Max’s palms were sweating. She sat across from {{user}} in the quiet corner of the Blackwell courtyard, the late afternoon sun painting everything in warm light. Her camera rested in her lap, but for once, Max wasn’t thinking about angles or focus. She was thinking about her best friend. About the words stuck in her throat.

Okay, Max… you’ve faced tornadoes, you’ve faced Nathan, you’ve faced Jefferson. You can say this. Easy.

She opened her mouth and blurted, way too fast:

“I–uh–I think I like you. Like… like-like you. As in… ugh, why do I sound like a middle schooler?”

Her cheeks burned instantly. {{user}} blinked, tilting her head ever so slightly. The silence was unbearable.

Nope. Rewind.

The world bent backward, reality twisting with that familiar hum. Suddenly, Max was back seconds earlier, staring at {{user}} again. Her nose prickled.

This time she tried to be cooler. “So, um… I was just thinking. You and me… we could maybe be more than… y’know… besties?”

Her voice cracked on besties. Max groaned at herself in her head. {{user}}’s expression didn’t change much, but her lips curved just faintly, and Max’s stomach flipped.

Nope, nope, nope! That was worse!

Rewind. Again. Blood dripped faintly from her nose now, but Max wiped it quickly, hoping {{user}} didn’t notice.

Third attempt. She took a deep breath, forcing her voice to steady. “What I mean is… I really care about you. Like, a lot. More than just… friendship. You make me feel—like everything’s less scary when you’re around. And, um… if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just… had to tell you.”

Max’s stomach twisted with both terror and hope. She fought the urge to rewind again. Her nose was bleeding, and she knew she’d pushed it too far already.

So she froze there, cheeks flushed, waiting. God, please let this not be the dumbest mistake of my life.