It was supposed to be nice outside. A perfect little backyard birthday party—is that too much to ask for, universe?

Thunder rumbles off in the distance while in front of me, James and Beth scream at the TV. It's not the dinky little TV's fault they both suck at Mario Kart, but instead of telling them this, I just sit back and observe and try not to think about how Elena isn't here yet.

Every year. Every year, something has to happen. My birthday is in early August, a time that should be nice and lovely and warm and fun. But every year, without fail, there's something that has to get in the way. My twelfth birthday, some toddler decided the public pool was a public restroom, closing down the whole joint for the day. The next year was 2020, a total bust. It's like some kind of birthday curse—I'm seventeen now, and I haven't had a proper birthday party in years.

Really, I could have handled the rain. Rain isn't the end of the world, especially considering everyone will be sleeping over anyway—James, Beth, Zee—but, Elena. Elena was supposed to be here.

I am totally not freaking out. Nope, nope, nope, nope.

Zee is currently trying to pick cupcake frosting off their black jeans, mouth a tight line.

"How are you such a mess?" I ask them while James and Beth continue their screeching.

"Believe me, I wish I knew." The hand still holding their cupcake wobbles just slightly, and a little dollop of frosting falls on their pale green sweater. They groan, letting their head flop back. Dark hair swings in front of their eyes. "Why? Why me?"

"Hey, hey, Sophie," Beth chirps without looking back from the screen. She's in last place, but this doesn't seem to put a damper on her enthusiasm. For wanting to be a videogame designer, she sure sucks at everything Nintendo.

James comes in second and whoops. Beth just drops her controller, sighs, and turns around to face me. After two Bangs and three cupcakes, she's more wide-eyed than usual, an effect only aided by her thick glasses lenses. The frames match her purple I (Queer) Code shirt. She's had it since middle school and never grew out of it—the tiny thing hasn't grown since middle school.

"When is Elena coming?" she asks, leaning in and readjusting her glasses. Next to her, James purses his lips and gives her a damn girl-brand side eye. "I thought she would be here by now."

James jokingly slaps her shoulder. I can tell he means well; he always does. "Get out of her face, you hard-boiled turtle slapper."

"Don't come at me with your antiquated Spider-Verse insults, you ... you—"

"How dare, Bethany. Never antiquated."

Zee lays down and rests their head on my lap before checking the time on their phone. Their lock screen is a picture of me, them, and the rest of our little gaggle at an annual queer musical festival last summer, QueerBack.

"It's only four-thirty," they say. They make the most mundane of sentences sound soothing. It's a very useful skill. "Plenty of time for her to get here."

"Plenty of time," I echo, but it feels hollow.

Zee's eyes flick up to find my face. They smile, short and sweet and reassuring. "Plenty of time, Sophie."

I try to return the hopeful expression, but doubt still tugs at the back of my mind. I haven't seen Elena since QueerBack, before she went back home to visit her dad. What if she's changed? Drastic change can happen over two months. There was a moment there at the festival where I thought she might like me—where I realised I liked her.

Not seeing her means not knowing. I just want her back here, with me in this cold basement on this lumpy couch, where we can ignore my stupid, aggravating feelings together.

An hour later, the doorbell finally rings.

"ELENA!" shouts Beth, springing up to her feet and nearly tripping over James. The front door's signature squeak is loud, even from the basement.

His glare is stone-cold as it follows her to the stairs. "I am trying to paint my nails here."

Zee is playing Temple Run on the other end of the couch. We started talking about the apps and games of our childhood after Beth placed last in Mario Kart again, and Temple Run was a tender favorite, I guess. Beth argued Subway Surfers was clearly superior, while James shook his head and grumbled.

And me? I just sat here. Ate another cupcake. Or two.

I hear Dad's voice booming from by the front door, inviting Elena in. "You're soaked," he says. "How long were you out there for?"

We all reach the top of the stairs, Beth scrambling up before each of us with voracious giggles, and there's Elena in the doorway, pulling down her tiny umbrella and smiling that big, shiny smile of hers. Her headscarf looks new, bright and shiny and teal, and her styled curly bangs are on display. Her dark eyes seem to twinkle as she smiles, and as the smell of fresh rain chills the entryway, my pulse beats strong in my ears.

"I wasn't out there for long, really. Figured I would walk. It honestly isn't far, Mr. Kelly." She's not looking at my dad, though—she's looking at me. "Hey. Sophie-So. My dude. You're seventeen."

"That I am," I say, matching her enthusiastic grin. "And you're here."

