Between Us

I was in my room, quietly reading, when my phone started vibrating. I glanced over and saw Phoebe’s name on the screen. We’d only been friends for about a month, but we’d already grown surprisingly close.

I answered the call. “Hey, Pho. What’s up?”

“Hi, Edith! Are you busy?” Her voice practically sparkled through the phone.

“No, not really. Why?” I asked, a hint of suspicion creeping in.

“I have someone I’d love for you to meet!” she said, bubbling with excitement. That was so Phoebe—open, warm, and effortlessly social. She had this light about her that made you feel like you’d known her forever, even if it had only been a few weeks.

“Oh… when were you thinking?” I asked cautiously. I’m not as outgoing as she is, but her energy has definitely helped me come out of my shell.

“How about this afternoon, at five?”

I hesitated. I didn’t have any other plans, and honestly, I’d been trying to push myself out of my comfort zone. So finally, I said yes.

A little while later, we hung up. Not long after, a message popped up from Phoebe: Address is River Hills, number 17. We’ll be playing some games and just having fun! I sent back a heart emoji and returned to my book.

A few hours later, I started getting ready. I threw on a casual outfit and did some light makeup—concealer, eyeliner, mascara, and a bit of lip gloss. After grabbing my coat and shoes, I headed out, typed the address into my GPS, and began to drive.

When I arrived, I parked outside a beautiful house. Taking a quick look around for any familiar faces, I walked up to number 17 and knocked softly. I had no idea what—or who—to expect.

A moment later, the door swung open.

“Oh my gosh, hi Edith! I’m so glad you could make it!” Phoebe exclaimed, wrapping me in one of her warm, slightly too-tight hugs. Then she stepped aside, ushering me in.

I slipped off my shoes, feeling a bit nervous, while she disappeared into the next room. Once I’d taken off my coat, I followed her into what turned out to be a beautifully decorated living room. Three people were sitting on the couch—two guys and one girl.

One of the guys had straight brown hair and glasses. He gave me a polite smile and a small wave. The other was tall, with dark skin, curly black hair, and striking brown eyes. He nodded briefly before glancing at Phoebe.

The girl, with short black hair and an enormous grin, practically leapt up to greet me. “Hi! I’m Maria!” she said, pulling me into an enthusiastic hug. She seemed very excited to meet me—maybe a little too excited—but I chalked it up to her personality.

Phoebe came over, smiling, and gently placed a hand on my back, guiding me closer to the group.

“This is Donovan,” she said, gesturing to the guy with the glasses. “Maria, of course, has already introduced herself. And lastly—this is Matteo.”

The handsome guy with the curly hair looked up briefly, gave me a small nod, and looked away again. Phoebe leaned toward me and whispered, “He’s a little shy.”

I smiled at that, then sat down beside Phoebe—directly across from Matteo.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ 1 ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

We all started playing a board game, and little by little, Matteo began to speak up. His voice caught me off guard—it was soft and calm, with this quiet confidence that drew me in. I found him really attractive, though I was disappointed he didn’t talk much.

With Phoebe around, though, I always felt braver, more outgoing. So I started cracking jokes with everyone, hoping Matteo might join in. He didn’t, at first. But then, finally, he gave me an opening.

“Edith, could you please move my piece for me?” he asked.

“Only if you beg for it,” I shot back playfully.

“Awh, hell nah!” Matteo replied, half-laughing, half-incredulous. The whole group burst out laughing—even me. He jumped up from the couch, leaned over, and moved the piece himself.

After that, I couldn’t resist teasing him a little. I made jokes just to get a reaction out of him, and soon enough, everyone was laughing along. Matteo loosened up a bit, though he was still hard to read.

A few hours later, it was time to go. I said my goodbyes—hugged Phoebe, gave Donovan a fist bump, and got another huge hug from Maria. But when I turned to Matteo, he looked at me with a mock-serious expression.

“Absolutely not. Bye, Edith,” he said, turning away dramatically.

I laughed, assuming he was just joking, and waved as I left. Then I headed out to my car and drove home, still smiling.

When I got home, I got ready for bed, that same smile lingering. It felt nice—like I’d finally found a friend group I could really rely on. I climbed under the covers and fell asleep almost instantly.

The next morning, I met up with Phoebe at college, like we always did. I told her about how Samuel and I had been flirting lately. I’d met him around the same time I met Phoebe—we all played badminton a few times a week.

