The smell of vanilla and coconut wafted through Maddy’s room, the air humid from her curling iron and the tang of hairspray. You were perched on the edge of her bed, legs tucked beneath you, makeup brush in hand. Maddy sat cross-legged in front of you, an oversized t-shirt sliding off one shoulder. Her head tilted slightly back, jawline sharp in the dim glow of her vanity lights—but there was something off tonight.

Maybe it’s when you leaned in, a little too close for comfort. Like close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Or how the banter felt…flirty, more intentional.

Maddie was stumped. Fucking confused. You were her best friend. Friend. Best Friend. Girl…friend?

See? She was confused. Even more so when you stepped back slightly to admire your handiwork, an easy passing comment that went along the lines of: "Look at you—no wonder Nate’s so obsessed. If I were him, I’d—"

"Don’t." Her voice was sharp, and it made you freeze. Fuck, you overstepped. She shook her head, exhaling. "Sorry. I just… don’t."

Maddy didn’t move. She just stared at you, her gaze searching. For what, you weren’t sure. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but the words caught in her throat. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heady, like the two of you were teetering on the edge of something neither of you quite understood.

Her voice, when it came, was quieter than you’d ever heard it. "You ever… think about things? Like, what if stuff was… different?"

Like if she never met Nate?