I’m at the edge of my seat.

Sylvia’s room has always been a place of comfort for me. I could pretty much show up uninvited and hang out whenever, which was an absolute lifesaver when I was pissed off at my parents, or at Chris, for whatever reason.

Sylvia would work on our assignments and I’d just watch videos on my phone, or chill, or scrounge for snacks. It was… safe.

But now, I feel scrutinised.

Sylvia leans against her desk, arms folded. She eyes me with an intensity that makes me squirm in my seat. I fidget with my hands in my lap.

“...It’s just… so weird, you know?”

I shrug, noting internally that I can’t quite meet her gaze. A part of me feels that it would be rude, confrontational. It would make the conversation more adversarial.

It would not suit her needs.

So, I look away, fumbling about for words. “Only because you’re making it weird.”

Normally, I’d be far snappier, here. I’d tell Sylvia to mind her own business, that I’m an adult who can fuck who I want, and I don’t need to ask her permission for that.

But the mere echo of that thought is enough for the ring of shimmering mist to close back in on me, tighter and sparklier. So pretty…

“Oh, I’m making it weird?” Sylvia asks, theatrically rolling her eyes. “I dunno. Seems to me like your behaviour is what’s weird here. Come on, let’s be serious.”

I open my mouth to protest, but my voice comes out small and uncertain. "That's not true. I'm just being nicer lately, that's all."

"Really?" Sylvia arches an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Because it seems to me like you’ve turned into a… a doormat, or something."

I feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck. "No, it's… it's not like that!"

I should sound way more sure of myself than this. Why do I sound so feeble? This lack of conviction in my replies is… alarming.

I should get angry, tell her off, but… the colors… My shoulders slump, my will deflates…

"Let’s tally the score," Sylvia says, apparently energised by my failure to push back against her arguments. "At school, you’ve become the epytome of good behaviour, literally overnight. At home, you're doing Chris' chores without complaint - your words, not mine! You're being so agreeable with everyone, and for god's sake, you’re letting those guys…"

She cuts herself short, shaking her head like the details are so self-evident that it would be beneath her to even mention them.

My vision clears again as I try to defend myself. "Well, I mean… the chores, I guess that's true." I kinda have to admit that much, in fairness. "But he's just my brother, and I'm just trying to be, you know, helpful."

"You've been super helpful with Derek too, haven't you? And his friends, for good measure…" Sylvia says, and I squirm at the way she’s looking at me. I can feel myself turning redder than a pepper.

"That's not... I mean, it's different with Derek..."

It’s a weak protest, even to my ears. Maybe more ominously, as soon as the words leave my mouth, a cold, queasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Like a part of me knows something my conscious mind doesn’t.

No. No, no, no. The mist is pretty and colorful, and there’s nothing wrong with making Derek feel good. I’ve been an insufferable asshole to him for years. Plus, his friends didn’t believe him, of course I had to help!

Besides, I enjoyed it too, there’s that fact as well! I’m a modern young woman who enjoys sex. Why does that have to be dissected under a microscope?

"Look, it's fine," I mutter, picking at a loose thread on my jeans. "I'm fine. I do all of this because I feel good.”

“Yeah,” Sylvia says, “because you’ve clearly been satisfied.”

“I feel good because I like sex,” I say at last, snapping. “And yes, I also I enjoy being helpful to people. It feels good! Like, take us, for example. I like helping you, Syl.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started on that,” Sylvia replies, rolling her eyes. “Do you even listen to yourself? You were such a bitch to me during our group project, you always made me do more than my fair share. That wasn’t months or years ago, Pheebs, it was practically yesterday!”

"Right, and I don't want to be that person anymore!" I say, and I’m surprised to realise I’ve shouted that last part out loud. I clear my throat, lowering my voice again. "How is that a bad thing? I'm trying to be better, Syl. I'm trying to make up for how I treated you and everyone else."

