Mila started to dread how easy it was.
How easily Claire slid into her days. How naturally her name appeared in conversations, in thoughts Mila hadn't invited but couldn't stop. How "we should hang out again" quietly turned into when.
The first time it happened without Evan was accidental.
Mila was leaving the library with a stack of books balanced precariously against her chest when she nearly ran straight into Claire.
"Oh—sorry," Claire said at the same time Mila did.
They laughed, startled into the same rhythm, and the sound of it made Mila's stomach flip.
"Studying?" Claire asked, nodding at the books.
"Trying to," Mila said. "Midterms are… brutal."
"Tell me about it. I swear professors coordinate just to make us suffer."
Mila smiled. Then hesitated. "Are you… busy?"
Claire thought for a second. "Not really. Why?"
The question hung between them, fragile.
"I was just going to grab coffee," Mila said. "To keep myself awake. You don't have to—"
"I'd love to," Claire said immediately.
Too immediately.
She cleared her throat. "I mean—yeah. Coffee sounds good."
They walked together, shoulder to shoulder. Close enough that Mila became hyperaware of the space between them, of every accidental brush of fabric.
Claire talked easily, filling the silence with stories about her classes, about Evan when he was younger, about the time she accidentally slept through an exam and still somehow passed.
Mila listened, smiling, laughing at the right moments, while inside her chest something stretched painfully tight.
This was worse than before.
This was dangerous.
At the café, they took a small table by the window. Claire pulled her chair close without thinking, leaning in as she spoke. Mila mirrored her without realizing it.
"So," Claire said, stirring her drink, "can I ask you something?"
Mila's heart stuttered. "Okay."
"You don't have to hang out with me just because of Evan," Claire said. "You know that, right?"
Mila blinked. "I know."
Claire studied her, brow faintly furrowed. "I just don't want you to feel obligated."
"I don't," Mila said quickly. Too quickly. She took a breath, steadied herself. "I like spending time with you."
Claire smiled, clearly pleased. "Good. Me too."
The words settled into Mila like a bruise.
They talked until their drinks went cold. About music, about favorite movies, about the strange comfort of walking campus late at night when everything felt quieter and more honest.
At some point, Claire reached across the table and pushed Mila's sleeve up gently, revealing the faint indentation of a watch tan.
"You wear it all the time," Claire said absently. "Even when you're not wearing a watch."
Mila froze.
Claire's fingers were light, barely there. Casual. Thoughtless.
Mila felt it everywhere.
"Oh," Mila said, forcing a laugh. "Habit."
"Cute," Claire said, and didn't seem to realize what she'd said.
Mila swallowed.
When they finally stood to leave, Mila felt like she was walking away from something she shouldn't want.
At the door, Claire hesitated. "We should do this again."
Mila nodded. "Yeah."
This time, when they parted, Mila didn't watch Claire leave.
She already knew if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from wanting more.
And Claire—still smiling, still unaware—walked away thinking she'd just made a new friend.
Mila went back to her dorm and lay awake long after midnight, realizing something she hadn't wanted to admit.
This wasn't unrequited love anymore.
It was closeness.
And closeness was worse.