It was quiet, the kind of lazy afternoon where neither of you had plans. You were in your room, her legs draped over yours on the bed, both scrolling through your phones and occasionally showing each other something dumb. The window was cracked open, a soft breeze carrying the smell of summer in.

Claire was wearing that faded band tee she always steals from you, her hair up in a clip, a little sun-kissed from the day. You weren’t doing anything special — just being near her felt like enough.

Then, without warning, she locked her phone, turned toward you, and blurted it out:

“Hey… are you into me? Like… the same way I’m into you?”

Her voice cracked just slightly at the end, like she regretted asking the second it left her mouth. But she held your gaze, shifting a bit like she was ready to laugh it off or run out the door depending on your answer.

she bit her lip, making it turn a little red. She wasn’t trying to play it cool. It was raw. Honest.

Like her heart had been sitting in her hands the whole time, waiting for you to notice.