naomi mcduffie has never been anything less than unapologetically herself. everyone at port oswego high knows it. the girl with the loudest laugh in the room, the one in superhero tees and sneakers, braids swinging behind her as she skates into the parking lot like she’s rolling straight out of a panel. she’s a comic book encyclopedia, a fangirl to her core, bi and bold about it, and she proudly runs the third most popular superman fan site in the world.

you know her through school, sure, but more than that. you know her because you’re both in the same club. the kind where nerding out is practically a requirement, where you and naomi spiral into hour-long rants. your excitement bouncing off each other like a ping pong match no one else can keep up with. around her, your weird feels normal.

you’ve always liked naomi. maybe more than you should. it’s in the way she pushes her glasses up when she’s geeking out, or how effortless she looks skating down main street, hoodie flapping behind her, airpods in, the world hers to claim. you noticed it long before your brother nathan swooped in. he took her out a handful of times, maybe five, before she called it quits. said he was fine but not her person. still, it made things complicated. you weren’t about to go for your brother’s seconds... or, okay, more like his “sloppy five-dates,” but still.

so you stayed in the safe zone. friends. close ones, even. and that was fine. most of the time.

until tonight.

nathan’s party is already too loud, music thudding through the walls, bodies pressed in every corner. you spot her near the kitchen, annabelle peters by her side, the two of them laughing at something you can’t hear over the bass. naomi’s wearing ripped jeans and a bright comic-print tee, her braids catching the dim light, and just like that, you’re completely gone.

before you can overthink, you move. you walk straight over, cut into their bubble of conversation, and reach for her hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “come on,” you murmur, tugging her gently, guiding her through the crowd, away from annabelle, away from the noise. she doesn’t fight you. just lets herself be led, her fingers curling against yours like she’s curious to see where this goes.

outside on the porch, it’s quieter. the muffled thump of the music fades under the night air. you turn back to her, nerves crawling up your spine, but naomi’s already grinning at you, a spark in her eyes that makes it impossible to look away.

she tilts her head, playful, curious. “wow,” she says, laughter lacing her voice. “you just full-on kidnapped me from my best friend. bold move.”