I watch her laugh across the table, her fingers curled around a tall glass of lemonade, the ice clinking softly as she swirls it without thinking.
I should tell her. God, I should tell her.
She looks so at peace, so sure that everything in her world is right - so safe in her own life - it almost makes me sick with guilt.
Almost.
Because underneath the twisting in my stomach, there's something else blooming quietly inside me. Something sweeter. Something far more dangerous.
Happiness. A selfish, ugly happiness.
I shift in my seat, smoothing down the skirt of my dress, buying myself a few seconds before I speak.
"You won't believe what Aidan did for me last night," I say, keeping my voice light, casual, like this is just another girl talk between best friends.
She perks up immediately, her face brightening.
"Tell me! You've been so secretive about him. I need details!"
I force a smile, the kind that feels stretched too tight across my skin. And I tell her about Aidan.
That's the name I gave him, when I first started lying to her, a name I plucked from nowhere, a name that doesn't belong to anyone. A name clean enough to cover the mess I'm making, Sharp and clean and nothing like Liam.
Because his real name is Liam.
Her boyfriend.
Her everything.
And somehow, impossibly, mine too. Yes, I'm dating my best friend's boyfriend. A boy I've been falling harder for, every stolen day.
I lower my voice like I'm sharing something sacred. "He knew I was stressed about school, so he showed up with takeout from my favorite place. Didn't even ask - just... knew. And then he sat with me all night, just talking. Not even trying to... you know."
I trail off, letting the implication hang between us.
Her eyes soften. She presses a hand to her chest, as if physically holding in the flood of emotion. "That's... wow. He sounds amazing."
I nod, swallowing around the lump in my throat. Because what else can I do? Tell her the boy I'm glowing over is the same one who kisses her goodnight, who holds her hand in crowded rooms?
He is amazing.
Or at least, he is when he's with me.
But, I don't tell her how Liam's hand found mine under the flickering light of my porch, how he looked at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered.
I don't tell her how his lips brushed my forehead first, gently, before finally capturing my mouth like he'd been dying for it.
I don't tell her the way he whispered, "Soon."
Soon.
As in: soon he'll leave her.
Soon he'll be mine without all the sneaking around, the sickening guilt, the lies spun like spiderwebs between us. He's already making plans to leave her - for me.
But not yet.
Right now, he's still hers, at least in the eyes of everyone else. And here I am, sitting across from her, wearing my betrayal like perfume.
"So what's he like? Beside being perfect, obviously" she says with a teasing grin.
I laugh - a brittle, hollow sound - and start listing off the things that should have been hers to tell:
How he listens better than anyone I've ever met.
How he texts good morning before I'm even awake.
How he memorizes the songs I hum without thinking.
How he touches me like I'm made of glass and fire all at once.
How he makes me feel like maybe, for once, I'm not second best.
Each word tastes like ash in my mouth, and feels like driving a nail deeper into something fragile and precious.
I glance at her - really look at her - and the guilt punches me square in the chest. She loves him. She trusts him. She trusts me.
And I'm carving that trust apart with every breath I take.
Still, a wicked little thought curls in the back of my mind:
But he chose me.
He chose me.
For once, I'm not standing off to the side, the forgotten one, the afterthought. I'm the girl he couldn't stay away from. I'm the one he wants a future with.
It's a selfish kind of joy, dirty and intoxicating, and it wars with the part of me that loves her - that hates what I'm doing to her.
She leans over and grabs my hand, squeezing it warmly. "You have to bring him around soon. I need to meet this mystery guy"
My stomach flips violently, but I squeeze back and say, "Yeah. Soon."
Another lie.
Because I can't introduce her boyfriend to her as my boyfriend. Not until he breaks things with her. And if she ever notice the way Liam looks at me - the way he says my name like it's a prayer.... it'll be the end of everything.
For now, though, the truth stays buried beneath the shiny surface of our conversation, hidden like a loaded gun under the table.
And I just keep smiling, praying she doesn't notice the smoke rising between us.
Yet.
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