Chapter One: The Seat by the Window
I never meant to sit next to her.
I'd picked the window seat in homeroom like always quiet, tucked away, safe. My headphones were in, hoodie up, doing my best impression of someone invisible. That was until the door creaked open and she walked in like the sun forgot it wasn't supposed to shine indoors.
Isla Foster. Gold hoops, lip gloss, and confidence like a perfume you could choke on.
"Hey," she said, sliding into the seat beside mine like it belonged to her. "All the other seats taken?"
They weren't. Not even close.
I nodded anyway.
She raised an eyebrow but smiled, like she could see right through the lie. "Cool. I like the view."
We both looked out the window. I wasn't thinking about the sky. I was thinking about how her knee had bumped mine when she sat down and she didn't move it.
People like her weren't supposed to notice people like me. Not when I dressed in oversized sweatshirts and kept my head down. Not when I only spoke when called on and never, ever looked girls like her in the eye.
But Isla noticed things. She noticed when I dropped my pencil and picked it up before I could. She noticed when the teacher mispronounced my name and quietly corrected it under her breath the next day. She noticed me and I hated how much I wanted her to keep doing that.
It wasn't like I'd never had feelings for a girl before.
I had. Plenty.
But those were feelings that lived in locked boxes, buried in secret folders on my laptop, written in journals I burned in my backyard when I was twelve.
This? Isla Foster sitting next to me every morning, laughing too loudly, smelling like coconut and vanilla this was dangerous.
"You're quiet," she said one day, midweek, chewing on the end of her pen. "But not like…boring quiet. More like 'mysterious main character' quiet."
I blinked. "Uh. Thanks?"
She grinned, and I nearly forgot how to breathe.
"Do you like girls?"
The pen dropped from her hand and hit the floor with a soft clatter.
My stomach turned to ash.
"What?" I asked, voice thinner than paper.
She leaned back, too cool, too casual. "Sorry. That was blunt. I justI figured. You looked at me. That first day."
I felt the walls closing in. My pulse was a war drum. I thought I'd done so well. No rainbow pins. No stickers. No telling signs. Only the safe silence of "maybe she's just shy."
I stood up too fast, nearly knocking over my chair.
"II have to go."
"Wait," she said, and her voice cracked. Just a little. "I didn't mean to—"
I was already walking away.
I didn't go to lunch that day. I sat in the library, behind the biography section, knees to chest, counting ceiling tiles and wondering why it hurt so much to almost be seen.
She knew. Or maybe guessed.
And that scared me more than anything.
Because if she was right, then it wasn't just a secret anymore. It was real.
Chapter Two:The Message
I didn't look at her the next morning.
I kept my head down, eyes fixed on the fraying edge of my sleeve as she slid into the seat beside me again like I hadn't run off like a fire alarm the day before. Like nothing had happened.
Except it had. And we both knew it.
She didn't say anything. Not at first.
Just sat there, quiet for the first time in a week. I could feel her looking at me not staring, just…watching. Like she was waiting for something. Or maybe giving me time.
I didn't know which was worse.
When the bell rang and class ended, she didn't move.
Everyone else filed out, notebooks slamming shut, chairs scraping tile. But Isla stayed. So did I.
Finally, she spoke.
"I'm not gonna tell anyone. If that's what you're worried about."
I flinched.
"I'm not," I said too fast, too loud.
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Okay."
She stood up, slinging her bag over one shoulder.
"I wasn't trying to mess with you. I swear." She paused. "I just thought maybe we were…y'know. Kind of the same."
Then she walked out, leaving her perfume in the air like a memory.
It wasn't until lunch that I found the note.
Tucked into my locker, folded like origami one clean crease, no name on the outside. Just a heart drawn in silver pen.
Inside:
"I used to be scared too.
But I see you. And I'm not scared now.
If you want to talk — meet me behind the gym. After school.
No pressure.
I"
My throat tightened.
It wasn't just what she wrote. It was that she understood. That she had been scared, too. That maybe this whole time, I hadn't been completely alone.
I didn't go right away.
I stood by the water fountain after last period, heart hammering in my ears, trying to decide.
Go. Don't go. Go. Don't go.
If I went, it meant something.
If I didn't, it meant I was still hiding. Still too afraid to be real — even with someone who already knew.
At 3:18, I moved.
She was there, leaning against the brick wall like she wasn't nervous at all. But when she saw me, something in her posture shifted — her shoulders dropped, her jaw relaxed. Like she'd been holding her breath.
"Hey," she said, soft. "Didn't think you'd come."
