Chapter 9

Lara hadn’t meant to end up alone with Manon.

It wasn’t suspicious at first — just the two of them sitting outside in the late afternoon sun, nursing cans of peach soda and letting the hum of summer settle in. The others were inside, half-laughing, half-yelling over something Yoonchae had done in a group game, and for once, Lara didn’t feel like playing. She needed air. Silence. Less pressure.

And somehow, that led to this.

“You’re gonna have to talk eventually,” Manon said, biting into a chip. “Or I’ll start guessing. And you know how unfiltered I get.”

Lara gave her a side glance. “Don’t you always guess wrong on purpose just to get a reaction?”

Manon shrugged, playful. “It’s more fun when people squirm. Especially you.”

She turned her body toward Lara, legs crossed and posture open — that relaxed kind of confrontation that was her specialty.

“But seriously,” Manon said. “Something’s up with Megan and Daniela, and you’re acting like you know more than you should.”

Lara didn’t answer right away. The can in her hand felt colder suddenly, heavier. She thought about the journal. About the way she’d cracked it open just a little. Enough to see one of her best friend spelled out in bold, exposed ink. Enough to regret it ever since.

“I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Lara said quietly.

Manon didn’t blink. “Let me guess. Megan’s got it bad.”

The silence that followed said everything.

“Oh my God,” Manon gasped, mouth half-open. “It’s true.”

Lara groaned, putting her head in her hands. “You didn’t hear it from me.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Manon said, giddy now. “I intuited it with my incredible gaydar.”

Lara cracked a reluctant smile.

“I’m serious though,” Manon went on. “That girl is spiraling. And Daniela’s walking around all flirty with any guy who breathes too close. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to win a gold medal in Denial Olympics.”

Lara looked at her sharply. “You… think she’s not straight?”

“I think she’s not aware she’s not straight,like she’s living in comphet hell,” Manon said, matter-of-fact. “And I think Megan’s crush scares the shit out of her.”

That hit a little too hard.

Lara looked down at the condensation sliding down her can. “It’s not like Megan was planning on doing anything. She knows Daniela’s… well, she thinks Daniela’s straight. She’s been trying to suppress it for months.”

Manon leaned back, expression softening. “Poor Meg. No wonder she’s been so distant lately.”

“She’s not mad at me, I think,” Lara added, voice lower. “Just… hurt. She’s still hurting. And now she’s avoiding both of us, even if she doesn’t realize she’s doing it.”

“I knew something was up,” Manon said. “I mean, the way she looked when Daniela was flirting at the pub the other night… you don’t look like that unless you care too much.”

Lara hesitated. “I wasn’t supposed to read the journal. I just saw her name… I didn’t mean to break her trust.”

“You were curious,” Manon said, more gently. “And now you know. And now we help her. And maybe—just maybe—we help Daniela help herself too.”

Lara raised an eyebrow. “You’re thinking of matchmaking?”

“I’m thinking of intervening,” Manon grinned.

“Subtly.”

“Subtly,” Manon echoed, in a tone that made Lara deeply suspicious.

Manon was nothing if not an instigator — but she preferred the term catalyst. There was a difference.

She wasn’t going to push Megan and Daniela together like some deranged romcom side character. But she was going to adjust the stage lighting. Maybe move a prop or two. Nudge them closer with things like chore pairings and movie night seatings. All the gentle architecture of fate.

The hard part was timing.

She watched the way Megan carried herself the next morning — shoulders tight, eyes distant. She was talking more now, but her smile wasn’t real. Not the one Manon remembered from when they first debuted, all easy jokes and midnight fridge raids. Now it was strained. Controlled.

And Daniela?

Well, she was trying too hard in the opposite way.

At breakfast, she practically leaned into a dumb pun from Sophia just so she could touch Megan’s arm. Then she pulled back too fast, pretending it hadn’t happened. She laughed a little too hard when Yoonchae spilled cereal on herself. Her energy was off — and not in the “she’s a little tired” kind of way.

In the “she’s chasing noise to drown her own brain” kind of way.

Manon gave Lara a look across the table. Lara nodded, barely.

Time to begin.

Their first mission was small: pair Megan and Daniela up for the living room cleaning rotation.

No one questioned it. Yoonchae was too busy trying to out-sass Sophia in some obscure debate about music theory, and the rest just shrugged at the plan like it was normal.

Except Megan, who hesitated.

Her eyes flicked toward Daniela and then to Lara — just for a second.

But she didn’t say no.

Lara saw it in that moment — the heartbreak sitting just beneath her friend’s skin. Megan didn’t want to be in pain. She didn’t want to keep avoiding things. She was just scared. Still raw.

Daniela… was harder to read. She’d smiled, nodded, said “cool” like it was nothing.

But her hand had been clenched on the edge of the table the whole time.

Later that afternoon, Manon caught Daniela in the hallway. She was wearing her usual lazy hoodie and athletic shorts combo, hair tied in a low bun — casual, comfortable, safe.

Manon leaned against the wall, casual as ever.

“So,” she said. “Flirted with any emotionally unavailable men today?”

Daniela rolled her eyes. “Funny.”

Manon grinned. “I mean, statistically, your batting average is impressive.”

“You’re annoying.”

“I’m observant.”

Daniela paused. “What do you think you’re observing?”

Manon tilted her head. “You tell me. Unless you’d rather keep pretending you don’t notice the way Megan looks at you. Or the way you look at her when she’s not watching.”

Silence.

A flash of panic crossed Daniela’s face — brief, but telling.

“I don’t—” she started, but Manon raised a hand.

“It’s okay,” she said, gentler now. “You don’t have to know everything yet. You don’t even have to say anything. But maybe… stop running so hard in the opposite direction.”

Daniela stared at her, unmoving. Something fragile flickered behind her eyes — not quite recognition, not quite fear. A mix.

Manon pushed off the wall and smiled.

“Just something to think about.”

And then she walked away.

That night, Lara found Megan curled up in the corner of the couch, knees to her chest, watching the group movie night but not really watching it.

Daniela wasn’t in the room.

It felt like the calm before a storm.

She sat next to Megan, not too close. Gave her space.

“You okay?” she asked.

Megan didn’t answer right away.

Then: “I will be.”

Lara swallowed, her heart aching.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Whatever happens, I’m on your side. Always.”

Megan didn’t speak, but her fingers found Lara’s under the blanket.

A small, quiet anchor.