Always Us

Chapter Three - Safe Distance

Alex’s pen hovered over the lined page of her journal, the tip leaving a faint dot of ink where she’d paused too long. The small lamp on her desk bathed her bedroom in a pool of warm yellow light, the rest of the room dissolving into soft shadow. Outside, crickets sang in the thick summer air, their rhythm steady against the faint hum of her ceiling fan.

She took a slow breath and began to write again, her handwriting looping unevenly, like the words themselves were struggling to break free.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. One second it feels so simple he’s just my best friend, the one I’ve always run to, the one who knows all my secrets. But then he looks at me a certain way, or laughs at something I said, and suddenly my chest feels… weird. Too tight, like something is growing there I don’t want to admit. What if this isn’t just friendship anymore?”

Her pen pressed harder.

“And what if I ruin everything by letting it change? We’ve built so much years of trust, of silly jokes, of being each other’s person. If I start feeling something else, if I cross that line even in my head, what if it all crumbles? What if he pulls away? I can’t lose him. I’d rather keep things safe, even if that means holding myself back.”

She exhaled shakily, biting her lip as she stared down at the page. The words looked stark and dramatic under the lamplight, but they were the only way to release the pressure building inside her. Slowly, carefully, she closed the journal and slid it under a stack of notebooks, as if burying her feelings would make them less real.

Her phone buzzed against the blanket. The vibration jolted her, a reminder of the very person she’d just written about.

A text from Ryan.

Him: You still awake?

She swallowed, staring at the message. That familiar flutter rose in her chest, and she hated it, the way a simple question could unravel her resolve. She typed back quickly, forcing it casual.

Her: Yeah. Can’t sleep.

Almost instantly, the bubbles appeared on her screen. His replies always came fast, like he was just waiting for her to answer.

Him: Same. Probably too much sugar from those ice creams earlier lol. I swear you peer pressured me into that second scoop.

A smile tugged at her lips despite herself. She could almost hear his teasing voice, see his grin from earlier when the sun had been too bright and the ice cream too messy. She curled up tighter, phone glowing in her hands.

Her: You didn’t need much convincing.

Him: True. You know me too well.

That sentence lingered. She did know him too well. He knew her too well. And wasn’t that the danger? They were stitched into each other’s lives so tightly that one wrong tug could unravel everything.

She let the phone rest on her lap, staring at the shadows stretching across her ceiling. If she leaned into this if she confessed that the thought of him made her heart ache in a way friendship shouldn’t could their bond survive? Or would it be like throwing a stone into still water, the ripples spreading until nothing was calm again?

The phone buzzed again.

Him: You got quiet. Did I bore you already?

She blinked, realizing she’d left him hanging. Guilt pricked at her, but deeper than that was the fear he might sense her hesitation. She forced her fingers to move.

Her: No, sorry. Just zoned out. You never bore me.

Him: Good. I’d be offended otherwise.

She smiled faintly, but the ache in her chest remained.

On his side of town, he lay sprawled across his bed, one arm behind his head, the phone lighting up his face. He stared at her words, smiling quietly. She never said things like you never bore me unless she meant it. He could hear her voice in those words, soft and sure.

But lately… something felt different. He couldn’t pin it down. She laughed with him still, teased him, shared their inside jokes but sometimes her eyes darted away too quickly, sometimes she seemed far off even while sitting right beside him. Tonight’s pause before replying stirred the same unease.

He typed, erased, then typed again. Finally, he settled on something safe.

Him: Remember when we were like 10 and swore we’d never change, no matter what? That we’d always be this close?

Ryan hesitated before sending, a strange weight pressing on him. Maybe he just wanted her to say yes, to reassure him that whatever odd distance he felt wasn’t real.

Alex’s heart lurched when she read his words. She remembered that night they’d been sprawled under a blanket fort, whispering promises like they had any control over the future. Back then it had been simple, a child’s vow. But now, with the ache in her chest, it felt like a fragile thread she was desperate not to snap.

Her: Of course I remember. And yeah… I meant it.

She stared at the screen after pressing send, her throat tight. She did mean it. She wanted nothing more than to hold onto him forever. But she didn’t add what she had just scribbled in her journal: that maybe love the kind that grew beyond friendship was the very thing that could break that promise.

Their conversation trickled after that, soft goodnights exchanged before the screen went dark. Alex lay back against her pillow, eyes stinging though no tears fell. The journal sat hidden beneath her notebooks, carrying a truth she wasn’t ready to speak aloud.

She turned off her lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The fan hummed above, the crickets sang outside. She was just beginning to drift when her phone buzzed again on the nightstand.

Her heart leapt.

She fumbled for it, blinking against the glow.

Him: There’s something I need to tell you. But maybe tomorrow.

She froze, the words burning through her sleepiness, her pulse hammering in her throat. Tomorrow. What did he mean?

The screen went dark again, leaving her staring at her own reflection in the glass, her heart racing with questions she wasn’t sure she wanted answered.