It started one day when Samuel and I got paired up on the same team. He began teasing me a little, and I just played along. He’s undeniably attractive—dark brown wavy hair, hazel eyes, and a gentle, easygoing voice. I never meant for things to get serious; I’d just come out of a relationship, and Samuel had already said he wasn’t really looking for anything. He wanted to focus on school, family, and friends.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ 2 ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen you two together — you’re really cute,” Phoebe said, her face lighting up with that warm, supportive smile she always had.

“So, do you want to eat with us at lunch?” she asked cheerfully.

“No, I’ll be eating with Samuel. Maybe another time,” I replied politely.

“No worries! You guys have fun!” she said, still smiling, and we went our separate ways to class.

I tried my best to focus, but my mind kept wandering. Thankfully, the lesson went by quickly, and soon enough, I was out in the hallway.

As I turned the corner, Samuel appeared out of nowhere, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me close. The sudden contact sent a rush of warmth through me. I looked up at him and smiled just as he leaned down to kiss me on the cheek, his hands still resting lightly on my waist.

“We’re still having lunch together, right?” he asked, smirking down at me.

“Yeah, definitely,” I said, smiling sheepishly.

“That sounds great, mango,” he said before lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it. He started to walk away, still holding my hand until our fingers slipped apart.

He’d started calling me “mango” after finding out it was my favorite fruit. I thought it was sweet — and just unique enough to make me grin like an idiot every time he said it.

As he disappeared down the hallway, I caught sight of Phoebe, Donovan, and Matteo standing by the lockers. I decided to walk over.

“Hey, guys,” I said with a smile.

“Edith!” Phoebe exclaimed, beaming as usual.

“Hey, Edith,” Donovan said with a friendly smile, adjusting his glasses.

Then Matteo looked at me, his tone mock-dramatic. “Oh no, Edith’s here. Guess it’s time for me to leave.”

His voice sounded annoyed, but there was something in his eyes — a glint, or maybe just a trick of the light. I realized I was staring at him a second too long.

Matteo turned to walk away, but Phoebe grabbed his arm. “Nope. You stay right here. Why are you being so rude?” she said, half-scolding, half-laughing.

He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the lockers, muttering something to Donovan in a language I didn’t recognize. I decided to ignore it and chatted with Phoebe until the bell rang.

As I headed to my next class, I glanced back at Matteo one last time. He didn’t even look at me. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected — but somehow, his silence stung more than I wanted to admit.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ 3 ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

I got to class and took my seat. A few moments later, Samuel walked in. He caught my eye and smiled before sliding into the seat beside me, his arm draping casually around my shoulders. We were almost acting like a couple — though we both knew we weren’t.

The class went by quickly. We spent most of it chatting and laughing quietly, barely paying attention. When it ended, we said goodbye at the classroom door as the next group started filing in.

In my next class, I spotted Donovan and Phoebe and decided to sit with them. We talked and joked through most of it, but somehow still managed to get a lot done. Donovan was so smart — and such a sweetheart. At one point, Phoebe brought up his ex, and I mostly just listened.

“Yeah, honestly, Don was so good to her. I wish someone would treat me like that,” Phoebe said, giving him a playful smile. Donovan just nodded with a quiet grin.

Then Phoebe turned to me. “Edith, how would you feel about coming by this weekend? We’re going bowling — Donovan, you, Matteo, and me!”

I hesitated. I wanted to go, but what if Samuel had plans?

“I’ll think about it,” I said with a small, uncertain smile. “I’ll text you later today with a proper answer.”

“Oh, okay! I’ll be looking forward to it,” Phoebe said, still smiling warmly.

We kept talking and working until class ended. When lunch finally rolled around, I waved goodbye and went to look for Samuel.

I scanned the hallways but didn’t see him anywhere. Then I checked the cafeteria — still nothing. Just as disappointment started to sink in, I felt arms wrap around my waist from behind.

“Hello, mango,” Samuel murmured near my ear.

I turned slightly, smiling. “Hey, Sammy.” My cheeks grew warm.

“Ready for lunch?” he asked, grinning.

I giggled and nodded, and he gently guided me toward a table with his hand on my lower back. We sat side by side, talking and eating with some of his friends. Every now and then, he’d rest his hand on my thigh under the table, giving it a soft squeeze that sent butterflies fluttering through my stomach.