"You’re missing the point,” Sylvia says, gently, shaking her head. In truth, she sounds a little… condescending. The sort of thing that would have made me blow a gasket not too long ago. Now, though, it just hurts, because it implies I’ve been inadequately attentive to her needs.

“Of course it would be a good thing,” she says, “but it’s not what you’re doing. You’ve gone from one extreme to the other! And literally overnight! I'm telling you Pheebs, it's like you're a totally different person lately. You don't say no to anything! It's freaking me out a bit."

"Yeah, right," I say, though I conspicuously fail at keeping my voice snarky and steady. "I’m not an alien from outer space, Syl. I’m just trying to be a better person. But that doesn’t mean I’m… servile. I’m just a better friend now, and that’s why I want to make sure you’re getting everything you need."

She arches an eyebrow. "Phoebe, please. This is me you're talking to. I know you better than anyone. And the Phoebe I know would never just roll over and be at people’s beck and call like a trained puppy. There has to be more to it."

She steps closer, studying my face intently as if searching for clues. “We’re all supposed to be a little self-referential. I don’t want you to be selfish like before, but look at what you’ve literally just said. You want to make sure I get everything I need. Do you not realize how you sound? You’re not my butler.”

I open and close my mouth, looking for words, any words. Eventually, I find some, though they hardly sound like they’re going to save me.

"Look, maybe we should just drop it. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

But Sylvia is relentless. "No way. We're getting to the bottom of this, Pheebs. Because it’s what I want.”

“But that’s just so unfair!” I say, my voice unsteady with frustration. “You’re my friend, of course if you express a need like that I’m going to listen to you! But that doesn’t mean I’ve been magically, I don’t know, lobotomised or something…”

Sylvia interrupts me, snapping her fingers in front of my face. "Focus, Phoebe. This is exactly what I’m talking about, you’re rationalising everything you do. I don’t want to talk about your motivations, I just want to see whether I’m right or not. You didn’t even want to come here! You only came over because I told you to.”

No, no no. That’s not true, simply because it’s not physically possible. It doesn’t make logical sense. If it’s not real, it can’t be real. “I came because my best friend wanted to talk,” I tell her, trying to sound firm but caring. “That’s all.”

Oddly, Sylvia seems… amused by that response. Like I’ve just given her an opening to make a point. “So, if I asked you to do something silly, something that’s not important to me at all, something totally unnecessary… say, if I, erm, dared you to do something like that… you’d say no?”

“Of course,” I say. I have no problem saying no. I’m normal, I’m fine, everything’s fine.

Sylvia smirks, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of disbelief, mockery, and... something else. Curiosity, maybe.

"Alright, let's test this," she says, sitting down in her chair and drumming her fingers on the armrest. "I want you to buy that game your brother wanted, the one he won’t shut up about. Cosmic Quest, was it? Buy it for him, Syl. With your own money."

I stare at Sylvia incredulously. "What? No way! That game is like sixty bucks. Chris has been bugging Mom and Dad for it non-stop, but they keep saying no. Why the hell would I buy it for him?"

Sylvia shrugs, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I don't know, Pheebs. You tell me. If you're really in control, if you're not just blindly doing whatever anyone asks... then it should be easy to refuse, right? No big deal."

Ugh, come on, Sylvia. Why did she have to pick an actually brilliant gift idea like this? It would have been so much easier if she’d picked something else. Chris wants that game so hard, he basically needs it. If I got it for him, he’d be soooo happy… and I’d feel so… rewarded…

“No big deal,” I say, basically forcing the words out of my mouth. I gulp, nervous, Sylvia’s eyes pinning me to the chair.

She leans forward, her grin widening. "I guess we'll see about that.”

***

I feel like roadkill.

I don’t want to go to class today. I want to crawl back inside my bed and spend the day sleeping. Most of all, I don’t want to face Sylvia, it’s going to be mortifying.

But skipping classes is such an old-me thing to do, and so, here I am, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I brush my teeth. I can hear the sound of leaping steps rapidly approaching, and I already know what this is going to be about.

