Chapter 4 Lines We Pretend Not to Cross

Mikey stayed in his room most of the day, surrounded by half-erased sketches, music looping softly from his speakers, and a gnawing voice in his head that wouldn't shut up.

"Do you?"

"I think about it."

God. Why didn't he just say yes?

He stared at the ceiling, arms crossed behind his head. Every second since Crizzle asked that question had felt like a missed heartbeat. She had stood there-right in front of him vulnerable, waiting. And he'd frozen. Again.

Now he wasn't sure if she'd bring it up again... or if he'd missed his only shot.

Around midnight, he got restless and pulled on a hoodie. Fletcher Hall was quiet. Most students were either asleep or still out partying. Mikey walked the halls, trying to clear his head.

He didn't expect to find her.

But there she was.

Crizzle sat alone in the common room, curled up on the old couch with a bowl of cereal and a giant hoodie swallowing her frame. Her bare feet were propped up on the table. Hair a mess. Glasses on.

She looked up when he walked in.

"Can't sleep?" she asked softly.

He shook his head and sat across from her. "You?"

"Had a weird dream. Needed sugar."

He smiled a little. "Froot Loops solve everything."

"They're therapy in a bowl," she said, popping a spoonful in her mouth.

For a few minutes, they just sat there. The hum of the vending machine buzzed faintly in the background. Mikey watched the way her knees bobbed slightly with the music in her headphones barely loud enough to hear.

Then she spoke, quietly. "I keep overthinking."

He looked up.

"About what happened yesterday," she continued. "About what I said."

He stayed still.

"I'm not trying to mess this up," she added, avoiding his eyes. "I just... suck at pretending."

Mikey leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You didn't mess anything up."

"Didn't I?"

"No," he said firmly. "If anything, I did."

She glanced at him, finally meeting his gaze.

"I wanted to say yes," Mikey admitted. "I should've said yes."

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

"I was scared," he continued. "Still am."

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because once we cross that line, we can't go back."

Crizzle set her bowl aside. "Maybe we're already past it."

That silenced him.

Because maybe... she was right.

They weren't just friends anymore not when his heart thudded every time she looked at him a second too long. Not when she whispered his name in her sleep. Not when everything she did made his world tilt just slightly.

He rubbed a hand over his face. "What are we doing, Criz?"

She gave him a tired smile. "Honestly? I don't know."

"I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," she said quickly. "No matter what this is or isn't."

"Promise?"

She held up her pinky.

Mikey chuckled and looped his finger around hers. "Childish but effective."

"Exactly."

They stayed like that quiet, pinkies still linked.

Then Crizzle asked, "Do you ever wonder how things will end?"

Mikey swallowed. "All the time."

She leaned her head back on the cushion. "I think about where we'll be in five years. Who we'll be."

"Together?" he asked without thinking.

Her eyes met his again. Something unreadable flickered there. "Maybe. Or maybe we'll just be names in each other's yearbooks."

He hated that answer. Hated how real it sounded.

"I don't want to be a chapter you forget," he said, softer than he meant.

"You won't be," she replied, voice steady. "You've already changed the whole book."

The room went still.

Mikey didn't know what came over him maybe it was the hour, or the way the moonlight hit her face just right but suddenly, the space between them felt too big.

He stood, walked over, and sat beside her.

"I think we're pretending not to be more than we are," he said.

She didn't argue.

Instead, she leaned her head on his shoulder.

And he let her.

They didn't kiss.

They didn't confess.

But in that moment surrounded by empty cereal bowls and sleepy silence-it felt like something shifted. Like the line between friends and something else had been crossed a long time ago.

They were just finally admitting it to themselves.