I reach for the note, reading over my response from yesterday.

Ok, I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I hope this doesn’t change anything though?
—A

It doesn’t.
—K

And very telling that yes, it has changed things. In what way? Only time will tell.

At least through a note, K can’t see or hear my disappointment. They won’t see my frown or notice the slouching of my shoulders. No face-to-face meeting makes lying so much easier.

Awesome, sorry again for asking. I didn’t get around to watching Moonfall so I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
—A

The pressure weighing me down intensifies, as if lead has been poured into my shoes then broke through the sole of my feet to invade my veins. My movements are slow out of the library.

Max and Sophie share concerned looks when I join them in class. I can’t see the expression I’m making, but I imagine it’s a lot like eating an entire pack of sour candies at once. I tried that. Wouldn’t recommend it. Definitely don’t do it without an emergency bucket or bathroom nearby.

“Are you alright?” Sophie asks in her soft, nearly frightening tone of voice. Sophie’s like that, almost scary in the sense that she reminds me of a living doll; wide eyes, smooth black-brown skin, and curly hair black, but she’s sweet when she wants to be.

“Fine, why?”

“You don’t look so good.”

“Wow.” I press a hand over my heart. “Ouch.”

Sophie pats my arm. Even her touch is soft, like a leaf that’s settled atop your skin. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m tired, and I didn’t finish my math homework.” Which isn’t a total lie. I did, in fact, not finish my math homework.

Mentioning homework has reminded Max, judging by the jaw drop that could rival an anime character. He faces what he hopes to be his savior. “Sophie.”

“No.” Sophie has two smiles; authentic and demonic. Right now, Satan has paid us a visit.

“But—”

Sophie pats the wrinkles out in the skirt of her dress when she asks, “Why are you still talking to me instead of working on your homework?”

“Mr. Wilson will lecture the entire class if Ave and I show up without our homework. You know he’s an ass. Will you please assist your bestest friends?” Max bats his eyelashes exaggeratedly and leans across the aisle.

I stifle a heinous smile, eager to watch this play out because now Sophie’s leaning in. They’re too busy flirting to notice the minimal space between them. Oh, I wish a powerful gust of wind would blow by and knock their mouths together.

“I care enough to make you take responsibility and do your homework on your own. If you don’t, you won’t learn anything and there is already so little in here.” Sophie taps Max’s temple.

“There is a lot up here,” he argues and smacks his own head. “I just choose when and how to use it.”

“Then choose to use it now.”

“You’re mean and I no longer like you.”

“You’re an idiot and I do not care.” Sophie smiles, crooked and dimpled cheeks. Max goes goofy, lips stretched into a wide grin that anyone and their long-dead ancestors could see as completely smitten. But then the bell rings and the two realize how close they are.

Sophie swiftly sits up. Max’s head falls back in an exaggerated groan that is covered by the end of the bell, and I am desperate for these two to get their shit together. They have liked each other since the sixth grade, at the very least.

First, I never mentioned it because I could have been wrong. Then I didn’t know how to bring it up because there must be a reason they aren’t acting on these feelings. And now any time I try to talk to either of them about their never ending love match, they lock me out. They are downright rude.

Once our teacher walks in, I join Max in a game of cat and mouse, attempting to finish our homework without our teacher catching us. Somehow, we managed, although Mrs. Tenner has her eyes on us when we leave, as if to say she knew something was up and would pay closer attention next time.

At least the homework helped keep my mind off K, although now I’m thinking about them again. I’ve got it bad. I wonder if they’ve answered yet? Guess there isn’t much to answer to. Perhaps this is the end of our little secret.

“Ow!” a stranger shouts.

“Shit, sorry, sorry!” I apologize swiftly to Natasha, a girl from my music class. I nearly ripped her shoe off by stepping on the back of it.

Natasha hops up and down to put the shoe back on until I hold out my hand apologetically. She accepts the help, using the hold to steady herself as she slips her shoe on.

Max has stopped up ahead, realizing they’ve left me behind. He tugs on Sophie’s shirt sleeve. They’re waiting for me as I help the girl out.

“I’m so sorry,” I repeat, watching Natasha move her foot about to make sure she isn’t hurt. She’s shorter than most, but her smile is bright and eyes a smooth brown that compliments her tawny skin. That enchanting smile makes my chest warm and her lips are full and sweet.

“It’s alright, accidents happen.” She clutches a couple of books to her side while reaching up to brush a strand of deep brown hair behind her pierced ears. When doing so, she reveals the shirt she’s wearing, a picture of Tommy Wiseau from The Room with big black and white text that reads, You’re tearing me apart, Lisa!

“You like The Room?” I ask.

Time has stopped. All I hear is my pulse, a quick rhythm in my head. My mouth runs dry. Every nerve shrieks, anxious and hopeful. Expectation grows to astronomical proportions. Has K been nearby all this time, seated a few chairs away from me during music class?

“Huh?” she asks, cutting through the silence. Her brows knit. Natasha has no idea what I’m talking about.

Disappointment settles, like the sensation of a roller coaster drop and you’re scared of heights. I don’t know why. It was stupid to even think I’d magically run into K now.

“Your shirt,” I explain.

She looks down, laughing in realization. “Oh no, this is my boyfriends!” Then waves to someone behind me. “Speak of the devil.”

Natasha gives me a quick smile and runs with open arms towards her boyfriend. He’s tall with bright sea-green eyes and wavy black hair. A little on the lanky side with long arms and legs tucked into a plain t-shirt and jeans.

For a moment, I wonder if maybe he’s K, but I brush the thought aside. Grandville has over a thousand students. Unless K tells me themselves, I doubt I’ll find them. And there it is again; disappointment. Hello my apparently new best friend. We’ve been getting to know each other well recently. I do not like it.

“You’re really out of it today.” Max laughs once I’ve caught up.

His nose is in his phone, scrolling through tiktoks that have him snorting every few seconds. How come he doesn’t have to focus on walking, yet I have two seconds of serious thought and nearly run a girl over? Life truly is unfair.

“I know. I’m off my game today, I guess,” I admit, earning familiar concerned looks.

Sophie and Max are on the same wavelength today in that department, although if I risked telling them that, they may both strangle me. Neither wants to admit how close they are has a lot to do with their feelings, how they watch the other like starving hawks. Rather than seeking prey, they search for every piece of one another to store away in little boxes they pretend they don’t have. But hey, what do I know as the friend that has been stuck between their freakishly slowly budding romance since the sixth grade?

Nothing, apparently. I can’t even fix my own not-so-budding romance.

This is really driving me crazy and I’m thinking I should tell my friends. An outside opinion could be of great help, but what will they say? Their reactions worry me most, although I’ve dropped far bigger news on them than something like a secretive pen pal.

Coming out to both of them, and my parents, sure was an experience. Luckily, nothing changed between us. I had to act like Google for my parents, but they asked and they respect me. If I can do that and survive, I can tell my friends about K.

Maybe that is what I need, someone to tell me I’m being dumb or I need to step up my game and what else are friends for but brutal honesty?