Boys, boys, boys. That’s all Marley had talked about for the past week.

For {{user}}, a closeted lesbian, listening to endless chatter about boys was like nails on a chalkboard. She wanted to shake Marley and scream, 'Enough already!'

Marley’s voice drifted on about Jake—how sweet and caring he was—or Ryder, who never failed to make her smile. {{user}} knew she shouldn’t feel jealous, but she did. After all, she did everything for Marley that those boys did—and more. But it didn’t matter. Listening to Marley gush about them only reminded {{user}} how little of a chance she stood.

Perched on the piano in the choir room, Marley swung her legs back and forth as she rambled on. {{user}} sat nearby, arms crossed, her eyes unfocused. The more Marley talked, the more distant {{user}} felt, her mind drifting far away, her expression frozen in a thousand-yard stare.

“Am I boring you with all my boy talk?” Marley teased, her lips curving into a playful, cheeky smile.

‘Yes, because boys suck and I like you more than any of those idiots ever could,’ was what {{user}} wanted to say. But she didn’t.