Chapter Text
Emily Charlton had always considered herself good at pretending.
She had learned very early on that showing what you were feeling wasn’t always a good idea.
She had pretended for years.
She had done it at work, when she was exhausted but couldn’t let anyone see it. She had done it with her ex-husband. She had even done it with her daughter, on those days when she wanted to lock herself in her room and not talk to anyone.
She was good at pretending with everyone.
Everyone except one person.
Andrea.
The woman could read her like an open book. She knew when Emily was hurting, when she’d had a stressful day, when she wanted to curl up alone on the couch and watch The Great British Bake Off.
And that terrified the blonde because, according to her, it was only a matter of time before Andrea discovered her crush on her.
Emily couldn’t remember exactly when her friendship with Andrea had turned into a crush.
Twenty years ago, Andrea had simply been her insufferable colleague.
Twenty years later, she was her best friend.
And now she was the person Emily wanted to tell everything to.
She had started looking for Andrea’s name among her notifications, smiling every time the brunette sent her a message and feeling as if something was missing whenever they went days without seeing each other.
She remembered the first time Andrea had brought her dinner.
Emily had had an absolutely terrible day and couldn’t wait to get home, take off her shoes and lock herself in her bedroom.
When she heard someone knock on the door, she thought it was her daughter, who had probably forgotten something at home.
Instead, it was Andrea, standing there with a bag of food in her hands.
At the time, Emily had thought it was normal for her to be that thoughtful toward her.
The next time, Emily was sick.
She had sent her daughter to school, canceled all her appointments for the day and called work to say she was taking a sick day.
Andrea had realized something was wrong.
She had shown up at Emily’s house with a bag full of medicine, English tea—obviously—biscuits and a bowl of still-warm chicken soup.
Emily had told her she didn’t need to come.
Andrea had stayed all afternoon anyway.
That, too, had seemed normal to her.
And then there was the time Bronwyn met Andrea for the first time a few months earlier.
The little girl adored Andrea and insisted on calling her every evening because she “had to tell her about how Steven had gotten detention at school” or “how her teacher had apparently gotten dressed in the dark that day.”
And Andrea always listened.
Even when Bronwyn told the same story over and over.
Even when she showed her the same video repeatedly.
Emily watched her and thought she was one of the most patient people she had ever met.
And the problem was that Emily had started noticing things she shouldn’t have noticed.
The way Andrea laughed when she was genuinely happy.
The way she played with her hair when she was nervous.
The way she always seemed to reach for Emily’s hand whenever they walked together.
At first, Emily thought it was normal to notice those things when you knew someone well.
Then she started wondering why she remembered Andrea’s favorite coffee order.
What her favorite song was, and which one she couldn’t stand listening to.
Which Grey’s Anatomy episode she always skipped.
Or which side of the bed she preferred when they slept together.
Emily had few friends, but Andrea was different.
And that was exactly why Emily had decided she would never say anything.
She would keep the crush to herself.
Eventually, it would go away.
She kept telling herself that every time Andrea smiled at her.
Every time she took her hand.
Every time she fell asleep on Emily’s shoulder while they watched a movie.
Every time she called her “sweetheart.”
Except that, after almost a year, the crush was still there.
It was Friday, which meant they would have dinner together, just like they had every week for the past year.
Every Friday evening, without ever planning too far ahead, Andrea came over to her house.
Sometimes Emily cooked.
Other times they ordered takeout.
That evening, Emily had tidied the kitchen twice.
She had changed the tablecloth because the first one she’d chosen suddenly seemed too depressing.
She had even moved the cutlery and glasses a few centimeters.
“It’s just dinner,” she had said out loud.
It was just dinner with her best friend.
When the doorbell finally rang, Emily checked her reflection in the window.
Her hair was in place.
Her makeup was still perfect.
Her blouse was spotless.
Perfect.
She opened the door.
And Andrea was standing there.
She was wearing the most basic outfit a person could possibly wear: a simple pair of jeans and a white T-shirt.
No heels.
No elaborate makeup.
But in Emily’s eyes, she was perfect.
“Hi. Come in,” Emily said.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
And there was that word again.
“So, I made lemon spaghetti. I hope you like it,” Emily said.
Andrea took her seat at the table while Emily served the food.
“I’m sure I’ll like it.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“How was your day?”
Andrea started telling her about work, and Emily listened, occasionally interrupting with a joke.
It was always like that.
Andrea talked.
Emily listened.
Then they switched roles.
There was no need to think about it.
It had become natural.
