No more than friends

The weight of another school year settled on my shoulders like an invisible backpack, heavier than any textbooks. It was the first day of my junior year, and true to form, I was early. So, I found myself perched on the front steps, devouring the last few chapters of a book I'd been dying to finish, waiting for Mallie.

She finally arrived, a whirlwind of short blonde hair and cheerful chatter. After a quick stop at my locker—she'd already been to hers for early lacrosse practice—we were on our way. Mallie, as usual, was already deep into her favorite topic: Noah Carter.

“I don’t understand why you won’t ask Noah out,” she said, filing her short nails with a casual air. “I mean, you’ve known him longer than me, and even I know he likes you.”

I sighed, closing my locker with a definitive click. “Mallie, we’ve been over this a million times. It’s because I don’t want to ruin our twelve-year friendship.”

Of course, just as I said it, Noah himself strode towards us, covered in paint, as usual. He really was impossible.