She looked different here—softer somehow.The sharp edges she wore on track had melted away, replaced by this easy warmth that made my apartment feel less like a tomb and more like somewhere worth being.Her sweater—oversized, cream-colored—had slipped off one shoulder, and she didn’t bother fixing it, just sat there, cross-legged on my couch, completely at home.
Beautiful.
Archie nuzzled into her hand, and she laughed this quiet, genuine sound that wrapped around my ribs and squeezed.She’d bought me a dog.Sorted the paperwork, coordinated with the charity, probably dealt with a mountain of logistics I couldn’t even begin to imagine, all because she’d noticed something about me at an event we’d attended together.All because shecared.
That was Lily, though.Beneath all the competitive fire, the relentless drive, and the walls she’d built just as high as mine—she saw people.Really saw them.She’d noticed I was drowning when everyone else was too busy asking if I’d keep my seat.She’d shown up, and kept showing up, even when I pushed her away.
This is why I love her.
The realization settled over me—inevitable, soaking through every defense I had left.Not because she was brilliant behind the wheel or fearless under pressure.Not even because she challenged me in ways no one else dared.
But because she was kind.Because she cared enough to do things like this—absurd, wonderful things that cracked open the parts of me I’d spent months trying to seal shut.
She glanced up, catching me staring.A smile played at the corner of her mouth.
“You all right?”
Archie looked over at me again, this time making an effort to crawl into my lap.It was disarming and unfair.Dogs had this way of melting your heart, and Archie had done a mighty job in such a short period of time.
Lily’s gaze dropped to her shirt’s hem, and she began peeling at a loose thread on her sleeve.“Are you sure you don’t mind?”she asked, her voice almost a whisper.“Keeping him, I mean.If you want me to take him, I will.The rescue asked.He took to you, and I thought maybe…”
“That depends.Can I keep him if I also have a therapist?”
She laughed, nodding.“He seems to really like you,” she said softly.
“He likes anyone with fingers.”
“That’s not true,” she grumbled.“He didn’t crawl into my lap once.”
“Maybe he has taste,” I muttered.
She snorted, the sound bubbling out of her unchecked, and damn it, I felt my own mouth twitch in response—but there was no tension between us, just a casual, light air.Like it used to be.
“You know, I miss hanging out with you.”Lily tucked one leg beneath her, twisting slightly to face me.
I blinked.“Me too.”
“I miss how we were.Before all this.We used to be such close friends.”
I stared at her, at the earnest tilt of her chin, at the vulnerability she wasn’t trying to hide.Something about that, her honesty, her willingness to meet me where I was rather than where she wished I’d be, felt good.It felt right.
“You want to be friends again?”I asked.
“If you’ll let me,” she said quietly.“If that’s still something you want.”
I looked down, rubbing the back of Archie’s neck.
Friends.The word felt too small.But maybe it was the only one we could fit into right now.The morality clause wasn’t changing, but maybe we didn’t have to do anything about that at the moment.Nothing banned ourfriendship.
We didn’t need to participate in this war between our teams.
“You know, I have an idea of what we can do to solidify this friendship.”
Her eyes widened a fraction.“Oh?”
“Every year, my friends host this little… competition… where we race Volkswagen Beetles.”
Her mouth fell open, then it curved into something between delight and hysteria.“Beetles?Like Herbie?”
