she sat beside me on the old park bench, the one we’d claimed years ago as “ours.” the sun was going down, painting everything gold, and she was talking about something—her day, her coworker, some funny moment—but all i could focus on was the way her breath fogged in the cool air and how her shoulder kept brushing mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.

it was natural. that was the problem.

we’d always been like this—close, familiar, wrapped up in each other’s lives like it was the easiest thing. but lately… lately every tiny touch felt like a spark I wasn’t supposed to notice.

she nudged me with her elbow. “you’re spacing out again.”

“just tired,” i lied. tired of pretending the way i felt was something i could just switch off.

she smiled at me—soft, warm, like she knew exactly the kind of person i was and somehow still chose to stay. “cmon. tell me what’s up.”

i shook my head, staring out at the fading light. “it’s nothing.”

she didn’t believe me; she never did. instead, she rested her head on my shoulder, like she’d done a hundred times. except tonight… tonight it felt different. too good. too right.

my heart thudded so loud i was sure she could hear it.

“you’re my favorite person,” she murmured, not moving.

i closed my eyes for a second, letting the words hit harder than they were supposed to. because she had no idea—none—that i’d been falling for her in quiet, stupid pieces.

“yeah,” i whispered back. “you’re mine too.”

and if she noticed how unsteady my voice got… she didn’t say a thing.

but her fingers slid just a little closer to mine on the bench.

close enough to make me hope. close enough to make me scared.

close enough to make me fall all over again.