For the past three years, Marisol Vega has been the closest thing to a friend I've had. We'd be closer if we got to see each other more, but she went to a school a ways away. Sometimes she's able to come down and spend the weekend with me.

We met late into my freshman year. One day I had gotten so fed up with everyone's taunts, that I walked out of school and just kept walking. Eventually, I stopped at this small coffee shop, Bailey's Glass, and had the best hot chocolate in the world. After that, I came back as many times as possible.

When we started to talk, I found out that Marisol was there the first day, but we never actually spoke. Not until two or three weeks later when she stood up from her empty corner to join mine. I still remember the first thing she said to me.

"What kind of person reads in their free time? What are you a nerd?"

I wasn't that into Sophia back then; I could still see myself with other people. Marisol was one of those people.

She was beautiful in the most enticing way, still is. It was her boldness that drew me in. Her lack of filter and complete disregard for people's expectations are what drew me in. In the beginning, it was because I was envious. Later it was because I was attracted.

"C-can I help you?" I stuttered, slowly setting down the book in my hands.

The girl who wore the combat boots that I've wanted for weeks leaned over the table with a roll of her eyes.

"No quise asustarte. I only wanted to tell you how pretty you are." She murmured in a low voice, sending a jolt down my spine.

And then she pulled away and walked out of the cafe without another word. I watched the back of her leather jacket for as long as I could, following it as she drove away.

That was the first time in a very long time that someone had said something kind to me, let alone something flattering. It lit a fire in me, and I was alive for the first time in ages.

I made sure to come by Bailey's Glas every day after that. Marisol wasn't there every day, but I lived for the days she did show up. I started looking forward to school because afterward, I got to spend time with her.

It started with us just talking. I talked about the terrible things people did to me, and she told me about her awful parents.

What happens to me at school is far from easy, and will most likely haunt me years after I leave, but I am lucky to have the family that I have. There is nothing worse than the suffering that is having intolerant parents.

I get to leave school every day. If I don't want to go at all, I can stay home. Easy.

But you always have to go home. There's no easy way to escape that. There's no how-to list for forgetting the fact that the people who raised you can't stand who you are. There isn't a sleepover long enough to keep you safe from the hell that is your home.

Some kids don't make it out of that hell alive.

Marisol's parents have never beat her, but that's irrelevant. You don't need to touch someone to tear their insides apart. It's particularly easy for the people who built those insides from the ground up. They know the blueprints well, know how to make it hurt the worst.

I felt so trivial next to her when she told me her story. To equate my situation to hers felt gross. But Marisol insisted that we continued to talk. And soon it became more than just talking.

"Are you sure you want to come over Mari? It's a little far from your house." I asked for the fifth time in the row, catching my bottom lip between my teeth.

Marisol pushed herself up from where she was leaning on her car. Soon her fingers were tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, and her other hand melded itself to my waist. The foreign feeling of skin against mine was enough to scare my body into going still, but also send my heart into a delirium.

"I'm sure. It's not like I'm rushing to get home anyway." Marisol joked, her nose brushing against mine. A silent gasp caught itself in my throat, but the small utter of sound that escaped made a smirk grow on Marisol's face.

"Besides, now I finally get to spend some alone time with you." She whispered, holding me securely in her hands. I wanted to tell her there was no need; I could never want to leave from right here.

Marisol was my first kiss, and as far as first kisses go, it was the most magical and mindblowing thing I had ever experienced. So much so that we ended up kissing a lot more than people who were just friends would. But we never took it much further than that.

Marisol and I's relationship was never complicated. There were days when she'd come over, and we'd lay in my bed and have hours worth of conversation without ever touching. Other days, all we'd do is fool around and never speak a single word to each other. We knew each other well enough to know which day was which.

A piece of me had always wanted to start something real with Marisol, but it never happened. I could tell early on that Marisol was not one for commitment. She talked to me more than she did most, but she still kept so much hidden from me. It was clear she was afraid of getting hurt, and I couldn't blame her.

