His best friend was beautiful.

Dark curls tickled her ears, reaching toward her chin as she leaned carelessly back in her chair. Arms crossed and covering the January-pale blue of her knit sweater vest, she showed off her wristfuls of friendship bracelets, made all the more visible by the rolled-up sleeves of her white-collared button down. Her black converse were embroidered with flowers and foliage she had stitched herself, and metallic silver makeup dusted the corners of her eyes. Next to her sat the weathered ochre brown messenger bag she carried everywhere, littered with pins and buttons of orange, yellow, white, azure, navy.

He glimpsed at her from across the room, and a subtle, chapstick-covered smirk twitched at the corner of her lips. They were like that, able to make each other laugh with a single, sideways glance. Able to read each other’s minds. Able to tell each other anything and everything and not have to worry about it being too much.

“Meet me after class?” she mouthed, freckled face bright and smiling, and he nodded.

It wasn’t even a question with her.