I was a cunning girl, a schemer in my own right. Still am, to be honest, but that's not the point.
Back in middle school, I had this hopeless crush on a guy way older than me—he was finishing high school, and I was barely twelve. I know how ridiculous it sounds now, but back then? It felt like life or death. So I came up with a plan. I befriended his little sister, Fleur, who happened to be my age. Through her, I figured I could inch closer to him, see him more often, maybe even make him notice me someday.
At first, it actually worked. I was always around—at their house, in group hangouts, just close enough to feel like I was in his orbit. Then things shifted. He got a girlfriend. Graduated. Moved on. And somewhere in that chaos, something unexpected happened. I stopped thinking about him so much, and I started caring about Fleur. Genuinely. What began as a scheme turned into a real friendship, the kind where you cry on each other's shoulders and make fun of each other's laugh. She became my best friend.
Now it's been ten years. We're about to graduate college, and I'm still carrying that old guilt. I used her. Lied to her. She had no idea that the foundation of our friendship was built on something fake. And even though everything between us became real, that truth still sat on my chest like a brick.
I had two choices. Tell her and risk losing her. Or shut up, pretend the lie never existed, and keep her close.
But today? Today was different.
Fleur was buzzing around the dorm room, stuffing graduation gowns and heels into suitcases. Her family was coming to pick her up, and soon she'd be on her way back home. I watched her quietly from my bed, my stomach twisting itself into knots.
He'd be there too. Her brother. Ambrose. The same boy from all those years ago, now a man. The same boy I had tried so hard to forget.
The universe had a real messed-up sense of humor.
I told myself I was over him. I was sure I had buried that crush a long time ago. But watching Fleur pack, knowing I'd see Ambrose again, made every buried feeling crawl back to the surface.
And worst of all, Fleur had no idea what I was going through. What I had done. What I still felt.
I had to tell her.
"Why are you so quiet?" she asked suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I blinked, startled. She looked stunning even in a wrinkled T-shirt and pajama pants, her high cheekbones and clear eyes almost too perfect. Her whole family was like that. Charming. Effortless.
"Hey," she snapped her fingers. "Aren't you going to pack?"
"I'm staying another week. I need to drop off a few CVs," I said, brushing cookie crumbs off my lap as I stood.
"What about dinner? Any plans tonight?" she asked.
I frowned. "Why?"
"Mom wanted to know if you'd join us."
I felt my throat tighten. Of course she did. Fleur's mom loved me. Probably saw me as another daughter. The guilt burned hotter.
"Fleur, I have to tell you something," I said. My voice came out small. Weak. But she heard it.
She paused, concern flickering in her eyes. "You okay? You look pale."
I stepped back instinctively. Her kindness made it worse.
"Why did you flinch? What's wrong?" she asked, walking toward me.
I couldn't take it. The weight of ten years, the lie, the truth—it was all crashing down. And she, standing there with so much concern in her eyes, had no idea what was coming.
"Fleur," I said again. "There's something I need to confess. It's about how we became friends."
Her brows drew together. "What do you mean?"
"Back in middle school… I didn't approach you because I wanted to be your friend. I wanted to get close to your brother. I had a crush on him, and I thought if I got close to you, maybe I'd have a chance."
Silence.
Fleur stared at me like I had just slapped her.
"You used me?"
"Not anymore," I said quickly, tears prickling the corners of my eyes. "I swear. It started that way but… You became important to me. You are my best friend. I love you like a sister. And I hate myself for how it all started."
"Why would you tell me this now? On my graduation day? When I'm about to leave?"
"Because it was time. I couldn't carry it any longer. I wanted you to know the truth,"
She didn't say anything. Just grabbed her bag and stormed out.
I stood frozen, the silence swallowing the room whole.
I deserved it. Every bit of it. But that didn't stop it from breaking my heart.
"What was that? Why did you flinch?" she asked, eyes narrowing, her voice starting to edge toward frustration.
I opened my mouth but only exhaled. My tongue felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. "Fleur, I've been meaning to tell you something."
She tilted her head, confused. "Okay, but what's with the dramatics? Are you sick? Should I take you to the hospital?"
She stepped forward, hand half-raised to check my forehead.
I backed up again. Reflex.
"Maeve, I swear—take one more step back and I will smack you," she snapped, but I could hear the concern under the threat.
She grabbed my wrist before I could retreat further and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. "You don't have a fever."
"That's not the kind of sick I mean," I muttered.
Her expression shifted. Wariness crept in. "So what's going on?"
I swallowed hard. The words were burning holes in my throat.
"Do you remember in middle school? When I sat next to you at lunch and asked to be your friend?"
Her face scrunched. "Yeah? What about it?"
"I didn't want to be your friend," I blurted, voice cracking. "Not at first."
Fleur blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"I only talked to you because I had a crush on your brother," I said quickly, like ripping off a bandage. "I wanted to get close to him, and I figured... You were the way in."
She stared at me, blinking like she had misheard. Then slowly, her eyes widened.
"You're joking."
I shook my head.
Her mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. "You used me? For my brother?"
"I did," I said, shame thick on my tongue. "I was a kid. It was stupid. I didn't think it would turn into... this."
"This?" she echoed, disbelief warping her voice.
"You. Us. Everything we've been through. You became my best friend, Fleur. That wasn't part of the plan. But you mattered. You matter."
She stepped back like I was something sour in her mouth. "You're telling me this now? On today of all days?"
"I couldn't carry it anymore. I needed you to know the truth."
"Ten years, Maeve."
"I know."
"I told you everything," she said, voice rising. "I trusted you."
"I'm sorry."
"Do you still like him?"
I hesitated. "I... I don't know."
That was the wrong answer.
She let out a humorless laugh and looked away. "Do you regret being friends with me?"
"I regret lying to you. I regret how it started."
Fleur looked like she was trying not to cry. I reached out, instinctively but she slapped my hand away.
"You did it," she whispered. She grabbed her suitcase with shaking hands. "I'm glad I'm leaving," she said, voice breaking. "You won't have to see my face again."
She walked out before I could say another word.
I didn't run after her.
I wanted to. I should've.
But my legs wouldn't move.
I stood there, alone in a quiet dorm room that suddenly felt too cold, too empty, and too full of everything I had ruined.