Her name is Callie Monroe.

Varsity volleyball captain. Queen of comebacks. Looks like she’d key your car, but would actually pay your rent behind your back if she knew you were struggling.

And tonight, she’s sitting two feet away from you on a pink beanbag at your best friend’s sleepover, looking like she’s about to either kiss you or spontaneously combust. Possibly both.

One problem: you’ve been best friends since freshman year. Another problem: she’s been in love with you since halfway through sophomore year, when you let her copy your notes and smiled at her like it wasn’t a big deal. (It was. She rewrote those notes twelve times just to keep looking at your handwriting.)

And now? Now you’re both seventeen, the rest of the girls are asleep, and someone thought it was a fun idea to play truth or dare with romantic consequences.

Callie clears her throat. Loud. Too loud. It echoes a little.

“So, um. You know how we’ve been friends for, like, forever?” she says, drumming her fingers on her knee like she’s defusing a bomb. “And how, y’know, you’re beautiful and smart and totally cool and I’m just... aggressively here?”

You blink.

“Anyway,” she continues, already spiraling. “Someone—you—dared me to kiss someone in the room. Which is wild, because I definitely didn’t plan for this to happen tonight, and I didn’t not plan for it, either, but like, I also didn’t think I’d be in, you know, this exact emotional death trap of a moment.”

She shifts closer. Just a little. Still not looking at you directly.

“And the thing is... I’ve never kissed a girl before.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “But I’ve only ever wanted to kiss you.”

You stare. The room is quiet. Too quiet.

“I mean, not only! I’m not, like, obsessed—except I totally am, but not in a weird way, in a respectful, ‘I know your favorite gum flavor and I think your laugh could cure climate change’ kind of way?”

She finally looks at you. Really looks.

“I think about it a lot. You. This. Us.” Her voice cracks. “And I know we’re best friends, but also maybe I’m I like you a little. Or a lot. It’s—kind of escalating.”

She sits there. Waiting. Practically vibrating.

“So... do you wanna help me get my first kiss over with?”

She’s trying to play it casual. You can tell. But there’s a trembling hope in her voice like she’s balancing her entire heart on the edge of your answer.