The days following my half-hearted flirting attempt were surprisingly different. There was a shift in the air, a tension that seemed to hum between Pacifica and me whenever we were in the same room. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it was noticeable, like a song stuck on the edge of my mind that I couldn’t quite place.
We were sitting in the living room again, another rainy afternoon keeping us indoors. Mabel was at the dining table, busy with her latest arts and crafts project, humming to herself, completely oblivious to the growing tension. Meanwhile, Pacifica and I were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, pretending to be engrossed in our own activities. She was flipping through a magazine, and I was fiddling with the notebook in my lap, pretending to write but mostly just watching her out of the corner of my eye.
“So, uh, find anything interesting in there?” I asked, gesturing to the magazine.
Pacifica looked up, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before she quickly looked away. “Not really. Just the usual stuff. Trends, gossip, all that.”
“Cool, cool,” I replied, tapping my pen on the page, trying to find something else to say. “Do you follow those trends?”
She shrugged, flipping another page. “Not really. I mean, some of it’s okay, but most of it’s just fluff.”
There was a pause, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You know, I think you’d look great in anything. You don’t need trends.”
She glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “Is that another one of your dorky attempts at flirting?”
“Maybe,” I said, grinning despite myself. “Did it work?”
Pacifica rolled her eyes, but I noticed the corners of her mouth twitch. “You’re such a nerd, you know that?”
“And you’re a basic pretty rich girl stereotype,” I shot back playfully, unable to resist the banter.
Our eyes locked again, and the silence stretched between us, filled with an unspoken understanding that we were both dancing around something neither of us was ready to confront.
Mabel chose that moment to pipe up from the table. “Hey, lovebirds, wanna help me with this glitter glue? It’s not cooperating.”
I felt my cheeks heat up at her comment, but I stood up, grateful for the distraction. “Sure. As long as it keeps you from glitter bombing the entire shack.”
Pacifica laughed softly, a sound that sent a weirdly pleasant shiver down my spine. She joined me at the table, sitting next to Mabel, who was blissfully unaware of the silent exchange that had just occurred.
We worked together, the three of us, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of Pacifica’s presence next to me. Every time our hands brushed while reaching for supplies or when she leaned closer to see what Mabel was doing, I felt a jolt of something that made my heart race.
“So, what’s the deal with you two, anyway?” Mabel asked suddenly, looking up from her masterpiece. “You’ve been acting all weird around each other lately.”
For fucks sake she knows what she's doing.
Pacifica and I exchanged a glance, and I quickly looked down at the table, pretending to be intensely focused on a bottle of glitter glue.
“There’s no deal,” Pacifica said, her voice a touch too high. “We’re just friends, right, Dipper?”
“Yeah, just friends,” I echoed, though even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.
Mabel eyed us both suspiciously, but then she shrugged. “Alright, if you say so. But just remember, I’m watching you two.”
Pacifica snorted, rolling her eyes again, and I chuckled nervously. The tension was still there, but it was also mixed with something else now, something that made me wonder if things between us were changing, despite our insistence that they weren’t.
We continued working on Mabel’s project, the silence filled with the rustle of paper and the occasional clink of glue bottles. As the afternoon wore on, I found myself sneaking glances at Pacifica, each look making me more aware of how much things had shifted between us.
I didn’t know what was going to happen next, but I knew one thing for sure: whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be boring.
