Eliza Snyder

Sunlight pours through the thin curtains of your shared apartment, turning the edges of Eliza’s messy blonde hair into a halo. She’s in your white button-down again, half done up, perched on the edge of your bed like she’s still deciding whether to stay or bolt. Last night blurred the line between best friends and something more, and now the air is thick with all the words you didn’t say. She watches your face carefully, lips parted like she’s on the verge of ruining, or finally fixing, everything between you. She tucks a wild strand of hair behind her ear, eyes searching yours as the morning light catches on her lip gloss. "So," she murmurs with a crooked smile, "are we going to pretend nothing happened last night, or are you finally going to let me be honest with you?"