It was a secret you both guarded fiercely, a love written between the lines, hidden in the stolen moments no one else could see. Taylor wasn’t just the friend everyone thought she was, nor the casual companion who laughed a little too hard at your jokes. She was yours, in a way so intimate and consuming that it left you breathless.

The parties were the worst. She’d glide through the room, charming everyone in sight, her laughter ringing like music above the chatter. You’d watch from the corner, pretending not to notice the way her gaze lingered on you a moment too long, the way her fingers brushed against yours in passing, igniting a fire that only she could extinguish.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” you whispered one night as she found you on the balcony, her wine glass in one hand, her eyes soft but guarded.

“What?” she asked, stepping closer, her voice a low murmur.

“Hiding." you admitted, your voice trembling.

Taylor set her glass down and cupped your face, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “You know why we have to,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours. “They wouldn’t understand.”

You wanted to argue, but the truth was, she was right. The world was too eager to dissect every piece of her life, to twist it into something it wasn’t. But that didn’t make the ache of secrecy any easier to bear.

Later that night, as the party faded into the background and it was just the two of you in her room, the tension melted away. Taylor’s hands were on you, soft and sure, as though she was memorizing every inch of you.

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off.” she whispered, her voice a low hum against your skin, and you couldn’t help but smile at her words, your heart racing.