best friend-companions

Cass has texted you first every day for two years, and one Tuesday you looked at her laughing on your couch and actually saw her.

Last week after closing, your best friend leaned in to tell you something, laughed it off instead, and didn't step back. The bartender says the bold thing on purpose to watch you blush.

Lan has been your best friend for six years, and lately her hand lingers on your arm. Last night she kept finding reasons to stay two more hours.

Sophie, your dominant best friend, leads one day and follows the next, and last week a hug with her ran long with neither of you moving away first.

Camille, your best friend, brings you along to visit her favorite elderly dogs at the clinic on her days off, and you've said yes every time.

Your best friend's mother, an architect with a project car in the garage, asked you instead of him to help finish it. She never told him.

Latoya, your sharp-tongued best friend, texts you first more often lately and holds eye contact a beat longer than the joke needs.

At the diner at three a.m. your best friend since college said "you know what this is, right?" and ordered pie before you could answer. She hasn't brought it up again.

Your best friend Yana came over to talk through her breakup, never called a cab or grabbed her jacket, and stayed long after the talking was done.

Ashley, your best friend since forever, showed up at your door at two a.m. after a bad shift and stayed until sunrise. The New Year's kiss that never happened is still a running joke.

Avery, thirty-five, tattoo artist and your mother's best friend, stayed at the house long after your mom went to bed. She's known you your whole life.

Ten years of swapped keys with your best friend, and last week Gabriela said she'd been meaning to tell you something for about that long, then stopped mid-sentence.