It’s perfect. The sun is setting on the horizon, turning the sky into a thousand different colors, which are all reflected on the ocean’s surface. I watch as the waves crash and the sea foam churns. There’s nobody around, surprisingly, at least nobody near us. Probably because it’s a random Wednesday in the middle of April. The sunlight is still warm, though, and a slight breeze stops me from growing too hot.

I look over at Hannah Delaney Brown, my best friend. Her cheeks are slightly rosy from the sun, but the rest of her skin is tan. Her blonde hair is wavy and threaded with beads. Stringed necklaces hang around her neck, which she has moved every so often to prevent from getting a weird tan line. She looks like she fits in perfectly here, lounging on the beach with a margarita in her hand.

“This is was such a good idea,” Delaney says, her lips closing around her straw. I snap my gaze away and take a sip of my own.

“Mhm,” I hum in response. I look back out at the ocean, up at the sky, at the beautiful world around me. I savor the taste of the drink on my tongue, closing my eyes.

“What’s going on between you and Thomas?” Delaney suddenly asks, snapping me from my daze. Immediately, I feel my skin grow hot, but I hope my sunburns hide it.

“Nothing,” I say all too quickly. Delaney’s eyes narrow and she smirks.

“Definitely not nothing,” she deduces. “Come on, fess up, I’m your best friend.” She gestures around us. “I have all night and there’s no one else here.”

“There’s nothing going on,” I continue to protest, “I would tell you if there was.”

“Well there may not be anything going on…” Delaney leans forward, looking at me mischievously from over the glass rim of her margarita, “But do you find him attractive?”

“He’s good looking, yeah,” I shrug, sliding my gaze away and trying to sound casual.

“Amalia!” she shrieks, calling me by my full name in a way that makes me flinch. Her eyes are blazing, with curiosity and something else I can’t quite put my finger on.

“What? You asked,” I say innocently, giving her a little evil grin. I turn around on my towel, sitting up to face her. “Okay, my turn. Are you talking to anyone?”

Delaney’s face falls a bit and she looks down into her margarita, like she’s choosing her words carefully. “No, not right now.”

Her strange response and body language sets off alarm bells in my head, but I don’t press further. Maybe later, when we’ve both drunk a few more margaritas and started talking about deep stuff.

“If Thomas asked you to be his girlfriend, would you say yes?” Delaney asks. I hesitate, thinking about my answer. I can’t even imagine it happening.

“Probably, unless he asked in some really douche-y way,” I say honestly, toeing the sand. I take another sip of my margarita as I consider my next question. “Why do you go by Delaney and not Hannah?”

It’s a question I should probably know as her best friend, but I’ve never gotten around to asking it. She smiles a bit at it, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear.

“I don’t know, really. I don’t mind the name Hannah,” she pauses, “No, actually, I like the name Hannah. My dad just called me Delaney growing up, and it sorta stuck.”

“Huh. Do you have a preference?”

“I suppose I’m more accustomed to hearing Delaney,” she says, “But honestly? You can call me Hannah if you want to.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes. Maybe. A bit,” Delaney giggles, a slight blush on her cheeks. Or maybe it’s just her sunburn.

The air grows silent between us. I finish my margarita and twist the glass into the sand until I’m sure it’s secure. Then I lay back down, staring up at the darkening sky. I can make out the moon and a few stars, although the sky is still relatively light. I can tell night is coming soon. Suddenly my mind shifts to Thomas, his dark hair and smart mind. His muscles, his jaw, his eyes, his…

“Could you ever see yourself dating a girl?”

_What? _

My neck snaps over to look at Delaney and an unsure laugh escapes my lips. The irony of the question mixed with the thoughts in my mind. Of Thomas, of a guy, of how attractive I find him. And then her question. Can I see myself dating a girl? The question alone makes my mind short-circuit.

“I-I suppose I’ve never considered it,” I say, still a bit caught off guard. I look away before she looks at me, unable to hide the strange look on my face. “What about you?”

“Yeah, I could,” Delaney says. I can feel her eyes on me, but I don’t turn.

“Is this you coming out?” I say, and as soon as I say it, I want to bite my tongue. How insensitive of me. But my mouth keeps talking. “Are you bisexual? I mean—there’s no need to put a label on it.”

I want to slap myself. Maybe bury myself in a hole and die. I am a horrible friend.

“No, I don’t think I’m bisexual,” Delaney says, seemingly unaffected by all of my words. Maybe I’m overthinking this all. “I think I’m only into girls,” she adds.

“Oh. Cool,” I say. Does she want me to celebrate? Act a certain way? Should I be making a big deal? _What do I do?_

“You never really answered my question, you know,” she says, “You said you’ve never considered it, dating a girl. Well, now you’ve had plenty of time to. What do you think?”

I blush, keeping my eyes on the sky. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, I guess love will find me in whatever way it will.”

Delaney doesn’t respond. The silence stretches so long that I finally turn to look at her, and find her gaze locked on me. Her blue eyes brighter than ever before, framed by lashes that catch the last rays of the sun.

I don’t know when it happens, but I must blink, because the next thing I know, she is above me. Her eyes are still locked on mine. My skin burns and I swallow thickly. She leans down, her hair shielding our faces from anything else.

“I like you,” she whispers to me, eyes so intense I know she is not lying, “I really, really like you. So just let me do this once, just once, and we can forget it ever happened. Once, because we will never work and you will never like me back. Just once, because I love you Maya.”

I don’t speak. My voice is gone. My lips are parted, my eyes wide in surprise. Her name escapes me, strangled.

“Hannah,” I say. I don’t know what it is. A warning? A word of comfort?

Delaney bows her head until her lips meet mine. I can taste the margarita she just drank and the flavor of her lip balm. Her scent envelops me, one I’m all too familiar with, but now it is mixed with the smells of the beach. Sand and sea foam and sunscreen fill my senses. I feel her hands on my waist. Her skin is warm.

My eyes flutter closed for a moment before I realize what is happening. I pull away.

“Hannah,” I say again, this time more in a protesting way. My mind feels like a jumbled mess. My heart is pounding, I can’t think from the roar of adrenaline and confusion in my ears.

When she sees the look on my face and realizes what she has done, she gets up hurriedly. I try to grab her wrist, but I’m too slow, and she’s already gone.

We need to talk. But still, my voice seems incapable of saying only her name. Only her real name. Hannah. I can tell myself that I just kissed Hannah. Not my best friend Delaney.

No, but that only makes it worse. Because it feels like I kissed my best friend at her realest, most vulnerable. As her raw, true self. And I can’t bear to think that, not with her words echoing in my head.

Because I know this is the end of our friendship, of what we had. Everything is going to be different now.