We're in my room, lying side by side on my bed. We're supposed to be studying, but we can never focus when we're together. He's talking and I'm laughing.

We fall into a comfortable silence. I'm still smiling. He looks like he's got something on his mind.

I'm familiar with this look. He's been distracted lately. We're best friends, and we tell each other everything. But he's keeping something from me.

I'm not too bothered. He'll tell me when he's ready. I know he just wants to think about it first. So I roll over and cuddle next to him. He wraps his arm around my waist, and I bury my face into his shirt, and inhale his scent. Our actions speak for us. I'm saying that I'm here for him. That he can think, and I'll stay by his side. I know he has something big on his mind, and he can tell me when he wants to.

He's saying that he knows. He's saying thank you.

After a while, I start to get a little bored. So I tug at Puck's shirt to get his attention. He snaps out of his reverie or whatever and cocks an eyebrow in my direction. I laugh then say,

"What?" His eyebrows scrunch together and he looks absolutely perplexed. "Why are you laughing." I continue, looking at him pointedly. His frown deepens. Then, his lips part slightly as realization dawns on him.

We have a game. We developed it when Puck was rescuing me from a nutty little brownie (that actually sounds delicious, but he was crazy!)

Puck needed to communicate with me, but the brownie was guarding me like I was a plate of hot-fudge-hot-cakes. So he just stared at me and raised his eyebrow.

And just like that, I understood.

We'd always been able to read each other very well- probably because we're very similar. However, we'd always done it subconsciously. That day, we realized we could practically read each others' minds. From then on, we shared an unspoken promise to cherish this extraordinary bond. We'd translate each others' thoughts for practice, in private and Puck was sure to make full use of it in front of my dad, who couldn't stand the thought of the two of us sharing such an intimate connection.

The whole family still thinks we're in love, but we're really just best friends.

We still fight and argue like 5 year-olds over sharing our toys, but we're still best friends.

To be honest, sometimes I think I'm attracted to him. But I know it's really just hormones because for some reason, I don't exactly get any boy action. Sad, I know. In fact, I've never even been kissed- wait actually, never mind that.

But still, he doesn't think of me as anything more than just a friend and I'm actually content at leaving it at that.

I pout at him and he laughs.

"I'm bored?" He asks and I nod before glaring at him. "It's your fault." He translates, smiling. He raises an eyebrow.

"Why?" I say. Then I mimic his lost expression- just more dramatized.

"You're so quiet; thinking about something." I smile at him in an encouraging manner. "Do you want to talk." He states. He sighs and looks at the ceiling- he's thinking about it again. I put my hand on his arm.

You don't have to.

He holds my hand and intertwines our fingers.

I want to.

Words are no longer necessary once again. Puck's ready to tell me whatever has been bothering him and I'm actually a little scared. He looks at me and the intensity of his gaze is unnerving, yet oddly nice.

I squeeze his hand.

Go on, then.

His expression his cautious, guarded. A tentative smile graces his lips, but his eyes are wide and honest.

And for the first time, I can't read them.

"What's going on." He says, and it takes me a while to realize he's narrating my thoughts.

I stare at him, and he stares back, long enough to make me blush. I duck my head so he doesn't see. I shake my head slightly before looking up at him again.

He brushes a hand against my cheek, and then looks at me expectantly.

My heart is racing and I'm pretty sure my brain isn't functioning. My thoughts are incoherent, even to me. I only manage to shake my head.

He moves in, closer. His nose brushed mine. His lips hover, inches apart from mine. His eyes are trained on my lips. I swallow nervously. He freezes, and then looks into my eyes.

I blink stupidly. My eyes are wide with confusion and a little excitement. My heart palpitates wildly. I shake my head.

And he kisses me.

And I kiss him back.

And my arms are around his neck, and his are around my waist. And he's pulling me closer. And it's the first kiss I've had since I was twelve.

And I understand.

We finally, reluctantly break apart, But only our lips, and only for air. We remain wrapped in each others' embrace. Puck kisses my hair. And I hug him back. And I can't stop smiling.

We stay like that, for a little while.

Then Puck tugs on my shirt, to get my attention. I blush when we make eye contact, which makes him smirk. Then, grinning, he cocks an eyebrow at me.

I smile back. It's a silly smile, and I couldn't wipe it off my face if a glop grenade was tossed at it.

"I love you too." I tell him.

And everything is alright.