Friends don’t fall in love, do they?

Can they?

What kind of love would it be if they did?

This should be easy. I know him. I’ve known him for years. But when did I fall for him? Have I always known?

No… yes… maybe.

What if I told him? Would it change everything?

Does he feel the same way?

I hesitate to imagine the conversation—the fear of an awkward silence, or worse, a polite rejection—keeping my thoughts tangled. And yet, I can’t shake this feeling. This persistent tug at my heart has only grown stronger with every shared laugh and late-night talk.

Eric, my best friend since childhood. We grew up on the same block. Our moms are best friends. He’s been around for every part of my life—birthdays, heartbreaks, snow days, Sunday dinners. Telling him should be a piece of cake. He’s known all my secrets.

And yet, this secret feels different. More delicate. More dangerous.

Is this just a phase? Or could it be the start of something more profound—something that could redefine everything we have?

In the quiet moments when I’m alone with my thoughts, I picture myself standing in front of him. Palms sweating. Heart racing. I even rehearse.

How corny is that? Rehearsing lines, as if I’m in a movie.

But maybe life is a little like a movie sometimes. Maybe it takes unexpected turns to lead us to meaningful destinations.

A part of me yearns to find out—to be brave enough to take that leap. Like my Aunt Amelia, when she first met my Uncle Damian. She told me their story once, and it was beautiful. They weren’t friends at first. They were strangers who took a chance—who embraced the unknown together. Through art and fashion.

How cool is that?

And maybe this is just another story, waiting to unfold—if I dare to step forward.

Eric recently got a new offer working for the state. A new job came with a new place to live. One that he has been so excited about. I too was excited for him. He was happy to know I was coming by today.

Standing outside his door, butterflies waltzing in my stomach. Each flutter reminds me what’s at stake—but somehow, underneath it all, there’s a current of excitement.

I pause, steady my breathing, and raise my hand and knock.

The door opens.

And there he is.

Eric. With that familiar, warm smile that makes my heart skip.

My mind races with all the things I’ve practiced, but in that moment, the words scatter. I offer a tentative smile instead, aware of the quiet between us.

“Hi,” I manage to whisper.

His eyes light up—those same eyes I’ve looked into a thousand times. But now, they feel new. Charged.

“Hi,” he replies, softly. Like a secret meant just for us.

“Come in. I just finished the move,” he says, stepping aside.

I cross the threshold, feeling like I’m stepping into a new world.

His apartment is cozy, lit with a golden hue. Familiar, yet somehow transformed by the unknown. Salsa music hums quietly in the background. Marc Anthony, our favorite singer with his powerful tenor voice filling the room with electric and familiar. It was the soundtrack of many memories that took place in our lives adding this one to the list.

“I love the place, Eric. You did a great job putting it all together.” I say, looking around.

“Thanks.” His gaze follows mine. “I just finished putting those up,” he adds, gesturing to the art and mementos lining the walls.

I’m drawn to a small painting by the window. Its colors are vibrant and calming.

“This one is beautiful. It reminds me of a place I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Maybe one day,” he says, “we’ll get there together.”

The words hang between us. Sweet. Hopeful. Dangerous.

I settle on the couch, the cushions welcoming us like old friends. The scent of coffee drifts in from the kitchen.

He returns with two mugs, handing one to me with that gentle smile I’ve come to treasure.

“So,” he says. “What did you want to tell me?” As he settles on the couch.

I cradle the cup in my hands, heart thudding.

This is it.

I turn to face him. He smiles and for a second, I forget the words I’ve rehearsed. I just stare at him, at the way the light catches his eyes almost mesmerizing. “Sofia, is everything ok?” He asked. “Yes,” I replied. I take a deep breath. Here it goes.

“Eric…this might sound completely crazy, but it’s been on my mind for a while.” My voice trembles, but I keep going. “I didn’t plan for it to happen, but somewhere along the way…I started seeing you differently.”

His expression stays open, listening.

“You’re not just my best friend, Eric. You’re… more than that. I don’t know when it changed, but it did. Every time we hang out, every time you remember something small about me, or make me laugh—I feel it more.”

Still, he says nothing. But his eyes stay locked on mine.

“I’ve been scared to say it,” I admit. “Because I didn’t want to lose what we have. You have been my best friend since forever. But I also don’t want to pretend anymore. So, there it is. I like you. A lot more than a friend probably should.”

The silence stretches. My heart is a drumbeat in my ears.

Then Eric sets his cup down and sits closer to me.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that.”

My breath catches.

“I didn’t want to risk ruining us either,” he says, voice low. “But every time you walked into a room, every late-night talk, every moment with you—felt like more. Every day I prayed—God, I prayed you felt it too.”

Relief crashes over me. I smile, helplessly.

“So… where do we go from here?” I ask, voice hopeful and unsteady.

Eric grins. That same grin I’ve seen a million times—now layered with something new.

“Anywhere we want. Together.”

He extends his hand.

When our fingers intertwine, it’s not just comforting—it’s certain.

“Then let’s make a start,” I whisper. I grab his shirt and pull him closer. Our lips touch. A kiss I’ve been longing to give him. His reaction and response confirms he too felt the same way.

The kiss is soft. Full of all the unspoken things we’ve never said until now.

The music fades.

The rest of the world melts away.

When we pull apart, our foreheads touch. Breathless.

“That’s one way to start,” Eric murmurs, teasing.

We laugh, heart full. “Yeah. I’m glad we finally did.”

“This is just the beginning,” he says.

And I believe him.

Because somehow, even after all these years, this feels like the first page of our real story.