Ava had always been known for her boldness, for speaking her mind and challenging the norms that defined Riverdale. But with Emily, she found herself softening, making room for quiet conversations and stolen moments of laughter. They spent hours together, exploring each other's tastes in music and art, trading playlists and sketchbooks.
One Friday evening, Ava invited Emily to her house. Her parents were out, and they sprawled on the floor of Ava's room, surrounded by canvases, paintbrushes, and an assortment of records.
Emily picked up a vinyl cover with a look of awe. "I've never actually listened to records before," she confessed.
Ava grinned, setting up the player and flipping through her collection. "Let me change that," she said, putting on an old Fleetwood Mac album. The gentle strumming filled the room, and Emily lay back, closing her eyes.
Ava watched her, mesmerized. There was something almost ethereal about Emily at that moment, her features softened by the lamplight, her lips curved in a faint smile. Ava's heart pounded, and for the first time, she found herself wondering if this connection went beyond friendship.
In a moment of impulsivity, Ava took a deep breath. "Emily… do you ever feel like you're supposed to be someone else?"
Emily opened her eyes, looking thoughtful. "Sometimes. I feel like I'm… expected to be a certain way, like if I don't fit into that mold, people won't… approve." Her voice was barely a whisper.
Ava nodded, understanding more than she could say. "Well, I don't think there's a mold we're supposed to fit. Maybe it's up to us to create our own."
Emily's gaze met hers, and for a long moment, they just looked at each other. Ava felt something shift between them, an unspoken understanding that neither of them dared to voice. Not yet.