“Do you want to do something this weekend, Sammy?” I asked, smiling up at him.

He looked at me with those soft, hazel eyes. “Awh, I wish, mango. But I’ve got to study,” he said, sounding genuinely disappointed, like he really wanted to.

“That’s no biggie,” I replied with a small smile, trying to hide my own disappointment.

But then he gently cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “We’ll find another time, okay?” he said, his voice so warm and sincere it melted the heaviness I’d been feeling.

I smiled — not to hide anything this time, but because I actually meant it.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ 4 ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

The school day finally ended, and I spotted Phoebe by the exit. She was standing with Donovan and Matteo — Matteo leaning casually against the wall while Phoebe stood close to him, gazing up with that unmistakable sparkle in her eyes. The kind that only shows when a girl really likes someone.

I walked over to them.

As soon as Matteo noticed me, his expression shifted to one of mild annoyance. He gently pushed Phoebe back a little, as if I’d just interrupted something. Phoebe turned around immediately, her face lighting up.

“Edith!” she said brightly. The way she greeted me always made me feel so welcome — like I truly mattered.

I smiled and glanced at Donovan.

“Yeah, I’ve had to deal with this for way longer than you,” Donovan said, mock-weary, but with a small laugh.

“Oh, I feel bad for you,” I joked, smiling.

When I looked back at Matteo, he was already staring at me, his expression unreadable.

“What’s your problem, Matteo?” I asked — half teasing, half challenging.

“Haven’t I made it obvious enough?” he said with a smirk. “You’re my problem.”

He laughed, and I couldn’t tell if he was joking or… flirting? No, that couldn’t be it. I pushed the thought away and decided to play along.

“I’m not exactly a big fan of yours either, you know,” I said with a laugh.

“You sure hang around a lot for someone who’s not a fan,” he shot back.

“I’m here because of Phoebe, not you,” I teased. “Not everything’s about you.”

“Now, now, guys — Matteo, be nice to her,” Phoebe interrupted, her voice light but firm. She was always so sweet, always on my side — which, honestly, was fair, because Matteo was being kind of a jerk.

“What do you mean? She’s mean to me too!” Matteo said defensively.

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Edith — how’s it going with Sammy?” she asked, smiling.

“It’s going great, actually. He’s really sweet to me,” I said, my voice softening into a shy smile.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Phoebe said genuinely.

“Yeah, it’s great! Oh, and I’m free this weekend — we can go bowling,” I added.

“Let’s go!” Phoebe burst out, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Wait — you invited Edith?” Matteo said, sounding half annoyed, half surprised.

I blinked at him, caught between being offended and confused. Phoebe frowned slightly.

“Matty! Why are you being so mean to her?” she said, genuinely taken aback. Even Donovan looked puzzled, as if he couldn’t figure out why Matteo was acting this way either.

Matteo sighed and looked away, avoiding everyone’s eyes. He didn’t offer an explanation.

I glanced at Phoebe, then at Donovan, and finally back at Matteo. Despite how rude he was being, there was something undeniably intriguing about him — something I couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was just that he was so hard to read.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ 5 ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

We all say goodbye and head our separate ways. But once I’m home, my mind won’t let go of Matteo.

Why does he act the way he does? Is he mean because he likes me? Or is he just… mean? I’ve seen him tease Donovan too, so maybe that’s just his way of being friendly. Or maybe he really does hate me. I try to brush the thoughts off, but they keep circling back, like they’re stuck in some kind of orbit around him.

The rest of the week flies by in a blur. I make an effort to get closer to Donovan—and even Matteo, when he’s around. Donovan’s easy: warm, funny, the kind of person who makes you feel like you’ve known them forever. I spend most of my time with him and Phoebe. Matteo, though, seems to disappear whenever I’m nearby. I spot him in the halls sometimes, usually with Phoebe. They look like they might be flirting, but honestly, I can’t tell. I haven’t dared ask her yet.

When he is around, his reactions are always the same—just with slightly different wording:

“Ugh, it’s Edith.”

“Oh, you again.”

Or just my name, flat and unimpressed: “Edith.”

Every time, it feels like my presence is somehow an inconvenience to him.

Still, I find it oddly funny. Kind of… endearing, even. So I don’t let it bother me too much.

