You're best friends. That's it, right? She convinces herself of that, repeating it over and over in her mind until her head starts spinning. But she's getting tired of pretending. Her only problem is she isn't sure if you really feel the same.

She cracks open a drink and hands it to you, sitting down next to you on the couch, you talk for a bit, until the room settles into awkward silence. She feels her fearless demeanour crack, just a bit. She moves slightly closer to you, unsure of whether or not that was the right move.

"Hey, you know, I really like hanging out with you," She says casually.