Her first kiss

Emily and Gabi

The next week passed in a kind of soft blur — the kind that made Emily feel like she was floating slightly above her own life. Campus was still a rush of classes, readings, and club flyers shoved into her hands, but now there were little moments that shimmered brighter than the rest.

Almost all of them involved Gabi.

They didn’t plan it, not really. They just kept running into each other. At first it was easy to write off as coincidence — catching each other outside the library again, or grabbing coffee at the same time, or winding up in line together at the student union’s taco stand. But by the third time they’d ended up studying in the same sunlit corner of the quad, Emily started to wonder if it wasn’t coincidence at all.

She wasn’t sure how it happened, but Gabi had become a part of her routine. And not in a disruptive way — in a way that felt like something had clicked into place. Like maybe, without realizing it, she’d been waiting for someone exactly like Gabi to show up.

They would study together, though “study” was a generous term. Gabi had a way of derailing flashcards with dramatic readings of her Lit assignments, complete with character voices and theatrical flourishes. Emily had never laughed so much during a study session.

“You’re hopeless,” she said once, shoving a pillow at Gabi after she’d launched into a sultry reading of Wuthering Heights.

“I’m a romantic,” Gabi countered, grinning. “There’s a difference.”

Emily shook her head, but her smile lingered long after.

Sometimes they stayed up talking — not just at the café, but sprawled across beanbags in Gabi’s dorm lounge, or sitting cross-legged on Emily’s twin bed, sharing chips and Spotify playlists. Gabi had a surprising fondness for ‘90s R&B, and Emily found herself humming “No Scrubs” in the shower for three days straight.

They talked about everything.

Gabi told her about her ex — a girl named Lauren, who had gone to another college out of state. She talked about how it had been serious, and how the breakup had torn her apart for a while. Emily had just nodded, heart twisting slightly with something she didn’t want to name.

“I’m okay now,” Gabi had said, eyes focused on the ceiling. “But it made me realize something. When you love someone like that… like really love them… it doesn’t just go away. It shifts. But it leaves a print.”

Emily had nodded again, though her thoughts were spinning. She didn’t know what that kind of love felt like. Not really. She’d had a boyfriend in high school — Tyler. Sweet, funny, a little clueless. They’d kissed a few times, and she’d liked him, but when he’d told her he loved her after prom, she’d panicked and ghosted him for a week.

It had never felt like this.

Not like being around Gabi.

Not like the way her stomach fluttered when Gabi touched her wrist lightly while laughing, or how Emily’s eyes always seemed to find her across a room without trying.

Still, Emily told herself she was imagining it. She was straight. She’d always been straight.

Wasn’t she?

One Thursday evening, Gabi texted her out of the blue:

Gabi:

Emergency. Meet me in the courtyard outside your dorm. Bring snacks.

Emily grabbed a half-eaten bag of trail mix and two granola bars, slipped on her hoodie, and hurried downstairs.

She found Gabi sitting on the steps with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a superhero cape.

“What’s the emergency?” Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gabi gave her a tragic pout. “I just finished this book and I need someone to emotionally spiral with.”

Emily laughed and sat beside her, handing over the trail mix. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming.”

“You wish.”

They sat there for over an hour, the cool evening settling around them like a sigh. Students passed by in groups, heading toward dorms or late-night food runs, but it felt like Emily and Gabi were in their own little bubble — a quiet, glowing one.

At some point, Gabi leaned her head on Emily’s shoulder. Emily froze for half a second, but then let it happen.

It felt… good.

More than good.

It felt right.

They didn’t say anything about it. Not then. But Emily felt something shift inside her. A kind of click. Like a door she hadn’t noticed before had opened — just a crack — and warm light was spilling through.

That night, after she’d gone back up to her room and brushed her teeth and climbed into bed, Emily lay awake staring at the ceiling.

Her phone buzzed.

Gabi:

Thanks for tonight. You’re my favorite person.

Emily stared at the message for a long time before typing back.

Emily:

You’re mine too.

Then she turned off her phone, rolled onto her side, and smiled in the dark.