We’d just left the coffee shop. When we walked by, she giggled and pulled me inside, saying, “C’mon, let’s be basic white girls and get some pumpkin spice!”

I don’t like coffee. I never had. But when she handed me my cup and looked into my eyes while I tried it, it was the best thing I’d ever tasted.

My hand still tingled where she grabbed it.

As we walked through the park with our drinks, a light drizzle began to fall. She pulled out an umbrella from her bag, I pulled up my hood and hunched my shoulders.

“Don’t be silly,” she giggled, pulling me under the umbrella with her. I couldn’t help but laugh too, her laugh is infectious.

As the sun started to shine again, she pulled me down to sit on a bench. She beamed down at me, and I could only gaze back adoringly.

“So Ava…” She began. I knew this tone of voice, it was dangerous.

“Who do you like?” She whispered, and I looked away. I wanted to say, ‘you, you, a thousand times you. You’re the only one I can ever think about. You’re gorgeous and sweet and funny and…’

Instead, I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my cup.

She looked at me with a cautious smile. “If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?”

“Okay,” I said.

“The person I like… …is you.”