More Than Friends

My heart did a funny little flip-flop, like a fish trying to jump out of its bowl. Rhyme’s eyes, usually so calm and steady, were wide and sparkly, just like the glitter I’d almost bought for the card. And the card… oh, the card! It was still clutched in Rhyme’s hand, and I could see the little shimmering stars I’d drawn peeking out from behind the folded edge. My own hands felt suddenly clammy, and I wanted to hide them behind my back, but then I remembered I was holding the little wooden bird I’d carved. It felt impossibly heavy, like it was filled with bricks instead of just wood.

“You… you like me?” Rhyme whispered, their voice barely louder than the rustle of leaves outside the window.

My cheeks felt hot, and I was sure they were glowing like a traffic light. “Yeah,” I managed to squeak out, my voice sounding like a rusty hinge. “I like you. A lot. More than a best friend, I mean.” I fidgeted with the bird, trying to find a more comfortable grip. “I was going to give you this, but… well, I got nervous.”