a drop in your ocean

"Are you coming tonight?" She shuts her book, closes her eyes, and sighs. Just like I knew she would. "I knew it! I knew you'd back out! You promised Micah you'd show, Ives, but you're holed up in here again. Don't you think you should show to one of their parties this term?!"

She's glaring at me now. Full Ivy. It's like being looked at by the bleeding sun. "Don't be an arse, Bee. You know I've got that presentation tomorrow afternoon. I have to, you know, psych myself up for it." I tut. "It's true! You know what I'm like the morning after a night out."

I snort. "Yeah, a complete fucking mess, that's what. I just -" I sit down on the edge of her bed. She shuffles her feet backwards a little to give me some more space. "It's just -"

"Just what?"

"It's just - you promised Micah! And you know how upset they'll be when you don't show again. Don't make me have to be the one to tell them again, yeah? Please. Text them now, while I'm here."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Don't trust me to do it when you've left?"

"Nope."

"Smart girl. Alright," she's worrying at her lip. I want to kiss it. "Okay." She leans over, grabs her phone from her bedside table. "Okay," she says again, and then pauses. "Um. Help?"

I laugh. Jesus fucking Christ and all of his Apostles, I love her. I wish she could know. (She can't ever know.) I grab her phone and put in her password, tapping over to FaceBook Messenger. "Just tell them the truth, yeah? You know how much they appreciate honesty, especially from you. Remember how mad they got the last time you bailed on them?"

She laughs again. She's an entire fucking ocean, and I'm a single raindrop in her depths. "When I told them I was going to a Bat Mitzvah? Yeah, I didn't really think that one through. Funny for you, though."

"Yeah, only because I got to see you get caught." I poke her leg. "But seriously, just explain. They'll be pissed, but they'll get it. Trust me."

She looks at me fondly. I almost can't take it. I almost tell her. "I do trust you, Bee. I'd trust you even more if texted them for me, but I can't have it all, can I?" She's smirking, now. God help me.

"Oh, hush. You know I will." I think I'm blushing. Am I blushing? I'm definitely panicking. An idea comes to me. "Hey! What if I try to get out of it too?"

She frowns. "What? But you love parties - and Micah!"

I wave my hand in a vague motion. "Eh, they'll live. It's been ages since we got to properly hang out, hasn't it? What with work and all the coursework you've had, it's been -"

"Fucking insane?"

"I was going to say hectic, but fucking insane works as well." We're smiling at each other. I could sink to the bottom of the Mariana Trench with this anchor on my chest. "But seriously. You're my closest friend, you know? And I - I just feel like we never really get to see each other anymore." Oh, yeah, I'm definitely blushing now. I can't look her in the eye. "I'm always out, and you're always in, and that works in the holidays when neither of us have much to do, but now it's term, and I..." I trail off, shake my head. "I dunno. I just miss you, I guess."

I can feel her looking right through me. I'm exposed. I'm a shard of glass. I'm -

"Yeah, actually, hanging out would be nice. It has been a while since we properly saw each other, right?" I nod, trying to swallow my relief, my fear, and all of my joy. "I mean - you are always out. That's always been your thing, and I'd never begrudge you for it. But I do miss you, sometimes."

Somehow - somehow - I raise an eyebrow, and plaster a cocky look on my face. "Sometimes?"

She rolls her eyes. "Okay. A lot of the time. But seriously - I don't want you not going to Micah's thing just because I'm not. I'd feel awful if you missed out on anything."

I scoff. "Oh, please, they have a party every fucking week. Unless Madonna or Lewis Capaldi suddenly show up, I have a feeling it'll be much the same as last week's. Which -" I poke her leg again, "You didn't go to either!"

"I had food poisoning. And you did too! I still don't know why you even went to that party."

I laugh. "You got me there, sunshine. So, congregate at seven? I've got Peach Schnapps."

She beams at me. I'm drowning.

The door of my bedroom shuts behind me, and the vice around my chest eases. "I just miss you, I guess," I mutter under my breath, mocking myself. "Why, why did you have to go and fall in love with your best fucking friend, Beatrice? Why? Don't you have any self-preservation instincts at all?"

I flop down onto my bed and try to breathe around the thought of her. Ivy. I'm the puddle to her tsunami. I'm the snowflake to her avalanche. I'm the pebble to her waterfall. I'm -

Hey, actually, that's not a bad line. I sit up and grab my notebook from my bedside table, scribbling down my ideas before I forget them, before flopping backwards and groaning.

We're so different, me and her. She's a frightened mouse, terrified by the slightest noise, and I'm a Waterloo pigeon, at home in a crowd. (Fuck, did I just compare myself to a pigeon? This is a new low, even for me.) I don't even know if she'd manage to make her own friends if Micah and I weren't constantly dragging her out of the house. It's infuriating. It's... infatuating. (Oh, how the mighty have fallen.)

It's not like I could ever tell her how I feel. She'd freak out completely, scurry off to her bedroom, and I'd literally never see her again. She's a master at avoiding people and any conflict that might be following. That's why I can't ever tell her how much I want to hold her hand while we watch Bake Off, or kiss her forehead while she's working, or bring her tea in the morning. I'd rather deal with this my entire fucking life than risk losing Ivy. She's all I want. (She's all I have.)