And perhaps that was what scared Emily the most.
How easy it was.
How easy it was to have Andrea in her life.
How easy it was to imagine that she would stay there.
“I have a date tomorrow,” Andrea suddenly said.
In that instant, Emily forgot how to breathe.
Andrea had a date.
“A date. Wow,” Emily repeated.
Andrea nodded, completely unaware that her friend’s heart had probably skipped a beat.
“With who?” Emily asked.
“A guy I met at Lily’s birthday party. He’s a chef, he’s nice, and I think he might actually like me.”
“A chef? Andy, do you have some kind of weird fetish for people who can cook?”
Andrea burst out laughing.
“Probably. You know I can’t cook, and the only times I eat well are when we have dinner at your place or when we order in.”
Emily lowered her gaze to her plate.
She knew how to cook, and not to brag, but she was actually pretty good at it.
She knew how to make Andrea’s favorite dish.
She knew never to use onions because even the slightest taste could make her throw up.
She knew all these things because she listened.
And she remembered.
But most of all, she took care of her.
“Anyway, I’m a little nervous,” Andrea said.
“You don’t have to be.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Andy, you’re beautiful.”
Andrea lowered her gaze.
Emily bit her tongue.
“I mean… you’re always beautiful.”
Andrea smiled.
“Thank you.”
Emily was supposed to be happy for her.
She was her best friend.
And best friends were supposed to be happy when their friends had dates.
So she would smile.
She would give her advice.
And she would pick the perfect dress.
For someone who wasn’t her.
“Tomorrow, I’ll help you get ready.”
“What?”
“I’ll help you get ready for your date.”
“Emily, you don’t have to.”
I know. I know I don’t have to, but I want to take care of you even if it destroys me.
That was what she wanted to say.
Instead, she simply smiled at her.
The next afternoon, Emily showed up at Andrea’s house with bags full of clothes.
“How many outfits did you bring?”
“Enough.”
“Emily…”
“Don’t ask questions.”
Within minutes, the bed looked like a war zone.
Clothes were everywhere.
Emily sat on a chair at the foot of the bed while she watched Andrea try on one dress after another.
“What do you think of this?” Andy asked.
“No. Too serious. You look like you just walked out of a job interview.”
“I liked it.”
“You can keep it for another occasion.”
“Like what?”
“A funeral.”
Andrea tried on another one.
“This?”
“Too red.”
“It’s literally a red dress.”
“Exactly.”
Emily let herself sink back against the chair.
She never should have offered to help her.
Andrea changed again.
Two minutes later, Emily looked up.
And for a moment, she forgot how to breathe again.
Andy was wearing a simple black mini dress that fell just above her knees. The neckline was square, her shoulders were bare and the long sleeves flared slightly at the wrists.
The dress was incredibly simple.
It wasn’t excessive or over-the-top.
And Andrea was beautiful.
Emily knew that all too well because she had spent the past year noticing details that probably no one else saw.
“Emily?”
“You’re beautiful.”
Andrea smiled.
“Really?”
“The most beautiful.”
For a second, Emily thought maybe she had said too much.
Maybe Andrea had understood.
But the brunette simply lowered her gaze and said:
“Thank you.”
And then she hugged her friend, and Emily swore she could die right there in her arms.
A few hours later, Emily went home.
Her daughter was at a sleepover, and the house felt so empty.
She wasn’t used to the silence anymore.
She decided to watch a movie.
Bad idea.
She opened the streaming platform and scrolled through the list for a few minutes.
She picked a comedy.
Five minutes in, she changed her mind.
She tried a thriller but turned it off after ten minutes.
Eventually, she put on The Great British Bake Off.
At least that wouldn’t require any attention.
Emily wasn’t really watching the TV.
She kept thinking about Andrea.
About that damn black dress.
About the way it hugged her curves.
About the smile she had given Emily when she told her she was beautiful.
But she was also thinking about that man.
The chef.
Emily had decided she didn’t like him.
She had no right to be jealous.
Andrea was single.
She could date whoever she wanted.
“I’m becoming insufferable,” she muttered to herself.
Across town, Andrea wasn’t having a good time either.
The dinner had started badly.
He was nice.
But he didn’t seem to listen to her.
He asked questions, but he wasn’t interested in hearing her answers.
He kept fixing his hair, even when there was no need to.
He constantly checked his phone, as if he couldn’t wait for the evening to be over.
Andrea didn’t expect much, but she at least wanted him to show some genuine interest.
She couldn’t wait for the evening to end.