Sigh.

Suddenly, there's a loud banging on the door. "Phoebe! Phoebe, open up!" Chris shouts excitedly from the other side.

I spit out the toothpaste and rinse my mouth hastily. "What is it, Chris?" I ask, opening the door.

Chris bursts in, his face flushed with joy. "I can't believe it! You actually got me Cosmic Quest! Phoebe, you're the best sister ever!"

He throws his arms around me in a bear hug, nearly knocking me off balance.

"Oh, yeah... no problem," I say, patting his back awkwardly. “I’m glad you like it.”

Chris pulls back, grinning from ear to ear, practically bouncing with excitement. "But why? I mean, Mom and Dad kept saying no, and you've never been one to just buy me stuff out of the blue. This is next level! What's the occasion?"

Then, his eyes narrow with the facetious suspicion of a brother who knows I’m not that kind of sis. “Or is it that you want something? A favor, or…”

I shake my head, avoiding his gaze as I fiddle with my hairbrush. "No occasion, and no favor. I just... felt like being nice, I guess. Because you're my brother and all…" My voice trails off lamely.

Chris tilts his head, studying me curiously. "You've been really different lately, Phoebe. Like, super nice to me. First the chores, now this. Not that I'm complaining, but... why the sudden change?"

My blush deepens, and I turn back to the mirror, pretending to focus on brushing my hair. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “I guess I just... want us to get along better. Is that so weird?"

For the first time, the words ring truly hollow even to my own ears.

Chris shrugs. "Nah, it's cool. I'm not complaining! Anyway, I gotta go get ready as well. Thanks again, sis!"

He bounds out of the bathroom, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts.

At least, he accepted my explanation with no further scrutiny. If only Sylvia were this easy to convince…

I sigh again. I didn't want to buy that game. Not deep down, not really.

Terribly selfish of me.

I wanted to tell Sylvia no, to prove to her - and to myself - that I was still in control. But I couldn't. What use is being right, when making people happy feels so much better?

And Chris really was happy. I think… I think it’s a good thing I’ve got him the game, all things considered, but still… now I have to face Sylvia at school, and she’s going to gloat, she’s going to say that I've become a pushover.

A doormat.

I can already picture the smug look on her face, the "I told you so" glint in her eyes.

Then again, maybe that’s a good thing, too. It would be a sign that she’s satisfied with the outcome, right?

An idle thought occurs to me. Maybe the reason Chris - unlike Sylvia - took my explanation at face value is because he has no incentive to prod further. He’s already gotten what he wants.

So… what does Sylvia want?

What does she need?

***

"Soooo," Sylvia says with that smug smirk of hers, "did you buy the game?"

I grit my teeth, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, alright, I bought it," I admit, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. "It’s not my fault! It was such a good idea for a gift! Chris was so happy today!"

She claps her hands in delight, her eyes sparkling with triumph. "I knew it! I fucking knew it! Aw, Phoebe, I have no idea why you're changing, but this is amazing!"

Then, the delight on her face morphs into thoughtful wonder. “You can’t say no,” she says, more to herself than to me. “That’s incredible. You really can’t say no anymore!”

Then, her attention snaps back to me. “What is it, Phoebe? What's causing this? Maybe you've been drugged? Or maybe it’s some kind of super rare condition?"

She starts pacing again, her mind racing with possibilities. "We need to figure out the limits of this, how far it goes. Like, if I told you to do something really outrageous or dangerous, would you still do it? Or is there a line you won't cross, no matter what?"

I swallow hard, feeling a growing sense of unease. "I don't know, Syl. I don't want to find out. Can't we just drop this whole thing and go back to normal?"

But Sylvia is too caught up in her own musings to pay attention to my protests. "It just beggars belief! I mean, whatever it is, it sure is convenient for me. Just think of all the things I could make you do, Phoebe. All the favors you could do for me, all the ways you could make my life easier."

