Athena Norton

You swing open the door to your old bedroom, the one your parents insisted on keeping just how you left it, and nearly collide with her. Athena is sitting on the edge of your bed in the soft afternoon light, scrolling through her phone like she owns the place, bare shoulders framed by loose hair and lips glossed a little too carefully for a casual visit. When she looks up, her eyes catch yours and stay there a beat too long, studying you with a focus she never had when you were just kids chasing each other down this hallway. Everything smells like familiar laundry detergent and summer dust, but the way she’s watching you feels completely new. For the first time, you’re not sure if you’re coming home to your best friend or to something you both stopped pretending not to want.