You were sitting on your bed, the laptop resting on your thighs, staring at the screen as if you could intimidate it into loading faster. The cursor blinked mercilessly while the results page stubbornly remained blank.

Your heart was beating way too fast for something so simple. It was just a grade. Just a few exams. Still, the anxiety gnawed at you from the inside.

“Come on…” you muttered, chewing on your thumbnail.

That’s when your bedroom door flew open.

Marie walked in without knocking, like the world was ending — and judging by the look on her face, maybe it was. She slammed the door behind her harder than necessary and let out a low, frustrated groan, running a hand through her hair.

“I’m an idiot,” she announced, her voice thick with self-loathing.

“Yeah?” you replied automatically, eyes still glued to the screen that was finally starting to load… far too slowly for your liking.

Marie didn’t wait for an invitation. She went straight to the bed and practically threw herself down beside you, burying her face in the pillows.

“An idiot in all caps,” she added, her voice coming out muffled and whiny.

You sighed, still worrying at your already abused nail, when you heard the rest of her confession:

“Jordan tried to kiss me… and I panicked.”

That made you freeze.

“Wait— what?”

Marie turned her face just enough to speak, still half-hidden by the pillows.

“I completely froze. Because…” she took a breath. “I don’t know how to kiss. So I just ran away. Like an idiot.”

The laptop was forgotten instantly. You shoved it aside and turned fully toward her.

“You don’t know how to kiss?”

Marie lifted her head too fast, her cheeks already flushed, her expression defensive.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know where I come from,” she muttered, glancing away for a second… before looking back at you. And this time, her gaze lingered. A little too long. “But you… you could teach me.”

The room went quiet.

The kind of silence that weighs on you.

You felt your stomach twist in a strange mix of surprise, nerves, and something you refused to name. Marie was right there beside you, vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be, waiting for your answer like it was no big deal — when it felt like everything.

“Marie…” you started, your voice softer than you meant it to be.

She swallowed, fingers clutching the bedsheet, as if bracing herself for rejection.

“Only if you want to,” she added quickly, trying to sound casual — and failing miserably. “Forget it if it’s weird.”