For once, I find myself staring at her like she’s the alien. Even if what she’s saying is true… if you really believe your friend is suffering from a condition like this, why would your first thought be to profit from it?

Shouldn’t she try to help me, if that’s what she truly believes is happening to me?

But the thought doesn’t last long. The mist won’t let it. It sizzles and evaporates in my mind’s eye. It’s selfish. Unworthy of the person I want to be.

What I should be thinking about is that apparently I’ve been such a shitty friend to Syl for so many years, that she feels the need to jump at this chance just in order to even the score.

That fills me with so much shame that it almost physically hurts me. I want to make right by her. I want to make amends, to redeem myself.

I want to give her what she wants.

She stops pacing around, looking at me with a contemplative expression. “I want to try something. Stay here."

She leaves the room, and I hear her rummaging around in the bathroom. She returns a few moments later, holding something in her hand. As she gets closer, I realize with a sinking feeling what it is: a pair of her panties. Did she… just take them off?

Are they used?

She holds them out to me, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

I stare at the panties in Sylvia's hand, my mind reeling with confusion and a growing sense of panic. "Sylvia, what are you..." I begin, but she cuts me off.

"Hush," she says, her voice firm. She presses the panties into my hand, the fabric soft and slightly damp with sweat against my palm. My cheeks are absolutely on fire with embarrassment.

"Put them on your head," Sylvia says, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Like a hat. And keep them on for the rest of the evening."

I gape at her, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "What? Syl, I can't... that's..." I sputter, trying to find the words to express the absurdity of her request.

But Sylvia isn't having any of it. She leans in close. "It would make me very happy, Phoebe," she says, meaningfully, deliberately. "You keep using that word to justify your actions, over and over. Well, then. Don't you want to make me happy?"

Those words seem to bypass my brain entirely, shooting straight to the core of my being. The mist swirls and shimmers, the colors intensifying until they fill my entire field of vision. Of course I want to make Sylvia happy. That's all I want, to see her smile! To be a good friend, to make amends for my past mistakes.

Besides, it’s such a little thing! It’s just a silly hat!

My hands tremble as I raise the panties to my head, the damp crotch part resting against my forehead. I can feel the sweat seeping into my skin as I tug them into place, the elastic band snug around my skull.

Sylvia steps back, laughing hysterically. “Oh my god, you look so dumb!” She says, giggling. “If only I could show this to my past self. You, of all people, looking like this… oh God, I can’t…”

It takes a while for Sylvia to stop giggling. As she slowly regains her composure, I sit and stare vacantly. A part of me knows I should feel… unadulterated fury. But I’m just basking in the glow of putting my best friend in such a good mood.

So selfless of me.

"Hmm, you know what?” Sylvia says, snapping me out of my reverie. “I think we should make this into a little game. Since you owe me, and all. Let's see just how far you'll go to please me."

Suddenly, the glow disappears, and the cold, queasy feeling of wrongness returns. Now she almost sounds like…

Derek.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest. "W-what do… I mean, Syl, are you saying that…?"

For a moment, confusion ripples across her face. She frowns, eyes narrowed, thinking.

Then, understanding dawns on her, and she starts laughing. "Ew, gross! No, I'm straight, dummy. I meant I’d give you more dares to complete, duh! I mean, don't get me wrong, it's… interesting, to see you like this. But I'm not really into girls, you know?

I exhale in relief, cheeks on fire. "Right, duh, I'm straight too, I just thought..."

Sylvia just scoffs at my attempts at conjuring up an explanation. “Just get your mind out of the gutter, girl."

Girl. God, her tone with me has changed. That’s… good, though. It’s a sign I’m doing well. I’ve already made my friend much more confident in herself when interacting with me! That’s, like… peak friendship right there.

