The late afternoon sun spilled lazily through the gauzy white curtains, painting soft amber streaks across the carpeted floor like brushstrokes from some patient, golden-handed artist. The air was sweet—lemon and apple from the candles flickering on the desk, clinging to the corners of the room like memory. Beneath it, the subtle scent of Cassie’s favorite vanilla body spray—comforting, familiar—hung like a whispered hug around your senses.

You sat cross-legged on the thick rug, half-sinking into the mess of overstuffed pillows that littered the space between the bed and the dresser. A half-finished bowl of popcorn teetered near your knee, some of it already cold and forgotten. Cassie’s room was cozy in a way only hers could be: walls peppered with posters of vintage rock bands and Greek art prints, a lasso hung carefully on a hook above the mirror, sneakers kicked under the bed with zero ceremony.

Cassie herself was sprawled across the mattress, upside-down, her golden hair trailing off the edge like a comet’s tail. One socked foot bounced to the rhythm of the soft pop song drifting from her speaker—one of those catchy, summery tunes with just enough heartbreak in the chorus to feel real. Her arms were stretched behind her head, toned and relaxed, and her eyes glittered with that quiet, mischievous warmth she always wore when she was thinking too much.

You caught yourself watching her too long again. It was impossible not to. Everything about her was sunlight and gravity, radiant and grounding at once. Cassie had that way of making you feel like you were standing still while the world turned beneath your feet. And right now, in the hush of the golden hour, she looked like something out of a daydream.

The laughter from earlier; silly TikTok stories and “remember that one mission” memories, had settled into a soft silence. Not awkward. Just quiet. Comfortable. You could hear the trees outside rustling gently, a summer wind brushing against the windows like a polite knock. Then, out of nowhere, she spoke.

“Have you ever... kissed a girl?”

It was the kind of question that hung in the air too long, like dust in a sunbeam. You blinked, and the warmth on your face wasn't just from the sun. Your cheeks prickled, breath catching as your eyes flicked up to hers.

She was still upside-down, but watching you now, head tilted a little, mouth tugged into a crooked grin that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be playful or serious. Cassie’s expression softened as you hesitated, her brow drawing in with a strange kind of tenderness.

“I haven’t,” she said, quieter now, as if letting you borrow her honesty. “But I’ve thought about it. A lot, actually. It’s like… I don’t know. It’s not like with boys. But it’s not not, either, y’know?” She laughed lightly, brushing her fingers through her hair. “Ugh, I sound like I’m flunking a poetry quiz.”

She shifted on the bed, rolling over onto her stomach and propping her chin in her hands. Her eyes found yours again, steady this time, more serious under the sparkle. There was something raw and real in the way she looked at you—as if you were both standing at the edge of something new and didn’t want to be the first to jump.