Her mind was somewhere else.
With Emily.
When dessert arrived, she thought about how Emily would have criticized her choice.
When a woman walked past their table wearing yellow and purple together, she thought about how Emily would have said that the woman had probably gotten dressed in the dark.
Her date didn’t even compliment her.
Andrea thought about Emily and the “you’re the most beautiful” she had said when she saw her wearing the dress.
When the date finally ended, Andrea got into a taxi and sent Emily a message.
A: It was a disaster. I couldn’t wait for it to be over.
E: Did something happen?
Andrea didn’t answer the message.
She gave the driver Emily’s address, hoping she was still awake when she arrived.
Fifteen minutes later, she got there, knocked on the door, and a sleepy-looking Emily opened it wearing pajamas, her hair pulled into a messy bun and under-eye patches still stuck beneath her eyes.
“Andy… what are you doing here?”
“I was thinking about you.”
“What?”
“Tonight. I thought about you all night.”
Emily said nothing.
“I kept thinking about what you would have said. How you would have criticized everything.”
She paused.
“And I realized I wanted to be there with you. I want to always be with you. And I know it’s complicated. I also know you probably don’t feel the same way about me, and I’m about to ruin the best friendship I’ve ever had.”
“No. Don’t say that.”
Andrea fell silent.
“I’ve spent months convincing myself I didn’t feel anything for you because I didn’t want to ruin everything we have. But then you show up at my door wearing the most basic outfit in the world, you play with children, you pet animals on the street, and I think I’m wasting my time.”
“Emily…”
“Let me finish, please. I helped you today. I helped you look beautiful for someone who wasn’t me. When you told me about the date, my whole world came crashing down because I kept hoping that one day I would find the courage to tell you everything.”
“I’m sorry,” Andrea said.
“No.”
“I hurt you.”
“But you didn’t know.”
“I wish I had known. I wish you’d told me sooner how you felt about me.”
Emily lowered her gaze.
Those words hurt.
Andrea took her hand and pulled her into a hug.
“Can I do something?”
Emily nodded.
“I want to kiss you.”
“I thought you’d never admit it.”
Her lips met Emily’s in the lightest of touches.
It wasn’t a confident kiss.
It was hesitant, almost uncertain, as if either of them might suddenly regret it.
For Emily, it was as though the minutes before it had been erased.
Her fingers moved almost on their own, gently caressing Andrea’s cheek, while the brunette’s hands settled on her hips, pulling her closer.
Andrea smiled into the kiss when she felt Emily’s tongue brush against hers.
Emily broke the kiss.
“You’re dangerous.”
“Good to know.”
This time, Emily kissed her.
The kiss was more intense than the first.
Their lips found each other naturally, breaking apart only when they needed to breathe.
In that moment, Andrea wasn’t thinking about anything except the feeling of Emily’s hands.
Andrea let her hands slide down to Emily’s buttocks, squeezing them and making the blonde moan.
When the kiss finally ended, neither of them wanted to pull away.
They stayed there with their noses brushing, a spontaneous smile appearing on both their faces.
“So, in the end, I was the one who ruined your lip combo,” Emily said, noticing that Andrea’s lipstick was completely smudged.
“I was hoping you would,” Andrea replied, kissing the tip of her nose.
“Stay. Please.”
“Always.”
Emily took her hand and led her upstairs to the bedroom.
“I know it’s late, but if you want to take a quick shower, you can use my products and my skincare. I’ll get you something to sleep in.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
Andrea gave her a quick kiss before disappearing into the bathroom.
Emily opened her wardrobe drawers and pulled out a Lana Del Rey tour T-shirt and a pair of soft shorts.
Then she grabbed her book, got into bed and started reading.
About ten minutes later, Andrea came out of the bathroom wearing Emily’s clothes.
She climbed into bed beside her and wrapped her arms around her.
“I don’t even know if you like cuddling before going to sleep,” Andy said.
“We can cuddle. I like it.”
Andrea smiled.
“I don’t tell you this nearly enough, but you’re beautiful, Em. The most beautiful.”
Emily’s eyes filled with tears, and she hid her face against Andrea’s neck.
Andrea stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.
Emily kissed her neck.
“Can I ask you something?” Andrea asked.
Emily nodded.
“Will you go out with me tomorrow? Like, on an actual date. I want to court you the way you deserve.”
“I’d love that.”
Andrea smiled at her.
When she had woken up that morning, she had thought she was losing her best friend.
Instead, she had just found the woman she loved.