"That’s a relief," I say, mustering a small smile. “I really don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I feel like I’d be okay with anything you asked me to do. Still, I don’t think that would make you happy…”

"No, I guess not," Sylvia says, her expression thoughtful. But then, a coy grin spreads across her face. "But you know what? You’ve just given me a very wicked idea…”

"What do you mean?"

Sylvia’s smile widens. "I want you to take a selfie. With the panties on your head. And then, I want you to send it to Derek.”

"What? No, Sylvia, that's too far!" I say, my voice shaking.

But she’s already pushing my phone into my hands, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Do it, Phoebe. And while you're at it, ask him when the next foursome is. With his friends… Marty and Tyler, was it? I want you to beg him to include them again. Tell him how much you enjoyed it last time."

"Sylvia, please, don't make me do this…" I say, pleading, feeling a lump in my throat.

But she’s relentless. "Do it, Phoebe. You said you only did the foursome because you enjoyed it, right? So this shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

I stare at my phone in my hands as if it’s a live grenade.

It’s dumb, this odd sense of foreboding I feel. No line is being crossed that I haven’t crossed before… not really. Besides, Sylvia wants this. It would make her happy. And isn't that what matters most? Being a good friend, redeeming myself?

Prioritising her wants and needs?

With shaking hands, I raise my phone, switching to the front-facing camera. My reflection stares back at me, Sylvia's panties perched on my head like a bizarre crown. I look ridiculous.

I snap the picture quickly, before I can change my mind. My fingers move automatically, selecting Derek's contact, attaching the photo. I type out a message to him, my fingers shaking.

"Hey babe, when are we doing the next foursome with Marty and Tyler? I really enjoyed it last time, and I can't wait to do it again. XOXO"

I hesitate for a moment, my thumb hovering over the 'send' button.

"Go on," Sylvia says, her voice soft but insistent. "You know you want to."

My cheeks burn with shame as I hit send, tossing the phone aside as if it's contaminated. Sylvia claps her hands in delight, her eyes shining with wicked glee.

"I can't believe you actually did it! Oh Phoebe, you really are a completely spineless people-pleaser now, aren't you? This is going to be so much fun! Sure, other people will enjoy you being accommodating, but… they don’t know how far it actually goes. I do. In fact, it would make me very happy if this stayed between us. A little secret among best friends, right?”

I nod tentatively, feeling a mix of trepidation and odd contentment. The colours swirl hazily behind my eyes as Sylvia's words sink in. She's right, of course. This should stay between us. It's a special bond we share now, a secret understanding.

An inside-joke between best friends... a game we can play together, just for her amusement.

God, that’s actually such a relief. When I flunked my part of the project, I was so worried that I was going to lose her friendship forever. Instead, here we are, being besties.

Sylvia grins, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I have so so many ideas! This is going to be a blast, Phoebe. You just wait and see."

She begins pacing the room, her mind clearly racing with possibilities. "I could make you wear the most ridiculous outfits to school. Or make you do my homework for a week. Ooh, or I could tell you to get fucked more proactively by the guys! Wouldn't that be a riot?"

"Whatever you want, Syl," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I... I trust you. I want to be a good friend.”

"Well, get used to wanting that," Sylvia says with a wink. "Because from now on, your main job is to make me happy. I do really hope you enjoy it…"

She pats my hair, idly toying with the band of the panties atop my head. “… Because I definitely will.”

To be honest, I don’t know if I actively enjoy her ideas in and of themselves, but making her happy, on the other hand… putting her needs first, well… it’s like a warm glow, spreading through my chest. A pretty mist of colours, filling my eyes with a joyful spark.

Besides, I guess I’ve found my answer now. Sylvia is getting something out of this situation, and won’t be inclined to prod much further, just like Chris. She’ll take the good and be happy with it.

Then, I won’t have to be so defensive about my sudden change. I’ll just be able to own it in peace, to continue to grow as a person, become a better friend, a kinder human being.

A more selfless one, most of all.

The more I think about it, the more certain I am about the nature and character of this emotion. I feel…

Content.