The first time Jamie and Taylor made the "pact," it was supposed to be funny.
They were sixteen, sitting cross-legged on Jamie's bedroom floor, surrounded by empty soda cans and half-eaten pizza. Taylor had just finished telling the tragic tale of how their latest crush ghosted them after three dates. Jamie, meanwhile, had been too busy pretending not to care that their own love life was nonexistent.
"You know what?" Taylor had said, licking grease off their fingers. "We should just make a deal."
Jamie raised an eyebrow. "A deal?"
"Yeah. A pact. We promise right now…" Taylor stuck out their pinky finger dramatically, "..that we will never date each other."
Jamie blinked. "That's…random."
"It's genius," Taylor insisted, waving their hand like some prophet of teenage wisdom. "It keeps things simple. No messy feelings, no weird drama, no awkward breakups. Just…us. Friends forever."
Jamie stared at the offered pinky, torn between laughing and pointing out how unnecessarily dramatic Taylor was. But eventually, they hooked their finger around Taylor's, because sixteen-year-old Jamie thought it sounded safe. Secure.
And maybe because sixteen-year-old Jamie was already a little too aware of how easily they got flustered around Taylor.
That was the pact. Dumb. Silly. Not supposed to matter.
Except now, years later, it mattered way too much.
---
"Are you sulking?" Taylor's voice cut through Jamie's memory like a pebble skipping across water.
Jamie startled, nearly dropping the mug of tea in their hands. "I am not sulking."
"You so are." Taylor perched on the arm of the couch, balancing like a cat. "That's your sulking face. Chin tilted down, eyes narrowed, like you're trying to laser-beam your emotions into the carpet."
Jamie made a face. "Laser-beam isn't a verb."
"Neither is sulk, technically, but look at you doing it anyway."
Jamie groaned, pressing their palms to their eyes. "Why do I put up with you?"
Taylor grinned. "Because secretly, you adore me."
Jamie muttered something about "overconfidence being a disease" and tried not to notice the warmth crawling up their neck.
This was the problem. Taylor had no filter. None. They flirted like it was a reflex, like breathing. Maybe they weren't even aware they were doing it. Or maybe they were perfectly aware and just liked watching Jamie squirm.
Either way, the pact sat in the back of Jamie's mind like an anchor. A rule carved into stone. We will never date each other.
And yet.
And yet.
Jamie cleared their throat. "Do you ever regret it?"
Taylor blinked. "Regret what?"
"The pact."
For the first time all evening, Taylor's smug grin slipped. They tilted their head, hair falling over one eye. "Huh. That's a weird question."
Jamie's stomach tightened. "Forget it."
"No, no, no." Taylor hopped off the couch arm, landing with a soft thud. They plopped down beside Jamie, knees knocking together. "You can't just throw out a loaded question like that and then retreat. Regret how?"
Jamie clutched their mug a little tighter. "I mean…what if it was a mistake? What if it kept us from…" They trailed off, cheeks heating. From what, Jamie? From something better? From something terrifying?
Taylor studied them for a long moment. Then, in classic Taylor fashion, they shrugged. "I don't regret it."
Something in Jamie's chest dropped. "Oh."
Taylor leaned back, propping their feet on the coffee table. "Because if we hadn't made that pact, who knows? Maybe things would have gotten messy. Maybe we wouldn't even be friends now. And honestly…" They nudged Jamie with their elbow. "I'd rather have this. You and me, forever, no matter what."
Jamie swallowed hard, unsure whether to feel relieved or crushed. On the one hand, Taylor valued their friendship. On the other…did that mean Jamie was permanently locked out of the "more than friends" category?
Taylor reached for the popcorn bowl and promptly spilled three kernels into the couch cushions.
Jamie sighed. "You're impossible."
"And yet, here you are." Taylor grinned, tossing a kernel in the air and catching it with obnoxious ease. "Still choosing me."
Jamie tried to glare. Tried to hold onto their irritation. But the truth was, Taylor wasn't wrong. Out of everyone in the world, Jamie always chose them.
Always.
---
Later that night, after Taylor had fallen asleep half-curled on the couch with their phone slipping from their hand, Jamie stood in the doorway watching them. The room was dark except for the glow of the TV screen, casting soft light across Taylor's face.
Their features were relaxed in sleep, mouth slightly open, lashes brushing against their cheeks. They looked so effortlessly comfortable in Jamie's space, like they belonged there.
Jamie's chest ached with something they couldn't name. Something sharp and sweet all at once.
We're not dating, Jamie reminded them firmly. We're not married. We're not in love.
But as Taylor shifted in their sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, Jamie had to bite back a laugh and maybe something dangerously close to a sob.
Because maybe they were lying to themselves.
Maybe they had been lying for years.