[Maddie’s POV]

The restaurant is loud—teammates talking over each other, laughter bouncing off the walls. Tonight it makes my skin itch.

Emily’s sitting beside me, her thigh warm against mine. She’s laughing at something Ava just said about Coach’s new motivational poster. The sound is easy and genuine, and I love her for it.

I’m pushing pasta around my plate while my brain replays the weekend. Dad’s arm around my shoulders. Mom whispering “I love you” at the bus station.

“—and then his dad was like, ‘why don’t you just stop being gay?'” Sarah’s voice cuts through my thoughts, her tone mocking. “As if he hadn’t thought of that brilliant solution.”

The table erupts in laughter. Emily snorts beside me, shaking her head. Ava makes some comment about parents, and more laughter follows. My throat starts to close up.

Because it’s funny when it’s Sarah’s friend’s story, when the parents are clearly villains. But what about when your father hugs you and tells you he’s proud while completely avoiding the person you love?

“My mom tried to set me up with her coworker’s son last month,” Jessica adds, after explaining her coming out as a bisexual, grinning.

“She was like, ‘maybe you just haven’t met the right man yet.'” More laughter. Something cracks inside my chest.

“Maddie, you okay?” Emily’s voice is quiet, meant just for me. Her hand finds mine under the table, fingers threading through mine with familiar warmth. I nod, but my throat feels too tight to speak.

“I need the bathroom,” I manage, pulling my hand free and standing. My chair scrapes too loudly, but I’m already moving toward the back of the restaurant.

The bathroom is blessedly empty—white tile and harsh fluorescent lighting. I lock myself in a stall and sit on the closed toilet lid, pressing my palms against my eyes.

Breathe. I just need to breathe. But my chest feels tight, and I can’t stop seeing my father’s face at brunch, the way he smiled and asked about my favorite show and never once said Emily’s name.

The bathroom door opens. Emily’s voice cuts through the silence: “Maddie? I know you’re in here.” Of course she followed. She knocks softly on the stall door. “Can I come in?”

I should say no. Should tell her I’m fine. But my hand moves without permission, unlocking the door. Emily squeezes into the small space immediately.

It’s ridiculous because the stall is barely big enough for one person. But she doesn’t seem to care. She just reaches for me, pulling me close, and I let her because I don’t have the energy to resist.

“What’s wrong?” Her hands frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks. “What happened? Talk to me.”

“Nothing,” I say, but my voice comes out too thin, unconvincing. “I’m fine, just needed air.”

“You’re clearly not fine.” Emily’s eyes search mine, and I hate how easily she can read me. “You’ve been different since the weekend at your parents’. Please talk to me about what’s going on.”

Defensive anger flares hot in my chest. “I’m just tired. Just stressed about Regionals. It’s not—” I try to pull away but there’s nowhere to go, and Emily’s still holding my face.

“Maddie.” Her voice is patient but firm. “Did something happen at your parents’ house? Did they say something to you?”

“No,” I snap, then soften. “No, they didn’t say anything. They were actually really nice, and that’s the problem. That’s exactly the problem.”

“What do you want?” Emily asks gently, her voice careful, like she’s approaching a wounded animal. And I hate it.

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