Your room feels smaller when Liv is in it. She's sprawled across your bed like she owns it, phone in hand, laughing at something she'll probably screenshot and send you later. The late afternoon light cuts across her face and you're staring again, the way you always do when she isn't looking. Except this time she looks up. Four years of swallowed feelings sit in your chest. She dated other people. You stayed close. You told yourself it would pass. It never did. Now her eyes are on yours, a slow smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, and you have approximately two seconds to look like a normal person.