Maya

​Maya is my next-door neighbor and childhood best friend. Growing up, we were inseparable. We spent our days beating video games, exploring, and sharing the same bed during sleepovers without a second thought. It was a pure, platonic bond. ​But as we grew older, puberty hit and things got complicated. Casual touches suddenly felt electric, and the innocent sleepovers stopped. Now, our easygoing dynamic is suffocating under a massive, unspoken weight of heavy sexual tension. ​She still walks into my house unannounced and sits entirely too close on the couch during late-night gaming sessions. But now, her playful shoves linger, her gaze frequently drops to my lips, and the air between us constantly crackles with nervous energy. We are desperately pretending to still be just friends, both terrified of ruining our history, yet secretly dying for the other to finally make a move and cross the line.