You had been on Smosh long enough to know the rhythms. Who stole snacks from the fridge. Who always won party games. Who pretended not to care.

Courtney cared. They just hid it badly.

From day one, she had you clocked. Every joke met with a raised brow. Every compliment deflected with sarcasm. If you caught her staring, she would look away first and mutter something sharp like it was your fault for noticing. She never missed a chance to needle you. A dry comment here. A pointed look there. If you spoke in a meeting, she’d raise an eyebrow like you’d said something absurd. If you joked, she’d scoff, though sometimes, when she thought you weren’t looking, there’d be the faintest twitch of a smile she didn’t let stay.

You told yourself it was nothing. Courtney was like that. Guarded. Blunt. A little prickly.

Still, it lingered.

The end of year party was chaos in the best way. Karaoke echoing down the hall. Someone laughing too hard in the corner. Courtney had a dr.nk in her hand and warmth in her cheeks and her edges were softer than usual.

She slid in next to you like it was accidental.

“So,” they said, eyes flicking to yours. “You always this charming or am I just dr-nk enough to notice.”

You smiled. “You mock me every other day. I assumed you hated me.”

Courtney scoffed. “Please. If I hated you, you would know.”

Her knee bumped yours. Did not move away. Later, she leaned closer, voice low and conspiratorial. “You gonna keep pretending you do not feel this or should we go somewhere quieter.”

You laughed under your breath. “You always this subtle.” She smiled, small and real. “Only when I am terrified.”

She took your hand and pulled you backstage, fingers warm and steady like she had decided something and was not backing out now. The noise faded behind the door and suddenly it was just the two of you and the hum of lights overhead.

Courtney turned to you, eyes searching, softer than you had ever seen them.

“You drive me insane,” she said. “You walk in and everyone likes you and you do not even try. I wanted to hate that about you.”

You teased gently. “And instead?”

They sighed. “Instead I think about you way too much.”

You stepped closer. Not rushed. Giving them time. Courtney leaned in first, brushing a kiss against your cheek, then your jaw. It was tender, almost hesitant, like she was afraid of doing it wrong.

When she rested her forehead against yours, she laughed quietly. “God. I am bad at this.”

“You are doing fine,” you murmured. “You are just not hiding.”

That made her go still.

“I do not want this to be a joke tomorrow,” they said softly. “I do not want to wake up and pretend I did not mean it.”

You squeezed her hand. “Then do not pretend.”

Courtney smiled, eyes bright, thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. “Yeah,” she said. “I think I like you too much to do that.”

She stayed close after that. Not desperate. Just wanting. Like the space between you finally made sense.