THE PHOTOS OF me in Bee & Co.'s jewelry hit the internet twenty-four hours after the second episode of the season went out, and twenty percent of my seven thousand comments were questions regarding Takoda and I. Sitting amidst the remaining fire and sweat emojis, sexist slash pervert remarks, complaints about how expensive everything I was putting on actually was, and numerous fan promises to get their own jewelry ASAP, was a request from Robin.

Queen, the forces are jealous and want to use me as a vessel to steal your beauty. You free tomorrow?

To say I felt triumphant was an understatement.

By Thursday evening, I had over fifty-four million followers, a mini milestone that didn't go unnoticed by my best friend.

Her long, flawless legs were crossed as she leaned forward, half of her attention on her Chinese takeout. Her room smelled like really good food and really expensive cologne, feeling much lighter than mine with the way natural light streamed in through the sheer curtains and highlighted that of the fairy lights strung around. Robin had far more superior taste than I did, and it was obvious in the décor of her personal space. Scented candles of varying sizes had been placed on the windowsill next to her potted aloe and a delicate fist-shaped vase. Several photos I took of us back in high school—in our preppy uniforms and designer shoes, leaning against her Audi; at an ice cream shop, obviously suffering from brain freeze; with her then boyfriend Justice in his dad's hot tub, etcetera—were stylishly stuck to the wall next to her study table, and the sight of them sent a pang hurtling across my chest.

Those were the good days, when heartbreak was laughable and overdramatic, when love was gross and unreal but simultaneously too far out of reach, when I took my camera everywhere I went, daydreaming about traveling the world, about creating collections ranging from the deeply cultural to the bourgeoisie, about creating my own travel blog the moment I finished high school, about putting my monthly allowance and savings into something other than online shopping and spontaneous visits to places that were only aimed at making my Instagram look pretty.

I felt like a shell of what I used to be.

Robin shoveled noodles into her mouth with her chopsticks before fixing me with an accusatory look. "If you cry, I'll kick you out."

I'm not sure what it was about her threat that made me laugh, but the sound ran out of me before I knew it. "What makes you think I'm about to cry?"

"You have this look in your eyes, like you're about to deliver a monologue or something."

"I don't feel as much of a mess to cry right now, so you don't have to worry about kicking me out."

She nodded, reaching for her glass of water on the coffee table, the beige polish on her toenails gleaming in the light. It was almost impossible to believe that this was just her bedroom. It was emptier than it was before she left for USC, but the personal touches were still there. She took a sip of her water before asking, "Are we going to pretend we didn't talk to each other for over a week?"

"I was hoping we could."

Every sign of amusement died from her face at my response. "See, this is exactly what I'm talking about. You're either taking things too seriously or not seriously enough. There's no mid-point for you, and it's not as endearing as you probably think it is."

My lips parted as I prepared to defend myself, but she cut me off.

"I asked you about it several times, Cleo, and you lied to me. This wouldn't have sucked as much if I'd been a clueless friend who'd failed to pick up on your emotions. The lying was what made it sting, and now you're acting like it's no big deal."

I stared at my manicure, my mood dampening. I'd practiced everything I'd say when I got here, but none of them felt fitting now. It wasn't like I wasn't expecting her to be pissed—as she'd told me, she found our conflict exhausting and realized how much she really missed me when she saw my photo, but was only slightly less mad than she was last week—but I'd been hoping she'd be much more willing to forget what happened so we could move on. I hated confrontations, and I wished I knew someone that hated them just as much as I did.

"There was even this one scene in yesterday's episode where the both of you walked out of Coco's music room after obviously making out. It was written all over you."

"Wow, I hate this show," was the only thing I could say.

"Yeah. It's the show's fault." She abruptly got up with her half-empty takeout pack and walked barefoot across the room to her dresser. I was pissing her off.

In an effort to do damage control, I offered, "You don't understand, Robin."

"The only thing I don't understand is why you lied to me when you planned on sneaking around with him the entire weekend."