I shrugged. "Almost didn't."
"I'm glad you did."
We stood there for a second. Or maybe a year. I couldn't tell. The silence between us was louder than the traffic behind the school.
Finally, I asked, "When did you know?"
Isla smiled faintly. "Middle school. First time I saw that dumb scene in Bend It Like Beckham and felt something in my chest go…weird."
I laughed before I could stop myself. "Same."
She grinned, and the sun caught her eyes just right.
"I'm not asking you to do anything you're not ready for," she said. "You don't have to explain yourself. Just…don't disappear, okay?"
I nodded.
And for the first time in forever, I meant it.
ChapterThree:A Small Yes
Her note lived in my pocket for three days before I let myself read it again.
By then, the edges were soft and worn, like the corners of something sacred. I kept running my thumb over the crease, over the silver heart proof that someone had seen me and hadn't run.
That someone was Isla Foster.
And I had no idea what to do with that.
She didn't sit next to me the next morning.
She gave me space or maybe she'd given up. I wasn't sure which hurt more.
I stared at the empty seat beside me and thought about all the things I should've said behind the gym. Like:
"I think about you more than I should."
Or:
"I want to be brave, but I'm still learning how."
Instead, I'd stood there like a scared kid, heart in my throat, hoping she couldn't see how close I was to running again.
It wasn't until art class that I saw her again not just physically, but really saw her.
She was sketching something in her notebook. Head down, one headphone in, eyebrows scrunched like she was mad at the page.
I slid into the seat next to her, heartbeat doing backflips.
She didn't look up, but she noticed. I saw her shoulders stiffen just slightly — like maybe she wasn't sure what I was here for.
I took a breath.
"I like your drawing."
She looked at me, startled like she wasn't expecting me to speak at all.
"It's… just a rough sketch," she said, flipping the notebook closed.
"It's still good."
A pause. Then, quietly, "Thanks."
We sat in silence for a while not the awkward kind, but the quiet where everything unsaid still fills the space between you.
Finally, I said, "You were right. That first day."
She glanced at me. "About what?"
"That I looked at you."
Her lips parted just slightly.
"I still do," I added, even softer. "I just didn't think I was allowed to."
Isla didn't smile. Not yet. But something behind her eyes shifted. Something warmer.
"You don't need anyone's permission to feel what you feel," she said. "Least of all mine."
I nodded.
It wasn't a declaration. It wasn't a coming out.
But it was a yes. A small, scared, quiet yes.
And for now, that was enough.
Chapter Four: Red Cups and Rumors
I didn't want to go to the party.
But Isla asked.
Well technically, she invited the entire class, but the way her eyes found mine across the room when she said it made me feel like it was only for me.
"You should come," she'd said, leaning on my desk that morning. "Low-key, just a few people. Music, dumb games, maybe bad pizza. No pressure."
I hated bad pizza. And dumb games. And most people.
But I said yes anyway.
Because Isla Foster had looked at me like she hoped I would.
It was louder than I expected Isla's house pulsing with music and laughter, red solo cups in every hand, perfume and sweat clinging to the air like fog.
I stuck close to the wall at first, letting the crowd move around me like a tide I refused to swim in.
I was almost ready to leave when I saw her.
She was at the center of it all dancing barefoot in the living room, head thrown back, cheeks pink, her curls wild and alive. A boy tried to spin her and she laughed, pulling away with a shake of her head.
Then she saw me.
And smiled like she'd been waiting all night.
"You came," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the back porch without asking.
The touch set my nerves on fire.
"Too loud in there," she said. "Thought you might need air."
"Thanks."
We sat on the porch steps, away from the noise, the night soft around us. Her leg brushed mine. Neither of us moved.
For a second, I forgot we weren't alone in the world.
She looked at me, really looked, eyes softer than they'd ever been. "You okay?"
I nodded, then shook my head. "I don't know."
Isla reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. Her fingers lingered at my jaw.
"You don't have to say anything," she whispered. "But if I kissed you right now… would you stop me?"
The world narrowed to just her mouth, her voice, her breath so close to mine.
"I don't think I could," I whispered.
So she kissed me.
And I kissed her back.
It wasn't fireworks. It wasn't music swelling.
It was soft. Safe. Terrifying.
And then
A sound behind us.
Laughter. A phone camera click. The flash.
I turned, heart leaping into my throat.
Two girls from our school Kayla and Brielle stood at the patio door, eyes wide, one of them still holding her phone up.
"Oh," Brielle said. "Shit."
Isla stood fast. "Don't."