I haven't seen Marisol in a week or two because she couldn't get away from home. Even if I had, she knows that the romantic part of our friendship is over because I've been telling her about Sophia. So we haven't done anything together in forever, and we aren't planning to anytime soon.

It would be great if Sophia could see that.

Sophia paced back and forth in my kitchen as I watched helplessly from my chair. We had to relocate our disagreement (I refuse to call it an argument) to the kitchen because Seth wanted to continue watching his movie. He seems to have forgotten that this isn't his house.

"Were you ever going to tell me about her?" Sophia finally asked after five minutes of pacing.

"I wasn't hiding her," I responded evenly. Sophia's jaw tightened, but she stayed quiet. "If she had somehow come up earlier, I would've told you about her. Just like I did now."

It was ridiculous how we were going through this right now without even being in a relationship. The universe is giving us a million hoops to jump through before we are allowed to be happy.

Sophia still had nothing to say and had returned to her pacing and silent brooding.

I sighed quietly. "Sophia I am not seeing Marisol, and I will not-"

"That's not why I'm upset Avery." Sophia snapped, halting in place again.

The anger in her tone took me back, but I held my ground. I rose an eyebrow at her, prompting her to continue.

"I'm upset because I don't know you. You know all about me and all of my friends, but I know absolutely nothing about you." She argued, her voice rising towards the end.

The movie paused in the background, and all that was left was the buzz of tension in the kitchen. I pressed my lips together in a tight line and waited for Sophia to release the rest of the storm she had brewing in her eyes.

"Something as simple as your other friends is something that should've come up by now. But you're so damn secretive Avery. That on top of this whole secret bully situation..." She trailed off, rubbing her temples. "You're driving me crazy here."

Denying everything was my immediate response; telling her she needed to calm down seemed like the easiest way to fix this. But the silence gave me the space to think.

I used to think that all Marisol and I shared were kisses and whispered words under covers. Sometimes a pastry sat between my hot chocolate and her peppermint tea. We exchanged numbers and horror stories, and then the tears those stories brought.

But in our horrific tsunami of material affection and meaning, the deeper connections built themselves a home inside ourselves without either of us noticing. Marisol hiding her true self from me taught me safety in secrecy. But I wasn't with Marisol anymore, and Sophia wanted to share the beauty of freedom.

And despite that, I still wanted to choose Sophia.

"Well now you know about my one friend, so there you go." I offered, and Sophia's eyes narrowed at me. I went to get up to go to her, but her glare only deepened. I groaned quietly and pulled out a chair for her. Sophia eyed me carefully but came to sit next to me anyway.

"You're right. I need to be more open with you, and from here on out, I will be." I assured, giving her a sincere smile. "But not about the secret bully thing. It's a secret to keep you safe."

I had to add that in because I could see the hopeful look blooming in Sophia's eyes. Afterward, they were back to glowering, but luckily she was saving that fight for another day.

"I want to meet her," Sophia grumbled, leaning back in her seat. I nodded my head, following her motion.

"We can do that. How about tomorrow?" I suggested.

"I can't. Meeting with Chris tomorrow." She sighed.

I knew that already, but I was hoping that she had forgotten. The very last place I want Sophia to be is alone with a rapidly devolving Chris. I'd much rather have an awkward conversation with my girlfriend and a friend I used to kiss, a lot. But that was a fight for another day.

"We'll figure it out," I promised, placing a hand on her knee.

Soon Sophia's was wearing a smile, and the air was free of tension again.

"Hey, you two! Get back in here so we can watch the next movie!" Seth called out from the living room.

Sophia immediately jumped up from her seat and ran into the room. She had called first dibs on what we watched second earlier, and Seth didn't agree with that. In about two seconds, I'm expecting a fight.

I grabbed my crutches from the table and pulled myself up and towards the living room.

"Sophia! You can't pull my hair! That's cheating!"