Her eyes happy-squint. "That I am. Here's your present, dude."

She holds out a bag, and before I can say anything, Beth scurries forward and grabs it. "MINE," she shouts, and Zee chases her down back into the basement with thundering steps and a chorus of shrieking giggles.

"Children," James says with his typical unenthusiastic eye roll. "I am never having children."

My dad awkwardly excuses himself back to his Miami Vice reruns, and James follows the Troublesome Two back down to the basement. Elena and I say nothing—we just stare at each other, smiling.

"So," she says, "you're almost an adult now."

"Yep. And you're back from Puerto Rico."

"Indeed I am."

I sit on the small thrifted bench next to the front door as Elena takes her sopping wet sneakers off. "How was it? Seeing your dad."

"He's fine," she says with a dismissive wave. "The weather was fine. Step-siblings were fine. It was a really nice trip, actually. He and my mom were super civil, almost buddy-buddy? And my grandma spent ages geeking out over my hair. I have, like, a bajillion new headscarves."

"Sounds fun." I want to tell her how cute I think this new scarf is, but I can't find the words in time.

"It was. I missed it there." She leans back against the beige-painted wall. Every wall in this house is beige. "So. How was your summer, Sophie-So?"

I can't get enough of her side profile. Thank goodness she has her eyes closed; otherwise, she would totally notice me checking her out like a creep. Just, going a month without seeing your absolute bestest friend is a lot. And a half. "Without you? Boring as hell."

"Awww, I am sadistically glad to hear it."

There's so much I want to tell her. Like about James's new puppy, who is not the little angel he's been spamming his Twitter feed with, or how I'm pretty sure Zee has a thing for Beth, which is kind of the most perfect yin-yang thing ever. Or how I realised I have a thing for someone, too. Something I should have realised far sooner than I did.

She definitely does not want to hear about that.

"So like, how did your shoes get so soaked? Did you stop for a swim?" I ask instead. Nervous heat prickles the back of my neck.

She laughs. Elena has this musical, tinkling laugh. She looks over at me with a little smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

I scoot closer to her, playing the serious one. "I very much would."

"Well. I fought Poseidon. He's pretty salty."

"What, did you stab his cyclops son in the eye or something?"

"I'll never tell," she says, jutting her chin out into the air. "You'll never break me."

"Seventh grade tickle fight results beg to differ."

Elena crosses her arms and shifts to the very end of the bench. "Girl, I will rip your head off if you dare tickle me. I don't care if it's your birthday or what. Head. Ripped. Off."

I shake my head and stand. Elena is one of the funniest people I know, but for whatever reason, I'm good at not laughing around her—aside from early sleepover mornings where we've both spent too much time gabbing and not enough time sleeping, at least. I'm always too busy cutting back with some quip or jibe or suave comment. Still, my heart is always hammering, this nervous little beating that speeds up every time she gives me this specific look, this certain smile.

It's the smile she's giving me now. I could explode. "Let's go downstairs, Odysseus."

We leave behind the rain-beat windows and walk side-by-side down the stairs. Zee and James have started a new game of Mario Kart—Zee is really giving him a run for his money—while Beth whisper-screams at Zee's phone.

"You evil gorilla mutants," she hisses, squinting. "Come to me, spirit of RBG."

"She has way better things to be doing than saving you from evil gorilla mutants," Zee says as they complete another lap.

"RBG is like the tooth fairy. She has time for everyone."

Elena glances at me quickly before plopping down on the couch next to Beth, leaning in to see what she's playing. I sit on Beth's other side, trying to keep my eyes on the screen and not on my oldest best friend.

She seems surprised to see the game. "Holy crap, Temple Run? Duuude, this is literally ancient."

"I know I know I know," Beth mutters as the avatar trips over a tree root. "UGH WHY."

"Mind if I try?"

"Be my guest. Temple Run is for losers. Only dum-dums like Temple Run. I hereby decree Temple Run the official game of sad, antisocial serial killers who live in their mother's basements."

"The jig is up," Zee says. "I've been outed."

"Run," says James, driving over a banana peel.

Beth just sighs and shrinks into the couch. It's been in this house as long as I can remember, and now, despite its many stains and sinkhole-ish cushions, it's my go-to chilling couch. Well, phone chilling. Book chilling. Not Netflix-and-chill chilling.

My gaze flicks over to Elena. Her brow is knit in concentration. Her thumbs are flying. "Since when was this hard?" she asks. "I used to be so good at—frick, ah, frick!"