Kayla blinked. "We didn't mean to we just "
"Delete it," I snapped, voice shaking.
They looked at each other, then back at us.
"I'm serious."
Kayla hesitated, then tapped her phone. "Fine. Chill."
They walked off giggling too loud. Too knowing.
The night didn't feel soft anymore.
I turned to Isla. "I have to go."
"Wait" she reached for me, but I stepped back.
My voice cracked. "This was a mistake."
Her face crumpled, just a little. "It wasn't."
I didn't answer.
I was already halfway down the street before she could say my name again.
Chapter Five: After
Isla
By Monday morning, everyone knew.
Or they acted like they knew.
I heard it in the hallway whispers. Saw it in the looks Rae got. The way people glanced at her, then at me, then leaned into each other like we were the punchline in some cruel inside joke.
And Rae? She didn't even look at me.
Not once.
I watched her walk past our usual seat in homeroom and choose one in the back row. Hoodie up. Head down. Armor on.
My chest ached.
She hadn't responded to my texts. Hadn't opened the one that just said: "I'm sorry. Not for kissing you. Just for the timing."
I wasn't even sure if she'd seen it.
At lunch, I sat with my usual group though it felt like noise instead of company. Across the cafeteria, Rae picked at her food like it had wronged her. Kayla and Brielle kept sneaking glances, whispering behind their drinks.
I wanted to go over. To explain. To hold her hand like I had behind the gym. But Rae's shoulders were curled so tightly inward, I didn't know if touching her now would be comfort or collapse.
After school, I found her behind the bleachers where she always went when she didn't want to be found.
"You're not supposed to be here," she mumbled.
I ignored that. "I'm not mad at you."
Her eyes finally met mine, and they were tired.
"You should be. I ran."
"You were scared."
"I still am."
I sat next to her. Not too close.
"There are rumors," she said.
"I know."
"You're not denying them."
I smiled, sad. "Should I?"
She didn't answer.
Later that evening, I curled up in my bedroom and called the one person who always saw me without judgment.
My older sister, Leah.
She picked up on the second ring. "Tell me everything."
I didn't need to say much. She'd been me once terrified, exposed, in love.
"I think I broke her," I whispered. "Or maybe she broke herself. I don't know. It just hurts."
Leah was quiet for a moment. Then:
"People like Rae? They've been hiding for so long, they don't know how to be seen without flinching. You didn't break her, Isla. You just touched a part of her no one else was allowed to touch."
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"She kissed me back."
"Then that part of her is yours, at least a little," she said. "You just have to be patient. Brave people get scared too."
The next morning, I left a note in Rae's locker.
Not folded. Not hidden.
Just one sentence.
I still see you. Even if you can't see yourself right now.
Chapter Six: Things I Can't Say Out Loud
Rae
The note was still in my pocket.
I hadn't even unfolded it.
I knew it was from Isla her handwriting was annoyingly perfect. The kind of loops and curls that looked like they belonged on love letters or yearbooks.
I wanted to read it.
I was afraid to read it.
So I didn't.
Rumors are weird. They move faster than truth, and louder than silence.
By Tuesday, I'd heard them all.
"They kissed at that party. For real."
"She's probably bi or something.
That Rae girl always gave off a vibe."
"Isla's just experimenting. Rae's, like desperate."
I didn't cry.
But I started avoiding mirrors again.
After school, I went to the art room. I wasn't enrolled in any electives, but the teacher, Ms. Chen, never asked questions when I showed up after hours. She just nodded and kept grading or prepping whatever next chaotic project she had planned.
I liked her because she treated me like a shadow not in a cold way, just like someone who didn't need to be dragged into the light.
That day, I sat at the back and started sketching something without meaning to.
It wasn't Isla.
It was the space between us.
Ms. Chen came by eventually, not saying anything until she sat beside me.
"You're usually not this messy," she said, nodding to the page. "That's not a judgment. It's an observation."
I blinked. "Sorry. I can leave"
"No," she said quickly. "Stay."
A beat of silence. Then she added, "Want to talk about it?"
I stared at the charcoal in my fingers. My knuckles were smudged black.
"Something happened at a party," I said quietly. "And now everyone thinks they know who I am."
She nodded like she understood more than she let on. "And do you know who you are?"
"I think I'm still figuring it out."
"That's allowed."
I kept sketching lines that didn't go anywhere.
"I liked someone," I said finally. "A girl. And I think I messed everything up."
Ms. Chen looked at me gently. "Liking someone isn't a mistake. Hiding doesn't mean you're broken. It just means you're scared."
