Chapter 7

Daniela woke up confused.

The dream slipped from her like water, bits of it clinging stubbornly to her chest. Megan’s voice. A soft laugh. The feel of fingers brushing her hand—gentle, familiar. There had been music, too, faint in the background. Something about it had felt warm. Safe.

And now she was wide awake, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding like she’d just run a mile.

She sat up in bed slowly, rubbing her face. The room was dim, lit only by soft morning light sneaking through the blinds. Manon still slept soundly across from her, a blanket half-kicked off.

It was just a dream.
It didn’t mean anything.
People dream weird things all the time.

But even as she told herself that, Daniela’s hands trembled a little when she reached for her phone.

She scrolled aimlessly through her messages, through photos, through anything to distract her from the weird ache in her chest. A flush still sat on her cheeks, and no matter how many times she told herself to calm down, her heart wouldn’t listen.

She didn’t even remember what Megan had said in the dream. Just the feeling—like something inside her had opened.

And she hated it.

Later that morning, she found herself standing in the kitchen, blankly staring at a loaf of bread. Megan passed behind her, brushing past without a word. Not ignoring her—just moving through the space like she didn’t want to be noticed.

And for some reason, that hurt.

Daniela blinked at the bread again, trying to remember why she was even holding it. Her stomach tightened.

“Are you okay?” Lara’s voice startled her.

“Yeah,” Daniela said quickly. “Just tired.”

Lara didn’t look convinced but didn’t press.

Across the room, Megan stood at the stove with Yoonchae, helping stir something. Her hoodie sleeves were pushed up, hair tied back in a messy bun. She looked tired, but calm. Focused.

Daniela looked away before she could think too hard about it.

Rehearsal was a mess.

Sophia kept forgetting lyrics. Manon tripped twice during the dance set. Megan’s voice cracked during a high note and she immediately apologized, even though no one said anything.

Daniela didn’t usually pay attention to these small things. Not like this. But now it was like her brain was tuned to every little Megan-frequency.

The sound of her voice.
The way she kept her distance, even when she didn’t need to.
The way her eyes dropped every time Daniela looked at her for more than a second.

It was driving her insane.

She tried to shake it off. She focused on, her footwork, her breath.

It didn’t help.

That afternoon, the house finally settled. Most of the girls drifted into their rooms to rest before dinner. Daniela headed to the living room, hoping a little peace would clear her head.

But Manon was already there, lying upside down on the couch with her legs flung over the back and her phone in her hand.

“Hey,” she said without looking up.

“Hey.”

Daniela sat down on the floor, back against the coffee table, and started quietly scrolling on her phone.

Manon glanced up. Smirked.

“You’ve been weird lately.”

Daniela blinked. “What?”

Manon swung upright, grinning now. “You know. All soft eyes and gentle voice around a certain someone.”

Daniela’s heart stuttered. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on.” Manon stretched like a cat. “You act different around Megan. It’s obvious. Even Yoonchae noticed.”

Daniela snorted. “That’s not true.”

“It is true. And you get all jumpy when people mention her.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

Daniela huffed, setting her phone aside. “She’s my friend. That’s all.”

Manon raised an eyebrow. “I never said it was anything else.”

Daniela opened her mouth, then closed it.

There was a long pause.

Manon tilted her head. “Unless you’re thinking it might be something else?”

“I’m straight,” Daniela blurted, too fast. “I’ve always been.”

Manon held her gaze. “Okay.”

“I mean—I’ve dated boys. I liked them. I just… I don’t know. Megan’s been going through a lot. I’m just trying to be there for her.”

“Right.” Manon leaned back. “Totally normal to think about someone every second of the day because you’re just a supportive roommate.”

Daniela flushed. “It’s not like that.”

Manon didn’t push further. Just stood up, gave her a soft pat on the head, and left the room humming a love song under her breath.

Daniela sat there for a long time after she was gone.

She thought about high school. Her first boyfriend. How she’d told her friends he made her heart race—because that’s what they expected her to say. How she’d kissed him and felt… nothing. But smiled anyway.

She thought about all the times she’d brushed it off, every time she told herself she just hadn’t found the right guy.

And now Megan.

Megan, who barely spoke lately but said everything with her eyes. Megan, who wrote in that journal every night like it was a lifeline. Megan, who had broken in front of her and still found a way to smile the next morning.

Daniela didn’t know what to do with any of this.

That night, she tried to sleep early.

She couldn’t.

She kept tossing, her chest tight, her thoughts racing. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind conjured pieces of that dream again. Megan’s voice, soft and close. The way she’d reached out.

It wasn’t even romantic.

It was worse.

It was intimate.

It was real.

She sat up abruptly, staring into the dark.

This wasn’t a crush.

This was something she wasn’t ready to name.

She pressed the heel of her hands to her eyes, breathing hard.

I’m not gay.

But the words felt brittle.

Like maybe they were starting to crack.