"FEEL MY PAIN," shouts Beth without opening her eyes, and sinks further into the couch.

Zee beats James. He groans and says something about needing a top coat for his nails. We quickly drift off into our own things, occasionally shouting random phrases or quoting the memes that were hip when we were like, fourteen. That's the thing about our group—we're pretty good at existing in comfortable silence. I don't know if it's a thing with our generation or what. Maybe we got too used to social isolation in middle school. But, we like it. It's us. It's perfect.

"Ey, Sophie," says James from his spot on the floor. He has a cushion beneath his torso, propping him up as he browses his phone. "You should open your presents or something."

"Ohmygosh." Beth shoots up from her spot on the couch. There's a Beth-shaped indent left in her wake. "Sophie, open mine!"

She runs over to beneath the window, where my tiny little pile of gifts has been amassed. Thank goodness one of us has energy, honestly. Beth is the most hyper human being on the planet. Every time she's been dumped, it's been because her partner didn't know how to match her 'bouncing-off-the-walls' vibes. To us, though, her rambunctiousness fits like a necessary puzzle-piece, one of the most important cogs in our operation.

She hands me a bright blue envelope and a giant bag of Sour Patch Kids. "Open," she demands.

"I object," says Zee with their hand raised, towering over Beth. She glances up at them, and I'm sorry, but I notice her blush. "I say we open mine first, because—"

"Who's we?" cuts in Elena, crossing her arms.

"Hey, my birthday is December 24th. It's hardly a birthday. I need to live vicariously through someone, thank you."

I take the Sour Patch Kids and envelope. "Thank you, Bethany."

"You're welcome, Sophiettamy." James snorts.

"I wonder, what ever could this be?" I shake the bag of Sour Patch Kids. "The anticipation is killing me."

Beth groans, gesturing emphatically with her arms at nothing in particular, just whooshing around in the air. "Enveloooope. Open the envelope. My goodness, you goon, this is taking too long. Envelope."

I smile. "Fine."

It's a finger painting. Totally abstract. I have no idea what this is. There aren't any words on the back, either—it's just random swipes of cheap paint. A little weird. A lot Beth.

"It's like that painting monkey painter!" Beth says. "Pierre Brasseur. Monkey painter dude. Who paints. He's definitely worth a Google, my guys."

Behind her, Zee chuckles and picks up their little gift bag. They deposit it carefully on the scratched coffee table shoved too closely to the couch. "Be warned: there's a pokey in there."

"A pokey?" I ask and shove my arm in. And then there's just the burning sensation of my entire palm being impaled, tender skin pricked all over. "OW."

I yoink my arm out. Everyone—especially James—cackles while I examine my palm. No blood, thank goodness. "I told you there was a pokey in there," Zee says, crossing their arms.

I peek inside the bag. "A freaking cactus? Really, Zee?"

"Hey, cacti are cute. Cacti will forever be cute."

"You got me a weapon. For my birthday."

"Yes," says James, flapping his hands a little to dry his nails faster, "because yeeting a cactus at an intruder is an effective form of self-defence."

Zee kicks his thigh lightly. "There's also a bag of M&Ms. You're welcome."

"Thank you." I lift the cactus out of the bag, holding it up to the heavens in some kind of Simba-like offering. "I am naming my cactus 'Destroyer of Mothers and Kittens.' Behold her."

The group applauds, quiet and solemn. "'Tis a beautiful day," says Elena, nodding with her eyes closed.

Beth wipes away a fake tear. "A-freaking-men."

James blows on his nails. The color looks way better on him than it does on me—we're both pale as anything, but I'm very purplish. James has more red undertones, despite my being ginger and his being white-blond. I should just let him keep the shade. "So like, you already opened my present. You're welcome."

"Yeah, those candles I'm not allowed to light are really going to spice up my room decor." This happens every year. Always 'for college,' he says.

Gosh. That's only a year away now.

"For college!" James snaps, pointing at me, eyes narrowed. "For. College."

"You're assuming I leave home, where candles in my room will always be banned."

"Also, I'm pretty sure most colleges wouldn't like you lighting candles inside the dorms anyways, my dude." Zee slowly rolls up the sleeves of their pale green sweater, mindless and methodical.

Elena passes me her gift bag. "But like, fire good. Here, no pokies in here, Sophie-So." She winks. My heart grows wings and flaps around inside my chest.

The bag is on the heavier side. I reach inside blind, rustling through tissue paper, and grab the first solid thing I find.

"Candy?" A bag full of tiny red popsicle-looking lollipops, to be exact. "Why do you all think I want candy?"