I didn't say anything.
But I didn't leave, either.
That night, I opened Isla's note.
I still see you. Even if you can't see yourself right now.
I folded it up again, gently this time, and placed it inside the journal I'd stopped writing in months ago.
Then I picked up my pen.
Chapter Seven: Shelter
Rae
The rain came out of nowhere.
One second, I was halfway home under a gray-but-manageable sky. The next, I was soaked head to toe and sprinting toward the nearest overhang like it owed me shelter.
It was the kind of rain that didn't care if you were ready.
The kind that made everything feel louder.
The kind that made it hard to hide.
I ducked under the bus stop awning, panting, drops clinging to my eyelashes. That's when I saw her.
Isla. Already standing there. Soaked too. Hoodie pulled up, mascara smudged slightly under her eyes like war paint.
She looked at me, startled but not unhappy.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, "You look like a drowned cat."
I snorted. "You're one to talk."
We both laughed and it didn't feel forced this time.
It felt like before.
"I read your note," I said after a moment.
She didn't ask which one. She just nodded.
"And?"
I looked down at my shoes. Water pooled around them.
"And… I see me too. A little."
Isla bit her lip. "That's something."
"It's not enough," I added quickly, voice shaking, "but I want it to be."
She didn't reach for my hand. Didn't move closer. She just said, "Okay."
That was it. No drama. No "why did you run?" No "you owe me."
Just a soft okay, like she was giving me a place to rest.
My throat tightened.
"You're really patient."
She smiled. "I'm really stubborn."
"Same thing."
We stood like that, under the bus stop, watching rain hit the pavement like it was writing a song only we could hear.
Not lovers. Not strangers.
Something in between and maybe on our way to something more.
Chapter 8: Soft Like Summer
Summer didn't arrive all at once. It crept in slowly like Rae's feelings had, like Isla's hand in hers, like sunlight blooming across her bedroom wall in the morning.
The last day of school was loud and messy. People shouted yearbook messages and flung notebooks into trash bins. Rae packed quietly, her eyes searching the hallway until Isla finally appeared, her smile soft and sure.
They walked home together. Neither of them said much. They didn't have to.
That first week of summer felt like freedom. The pressure of school, of whispers, of being seen — all of it fell away. Rae could breathe again. Isla was still Isla. But now she belonged in Rae's world in a way she hadn't before like someone Rae had always been waiting for but never knew how to find.
They lay in Rae's backyard with their heads pressed together, staring at the sky. Isla pointed out clouds that looked like animals; Rae pointed out ones that looked like feelings.
"This one's you," Rae said once, tracing a cloud that looked like the shape of a heart barely holding together. Isla just smiled, turned toward her, and whispered, "And this one's you the one still floating no matter what."
They spent whole days doing nothing and everything painting old denim jackets, writing letters they never sent, eating cold watermelon in silence. They never called it love. But they both knew.
One night, they biked to the lake just before sunset. The water shimmered like glass. No one else was there. Rae dipped her toes in. Isla waded out waist-deep, looking back.
"You coming in?" she called.
Rae hesitated, then ran, clothes and all. They laughed as the water soaked them, screamed when it got too cold, and finally just floated side by side, fingers touching.
"I used to think I'd never feel this way," Rae whispered. "Like maybe it wasn't meant for people like me."
"People like what?" Isla asked.
"Like… scared girls. Quiet girls."
Isla swam closer, her face serious now. "You're brave, Rae. You always have been. You were just waiting for the right moment to stop hiding."
They kissed in the middle of the lake, the sky bleeding orange and pink above them.
That night, Rae wrote in her journal:
It's not just a crush.
It's not just her smile.
It's this whole quiet world we made together.
Soft.
Safe.
Ours.
In July, they went to a bookstore in the city where no one knew them. Isla bought Rae a poetry zine titled Girls Who Loved in Silence. Rae bought Isla a pin that said soft doesn't mean weak. They wore matching bracelets they made out of string and seashells.
On the bus ride home, Isla leaned against Rae's shoulder and said, "This is the happiest I've ever been."
Rae held her breath. Then: "Me too."
Summer wasn't perfect. There were still moments of doubt. Of wondering who else knew. Of looking over shoulders. But they had each other. And that made all the difference.
On the last night of August, they sat on the rooftop of Rae's house, watching the stars come out.
"Promise me," Isla said, "when school starts again, we don't go back to pretending."
"I promise," Rae said.
"Even if people talk?"
"Let them."
They kissed again slow, steady, and sure.