Something about her words made me feel hot with panic, but I couldn't trace why. "I wasn't even planning on speaking to the guy. He hurt me, okay?" I drew in a quiet, shaky breath, prepared to tell her the official version of the truth. I didn't want to imagine how furious she'd be if all this blew up in my face and she found out that this was yet another lie. May told Takoda and me that it was just an omission of truth, but I still considered it a lie, and Robin would, too, if she found out. "He hurt me and you guys couldn't stop talking about him. It killed me."

She stared at me for a moment, then put her noodles down on the dresser before leaning against it. "How long?"

I twirled my vine ring around my forefinger, giving myself the time to back out and tell her the real truth, but I chickened out at the last minute. "We . . . we had something before his hiatus. It was a bit hazy but it was there, and it felt intoxicating." I gave chance to a facetious laugh. "Literally the best thing I've ever felt in my life. I thought it would fizzle out because I was quite sure back then that I was incapable of anything in that line of seriousness, but it didn't. We were getting pretty serious when he went MIA. He didn't tell me, just disappeared, and I tried calling and texting several times but . . ." I shrugged, still twisting my ring. "Can you guess how that made me feel—giving my heart to someone, then having him disappear like that? I didn't hear a thing from him for six months."

I paused to take my best friend in. Her eyes were softer now, but angry still.

"Then he came back, and I found out he was texting you and my mom and sister the whole time." That one really stung, and I was extremely grateful that I didn't even have to hide how my voice broke on the words. "I couldn't help but feel worthless, like maybe I let myself get used or something."

"Six months, Cleo? You were going through all this for six months and you didn't even give me a hint."

I sniffled. "I was processing everything. I felt like talking about it would make me cry, and I was too mad at him to believe he deserved that."

"I could throw you out my window right now."

A soft laugh from me stirred the awkward air between us. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted to, trust me. All of it was just new to me, and this isn't some random guy we're talking about. It's Takoda Calebs. Multi award-winning, makes-girls-cry-in-the-audience Takoda Calebs. I'm way out of his league."

"You left out the part where he's unbelievably sweet and effortlessly charming in all the ways you're not, and where he totally stares at you all the time."

My first instinct was to let my jaw drop, but I couldn't be that dramatic to save my life. That was my sister's job. "He does not," I settled on instead.

"Girl, I'll fight you if you oppose me again," she warned, a playful smile quirking one corner of her lips. "I have eyes. I see things. Takoda's practically helpless around you, and vice versa. I get pregnant just from watching you both."

My face grew unintentionally hot at the thought that all those months of thinking we were being subtle didn't go completely unnoticed. We tried to act casual with each other when people were around—friendly enough to not rouse suspicion, but detached enough to also not rouse suspicion—but whenever we got the chance, we tugged on each other's fingers beneath tables and counters, sent each other texts while pretending to be on social media, found excuses to end up alone, in the kitchen, in the hallway, in the living room. The thrill of it sprouted new life in me. I honestly believed it all flew over the heads of everyone else.

"By the way, I'm totally into that forbidden romance thing," she added, a full smile finally gracing her lips, and some of the tension that had been pushing down on my shoulders over the past few days lifted, leaving me feeling like my airways weren't clogged anymore. "It's very hot topic."

I released a breath, watching her until she leaned away from her dresser and spread out her arms.

"Get over here, you fool."

I wasn't an extremely affectionate person—it came and went as it liked—but when she stepped closer to me, I pushed myself off her armchair and closed the distance between us. She had a couple of inches over me, so my head fit perfectly beneath her chin. I didn't laugh at the fact that she was holding onto me the way my mom did, didn't mention that I could smell spices on her breath. I only marveled at the fact that I hadn't realized I needed a hug until now.

What do you say to an ice cream date with me? May's sent me five emails about getting out of the house. Emails.

Takoda's text lighting up my screen was the only reminder of what had transpired between us at his place on Tuesday.

