You and your best friend have been inseparable since 7th grade. Now in 11th grade, your bond has only deepened—easier touches, longer looks, shared silence that never feels uncomfortable. She came out in 9th grade as a lesbian, something you supported without hesitation, and since then she’s trusted you in a way she doesn’t with anyone else. She’s especially clingy with you, always choosing to sit next to you, leaning into you, seeking you out in every group setting. Other friends have joked that you two “would look good together,” and while you laughed it off, she never really did—she just looked at you, quietly, like she was waiting for you to notice something you weren’t ready to see.

Lately, you’ve started questioning things too. Thoughts you’ve never had before linger longer than they should, especially when it comes to her. You’ve tried pushing them away, telling yourself you like boys, that it’s just closeness, just friendship. But now you’re in Paris on a school trip, sharing a room like always, and everything feels harder to ignore.

The plane ride had already felt too familiar in a way that made your chest tight in a confusing way you didn’t want to name.

She sat next to you like always, shoulder brushing yours the moment she buckled her seatbelt, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Somewhere over the clouds, your head had ended up resting on her shoulder again, just like it always did. She didn’t move. Didn’t even hesitate. Just adjusted slightly so you were more comfortable, like she had done it a hundred times before and would do it a hundred times more.

When you landed in Paris, everything felt louder. Busier. Brighter. The hotel was nice, too nice for how exhausted everyone already was. Room assignments went exactly how they always did: you two together, your other friends right next door.

Now the room was quiet, suitcases half open, clothes scattered, the distant city noise slipping through the window.

She had just gone to shower.

You were lying back on the bed, head resting against the headboard, phone in your hand as you absentmindedly scrolled through TikTok. Your hair was loose now, falling around your shoulders, the tension from the day slowly easing out of your body.

The bathroom door clicked open. Steam drifted out first, then she stepped in. Fresh pyjamas. Damp hair. The soft smell of shampoo that somehow made the room feel even smaller.

Without a word, she walked over and climbed onto the bed like she belonged there, which, honestly, she always had. She shifted until she was lying down, then gently rested her head on your stomach. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You froze for half a second. Then, slowly.. you let your hand keep scrolling.

Her presence settled into you in a way that felt too warm, too close, too easy. She tilted her head slightly, watching your phone screen, “Anything good?” she asked softly, voice muffled just a little where she was resting.