We have just arrived back in town from a pretty poorly put together show in the middle of nowhere. We’re sitting outside my drive way in his car, his dads car, the car. My head is swirling a million miles a minute because at the show he was acting so strange. The past couple of weeks have been pretty strange, actually. You see, we’ve been friends forever. A solid three years, you know how 13-16 can feel like forever. I have had unrequited love for him since the first day. I’m super awkward, I’m nervous, I have low self esteem, he’s geeky, confidant, and so unimaginably sexy to me I don’t even know how to verbalize it except with a “hrrrrrungmph”. Sixteen year olds can be so eloquent, you know? He’s never been anything but my friend; except the past couple of weeks he’s been kissing me goodbye and we don’t talk about it. Ever. We’re sitting in the car, we’re talking, letting the gas run out. The CD I made plays in the background, Keane is on. We talk about the girl he likes, the boy I thought was cute, anything really. I tell him I should go in, I unbuckle, turn and face him, and we lean in for the hug. We’ve waited in line for this ride before. I pull away, and we look at each other, and at the time, the way he looks at me is the one thing I want to think about every time I’m scared. At the time, it’s the last image I want going through my mind as I’m getting ready to die some day. We start to kiss goodbye, again, but this time it’s different. This time I don’t pull away. I have never been more terrified in my life, this is real, this happening. This is the first real kiss I’m getting, and it’s from the boy who’s my best friend, and who I’m coo for coco puffs over. I’m half expecting a director to shout “CUT!” because it cant get anymore perfect than this. This only happens in the movies. Every organ in my body feels like it’s going melt out of my skin, I am liquid inside, I put Alex Mack and her secret world to shame. It is no exaggeration that all I can scream in my mind is “OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH. MY. GOD.” Then, it’s over. I pull away, and I’m trying to convince my legs that they should walk, not collapse, as I get out of the car. I kiss him one more time, and I’m gone. We’re also gone. The sitcom is ending, we’ve jumped the shark. It’s not going to be the same after this.
