“Do you ever think about what it’d be like if we never met?”

Connie shrugged. “Not really.”

“I do,” I admitted. “If you hadn’t asked to share my chocolate, we wouldn’t have been friends.”

“We would have.”

“How? That was the only time we ever spoke.”

A minute passed by in silence. Connie was watching me closely, her forehead slightly creased. I smiled back at her in expectation. I raised an eyebrow, hinting at her to proceed, and when she finally spoke there was a cautious edge to her tone.

“I didn’t like Turkish Delight that much when we met.”

“You…What?”

“I kinda hated it, a bit.”

I twitched my nose. “You took half my bar every class.”

“I don’t know why I did. I knew it was weird. But I wanted to be your friend. I wanted you to be my friend. Even without knowing why.”

“You could have just said hi to me. You know, like a normal person.”

“Hardly. You were a fucking loser. I couldn’t be seen dead talking to you for no reason.”

“You could have asked to borrow a pen. Asked about the homework.”

Her lips quirked. “After a week or so I actually started liking it, so it paid off in the end.”

“And then you read the book.”

“It took months before I could say something to you again, after the first time. Every single time I held out my hand I was hoping you’d say something. Just waiting for you to notice me.”

“Of course I noticed you.” I shook my head and we both simply sat there in silence, listening to the music.

Connie glanced across at me a moment later, eyes twinkling. “You and The Cure,” she said quietly, but her smile was fond. “I’ll never hear them without thinking of you.”

“Funnily enough, I think of you when I listen to them too.”

As expected, she blushed a little. I inhaled, struck by how easy it would be to close the distance between us. The knot in my stomach tightened and when she looked up it was almost as if she felt it, too. I wouldn’t have to say another word. I could just reach across, I could just shrink the gap that separated us. It was only a couple of inches. It wouldn’t really take that much.

Christ, what was wrong with me?

I opened my mouth to speak but she already shuffled a few inches closer, so subtly that only the most observant of people would notice. And of course, I noticed. I noticed every little thing she did, cataloging every movement or word or gesture and storing them away somewhere in the back of my mind to mull over at night. She lifted her hand and when she put it back down it was closer to mine, so close that our fingertips were almost touching. Her gaze bore into mine almost expectantly, patiently, like she was waiting for something I was incognizant of.

“I should probably get going,” she eventually said, shattering the unholy silence. “Emily will be getting home soon.”