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I've got to do something about this.
Gabriella couldn't take it anymore. Her internalized homophobia–anxiety–PTSD was warring with her intense feelings for her best friend.
Her very straight best friend.
Her straight best friend who she had known for nine years now.
It was inevitable, she supposed. Gabriella had a track record of meeting fantastic women, befriending them over time, and falling for them suddenly. The feelings always hit her out of nowhere, catching her by surprise and always at a bad time. (In hindsight, there were probably signs all along, but the details had to hit a threshold for her to finally notice, she found.) Could you blame her, really? Her friends were some of the best women she knew.
The odds were stacked against her—Madison was kind, funny in a dry and sarcastic way, generous with her physical affection, a naturally talented dancer, an easy collaborator, trusted with her secrets. Madison was everything that Gabriella wanted in a partner. An actual partner, an equal. Not whatever Guillaume had considered her. How could Gabriella not fall for her? She never stood a chance.
When they actively competed, Gabriella considered Madison and Zachary one of the adversaries to watch. Most of the other pairs were a breeze—she and Guillaume could beat them in their sleep—but Madison challenged her, pushed her to focus on her craft and refine her skills. "Iron sharpens iron," as her mother used to say.
Gabriella's instinct when faced with an anxiety-attack-inducing, potentially-dangerous situation was to retreat. Pull away, build up her emotional walls around her heart, create distance. She'd ruined several friendships this way and knew it was wrong; Madison deserved better. And yet, she couldn't stop doing it.
After a near-attempted suicide during the pandemic, Madison had pleaded for complete transparency between them. But how could she even begin to explain this fiasco? Although she had disclosed her bisexuality to Madison years before and received a favorable response (Madison treated her as she always did, it hardly changed a thing), it was wholly different to confess a crush. She was concerned about how Madison would react—surely she wouldn't see Gabriella in the same light.
Gabriella had read enough harrowing reports online of girls and women spilling their hearts to their best friends, only to be burned and lose the friendship. She loved what she had with Madison. She didn't want to screw that up. Gabriella would be able to suffer in silence—but she had to build up a tolerance.
As it was, she was overstimulated by the… well, everything. Every hug, hand grab, kiss, greeting, goodbye, shared meals, sleepovers, and practices sent her mind into a dizzying spiral. The way Madison's mouth wrapped around her name, the way her lips curled around the constant terms of endearment—Gabriella couldn't keep up. She didn't think she was a fan of nicknames or pet names in English, but maybe she just needed to hear it from the right person. And that was part of the problem—Gabriella chased Madison's affection like caffeine, and she needed to desensitize herself before she did something stupid.
Thus, her plan was to withdraw from socializing with Madison, citing her new writing project and pursuing items off her personal bucket list. Of course, because they ran in similar circles, she would have to stay away from all her other shared friends, but perhaps that was for the best. She didn't trust their friends to keep her secret. They weren't Madison, as much as she loved them.
Gabriella packed a bag and checked the lock on her door. An impromptu trip into the woods would settle her soul. They were at the tail end of winter, and practices were starting to taper off. She had notified her coaches and Guillaume that she would be "out of town", but she refrained from being specific. They would absolutely tell Madison if she asked them.
With her notebooks and her favorite pencil case riding in the passenger seat, Gabriella headed to one of the forests she had found online. Soft jazz filled the cabin. She marveled at the late morning sky, at the pinks and oranges that faded as the sun rose.
Quiet trees greeted her, save for the birds up above. Her boots crunched on the gravel walking path, all the way up to a bench that overlooked a spectacular view. With just her thoughts to keep her company, Gabriella muted her notifications and set a timer on her music. She opened her journal to a fresh page and pushed the tip of her ballpoint into the thick paper. Frustration, trepidation, affection, pain—these all flowed down her arm across the thin black lines. She traced her crush back in time, trying to find the root. Only then could she cut it out.
At the end of the two hours, Gabriella felt like she could face Madison—as long as she didn't look in her eyes. This shouldn't be too hard. Her drive back to her apartment felt faster, and she felt like she was leaving her worries behind on that bench overlooking the trees.
The weight of reality and poor timing crashed down on her as soon as she entered her flat. Instead of a quiet, empty common room, she found several young women perched on all sorts of horizontal surfaces—dining chairs, side tables, the couch, and the floor. Madison paced in the kitchen, her phone clamped in her hands. None of the women had noticed her come in, all engaged in spirited discussion of Gabriella's potential whereabouts.
What the fuck? Gabriella raised her voice over the din. "Hey! What is this?" The chatter halted at once. Gabriella's institute classmates all sprang up with a chorus of "Gabriella!" "We were so worried!" "Where've you been?" "You're back!"
"I was out of town, attending to some personal business. If you'd be so kind as to leave… now." Gabriella hoped her anger wasn't evident in her voice. She didn't want to cause a rift in the friend group. But she was very put off by the fact that these people had invaded her private space without asking.
One by one, the women offered an eager "Sorry" or a calm "See you tomorrow" as they exited the flat. Soon it was just Gabriella and Madison standing in the middle of the kitchen.
Madison stepped in closer. "Where were you?" she asked in a subdued voice. Tension pulled at her temples and mouth. "I've been blowing up your phone. You need to empty your voicemail inbox, by the way."
Gabriella widened the gap between them. She leaned against a kitchen counter, hands in her pockets. Her gaze locked in on Madison's left eyebrow. "Like I said, I was out of town."
From her peripheral vision, she saw Madison's eyes sharpen. The other woman knew when Gabriella was side-stepping a question. She knew better than anyone what her avoidance tactics looked like. "What were you doing?"
"Writing." This time, Gabriella moved her eyes to the small mole on Madison's cheek. "Why did you bring all those people here?" She let a little heat leak into her throat. Her classmates couldn't have known what made her tick; Madison knew better.
The older woman bit her lip. "I thought you…" She trailed off and sighed. After a couple seconds, she tried again. "We were trying to find you," she settled on. The implied end of the first thought sat awkwardly between them. "Your apartment was empty and your car was gone. No note or anything. The coaches said they had no idea. Guillaume also didn't give a shit."
"What?" Gabriella pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a string of very colorful curse words. "Those fucking bastards. I told them." There was nothing she could do about her coaches, but at least she knew she could never trust them with anything ever again.
Madison reached out and touched her shoulder. "I'm glad you're okay." Her hand felt scorching hot on Gabriella's skin. She felt the heat radiate out to her neck and down her arm. "I missed you at lunch." The combination of sweet words and physical affection almost made her buckle.
Almost. Gabriella turned away and picked up the backpack she had left next to the front door. "Goodnight, Madison," she said over her shoulder as she disappeared into her room. Her eyes never once met Madison's. "Lock the door behind you, please."
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