My roommate asked how her new dress looked. I stared too long. She smirked, "Want a better look?" The first thing I noticed was the dress. The second thing I noticed was that I had completely forgotten what I was supposed to be doing.
I was sitting on the couch, half watching television and scrolling through my phone when my roommate, Emily, stepped out of her bedroom. "Hey," she said. "Be honest. How does this look?" I looked up.
And then I stared. Emily stood near the hallway wearing a new red dress she'd apparently bought that afternoon. It wasn't flashy. It was simple, elegant, and somehow suited her perfectly. She tilted her head.
"Well?" I blinked. "It looks nice." "Nice?" "Really nice."
She smiled. But I realized I was still looking at her. Emily crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You've been staring for about 10 seconds." "I was not."
"You absolutely were." I looked away quickly. "Sorry." She laughed softly. Then she stepped closer.
"Want a better look?" I looked at her again. She was smirking. And suddenly, the room felt much quieter. "Emily."
"What?" "You're messing with me." "Maybe." She turned around slowly, then walked toward the kitchen. "Come on," she said.
"You can give me an honest opinion." I followed her, mostly because I didn't know what else to do. We had been roommates for almost 2 years. Emily was my closest friend, the person who knew my terrible eating habits, my weird work schedule, and the fact that I always pretended not to be nervous when I actually was. But we'd never crossed that invisible line between friendship and something more.
At least, I thought we hadn't. She leaned against the kitchen counter. "So?" I looked at the dress again. "It really suits you."
"That's all?" "What do you want me to say?" "The truth." I sighed. "The truth is..."
She waited. "You look beautiful." Her expression changed. The teasing smile disappeared for just a second. "Thank you," she said quietly.
Then she looked down at the dress. "I bought it for tonight." "Tonight?" "Yeah. I have dinner plans."
Something inside me tightened. "Oh." "With someone?" She smiled again. "Why?
Are you jealous?" "No." Too fast. "I just asked." "You sounded worried."
"I wasn't." She laughed. "Relax. It's just dinner." "With who?"
She stared at me for a moment. Then she said, "A guy from work." I nodded. "That's great." It didn't sound great.
At least, not to me. Emily noticed. "You really don't like the idea, do you?" "It's not my business." "Maybe I want it to be."
I looked at her. "What does that mean?" She pushed herself away from the counter. "Forget it." "No."
"You can't say something like that and then tell me to forget it." She walked toward the living room. I followed. "Emily." She stopped.
For the first time that evening, she looked nervous. "I wanted to know if you'd notice." "Notice what?" "That I was dressed differently." "I noticed."
"No," she said. "You noticed me." I didn't know what to say. She continued. "For months, I've wondered whether you saw me as your roommate or as me."
My heart started beating faster. "Emily, I always see you as you." "That isn't what I mean." She took a breath. "I mean as a woman."
Silence filled the room. I looked at her. She looked back. And suddenly, a thousand small moments from the last 2 years made sense. The late-night conversations.