The Fall Out

Mia

I watched her fall apart, and I was the reason.

That's the thing about guilt—it doesn't hit you all at once. It creeps in, slowly, like water seeping through cracks in a dam. At first, you can ignore it. Patch it up. Tell yourself it's nothing.

But eventually, the cracks get bigger and farther till the dam breaks.

The night Ava came to my house, her eyes red, her voice shaking, asking me if I knew why Ethan had been so distant—that was the night the cracks became canyons.

"I don't know," I lied. "Maybe he's just stressed about school."

She nodded, accepting my lie because she trusted me. Because she had no reason not to.

I went to bed that night and stared at the ceiling for hours. My phone buzzed—Ethan, asking if I was awake. I didn't answer. For the first time, I didn't want to talk to him.

This is wrong, I thought. This is so, so wrong.

But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. Because stopping meant admitting what I'd done. And admitting what I'd done meant losing everything.

---

The second time I kissed Ethan, it was different.

The first time had been hesitant, uncertain, a question masquerading as an answer. But the second time—the second time was deliberate. I went to him. I chose him. I chose myself over Ava, over our friendship, over everything we'd built.

We were at the lake again, the same dock, the same dark water. He was leaving in two weeks, and I was terrified that if I didn't say something now, I'd lose my chance and lose my mind in no time.

"I can't stop thinking about you, about us," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at me, and I saw the war in his eyes—the pull toward Ava, the pull toward me, the guilt already forming.

"Mia—"

"Don't," I said. "Don't tell me this is wrong. I know it's wrong. But I can't help how I feel, I can’t keep living in denial of how I feel."

He was quiet for a long time. Then he reached for me, his hand cupping my face, "I really want this forever," and he kissed me like he'd been wanting to for months.

Maybe he had.

---

Afterward, I drove home with the windows down, the wind whipping my hair, my lips still tingling. I should have felt guilty. I should have been sick with shame.

But all I felt was alive.

For the first time in years, I felt like I mattered. Like I was more than just Ava's sidekick, more than the funny best friend, more than the girl who always came in second.

I was first. Finally, I was first.

I didn't think about what it would cost. I didn't think about the friendship I was destroying, the trust I was betraying, the girl who had loved me like a sister.

I only thought about myself.

And that, more than anything else, is what I regret most.