I don't remember the exact moment it happened.
There wasn't a big announcement or a dramatic promise.
There wasn't a conversation about it, either.
But somewhere between the laughter in the forest on November 13 and the quiet walks between classes… Olivia and I became best friends.
It was in the little things first.
Like how she waited for me without asking.
Or how I saved her a seat even when she wasn't there yet.
Or how she would say something weird and wise, and I'd pretend not to be shocked because I didn't want her to think I admired her as much as I did.
Best friends don't need to explain things.
They just know.
One morning, when I walked into school, Olivia was already there, leaning against the wall like she always was. She didn't look up when I approached—she didn't need to.
"Your hair changed," she said.
I blinked. "How do you even notice that?"
"Because it matters to you," she said simply.
She said it so casually, like it was normal to know me that well.
I smiled. "You care more than you pretend."
"I don't pretend," she replied. "You just see things."
And that was the moment I knew:
Best friends aren't always loud about it.
Sometimes they just understand each other in ways that don't need explanation.
After school, we walked through the forest again. It had quickly become our place — the spot nobody else cared about, hidden behind the noise and the world.
Olivia walked ahead, kicking leaves, her short black hair bouncing with each step. I followed close behind, my long blond hair catching the afternoon light.
"Do you ever get scared?" I asked out of nowhere.
"Of what?" she asked.
"Losing people."
She turned around so fast I almost ran into her. Her eyes, dark and steady, held mine.
"You're not someone who gets lost," she said.
My breath hitched. "What does that mean?"
"It means," she said quietly, "I don't plan on going anywhere."
It wasn't a dramatic declaration.
It wasn't dramatic at all.
It was Olivia—soft, honest, simple.
Truth disguised as casual words.
I felt something warm bloom in my chest.
"So… we're best friends?" I asked, even though I already knew.
She rolled her eyes. "We've been best friends. You're slow."
I shoved her shoulder lightly. "You could've told me!"
"I thought it was obvious."
She smirked. "I don't hang around people I don't like."
I laughed, and the forest seemed to laugh with me. The branches swayed, the leaves whispered, and the sunlight flickered between us like tiny sparks.
We sat on the same fallen log as last time. Our place. Our meeting spot.
"I'm glad I met you," I said softly.
Olivia didn't look at me. She didn't smile. She just nudged her knee against mine—a small gesture, but loud in its meaning.
"I know," she said.
And somehow… that was enough.