Luckily for the both of us, MasterChef is on BBC1 tonight - otherwise we'd have fought over the remote like mad. (She likes soppy, romantic stuff, which I can't stand - for obvious reasons.) It's the final, and we're going through each of the different contestant's backstories. Our sofa's tiny, so we're bunched up together, and she's thrown her legs over mine. Lord help me.

She's munching on some popcorn with her mouth open at the moment. (We have to make a big bowl when we watch any cooking program, or we get so hungry that we end up ordering food in.) "Have you noticed," she says, startling me out of my thoughts, "that literally every contestant - on literally show ever - has had some kind of shit happen to them? Like -" she swallows her popcorn. "This dude grew up without his dad, and that last girl's house burned down the week before filming started. I mean, how does that even happen - that everyone has a tragic backstory? Do they intentionally pick out the contestants with the shittiest pasts, just so people get invested?"

I sigh. "I mean, maybe. Humanity's fucked, love." She gives me an odd look that I can't quite decipher, so I hurry on. "They can't help the shit that happens to them, and we can't help feeling sorry for them, and then boom! A cooking show." She laughs. I take the opportunity to look at her. Her short hair is loose, messy, and she's taken out her earrings, taken off her concealer. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen - and she's looking at me again. Looking at me looking at her. Fuck. I snap back to the telly and try to focus on what Gregg Wallace is saying about... something. (Probably food related.) Out of the corner of my eye I can see her narrow her eyes a little, before slowly turning to look back at the screen. (Surely she can hear how my heart is about to beat out of my chest? Surely she can hear the crunching of all these eggshells I'm stepping on?)

"Bee."

I nearly jump out of my skin. "Uh, yeah?"

She's turns to me again. "Why are we friends?" My blood immediately runs cold. It must show on my face, because she hurries to correct herself. "What I mean is - we're so different. You love being around people -you've definitely said before that it energises you, or something - and I find them so draining. I have to go and sit in a room after, like, five minutes of social interaction, and you're always the life of the party. You're such a social animal, and talking to people is, like, my worst nightmare."

I swallow, struggling to maintain my eye contact with her. "You're always talking to me, though."

She looks at me, and I can see the cogs turning in her brain. She's examining me. She knows everything. She's going to -

Kiss me?

Ivy is kissing me.

Oh, what a beautiful fucking world.

She goes to pull away, but I chase her, and she laughs a little into my mouth. Her lips are so warm, and her mouth tastes all buttery. I bring my hand up to cup her face, hold her close. All I know is her.

We break away, gasping for air, eyes sparkling. I don't let her get too far, but pull her towards me, resting her forehead on mine. "Hi," I whisper.

"Hello," she murmurs. "I've been waiting for you for a long time."

I frown. "You've been waiting for me? No way, dude." She's nodding, so I shake my head. "Nope. No way. I've been waiting for you for years, Ives. Like, going on half of my life at this point. Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting to kiss your stupid face? Years." I punctuate my sentence with another kiss to her stupid, stupid (lovely) mouth.

She's staring at me now, slightly dazed. "Are you telling me," she begins slowly, "that we could have been doing this the entire time we've known each other?"

I start - and then stop. "Wait. What?"

She sighs. It's perpetual. "Bee. I've been in love with you, like, the entire time I've known you. I used to think it was just jealousy over how easy you found just being alive, but..." she trails off, gathers herself. "There's never been anyone else for me. Ever."

I'm gaping at her. "You - you're in love with me?"

She goes a deep pink. It's incredible. I want to scoop out my insides for her to live in, keep her safe forever in my veins. "Um. Yes?"

I kiss her again. I can't help it. "I never thought you would ever look at me that way. I thought... I never thought I'd have a chance with you. You never exactly seemed interested."

She frowns. "Have you met me? I don't exactly wear my heart on my sleeve, Bee. Plus I'm hardly the type of person to make the first move."

I blink at her, give her a shy smile. "You kinda just did."

She stares at me. Then - "Oh, fuck. You're right. Oh my god. What's happened to us? Suddenly I'm the outgoing one?! The world must be ending."

I'm laughing, giddy. I pull her into my arms; she comes easily. "I can't believe I get to have this."

I can feel her tensing. "So - you do want this, right?"

"Yes, you idiot." I kiss her (again) (I may never stop). "I've been in love with you for a long fucking time. I'm all in - for as long as you are. And probably even after that."

She's beaming, and I'm floating. I could touch the very tip of Everest. I could swim through a rainbow. I could visit all the stars, and bring one back for her. "I'm all in," she murmurs, and leans into me.

I'm brushing my teeth next to her, trying not to laugh as she sings ABBA very loudly around her toothbrush. I've never seen her this giddy, this elated. There's a warm feeling in my chest that I never want to let go off. I'd dance off the edge of a cliff for her. I'd steal entire fucking galaxies for her. I'd create whole new worlds devoid of anyone for her, just to keep her happy.

I guess it's our biggest differences that make us perfect together. We balance each other. I'm the sun, and she's all the constellations of an August night. I'm the summer, and she's a mug of tea on a crisp winter morning. I'm me, and she's her.

(It isn't until the morning that I realise - neither of us ever texted Micah.)