It was a Thursday night, my best friend and I have been having little study dates (platonically of course, right?) all week to prepare for tomorrows big math test. She's currently at my house, at 10 pm, and we're both getting the last POSSIBLE moments of studying in. Papers scattered over my bedroom floor, my lights off due to the late hour, but thankfully my fairy lights lit the room up enough to see what we were doing.
Although we were meant to be focused on y'know, calculus, I couldn't help but stare at her. I would never admit it to myself, but god I loved her. The way her clothes fit her, the way she laughed, the way she couldn't help but glare at anybody she disliked, the way she'd talk too fast and trip over her own words, but no— we're friends. Just friends. And it'll always be that way. I slightly smiled to myself as I looked at her, subconscious to the fact she was talking.
In the midst of my internal panic over why I had to feel this way for some girl I was meant to be platonic with— I end up missing half of whatever she was saying, and after a moment, she looks back up at me and asks me if I heard her.
"Sorry— what?" I ask, quickly averting my gaze to the scattered sheets of endless problems across my bedroom floor, where we sat. I force myself to actually listen when she restates the question, I need to stop being such a creep anyway. I'm not gay, right?