an accident, half a prayer, but your whole body feels like itâs been shocked awake.
she tastes faintly of peach boba and mint gum, sweet and sharp all at once. her breath shudders against your mouth, warm and uneven, and you feel the corner of her lips curl like she almost smiled mid-kiss.
her hand hovers, unsure, before settling lightly against your jaw. sheâs so careful it nearly undoes you â like sheâs terrified youâll pull away, even though youâre the one who started this. your heartbeat slams against your ribs, every nerve screaming donât let go.
you lean in again, slower this time, less panic and more ache. your noses bump clumsily, her hair tickling your cheek, but you donât care. her lips are soft, pliant, and when she sighs into you it feels like sheâs exhaling straight into your bones.
your other hand fists in her sleeve like youâre drowning, and she inches closer, closing the sliver of space between you until youâre chest-to-chest. her warmth seeps through your shirt, grounding, dizzying, like youâve been cold for years and only just remembered what heat feels like.
when you finally break apart, the air feels too thin. she stays close, her forehead resting against yours, her breath shaky but steadying. her lashes flutter, and you catch the faint scatter of freckles across her nose, the way her pink streak has slipped loose and tickles her cheek.
youâre breathing too hard, every inhale catching on the lump in your throat. âiâfuck,â you choke out, words tangled and messy, âi like you too. iâve been trying so hard not to, but i do. i really do.â
she blinks, eyes glossy in the low light, mouth parted like sheâs afraid to believe it. âyouâwait. you mean that? youâre not justâthis isnât part of the practice?â
you huff out a weak, breathless laugh, still clinging to her sleeve. âdo you think iâd kiss you for practice?â
that pulls a laugh out of her, raw and broken, and it vibrates against your skin where her forehead presses to yours. her hand shifts from your jaw to cup your cheek fully now, thumb stroking like sheâs memorizing the shape of you.
you close your eyes and let yourself lean into it, the warmth of her palm, the salt-sweet taste still on your lips, the way your laughter keeps breaking through the tension like it doesnât know where else to go.
itâs not a perfect kiss, not the kind in movies. itâs better. itâs messy and grounding and filled with everything youâve been swallowing down for weeks.
and when you open your eyes again, sheâs still there. still looking at you like youâre not a disaster. like maybe sheâs been waiting for this too.
â
your fingers donât let go of hers even after the kiss ends. itâs stupid, really â your palms are clammy, youâre hyperaware of every brush of her thumb against yours, and yet you canât bring yourself to pull away. the night air is cool, brushing over your skin, but the warmth of her hand is enough to ground you.
you both walk in silence at first, footsteps syncopating against the pavement. you try not to trip on your own heartbeat, but your brain is too loud â replaying her laugh, her lips, the way she touched your cheek so gently you almost crumbled.
she squeezes your hand once, tentative, like sheâs asking if this is still okay. and you squeeze back, a quiet yes you donât trust your voice to carry.
by the time you reach your dorm, your stomach is in knots. youâre not ready to let go, not ready to walk into the real world where people might notice. except, of course, the universe doesnât give you that choice.
because when you push open the door, sophiaâs there on her bed with a face mask on, scrolling her phone, and laraâs sprawled in your desk chair, chewing on a pack of pocky like she owns the place.
both their heads snap up at the same time. their eyes drop straight to your intertwined hands.
âohhh,â lara drags out, grinning so wide itâs borderline feral. âwould you look at that.â
sophiaâs jaw drops, her mask crinkling. âno. no way. iâm hallucinating.â she sits up so fast the sheet mask almost slips off. âyou twoââ she points between you and megan like sheâs conducting an orchestra. âholding hands. in public. oh my god.â
your face heats instantly. âitâsâitâs notââ
âitâs not what?â lara cuts in, leaning forward with a wolfish grin. ânot you two finally stopping the whole will-they-wonât-they? because iâve been suffering through this slow burn for weeks.â
megan, instead of defending you, has the audacity to snort. âslow burn? really? you make it sound like weâre in some kind of tumblr fanfic.â
âbabe,â lara says, popping the pocky stick out of her mouth with a snap, âyou literally are.â
sophia claps her hands together like sheâs officiating a wedding. âthis is historic. monumental. iâm writing it down in my planner.â she digs through her endless purse, pulling out a pen and a tiny notebook like sheâs dead serious.
âsophia, donât you dare,â you groan, trying to untangle your hand from meganâs. but megan holds on, her grip tightening just a little, smug smile playing on her lips like sheâs enjoying this too much.
âoh, no, no, no,â sophia teases, scribbling furiously. âthe official date of yn and megan finally holding hands: today. whatâs the time? 9:47? yeah, iâm putting it down.â
âyou guys are impossible,â you mutter, sinking into the nearest chair and covering your face with your free hand. megan sits next to you, still holding tight, and leans back casually like sheâs completely unbothered.
