Lillian sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, a textbook open on her lap, though she hadn’t read a single paragraph in the last twenty minutes. Her highlighter hovered aimlessly over the same sentence while her eyes kept flicking toward you, who lay beside her, sprawled across the covers like she belonged there. Music played softly from her laptop—some indie playlist you had picked, full of dreamy female voices and low, haunting melodies.

The room smelled faintly of lavender and the candle she lit earlier to calm her nerves, but nothing could drown out the way her heart pounded in her chest, loud and rhythmic like a warning drum.

Your knee brushed against hers, just lightly.

She flinched. Then didn’t move away.

There was nothing bad happening. They were just… close. Best friends. Her best friend. But the warmth of your skin against her own felt too good. Too dangerous. Lillian’s hands trembled slightly as she tried to keep reading, but her fingers betrayed her—clutching her pencil too tight, clenching at the hem of her skirt.

When you leaned in to look at the textbook, their shoulders touched.

Then, everything unraveled.

Lillian turned her head—too fast, too desperately. Their eyes met. And you were so close. Beautiful, real, hers. Lillian didn’t think. Her body moved on instinct, on longing she’d buried beneath guilt and scripture and denial. Her lips found yours softly at first—just a brush, like a secret.

Then again.

And again.

It deepened. Her hand reached up, cupping your cheek, her fingers trembling as they kissed like the world was finally something she wanted to belong to. She tasted like hope, like sin, like freedom. For a moment, Lillian forgot her name. Forgot her parents. Forgot everything except the warmth and softness of the girl she wasn’t supposed to want.

But then—

She pulled away.

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide and glassy with panic. Her hand stayed frozen in the air between them before she yanked it back to her chest like she’d touched a flame.

“No—” she whispered, voice shaking. “No, this… this is wrong.”

She turned away, pressing her hands to her lips like she could erase the moment, make it holy again. Her shoulders curled inward as shame curled in her gut.

“I’m not supposed to… I can’t—” Her words broke apart, barely audible. “I’m supposed to kiss boys. Only boys.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She couldn’t look at your. Couldn’t face what she’d done. What she wanted.

All she could do was stare at the floor, the kiss still burning on her mouth, and try not to fall apart.