Penelope hadn't told her yet.
Not about the second kiss.
Not about the sketchbook.
Not about the way her heart now carried Julian's name like it had always been there.
So when Veronica knocked on her bedroom door Sunday afternoon—unannounced, iced coffee in hand—Penelope knew it was time.
Veronica sat cross-legged on the bed, her expression calm, unreadable.
"You're going to tell me now, right?" she said, sipping. "Because I'm too emotionally mature to go through your phone."
Penelope sat beside her, heart thudding.
"It's real," she said quietly. "Me and Julian."
Veronica nodded, slow. "I figured."
Penelope blinked. "You did?""I know you, Pen," Veronica said. "You get all quiet and moon-eyed and pretend like you're fine when your heart's basically screaming in sonnets."
Penelope let out a small laugh. "It's not just a crush. It's more."
"I know." Veronica took another sip, then looked at her directly. "But I also know you. You give everything. And I just—" she paused, "—I need to know he sees that."
Penelope thought of the sketchbook. The way Julian looked at her like she was a puzzle he didn't want to solve, just sit beside.
"He sees me," she said simply.
Veronica softened. "Then I'm in your corner. Always."
The words hit deep. Because Veronica wasn't just a friend—she was a tether. The kind of person who held you to yourself when love tried to pull you under."Thank you," Penelope said, voice cracking just a little.
Veronica leaned over and bumped her shoulder. "Don't get sappy on me. Just promise me one thing."
"What?"
"If he hurts you, I get five minutes alone with him."
Penelope laughed. "Noted."