I hang out with Sammy a lot too, though he’s been busier lately—with school, family, other friends. I tell myself I expected this, but it’s starting to sting more than I’d like to admit. He acts like my boyfriend, just… not quite. He gets jealous when I mention other guys, kisses my hands, my cheeks, my forehead like I’m something precious. But we’ve never actually kissed. Not on the lips. Even during those late nights under the sheets, when things get quiet and close—it’s always neck kisses, slow trails down skin, never the one thing that would make it real.

By the weekend, Phoebe picks me up. Matteo’s in the passenger seat, Donovan in the back. I slide in beside Donovan, directly behind Matteo. He smells—God, he smells good. I catch myself breathing in a little deeper before I can stop it.

“Yo, Edith,” Matteo says suddenly, turning halfway in his seat. “Why’ve you been sitting in the library every afternoon?”

There’s that tone again—half mockery, half curiosity.

“More importantly,” I shoot back, “why have you been stalking me?”

He sighs, laughing under his breath. “The library’s literally right next to the exit. I just happened to see you there a few times.”

“Mhm, sure…” I say, pretending to be suspicious. It makes sense, but some part of me—some stupid part—almost wants to believe he has been watching me.

“Just because you’re too dumb to study,” I add, grinning, “doesn’t mean we all are.”

Matteo laughs. “Bro, we’re not the same. You study to get a B+, I don’t study and get A+.”

He says it so casually, like it’s a fact of life.

And I can’t help it—I laugh with him.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ 6 ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

We pull up to the bowling center and climb out of the car. Phoebe leads the way to the front desk, all confidence and charm.

“I’ve booked two hours of bowling for four people,” she says, wearing that signature Phoebe smile — the one that could probably get her out of a speeding ticket.

The woman behind the counter smiles back and starts typing on her computer.

“What name is the reservation under?” she asks.

“Phoebe. P-h-o-e-b-e,” she replies, spelling it out automatically. She’s probably used to people tripping over it.

“Ah, yes. You’re all set. Lane five,” the woman says cheerfully. “Bowling shoes are just over there. Please return them after use.”

We grab our shoes, find our sizes, and head to the lane. Once we’re settled in, we decide to go alphabetically: Donovan, me, Matteo, then Phoebe.

Donovan goes first. His first ball knocks down six pins; the second takes out two more. He shrugs, smiling, and hands the ball off. My turn.

I line up my shot — and miss completely.

“Edith,” Matteo says, sounding half shocked, half amused. I look over. He’s grinning.

“Shush, no one asked your opinion,” I shoot back, pretending to glare. I grab another ball, focus harder, and send it rolling — this time, a perfect strike. Well, technically a spare, but still. I turn to Matteo with a look that says see?

Phoebe squeals, “Oh my god, good job!” and I high-five her before sitting next to Donovan.

Matteo steps up next. He rolls his shoulders back, all confidence and showmanship, and throws the ball. Nine pins. He turns around with that same cocky little smirk that I’m starting to recognize — the kind that makes me roll my eyes while fighting not to smile.

We keep playing. Donovan and Matteo are neck and neck, trading the lead. I’m just a few points behind Matteo, determined to beat him — partly because I want to win, mostly because I want to see the look on his face if I do. But he’s annoyingly good at this.

Phoebe’s less focused on the score and more on keeping everyone’s spirits high. Still, I can tell she’s a little disappointed with her own game. We cheer her on until she starts laughing again, and the mood lightens.

My phone buzzes. Samuel.

I step aside and answer. “Hey,” I say softly.

“Hey, mango,” his voice hums through the line. “I finished studying early. You could come over and stay the night, if you want.”

My heart gives a small jump. I want to say yes immediately — I miss him — but I glance back at Phoebe and the others. I don’t want to ditch her.

“Gimme a sec,” I say, muting the call. I walk over to Phoebe.

“Hey, Pho… do you mind if I go?” I ask carefully.

She looks up, smiling that warm Phoebe smile again. “Oh, no, not at all, Ede.”

“Are you sure?” I press, because something about her tone makes me want to double-check.

“Yes, go on, Edith. We’ll be fine,” she says, just as gently. And somehow, that feels enough like permission.

I hug her quickly, say my goodbyes, and change back into my shoes.

Then I unmute the call. “I’d love to come over,” I tell Samuel, smiling despite myself. “But could you come pick me up?”

“Of course, baby mango. Send me the address,” he says, already cheerful.