Elena crosses her arms and purses her lips. "Because, you do. Besides, you'll like it. So, suck it up."

The rest of the gifts are sweet, in a different sense—a framed photograph of the five of us at QueerBack Music Festival, Zee's lock screen; a Dodie 2023 Tour shirt, featuring the photo from my favourite album of all time; and a card that has a giraffe with googly eyes.

She's the only one I hug.

Not because I don't appreciate Zee or James or Beth. But, it's nice to have an excuse to hug Elena. I could spend all my time hugging Elena. Just feeling her in my arms, that tight space of skin between her shoulder blades. The way she always nestles her chin between my neck and shoulder. It's perfect.

There's pizza and more cupcakes and cheap, sugary lemonade, and the five of us rush downstairs afterwards. The sugar rush is universal, each of us suddenly too giggly to stand still for more than two seconds. Elena fell over after everyone split up to go change into comfortable PJs. We all ran into the bathroom, where she and Beth were crying from laughter. And there were shouts of fear when Beth offered to bring out more Bang energy drinks.

"Whatever. I am not going to fall asleep," she vowed, before quickly falling asleep with her head still on Zee's lap. She didn't even take her glasses off.

Zee tried to lie down and get comfortable, rubbing the back of their neck and pretending not to be nearly as flustered as they obviously were. The two of them ended up in this awkward mess, sleeping soundly next to one another in what could almost be a sort of embrace. James threw a pity blanket over the two of them before his own sugar crash hit.

I can still hear rain outside, although the thunder stopped hours ago. The remaining downpour plinks against the metal of our window well, an almost ignorable backing track. It's been a struggle not to pass out against my pillow or Elena's shoulder. I'm managing, though. Somehow.

Elena is showing me photos from her Puerto Rico visit, of her cute little step-siblings and the mural she and her step-mom painted in the nursery. "And that's my uncle," she says, her voice a raspy whisper by my ear in the dim TV-lit basement. "He's the funniest drunkard you'll ever meet."

"He has one of those fun faces," I tell her. My voice doesn't have its usual early-morning grain yet, but I do my best to keep quiet. Accidentally waking up one of the others and ruining this—me and Elena, alone together for the first time in too long—would be an absolute no.

I want to kiss her. I think I've always wanted to kiss her, but I only realised it at QueerBack. We came close to it, but then she pulled away, and then there was Puerto Rico, and now, the question lingering in the back of my head and resting against the tip of my tongue is a muddled mess of wondering and doubt. Did she feel the same then? Was I imagining it? Has the moment passed? Am I too late?

It's an effort to keep the questioning at bay. Having her right next to me, all to myself in the dark, has my heart stammering and my blood kicking through my veins in a hot panic.

"Oh, this was just me helping out in Rosie's garden. Look how cute she is."

"She's definitely crushing the cute five-year-old gardener game."

Elena turns her head to face me. In the light of her phone screen, I can see her features all scrunched and skewed as she smiles that smile. That freaking smile.

"You're cute," I whisper. And I hear us both stop breathing.

"Cute ... like a five-year-old?"

No. Crap. No.

"I mean, like—" I don't know how to say this. Why did I say anything? Things suddenly feel like they're spinning. I need more breath. I need more time. "You know, I just, you're cute."

"Okay?" She's even quieter now than she was before, but her voice feels like it's booming inside my head. "We're so tired."

She's right. But, it feels like defeat. Dismissal. Which makes me realise how badly I want this. Her. Elena.

"We are definitely mega tired. Which is why I can't think of a sensible way to tell you just how cute you are." I clear my throat as quietly as I can. "You're just, ugh. And, um, I'm failing at this. Oh. This is kinda getting sad, oh gosh."

Then. She shifts closer. Closer. The tips of her fingers, cold and soft, find mine as she shuts off her phone and tosses it to the other end of the couch. "You're cute, too," she whispers. My hand blindly fumbles for the TV remote; when I find it, we're quickly submerged in darkness.

"Elena." It feels like a sigh, pouring out the deepest part of my lungs. "I...."

"I know. Me too." I can hear her smile through the pitch black of the room.

Time is wrong. It feels like it takes an eternity for her fingers to slip between mine, for our lips to meet. It feels like too short of a time, while my blood races hot and my pulse threatens to break loose from my skin. The first thing I notice is how soft her mouth is. I'm not the best kisser, I know. Lack of experience. Lack of need. But this feels completely and wholly right. It feels like something deeper than wanting, far beyond mere need. It's deeper. Ineffable.

