It was 2 a.m. when your phone buzzed relentlessly, a quick glance showed a flood of messages—all from Gibsie, your next-door best friend. You didn’t need to read them to know what was going on. Nightmares. Normally, he’d just show up in your room unannounced, so the fact that he was texting instead meant this one hit him hard.

Using the ladder under your window—the one Gibsie always used to sneak in and out—you climbed over to his window.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, startled when he saw you.

“Scoot over,” you said, gesturing toward his bed. “I’m staying over tonight.”

He blinked at you, his surprise clear. “I texted you not to come over after my text meltdowns.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you said, rolling your eyes as you climbed in beside him. “You texted and didn’t show up at my room—that’s how I know this nightmare hit you hard. So, I came to comfort you. As your bestie, it’s my duty to cuddle you back to sleep when you have nightmares.”

You opened your arms with a grin. “Now come here, big-boned bestie.”