That night, Rae dreamed of sunlight, and paintbrushes, and soft hands that never let go.
Love didn't have to be loud to matter. It didn't have to be a firestorm.
Sometimes, it could be this.
Soft. Like summer.
Chapter 9: The First Monday Back
The first day of school felt different not because the halls had changed, but because Rae had.
She stood outside the school gates with Isla, their hands nearly touching. Isla looked over, raising her eyebrows like a silent question: Are we doing this?
Rae nodded. Her heart raced, but her feet were steady.
Inside, everything was the same lockers slamming, someone shouting across the corridor, Maya handing out iced coffee from her tote bag.
But people noticed. They always noticed. When Rae and Isla walked down the hall shoulder to shoulder, no space between them, it didn't go unseen.
There were whispers. A few not-so-subtle glances. But there were also small moments of unexpected kindness. A girl from chemistry smiled at them. One of Isla's teammates gave a quiet nod.
In homeroom, Rae sat in her usual spot by the window. Isla sat beside her, just like that first day months ago.
This time, Isla reached under the desk and laced their fingers together.
At lunch, they sat in the courtyard not hidden away in the art room like before. The sky was pale blue. Rae unwrapped the sandwich Isla had packed her and found a post-it note tucked inside.
You're not hiding anymore. I'm proud of you.
She blinked hard and looked away before Isla could see the tears welling.
That evening, Rae's mom noticed her humming while doing homework. She didn't say anything, just smiled from the kitchen doorway, then went back to slicing strawberries.
Later, Rae wrote in her journal:
Today we were seen. And still… we were okay.
That weekend, they went to an outdoor movie screening at the park. Blankets, snacks, and a crowd of strangers under the stars. A girl with purple hair offered them space on the grass and introduced herself and her girlfriend.
For the first time, Rae didn't feel out of place.
They watched 10 Things I Hate About You, but Rae barely paid attention. Isla's hand was warm in hers. The city lights blinked in the distance.
It was the first time Rae ever let herself feel fully visible and safe in public.
When the movie ended, Isla looked over and whispered, "We're really doing this."
And Rae whispered back, "Yeah. We are."
Chapter 10: What Comes After
Fall crept in slowly not with fireworks or drama, but with sweaters pulled over fingertips, cooler mornings, and the sound of leaves scratching across pavement.
Everything felt the same. And somehow, everything was different.
Rae sat with Isla on her bedroom floor, their backs against the bed, music playing low from her speaker. Sketchbooks and chocolate wrappers lay scattered between them.
"I don't think I'm scared anymore," Rae said quietly.
Isla looked up from her notebook. "Of what?"
"Of being me. Of being this."
Isla reached over and touched Rae's knee. "You were never the problem. The world just didn't know how to hold you gently yet."
They started being bolder not loud, but visible. Isla posted a picture of Rae on her Instagram. Just Rae, in her oversized hoodie, laughing at something offscreen. The caption read:
She makes the world quieter. And brighter. ☀️
The comments were a mix some hearts, some shock, some silence. Rae stared at her phone for an hour after that. But Isla didn't flinch.
That helped.
One evening in October, Rae's mom knocked on her door holding a tray of tea and slices of orange. She didn't say anything at first. Just set the tray down and sat on the edge of the bed.
"She seems nice," her mom said. "Isla."
Rae froze. "You… know?"
Her mom smiled. "You talk about her differently. I've known for a while. I was just waiting for you to be ready."
Rae's eyes filled. "I thought you'd be upset."
"I'm not. I'm proud."
It was the kind of moment Rae thought only happened in movies. But it was real.
So real, it hurt in the best way.
Weeks passed. The sky grew darker earlier. Homework piled up. People still talked — sometimes in kindness, sometimes not.
But Rae was steadier now. She knew who she was. And more importantly, she knew what she deserved.
On a cold Friday afternoon, Rae and Isla sat in the art room after school. It was quiet, just the ticking of the clock and the soft scratch of pencil on paper.
"I want to write a book," Rae said suddenly.
Isla looked up, smiling. "About us?"
"Maybe not about us. But something with truth in it. Something soft. Something brave."
Isla leaned over and kissed Rae's cheek. "Then do it. Tell the story only you can tell."
Later that night, Rae opened her journal.
At the top of a fresh page, she wrote:
For the girls who love gently,
and the ones still learning how.
For the ones who hide,
and the ones who step into the light.
This is for us.*
Then she smiled, closed the journal, and turned off the light.
And for the first time in a long time, Rae didn't feel like she was waiting to be loved.
She already was.