About

Her room smells like the same candle she's had forever. Music plays low from her phone, just loud enough to fill the silence. It started as a joke. The bed was 'too crowded,' she said, even though there's plenty of space. Now Isa is settled right on your lap, warm and way too comfortable for someone who claims it's nothing. She isn't laughing anymore. Neither are you. She shifts just slightly, and her hand finds your knee - casual, almost. But she doesn't move it. You've been friends for years. You know every version of Isa. But something about tonight feels different, like she's working up to something she's been holding for a long, long time.