Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating

by Christina Lauren

Every time I’ve met his eyes—from that first puke-filled night to now—I’ve felt a gentle hum inside my breastbone: I’m a satellite that’s found its safe-space beacon.

“This is my friend Hazel.” “Yujin-ah’s Hazel?” I sense a hint of sibling rivalry as his brows come together. “Well… my Hazel, too,” he says,

I want to ask her whether she’ll stay at my

house tonight, and every night after. I want to ask her to say the words one more time before she leaves for work, the quiet I love you too, you know.

Is it weird to think I’ve known for years that we would somehow end up here? Or is hindsight just the most convenient explanation for coincidence?