"Are you sure you want to do this?" Michelle asked, holding her overnight bag at the bus stop.
Lila flipped her sunglasses onto her head and grinned. "Two nights. One lakeside cabin. No boys, no drama—just wine, face masks, and Netflix. You need this."
Michelle laughed. "Alright, alright. I'm in."
The weekend getaway was Lila's idea. Her aunt had a small, cozy cabin an hour outside of town, and after a rough week filled with school stress and lingering drama, it felt like the perfect escape.
As the bus rolled through the hills and the city disappeared behind them, Michelle relaxed into the seat. Lila played soft indie music from her phone, and the windows let in the golden afternoon light.
They reached the cabin just before sunset. It was even better than Michelle had imagined—wooden walls, a porch swing, a tiny fireplace, and the sparkling lake right behind the trees.
"I feel like I stepped into a movie," Michelle whispered.
Lila twirled. "You did. The part where the shy girl and the city girl become best friends and talk about love over hot cocoa."
That night, wrapped in blankets and oversized hoodies, they sat on the floor in front of the fire. A bowl of popcorn between them, their faces glowing orange in the soft light.
"So," Lila said, popping a kernel into her mouth. "How long have you and Steve really been a thing?"
Michelle blushed. "It started as a slow thing. Like… glances, small touches. Then we got close. But lately, it feels deeper."
"Do you love him?" Lila asked quietly.
Michelle looked into the fire for a long moment. "I think I'm falling for him. Slowly. But it's scary."
"Why?"
Michelle sighed. "Because what if it changes? What if it doesn't last? I've never had something real before."
Lila leaned her head against Michelle's shoulder. "You're braver than you think. You let someone in. That's already everything."
The next day, they took a walk along the edge of the lake. Lila pulled Michelle into silly dances on the dock, and they took selfies with wildflowers behind them. They found a tiny bakery in town and shared cinnamon buns by the window while it started to rain.
Michelle hadn't laughed that much in weeks.
That night, Lila showed Michelle her sketchbook—pages filled with portraits, cityscapes, and messy emotions. Michelle confessed that she wrote poetry but never showed it to anyone.
"Show me," Lila whispered.
Michelle hesitated… then finally read one poem aloud.
It was about Steve. About his eyes, and how they softened when he looked at her. About the feeling of being seen.
When Michelle finished, Lila blinked back tears. "Girl. That was beautiful. He's lucky. And you—you're brave for writing that."
On Sunday afternoon, as they packed to go back, Michelle looked at her friend and smiled.
"I didn't know I needed this."
"Neither did I," Lila said. "But I'm glad we did. This—" she pointed between them "—this is real, too."
Michelle hugged her tight. And for the first time in a while, her heart felt light, full, and completely safe.