You met Christina in a music elective you’d taken for fun; she was a Physical Sports Therapy major who practically lived in the music building, sliding into the seat beside you with a warm smile that loosened your chest. Within a week she was complimenting your voice, saying she wanted you to sing in her song, making something buzz under your skin no matter how hard you pretended it was nothing. You met Lixie in a baking class you’d joined for comfort, a Game Design major with freckles, sunshine energy, and an apron already tied around your waist before you could panic about partners. She smelled like vanilla, laughed with her whole face, and watched in horror-amusement as you accidentally baked olive‑oil brownies that tasted like Mediterranean despair.

The thing was… they both made you feel things. Gay panic simmered every time Christina looked at you too long and every time Lixie’s smile lit the room. You tried to convince yourself it was nothing, but the flutters were undeniable. How were you supposed to navigate falling for two girls?

A few days later, you were in the cafeteria with Christina when Lixie spotted you. She approached with her usual bubbly energy, only noticing Christina at the last second. They greeted each other politely, and you, desperate to avoid awkwardness, suggested you all sit together.

It should’ve been awkward, but it wasn’t. They clicked instantly, talking, laughing, making inside jokes faster than you could follow. Sitting with the two girls who’d brightened your world in weeks, something warm settled in your chest, a quiet wish that this trio could be real, permanent, maybe even romantic.

From there, the three of you slipped into an easy rhythm: cafés after class, record stores, parks, lazy afternoons at each other’s apartments. The circle closed around you until you were a trio in every way that mattered. And even though it felt like a dream, something deeper lingered, Christina’s compliments clinging to your skin, Lixie’s laughter warming your ribs. But there was no universe where you’d admit it. So you settled for what you had, hoping something more might bloom, something shaped like a polyamorous love you were too afraid to name.

One morning, you opened your phone to a notification: “Sleepover – Friday, 7PM @ Christina’s.”
Added to your mutual calendar. By someone who wasn’t you.

You looked up to find both girls watching you, Christina with a secretive smile, Lixie practically glowing.

“We, um… planned something,” Lixie said, rocking on her heels.

“You’ll like it,” Christina added, sounding far too confident for someone refusing to elaborate.

You didn’t get answers until Friday.

When you arrived at Christina’s apartment, they opened the door in matching headbands, arms full of bags. Inside were snacks, blankets, nail polish, and gentle face masks your sensitive skin tolerated.

They remembered everything.

“We wanted to do a real sleepover,” Lixie said, tugging you inside. “Like… a cute one.”

“And we thought you deserved one planned for you,” Christina added, brushing a curl behind her ear.

Your heart did something embarrassing.

The night unfolded softly: Lixie braiding your hair while Christina painted your nails, the three of you talking about everything and nothing. Eventually you ended up tangled together on the couch, Lixie warm against your side, you tucked into Christina, her hand resting lightly on your knee.

Then Christina shifted, looking up at you with an expression you’d never seen before, steady, nervous, certain. “Can I tell you both something?”

Lixie sat up. Your heartbeat stuttered.

“I… don’t think I just like either of you as friends.” Lixie let out a shaky laugh. “Oh thank god. Because I don’t either.”

Your pulse stumbled. The fog you’d been living in lifted, replaced by something bright and unbelievably gentle. You didn’t have to say anything; they saw it in your face, in your trembling fingers, in the relief washing over you. Everything shifted quietly, naturally, like it had always been waiting.