Elena sighs against my mouth, and my hands move to cup her face. I don't remember how to breathe. Do I even want to breathe right now?

"I've waited so long for you to kiss me," she murmurs, scooting as close to me as she can.

My laugh comes out breathless and quiet. "Are you kidding me? I've waited freaking eons for you to kiss me, you nerd."

There's a tiny snort. "I thought you didn't want me to."

"Elena." My head feels like it's floating. My thumb rubs gentle circles against her cheekbone, and she leans into my palm. I wish I could see her face right now, read her thoughts, feel her mind. "After QueerBack, I just ... I thought you weren't interested."

"Wow. We're gay disasters."

"We are gay disasters."

There's a sudden bumping noise, a slight thud, and then there's a switch flicked, thrusting the basement into light. Elena and I snap apart. Beth stands at the light switch, eyes squinting, mouth slightly agape. "Are you two canoodling? It's soooo freaking late, my guys. Your whispering is so creepy."

"Define 'canoodling,'" Elena says, awkwardly attempting to prop her chin on her hand. She's flustered, and it makes the flush I feel in my cheeks hotter as I try to blink away the unfamiliar brightness.

James flops his pillow over his head and groans. "Let them make out. Just let me sleep, you indelicate turd waffle." From not far away, Zee grumbles their agreement.

"It's just weiiiird," Beth mutters, before turning the lights off. There's a few staggering steps and a very large "OOF OW" that sounds like Zee.

James makes a show of loudly fixing his pillow's position. "Have fun, idiots."

With a sigh, Elena leans forward and rests her head against me, looping her arms around me. I hug her back. "Our friends are jerks," I stage-whisper.

"Shut uuuuuup," says James. "I will disown you all if I get woken up again."

"Hey, it's my birthday." Elena and I pull apart, but I find her hand again and entwine our fingers.

There's a phone light turned on. Zee groans in exasperation. "It's four a.m.," says Beth. Her words feel jumbled and slurred, like she's reminding herself how to speak. "You're officially 6,211 days old."

"Why do you know that math?" I ask. My voice feels raspier than before. "You scare me."

"Googled it a week ago. Wanted to seem cool in the morning. Which it now is, ahh."

"Ugh, I guess we should quit canoodling and actually sleep," Elena says. "Shall I find a blanket?"

"Sounds like a very good idea. Y'know, cool beans, and all that jazz."

James sighs. "Shut up, I swear to God, I will cry and you will hate me and I will kill you."

"You should step on James while you find that blanket."

She gives my hand a squeeze before standing up. "I was planning on it anyways."

I wait a few seconds till I hear James's "UGH I HATE YOU," then pull my pillow towards the edge of the couch and scoot in as close as I can against the back cushions.

Elena comes back, awkwardly shuffling in the dark. "Here's that blanket."

"I love you and your good ideas," I say without thinking about it.

"Damn, shawty, that's big," says Beth. "'I looove you, Elena.'"

"'And your good ideassss,'" chimes James.

It's so hard to keep my laughter quiet. Elena doesn't even try. "Shut up, both of you."

She crawls onto the couch, and we feel around in the dark for one another for a few seconds, before finally, I find the small of her waist and tug her back into me. There's a heartbeat of awkwardness and squirming and adjusting till she sinks into me. I chuckle against the back of her neck.

"Stop that. That tickles."

I blow, soft and slight. "What, this? This is tickling you? Weak since the seventh grade, I see."

"Go to sleep, Sophie-So." I can hear the smile on her voice.

"We'll see what happens."

"Over six-thousand days old," she whispers. "So old."

"'So old' indeed. This was the best six-thousandth-something birthday ever."

I tighten my hold on her, and she relaxes against me so completely that I could swear we're just one body, quiet and warm in the early morning dark. Gentle sleeping breaths are faint from other ends of the room, but Elena's voice is all I want to hear as she says, "I mean, I would sure as hell hope so."

I don't know who falls asleep first. But it's the deepest sleep I've ever had.

A/N-

Lmao hi this got a rejection from the anthology I submitted it to which is super fine because now I can post it here HI.

In no particular order, thank you betas!: biparis54, Dancing_ghost_, A_M_Giovanni, thisbrokenplanet, SunaiSunai, seasonalsunshine, SurferJulz, _Vitecro_, and TheGoodShip_55 (I THINK THIS IS EVERYONE BUT I'M STUPID SO IF I FORGOT YOU PLEASE LET ME KNOW AGAIN I'M DUMMMB)

Hope  you guys enjoy!