âi think itâs cute,â she says, eyes sparkling. âtheyâre just happy for us.â
âus?â lara repeats, pouncing on the word. âohhh, did she just say us? like plural, like a couple, like dating?â sheâs practically vibrating, her grin wide enough to split her face.
you peek at megan through your fingers. she just shrugs, cheeks a little pink but smile unwavering. âmaybe i did.â
sophia squeals so loud youâre pretty sure the RA heard.
â
you donât notice her at first.
itâs just another late morning in the cafeteria, the kind where the fluorescent lights feel a little too bright and the smell of burnt coffee clings to your clothes. youâre at your usual spot by the window, megan pressed up against your side like sheâs made a permanent home there. sheâs picking the raisins out of her cinnamon bagel and dumping them onto your plate without asking, and you let her, because secretly you donât mind.
laraâs across from you, elbows on the table, mid-rant about her econ professor being âa capitalist devil who hates joy.â sophiaâs next to her, sipping from a water bottle so huge it could double as a weapon, nodding along with patient mom energy.
itâs normal. warm. a rhythm youâve slipped into so easily you donât even realize how much you missed it until you had it.
then, a ripple.
megan stiffens first. her hand freezes halfway to her mouth, bagel forgotten. laraâs eyes narrow, sharp like sheâs spotted prey. sophiaâs lips purse, her straw bending as she stops mid-sip.
you follow their gaze, slow, reluctant.
and there she is.
danielle.
her hairâs shorter than you remember, blunt cut brushing her jaw. sheâs got a new girl with her â tall, effortlessly stylish, the kind of person who looks like she walked out of a magazine spread. theyâre holding hands, laughing at something you canât hear. danielle looks⊠different. softer in some ways. but when her eyes skim the room and land on you, that softness vanishes.
the glance she gives isnât sarcastic, isnât smug. itâs worse. itâs that quick, dismissive look people use when they see something theyâd rather not acknowledge. like youâre inconvenient. like youâre a reminder of something sheâd prefer stayed buried.
you feel it in your chest, sharp and small.
megan notices instantly. her hand finds yours under the table, squeezes. not asking, not pushing â just there. solid. grounding.
lara lets out a low whistle. âwell, well, well. if it isnât the ex who called you a heartless bitch.â her tone drips acid.
sophia kicks her under the table. âlara.â
âwhat?â lara snaps, not taking her eyes off danielle. âshe deserves to be reminded. ynâs not a robot, sheâsââ
âlara.â sophiaâs voice is sharper this time, rare enough that it makes lara pause. âdonât. not here.â
but the damage is done â megan bristles, eyes flicking between you and danielle like sheâs calculating. you squeeze her hand back before she can do something reckless.
âitâs fine,â you say, quieter than you mean to. âreally. it doesnât matter.â
laraâs eyes flash, but she swallows whatever comeback she has. sophia watches you carefully, like sheâs trying to gauge if you believe your own words.
megan, though. megan doesnât buy it for a second.
she leans closer, voice low, only for you. âhey. look at me.â
you do. reluctantly.
âyouâre not what she said you were,â she says, steady, no room for argument. âyouâre the opposite. you feel so much it scares you. and thatâs⊠thatâs why iââ she cuts herself off, cheeks pink, but her grip on your hand tightens.
the air between you is warm. heavier than the glance danielle threw, heavier than the ache in your chest.
danielle walks past your table without stopping. the new girl laughs again, something light and easy, and danielle looks at her with an expression you donât recognize. softer. gentler. not the girl you used to know.
you watch them go, and for the first time, you donât feel the urge to follow.
lara snorts. âgood riddance.â
sophia sighs, but she doesnât disagree.
megan, though. sheâs still watching you, not danielle. always you.
âyou okay?â she asks softly.
you nod. and this time, you almost believe it.
the day rolls on like nothing happened, but the four of you stick closer than usual. lara cracks jokes too loud in lecture, sophia bribes you with snacks during study group, megan sneaks doodles into the margins of your notes â little pink hearts that make you want to roll your eyes and kiss her at the same time.
by evening, the weight of danielleâs glance has dulled. not gone, but dulled. like a bruise that wonât last.
when you and megan walk back to the dorm together, her fingers laced through yours, she bumps your shoulder and says, casual, âyou know, step six-point-five was way more fun than any of the others.â
you laugh, surprised. âthe practice date?â
she nods, grinning. âi think we should keep practicing. like⊠forever.â
your heart stutters, messy and loud. you want to tell her youâre scared, that you donât know how to do this right, that danielleâs words still echo sometimes when itâs quiet. but instead, you squeeze her hand and whisper, âyeah. me too.â
and for the first time in a long time, you realize you donât care whoâs watching.
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