For the longest time, Claire and I had been friends. I really do mean that. We played at the same park as toddlers, before going into the same primary school and becoming best friends. Her parents moved away for work, but she ended up coming to my high school for her A Levels and then we got into the same university and finally lived and worked in the same city. So, we’d been together for three-quarters of our lives, which made her more my sister than friend.

At least, that’s what I’d thought.

My small flat, somewhat in the middle of London, barely had enough room for the furniture in it. The lounge suffered the most, sofa so close to the television that I’d contemplated getting a smaller one so I wouldn’t be able to see the individual pixels. Instead, I just took off my glasses and dealt with it being a touch blurry—my eyesight not really that bad.

The size also meant that it warmed up easily. By myself, it never really got hot enough in the later months of the year. Whenever someone else came over, though, I might as well have turned the thermostat up a couple of degrees. It made a certain sense, people being warm-blooded and so really just heaters.

That indirectly became a problem one evening.

As she often did, Claire came over to my place after work one day—though for a rather childish reason. Early in November, the outside air had a chill to it and dusk settled before she’d arrived, her job finishing at five and then a ten minute walk.

At my door, she looked cheerful enough. Short, brown hair didn’t quite reach her shoulders, fringe kept aside by a black clip. Her matching brown eyes happily met my own, with a smile on her thin lips. While the extent of it all escaped me, her mastery of makeup always made her face look flawless, no blemishes or bags under her eyes, eyelashes neat (but not too long, as she’d been at work.) Of course, I knew about the beauty spot near her chin, which had miraculously disappeared in her teenage years. Otherwise, she had slight features, her ears, nose and mouth small, which made her eyes appear a little large.

“Ahh, I hope you have some wine to warm me up,” she said, rubbing her shoulders as she stepped inside.

Taller than her, I had to lean over to hug her. “Only with dinner. You’re such a lightweight, you know.”

She giggled, embarrassed. “I can’t help it.”

“You’re not sixteen, sneaking your first drink.”

We continued chatting as she slipped out of her shoes and hung up her work jacket. Nothing out of the ordinary happened while I cooked or when we ate, the evening progressing like it always did when she visited. Sitting down on the small sofa afterwards, the television sputtered to life, smart box taking its time to boot into the streaming app.

“What d’you wanna watch?” I asked, a yawn slipping out. Looking over, she had a small smile on her lips. My gaze lingered a moment longer, the red wine having stained her lips an interesting shade.

Whether from my look or in an attempt to look refined, she covered her mouth as she softly giggled. “Tired?” she asked.

“It gets a bit stuffy, you know.”

“Didn’t drink too much, did you?” she said, leaning closer.

With a well-aimed blow out my mouth, I pushed her back to her side.

Scrunching up her nose and closing her eyes, she looked like a frightened mouse, which was rather cute. “Eh, what’s that for?”

For good measure, I flicked her elbow and got a yelp out of her. “Pick something,” I said, offering her the remote.

Though a disgruntled look came over her, it faded soon enough. More importantly, she stuck to her side and slouched into the corner, giving me some space. I didn’t particularly mind being close to her or anything, it just got too hot. My skin would prickle, heart beating in my ears, if I let it go on for long enough. I would have opened a window, but she always complained about even the slightest chill and would practically sit on my lap to keep herself warm. So, the window closed and room hot made it more comfortable for both of us.

“This looks nice,” she said.

“A nature documentary?”

She made a noise of agreement, loading it up. “Something calm.”

My brain, despite slowed by alcohol, managed to pick up the context. “Yeah.”

Really, the programme sounded too embarrassing for me to admit I wanted to watch, so I was a little thankful for the situation. Cute things were cute, after all. Tiny wild cats in India, an island teeming with rabbits in Japan: I had already melted before the introduction finished.

Still, my eyes glanced over now and then to check on Claire. She’d lost some of her composure, moulding herself to the shape of my sofa, but it mostly showed in her expression. Her polite smile gone, a hint of tension held her face different to the look she had when relaxed. I couldn’t really think of it in any more detail than that. Just, even though engrossed in the programme, she had something she couldn’t take her mind off of.

While I knew what, nothing I did or said would have helped. Rather, I had already done what I could by being beside her.

Eventually, the time ticked towards eight and her long blinks became longer, eyelids barely rising, until sleep took her. The tension left her, her face becoming that little bit softer. I smiled to myself as I draped a blanket over her.

For a short while, I just looked at her. Far from the first time she’d fallen asleep in front of me, the specific situation had become something of a ritual starting when we’d started university, and which now happened a few times each year.

An unseen breeze disturbed her hair, some strands not held in place by the clip falling across her face. Her nose wiggled. With the gentlest touch, I brushed the strands back behind her ear.

Like a muffled gunshot, a bang erupted nearby outside, followed by a kind of crackling, hissing sound. Claire jumped, her eyes fluttering open, only to jump again as the next firework went off.

“Shh,” I muttered, stroking her head in slow and light movements. With my other hand, I fumbled the remote until I managed to turn the volume up higher, for what good that did.

Her breathing hitched every time another firework went off, but she drifted back to sleep. I kept stroking her head a little longer before easing my hand away. Only, she reached out and grabbed it with both her hands. Not wanting to wake her, I let her pull my hand to her cheek.

My heart beat fast. I worried the fireworks would wake her, so it made sense. When it came to her, I’d always been worrying too much. I always had her in my thoughts. Always glad to hear from her and to see her happy. We’d been best friends for so long, so close I’d joked about her being my sister, that it didn’t even seem strange for me to care about her so much.

I’d always thought she was beautiful, too. Just like how she had brown hair and was shorter than me and couldn’t wink, she was beautiful. Ask anyone and they would have said the same.

But, she looked even more beautiful in that moment. I couldn’t say why. From time to time, I’d teased her about her cute sleeping face. Yet, that didn’t explain why my gaze settled on her lips. Without meaning or wanting to think the thought, intrusive in name and nature, I wondered if her lips would have tasted sweet from the wine.

I berated myself for thinking that the moment it finished, tearing my eyes away to stare at the television once more, the programme nearly over but not quite. Still, my hand against her cheek betrayed any attempt I made to stop thinking of her. So warm and soft, her skin pressed against my fingertips like a pillow. Guilty, I tried to pull away my hand, but she stirred and tightened her grip on me, forcing my surrender.

It had been so long since I’d been with someone; now and then, I got lonely living by myself; the second glass of wine had been filled higher than it should have been: excuses for the unwanted feelings and thoughts swirling around inside me came easily. What I had trouble with was believing them. Which, given the situation, was rather amusing in a dramatically ironic way.

After all, it certainly seemed like I’d been in love with her for years and managed to lie to myself easily enough. So, convincing myself to do the same one more evening should have been easy. At the least, I surely could have picked a better time, because every thought only made me feel more guilty with her lying defenceless beside me. Not that I would have ever betrayed her trust in me.

Stuck between tipsy and tired, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me that I could barely focus. I still tried to keep my thoughts clear. The tension in my head flowed through my body.

“Are you okay?”

Turning to my side, she looked at me with eyes as sleepy as her voice had been. It took me a moment to realise what had happened, relaxing the tensed muscles in my hand. “Yeah, go back to sleep.”

“Okay.”

As though punishing me for my thoughts, she shifted herself and pinned my hand between her cheek and the back of the sofa. Already buried under a mountain of guilt, I idly stroked her cheek with my thumb. A warm smile came to her lips.

Unlike before, no intrusive thoughts appeared, no matter how long I stared at her smile. Even as my blinks grew longer, eyelids heavy, breathing deep, my mind remained clear, content with just her smile, until I finally fell asleep.