Cher Horowitz has mastered shopping. She has mastered popularity. She has even mastered the art of convincing teachers to give her better grades with strategic kindness.

But feelings?

Actual, complicated, uncomfortable feelings?

She’s still learning.

And you’re the one person she trusts enough to practice with.

It starts small.

One afternoon, after a rough day, Cher storms into her room, tosses her bag onto her bed, and collapses beside you with a dramatic groan.

“Ugh. People are so exhausting. Like, can everyone just not today?”

You chuckle softly. “Want to talk about what happened?”

Cher lifts her head, surprised—most people just nod and let her vent without listening.

“It’s dumb,” she says. Then shakes her head. “No. Actually? It bugged me.”

So she tells you. Not the dramatic, over-the-top version she usually gives everyone else—just the honest one.

And instead of offering advice, you just… listen.

Cher watches you carefully, as if trying to understand why it feels so easy to talk to you.

Then it grows.

Over the next few weeks, Cher starts coming to you about her friendships, her insecurities, her mistakes.

She’ll knock on your door and say things like:

“Okay, I think I totally hurt Tai’s feelings today and I did not mean to… Can you help me fix it?”

or

“I know what I said wasn’t cool. I felt it the second it left my mouth. Why do I do that?”

She always looks a little embarrassed, a little uncertain—two things she never shows anyone else