I'd tried my possible best not to give it any thought, and I'd mostly succeeded, but it appeared that it was impossible for me to not think about him in general, not just about whether or not we were being intimate with each other. Thankfully, we hadn't slept together this time, but we had kissed. For a while. He'd sat up after a few seconds of Spiderman-inspired kissing, turned to face me, pushed my hair back with a gentle sweep of his fingers, and kissed me. I'd let him. I'd indulged. I'd loved every blissful second of it. I'd forgotten.

It wasn't until I felt my hand on his chest, tingling in response to the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his T-shirt, until I felt his on my waist, that I became aware of what exactly we were doing and pulled away, flustered. Then I'd asked him to drive me home.

I had to talk to him about this, because the last time I'd kissed him, I'd promised myself that would be the last time. Our final hurrah. Why didn't he stop me? Why did I make the move in the first place? What the actual hell were we doing?

Pushing all those questions out of mind, I responded to his text.

I say yes to your bribe. Where should I wait for you?

I had to wait a full minute before his reply came.

I'll pick you up from your place. Wait there.

That's quite the distance.

Yeah I know. Wait for me, I'll see you soon.

I put effort into my appearance, something I hadn't done much of lately. I put loose waves in my hair and held it half up with a hairclip I stole from Robin, brushed two coats of mascara through my eyelashes, and applied some eyeliner. Then I hunted down my suede ankle boots to pair with my outfit—a black long-sleeve tucked into a dark brown skirt. When I took in my appearance in the full-length mirror, I worried that it was a little too much, too dark academia for an ice cream date. But then I remembered that I had to look this way—ridiculously good—for what we were about to do. Appearance was important for public figures. If photos of me were going to start appearing much more frequently online, I wanted them to be worth it.

So I drew in a breath, resigned to waiting for Takoda, and then let it out slowly. At the thought of him, the kiss unfortunately came back to mind, weakening my exhale and chasing an unwelcome shiver down the back of my neck.

"God, what am I doing?" I whispered, going to sit on the edge of my bed for a moment. "Why am I doing this to myself?"

Ever since Takoda got back, I'd been telling myself that I didn't want to do this again, but it seemed like I was only capable of doing that when he wasn't around. Once he was, all reasoning escaped me. My body, my brain, my heart—they all betrayed me. But I couldn't continue like this. Right?

I stared at my plant as if it could provide me with the answers I needed, but when it didn't do as much as move, I let out a sigh and fell back to the bed, only half-aware that I was messing up my hair. Pushing against my memories were the events of last Sunday, which had only continued to hover in my mind, not quite there but not quite gone, either. We could've done without taking such a huge step. I could've walked out and left him to continue with my sister's piano. And that was all aside from the drunken moment in Night Shift's bathroom, the dream, the strange urge to want to know what was going on in his life, the sour feeling when I noticed he wasn't feeling okay. The denial.

I knew I'd missed him a lot. I knew that he knew me better than anybody else. But those were about the only things I was willing to admit. I couldn't still be in love with him, right? Not after everything he said and everything he did. Not after the many months of his absence that consisted of me working on myself, shaping myself into the person I was now, convincing myself that he was absolutely dead to me. I couldn't.

People say love chooses us, and once upon a time I believed that, but now it only felt like an excuse. Every human being has a choice. What to eat, what to wear, where to go. Who to love. We just have to make decisions based on those choices and religiously stick to them, trust that they'd only move us forward.

I didn't know how long I lay there for, but I only moved when my mom called out to me, informing the entire house that there was someone in the living room for me. I fixed my hair, spritzed on some Chanel, and put my phone in the pocket of my skirt, pulling in another grounding breath before making my way out.

But the moment I rounded the corner that led to the living room and saw him, sitting there next to my mom—who was smoothing her hands down his shoulders in an effort to assist him with his appearance—with an amused smile on his face, my stomach dropped completely from beneath me, and I felt that chill from earlier again. This time, it accused me of lying.

cleo 🤝 denial.

side note that platonic relationships are just as important as romantic ones. bonjour.