I text it to him, and twenty minutes later, his car pulls up outside.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ 7 ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

The next morning, I wake up to Samuel beside me. We’re wrapped in the sheets, sunlight pooling across the bed. I lie still for a while, my head against his chest as he lazily runs his fingers through my hair. It’s soft, quiet, safe — the kind of moment that makes me forget everything else.

And then, for reasons even I don’t understand, I ruin it by asking,

“Do you think you could ever… you know, make it official with me?”

He stops stroking my hair. Just for a moment.

“Maybe when I’ve got my life figured out,” he says finally. “You know I need to focus on my studies.”

His tone is calm, practiced — but there’s a flicker of awkwardness underneath it. I tell myself not to think too hard about it. We agreed from the start that this wasn’t official. This is what I signed up for.

We get ready together and he drives us to school. When we step inside, he leans down and presses a kiss to the side of my head, his hand gently cupping the other side like he doesn’t want to let go. Then, just as easily, he does — walking off toward his friends, laughing like nothing happened.

I glance at the girls in his group. They look a little too happy to see him. I swallow down the small, stupid twist of jealousy. He’s not your boyfriend, Edith. You haven’t even talked about exclusivity. Maybe it’s better that way.

“Edith!”

I turn to see Donovan and Matteo walking over. I can’t help but smile. Donovan bumps my fist — friendly, easy, familiar. Matteo gives his usual expressionless nod, like a king acknowledging a peasant.

“Why did we walk over to her again?” Matteo asks, loud enough that I’m clearly meant to hear it.

“Because she’s our friend,” Donovan answers simply, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Matteo says, looking straight at me.

Donovan groans. “Come on, man, don’t start.”

“It’s fine, Don,” I say, grinning. “He’s just jealous because I’m obviously Phoebe’s favorite.”

Matteo smirks. “As if. I’ve never ditched a friend the way you did this weekend.”

That one stings more than I expect. I did kind of abandon Phoebe, and I know it.

“I didn’t abandon her,” I snap before I can stop myself. “I asked if it was okay, and she said it was. Maybe mind your own business.”

Matteo blinks, like he didn’t expect that. “Relax, I was joking,” he says quickly.

I laugh awkwardly, trying to defuse the tension. “Yeah, yeah, me too.”

He tilts his head. “Didn’t sound like a joke.”

“And what do you know about that?” I shoot back, smiling just enough to make it sound light.

“It’s like a sixth sense,” he says, smirking again — that same unreadable expression I can never quite place.

I sigh, softer this time. “Okay, maybe I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I just… feel kind of guilty, I guess.”

Matteo raises an eyebrow. “Wow, so you do have a heart after all?”

His tone is teasing, but there’s something underneath it — something that makes me wonder, yet again, if he’s mocking me… or trying to understand me.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ 8 ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

First class of the day is the one I share with Matteo — just Matteo. He’s the only person I know in there, so I slide into the seat beside him.

“Ugh. You again,” he says as I sit.

“Come on, Matt. Don’t you think those greetings are getting a little old?” I tease, though a small part of me feels half-defeated. Maybe he really does hate me. And yet, for someone usually so quiet, he somehow has a lot to say whenever I’m around.

“Nope.” He answers coldly and buries his eyes in his paper. I sigh and glance down at mine. Maybe I should just give up.

All through class Matteo plays a 2D fighting game on his laptop — the same one I have. I can’t resist.

“You play that?” I say, pretending to judge but mostly joking.

“I could easily beat you in that,” he says, flicking his nails like he’s bored.

“Oh please. You couldn’t beat me at anything,” I shoot back.

“You wanna bet?” I challenge. He frowns.

“Sure — when we can duel properly,” he says, smug.

“I’ll beat you for sure,” I promise.

“Nah. If we weren’t in class, I’d kick your ass,” he replies.

“You’d definitely try,” I say, crossing my arms and smirking.

“I wouldn’t try. I would do it.” He leans in a little, and something warm rushes through me.

“Nah, you wouldn’t succeed.” I grin, eyes half-closed. “It’s okay to get beat by a girl. I won’t tell.” I scoot closer.

“Okay, you’re done.” He reaches out and gives me a soft smack on the back of the head — the first time he’s really touched me since we met. I burst out laughing, and the teacher’s glare makes us both freeze, pretending nothing happened.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ 9 ⋯⋅๑┈•✦