STEPHANIE
...

I notice how tense Mel seems, her shoulders stiff, her hands fidgeting with the couch cushions.

For a second, I regret saying yes to this. If I’d known she wasn’t thrilled about the idea of me staying over, I would’ve told Jeremiah no. Maybe then, I could’ve kept what was left of our budding friendship instead of putting this weird strain on it.

I try to lighten the mood, cracking a joke about something—I don’t even remember what. It earns a short laugh from her, just a small burst before the room falls silent again.

The quiet feels heavier than it should, and before I can stop myself, I ask, “Do you feel like I’m intruding?”

Mel’s head snaps toward me, her expression somewhere between surprise and disbelief. “Steph…”

I shrug, trying not to look as needy as I feel. I hate how the words sound, but they won’t stay in.

“You’re being cold towards me, and I don’t know… I don’t know if this was a mistake. If you’re not comfortable, I’m happy to go and come back later.”

Her face softens, but she doesn’t say anything right away. I wait, my chest tightening with each second of silence. Finally, she shakes her head, her hair brushing her cheeks.

“I... I like being around you, Steph,” she says, her voice quieter than usual. “I just… I don’t… I’m sorry.”

She flashes me a toothy grin, the kind that usually fixes everything. I feel my lips curve into a smile of my own, even though I’m not sure what she’s apologizing for or why she didn't finish what she wanted to say.

But it’s a start, at least.

***

An hour later, we both decide that sitting at home is unbearably dull.

“How about yoga?” Mel suggests, looking at me hopefully.

I stare at her, raising an eyebrow. “Yoga? After the last time?”

She winces, rubbing the back of her neck. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You pulled a muscle trying to do the crow pose,” I remind her. “Twice.”

Mel groans, tossing a pillow at me. “Fine. No yoga. What do you want to do, then?”

I hesitate for a second, then say, “I need to shop for a couch. Why don’t we do that?”

She agrees, but I can tell she’s just happy to have an excuse to leave the apartment. I don’t blame her. The silence between us has been old, and getting out feels like a much-needed escape.

We end up at a furniture store, wandering through rows of couches and beds. I try out a few, bouncing slightly on the cushions while Mel makes sarcastic comments about my “method.”

“This one’s nice,” I say, gesturing to a navy-blue sectional.

Mel raises an eyebrow. “You sure? Doesn’t look bouncy enough for your standards.”

I roll my eyes but laugh anyway. “Not everything has to be.”

We spend over an hour debating the merits of different couches before finally picking one. I make a note on my phone to call them so they can deliver it later when I'm home.

Obviously on a Tuesday because on Monday, I will still be hungover from Mel.

Yeah, that's a thing!

By the time we’re done, I’m starving, but instead of heading to a restaurant, we somehow find ourselves in line for tickets to Moana.

At the concession stand, Mel insists on buying two large popcorn, even though I warn her she won’t finish them. She says one is for me and we are going to finish them. I grab sodas, and we head into the theater, choosing seats in the back where no one will glare at us if we talk too much.

The movie starts, and I glance over at Mel, curious. Her eyes are glued to the screen, her expression flickering between awe and amusement.

I could freeze this moment just to get to look at this, light flickering in her excited eyes, popping popcorn kernels in her mouth even if half of it is spilling over to her shirt.

“Have you seen this before?” I lean in to whisper.

“Of course,” she whispers back, though her tone sounds defensive.

I narrow my eyes. “Are you sure? Because you’re acting like this is your first time.”

She doesn’t answer, too focused on the scene where Moana sets sail for the first time.

Somewhere halfway through the movie, Mel starts giggling at every joke Maui makes and gasping at every twist, and I realize she’s definitely lying. She hasn’t seen this before.

That pulls a smile out of me.

“Okay,” I whisper, leaning toward her. “You’ve never seen this. Just admit it.”

“Shush,” she hisses, waving me off. But she’s smiling, and for the first time all day, it feels like we’re back to normal.

I like normal.

She keeps whispering little comments to me throughout the movie—something about the chicken, something about the ocean being Moana’s personal GPS—and I don’t stop her. I don’t even care that we’re probably annoying the people in front of us.

They've been throwing us death glares the whole time but I don't care.

Because this is my Mel. My Mel who can’t sit still during anything. My Mel who gasps too loudly when the villain shows up and sings under her breath during the big songs.

The tension between us is fading and I like it.

I don’t want this version of her to go.

When the credits roll, we’re the last ones to leave the theater. Mel’s still grinning, her hands clutching the empty popcorn bucket like a trophie.

How did she finish all that? Mines still halfway through.

“I told you two was a bad idea,” I tease, gesturing to her bucket and mine. "We could have shared one."

“I regret nothing,” she says, sticking her tongue out at me.

I just roll my eyes because somehow, that makes my stomach turn. I could just suck on that pink thing.

When people leave, we stay behind until the cleaning lady starts picking up trash. We talk about the movie, about which Disney songs are the best, about everything and nothing. It feels like a relief, like the air has finally cleared.

When the lady starts to sweep, we refuse to move until she practically threatens to kick out asses with her broom stick is when we rush out, running.

I'm out of breath but I'm laughing and this is the best feeling ever.