When you are wary about trusting her, she makes herself vulnerable for your sake. And, she proves to be a vault.
She cries with you at the same parts in movies and then you both laugh.
You roll your eyes at the same things.
She only needs a little coaxing to get up and dance.
She always points out the pretty things about you when you feel ugly.  
When you want to eat chocolate, she doesn’t say, “you don’t really need that.” She just gives you a piece.
She loves you enough to tell you you’re acting weird, or distant, or a being a pain.
She gets your humor. You get hers.
You’re comfortable showing her your stretch marks.
She’s comfortable with a butt-slap from you.
She just likes being with you.

She goes bra shopping with you. That’s not a big deal, you say. No. She measures you, runs all over Victoria’s Secret hunting sizes for you, and eyes your chest making sure you have the perfect curvature … as a matter of fact, she may actually help in the maneuvering into said bras.

Even though you are not a hugger, you are comfortable hugging her (at appropriate times, of course, and not all the time).
When you are subjected to sleeping in the same bed with her, you’re OK with her flailing her legs over you, or sighing loudly because you’re moving too much. You’d still sleep with her again.
You would take somebody down if they messed with her.
I’ve really got some good friends. And I thank God for them.