I [F] was shaken to my emotional core by my friend’s [F] gaze.

I’ve always hated confrontations. Like, really, *really* hated them. I’m so sensitive to interpersonal tensions that I cringe whenever *strangers* get into arguments. I also have general social anxiety, problems with looking people in the eyes, that kind of thing. It’s not fun, but I’m working on it with a therapist. (BTW, I know this is a strange way to start a story, but this context is important.)

So, about a month back, I get a message from my friend Sophie about a Halloween party. My first response was to cringe. Parties turn me into an awkward and anxious mess. They’re full of people making eye contact, having conversations, you know, typical terrifying stuff. Sophie knew about my issues, but she was a good friend, and never gave up on inviting me despite me always turning her down.

But this time I responded with a yes, and she replied with big-surprised-eyed emojis, followed by lots of fireworks and hearts. A few weeks later, I was standing awkwardly at her door, reminding myself to be social and to avoid staring at the floor. Sophie’s roommate Katie answered dressed like player 067 from Squid Game. She looked at me for a while, almost like she didn’t recognize me. I kept thinking I’d overdone it with the dark eyeliner.

“Emi? Is that you?” she finally said. “Holy SHIT, Sophie is going to *freak.*”

Sophie was a huge Hermione fan, so I assumed Katie was referring to my Gryffindor witch costume.

I walked in to a living room full of candles, pumpkins, artificial spider webs — it was professional haunted house level decorations. Then, I heard an excited shriek to my right and turned to see Sophie charging at me, arms flailing like a mad woman. She wrapped herself around me, then pulled back and looked me up and down.

“Emi, you know you’re Emma Watson’s twin, right? Like *literary*.”

“Does it look okay?” I muttered, realizing I was staring at the floor again.

Sophie gently lifted my chin up. I avoided her gaze by staring at her lips. The left corner of her mouth curved up into a smirk. “*Do you look okay*?” she said, incredulously. “Emi, tonight you ARE Hermione Granger.” Then she leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Now get out there, make eye contact, and mingle.”

I nodded and walked into her living room, glancing around and forcing my eyes not to return to their default downward state. And I did okay. Over the next hour I had four conversations, all at least five minutes long, and I even managed some very brief eye contact. Sure, it was like milliseconds, but it felt like a big step. Then, just as I was about to walk over to a group of three to engage in a fifth conversation (probably my all-time record in a single evening) — I noticed Sophie looking at me from across the room.

In a space full of buoyant conversational energy, she was perfectly still, but her blue eyes shimmered in the darkness of a candle-lit room. When I met her gaze, every instinct pushed me to immediately look away. The intensity of it was overwhelming; it was like my cursed brain was screaming at me to release a red-hot cast iron pot, but I was simultaneously enchanted by a deep feeling of warmth coming directly from her. How could two diametrically opposed reactions co-exist? Why could I hold Sophie’s gaze for this long?

I suddenly understood relativity; how strange laws of nature could stretch a single moment into a seeming eternity. I don’t know how long we stared at each other. Probably just a few seconds, but in those seconds there was calm and turbulence, and desire, the kind of desire that shakes the foundation of everything you know about yourself. I wanted that moment to continue, and I knew she felt the same, but the rubber band of time snapped me back to reality when someone tapped on my shoulder.

“Hermione, right?” A tall attractive guy with a nice smile stood there, offering an easy opportunity to be my fifth conversation of the night — or would it have been my sixth? I nodded, turned back to where Sophie had been standing, but she was gone. I left shortly after without saying goodbye. When I got home, I texted her.

*Thanks for inviting me.*

Her response came almost immediately.

*Thanks for coming.*

It’s been a few weeks since the party. We’ve texted a few times, but nothing serious, and no acknowledgement of the moment. I don’t know what to do. All I know is that the memory of that night has been all-consuming, like a song stuck in my head for weeks, like finding a question wrapped in an answer. Her latest message asked me if I’ll be around for Thanksgiving. I said I would. She said she would too.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/qthjw2/i_f_was_shaken_to_my_emotional_core_by_my_friends