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If she notices how weird I sound, she doesn’t comment on it. “I was just wondering if you need anything at the grocery store. I’m taking the bus over to pick up a few things.”

I take a few steps back from the mirror and end up bumping against the end of my bed. I collapse into a seat on the edge of the mattress.

“Naomi?”

I curl my hands into fists in my lap and suck in a shuddering breath, but I still can’t pull myself together enough to answer.

“You could, um, come with me.” Her voice gets a little clearer, like she’s leaned up against the door. “If you don’t know exactly what you want. We could go together.”

I do know exactly what I want.

I want to fling the door open and tell her to kiss me. I want to tell her I’ve been thinking about kissing her since I found her raiding the fridge in the middle of the night while I threatened her with a table lamp and a tiny Venus de Milo.

I want to tell her I like her and that I’m not even totally sure what I mean by that but that whatever it is, I haven’t been able to snuff it out and bury it beneath a bunch of books like I do with everything else I’m too scared to do or feel or be.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice edged with alarm. “Naomi?”

I dig my nails into my palms so hard it hurts. “I’m okay. I…I…”

My voice trails off into a rasp. I swallow and start to try again, but she speaks first.

“Hey, um, I’m sorry if I made things weird yesterday. I guess you didn’t ask for that information, so if this is about me…me being bi, then yeah, I’m sorry.”

The door jiggles like she’s shifted against it.

“I don’t…I don’t really know a lot of people, um, in the community?” she says, pausing to let out a self-deprecatory laugh. “See, I don’t even know if that’s a thing people say. Anyway, I don’t know if there’s some, like, etiquette about it, or whatever. I just… I guess I just wanted you to know, and I’m sorry if that was weird.”

My heart feels like it’s swelling up too big to fit in my body.

She wanted me to know. She didn’t just blurt it out by mistake. She said she hasn’t told many people, and she wanted one of those people to be me.

A wave of guilt hits me so hard I raise one of my hands to cover my mouth so she won’t hear me gasp.

She trusted me to be there for her, and now I can’t even look at her because of a stupid crush.

“Okay, well, that’s all I have to say.” Her tone has gone flat now. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

Panic squeezes my chest. I push up off the bed and take a shaky step towards the door.

“Wait.”

She doesn’t say anything, but I don’t hear her leaving either.

“I…”

I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to go on.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. You…you didn’t do anything wrong. There’s no, um, etiquette. If you want to tell someone, you should tell them, and if they care about you, it’s their job to be there for you. At least that’s how I see it. So…yeah. I’m sorry. I’m just…a very socially awkward person. Sometimes I just don’t know how to, uh, be a person like other people do, but I really am so glad you wanted to tell me, even though I’m super weird.”

She’s quiet for so long I start to wonder if maybe she did leave, but then she speaks again.

“Thank you. That means a lot. Also, I don’t think you’re weird. I think you’re…you, and you don’t try to be anything else the way other people do. That’s way weirder, if you ask me. I think you’re pretty damn cool, even when you’re refusing to have a conversation without a door between us.”

She laughs again, and I force myself to join in, but my pulse is racing with alarm again. I want to be there for her, but I don’t think I’m ready to do that while staring at her gorgeous face.

“Seriously,” she says, “come to the grocery store with me. It’ll be fun. We can buy more pickles, although I think you already own every kind they have.”

I wrack my brain for an excuse that won’t make her think I’m avoiding her and end up blurting the first thing to pop into my head.