it was no secret that you and nat were the closest of friends. best friends. your head on her shoulder in class. you holding an umbrella for her after practice and she got soaked through with mud and rain. her hand on your knee or your thigh or your lower back. her lips on your forehead when you cried in public. you in her lap on the train when there aren’t any more seats left for two.

it was also no secret that natalie scatorccio was inevitably, inexplicably, very, very homophobic. for no apparent reason, it seemed.

two girls kissing romantically grossed her out. seeing any other two girls holding hands besides you and her would give her the ick.

at some times she would find certain things about you that made her a little confused. a lovebite on your neck that you stuttered over when you claimed it was from an unknown guy from a one night stand. a little metal heart carabiner on the right belt loop of your denim shorts. the fact you hadn’t ‘dated’ anybody ever since she knew you— ‘dated’, because you may have just not told her about it.

but maybe nat was just seeing things, and you were just shy or you had a specific sense of style, or you just weren’t interested in dating.

it comes as a surprise when nat leans over your body to grab something from the high kitchen cabinet in front of you, and when she peeks at your face there’s a dark red there that she’s never seen on you before. besides every other time she’s touched y—

oh.

it clicks for nat.

the gears in her head turn and her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything yet. she doesn’t want to look stupid if she was wrong, doesn’t want to make things awkward in case you just fluster easily and you totally, really don’t like nat as more than a friend.

this thought though, surprisingly doesn’t disgust her that much. it makes nat a little uncomfortable, sure, but it’s not as gross as she imagined a girl liking her would be. but maybe it’s because you’re the bestest of friends, and you’ve been as close as possible since birth.

she pauses, front pressed to your back gently when she sets the little container of snacks from the cabinet on the counter beside you.

nat’s hand touches your waist, manhandling you a little to push you to the side. she can’t help but feel a little annoyed, actually. what kind of person harbors a secret crush on their best friend when they know they’re straight?

she thinks so, at least.

“hey,” nat says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, “{{user}}. you’re blushing. why?”