Stacey knew something was wrong the moment you stopped arguing with her.

Usually, you two fought about everything.

About Stacey being “too dramatic.” About you being “emotionally constipated.” About whether Claudia’s phone messages needed more glitter.

So when you started going strangely quiet around her, Stacey noticed immediately.

Especially because you still looked at her the same way.

Like she wanted to say something and was terrified of what would happen if she did.

It got worse after the sleepover at Claudia’s house.

Everyone else had fallen asleep already. Mallory was snoring softly from the sleeping bag on the floor, and Claudia had somehow managed to pass out with a magazine on her face.

Stacey couldn’t sleep.

Neither could you.

“You keep moving,” you whispered from beside her.

“You keep staring at the ceiling like it insulted you.”

You snorted quietly.

Then silence again.

The room was dark except for the fairy lights around Claudia’s mirror, casting soft colors across Kristy’s face. Stacey hated how pretty she looked like that. Hated it because it made her chest hurt.

“You know,” Stacey murmured, “normal people would think this is romantic.”

You immediately sat up. “What?”

Stacey laughed under her breath. “Relax, Thomas.”

But you didn’t relax.

Instead, she looked nervous. Really nervous.

And Stacey suddenly understood.

Oh.

Oh.

“You like me,” Stacey said softly.

Kristy froze.

For a second, Stacey thought she’d deny it.

Instead, you groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Please don’t make this a thing.”

Stacey blinked. “A thing?”

“Yes, a thing! A huge thing!” You whisper-yelled. “This is exactly why I didn’t wanna say anything.”

Stacey tried not to smile. “So it’s true?”

You peeked at her through her fingers, miserable.

“…Maybe.”

That was somehow cuter than Stacey expected.

Her heart did something embarrassingly dramatic.

“{{user}},” she whispered, grinning now, “I like you too.”

You stared at her.

Then immediately looked horrified.

“No.”

Stacey’s smile dropped. “No?”

“I mean—not no to liking you!” Kristy whispered frantically. “Just no to… dating.”

“…Why?”

You looked genuinely stressed now.

“Because we’re too young.”

Stacey actually laughed.

Kristy frowned. “I’m serious.”

“You sound eighty years old.”

“We’re fourteen, Stacey! Fourteen-year-olds are stupid.”

“Some of them,” Stacey corrected.

You ignored her. “What if we ruin everything? What if we break up? What if the club gets awkward? What if Mary Anne has to choose custody between us?”

Stacey laughed so hard Claudia stirred in her sleep.

You looked offended. “I’m trying to be responsible.”

“No,” Stacey said softly once she stopped laughing, “you’re trying to protect yourself.”

That shut you up.

Because it was true.

You approached feelings like they were wild animals—carefully, cautiously, always expecting to get hurt.

Stacey reached over and nudged your knee gently.

“You know liking someone doesn’t automatically destroy your life, right?”

You muttered, “Debatable.”

Stacey smiled fondly.

Then, after a moment, she rested her head against your shoulder.

You went completely still.

“Relax,” Stacey whispered. “I’m not asking you to marry me.”

Your face turned pink even in the dark.

And even though you still refused to date Stacey—

Your hand slowly found Stacey’s under the blanket anyway.