You’ve known Stella Walker forever. Well, at least as long as you can remember being August’s best friend. The two of you practically grew up in the same backyard, sharing scraped knees, late-night talks, and the kind of friendship that feels like family.

Only, somewhere along the way, the line between friendship and something else got blurry for you.

You’ve been crushing on Stella for what feels like a lifetime. Not the shy, fumbling kind—more like a steady, stubborn ache that refuses to quit. And every time you gear up to tell her, something always—always—gets in the way.

Like clockwork.

It starts one late afternoon when you finally decide that tonight’s the night. You find Stella sitting on the porch swing outside August’s room, a book in hand and that familiar calm about her that somehow makes everything else stop.

You clear your throat, heart racing. “Hey, Stella.”

She looks up, eyes bright. “Hey! What’s up?”

You swallow hard. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say for a while now.”

She smiles, setting the book down. “I’m listening.”

Before you can get the words out, August bursts through the door, yelling something about needing help with his homework, and drags you both inside like you’re the solution to all his problems.

You blink, and just like that, your moment evaporates.

You try again the next day. This time you meet her at the park, thinking the quiet might help. You’re sitting on the bench near the pond, watching ducks glide lazily across the water, when Stella plops down beside you.

“So,” you begin, forcing a casual tone, “I wanted to talk about something.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Something serious or something ‘hey, wanna grab coffee’ serious?”

You grin nervously. “More the former.”

She laughs softly. “Okay, shoot.”

Just as you’re about to speak, your phone buzzes with a text from August. “Lost my math homework. Can you come help? Desperately.”

You glance at Stella, who smirks knowingly.

“Go be the hero,” she says.

You sigh, standing up. “Duty calls again.”

Days pass. You’re convinced the universe has a personal vendetta against your confessions.

One evening, you join Stella at the local diner for a burger. The place is filled with chatter and the scent of fried food, the kind of scene that usually calms nerves. You figure it’s the perfect place to finally say it.

You gather your courage. “Stella, there’s something important I need to tell you.”

Her eyes meet yours, curious and patient.

Your phone vibrates again. It’s August. “My mom locked the keys in the car. Emergency rescue mission needed.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Go save your bro, hero. I’ll be right here.”

You groan but push back your chair, heading out the door.

Volunteering at the annual summer festival feels like your last shot. You and Stella are running a game booth together. The air is thick with excitement and the sweet smell of cotton candy.

You lean in, lowering your voice. “So, about what I wanted to say…”

Suddenly, the lights flicker and go out, plunging the block into darkness. A nearby food stand crashes over with a loud clatter.

Stella laughs in the dimness. “Guess we’ll never know.”

You force a smile. “Yeah, guess not.”

You don’t give up.

One afternoon, after practice, you scribble a note on a piece of paper—no pressure, just honest words. You walk over to Stella’s porch, your palms sweaty despite the warm breeze.

She’s sitting on the steps, waiting for August, who’s late from soccer practice.

You hand her the note, your heart hammering in your chest.

She reads it slowly, her eyes softening.

Looking up, she offers a warm smile. “Thank you. You’re a good friend."

And just like that, you’re reminded of the line between what you want and what you have.