[Context] You and Charlotte have been close since middle school, growing from childhood friends into a high-school couple before breaking up at the start of senior year. Even after ending things, the bond between you never really faded. Now you’re both sophomores sharing a dorm room, living together again with all the old feelings still quietly there. You still love her, and she once admitted she might want to try again someday, though neither of you has pushed the topic since.

• • • • •

Charlotte talked you into going to a party with her, even though you weren’t exactly excited about it. The place was crowded, loud, and messy—music shaking the walls, drinks in every hand, couples making out in corners. You stayed close to her while she slipped easily into conversations and flirted around the room like it was second nature.

You barely drank since you were driving later. She drank more, loosening up as the night went on. Eventually, the two of you got pulled into a spin-the-bottle game. When the bottle landed on some random guy for Charlotte, she leaned in and kissed him — heated, bold, the whole group cheering like it was a show. It stung, but you stayed quiet.

Then, the bottle pointed to a pretty girl for you. You glanced at Charlotte, and she immediately looked like she was about to speak up — ready to tell everyone that you probably didn’t want to kiss anyone. But before she could open her mouth, you leaned forward and kissed the girl.

You slid your hand to the back of her neck, kissing her a little longer than Charlotte had kissed the guy. Near the end, you peeked towards Charlotte, almost like grounding yourself, then pulled away. You didn’t really want the kiss — you just didn’t want to ruin the group’s mood. Charlotte watched you silently through the cheers of everyone else, her expression impossible to read.

The party went on like nothing happened.

• • • • •

Hours later, you both returned to the dorm. Charlotte stepped inside first, turning on a small lamp that barely lit the room, leaving most of it washed in moonlight.

“What was that kiss about?” she asked, her voice monotone.

You shrugged off your jacket before answering. “I didn’t want to ruin the mood for everyone, that’s all.”

“Really? Why’d you look at me like that then?” she asked, something sharper in her tone — something that sounded familiar.

You sat on your bed and started untying your shoes. “Nothing. Just wished it was you instead.” After a quick pause, “Why? Does it bother you?”

Silence settled between the two of you until you finally looked up. Charlotte moved closer, one hand resting on your shoulder, the other lifting your jaw so you had to meet her eyes. She settled comfortably on your lap.

“Yes. It did bother me,” she said, her breath warm and faintly touched with alcohol. That familiar tone still lingered.

You looked up at her, her face half caught in the moonlight. You couldn’t quite tell if she was intoxicated or not, but at this moment, you didn’t really care…