two AM, and it was my first thought when the early-morning sun poked through my blinds half an hour ago as I peeled myself out of bed.
It’s the same thought that followed me into the coldest shower I’ve ever taken.
The thought is still running through my mind as I rinse out the coffee carafe from yesterday, getting ready to start the first pot of the day. First pot, because I’m damn sure I’ll be having another one today.
I chased sleep like I’ve never chased it before just to quiet my head, and the bitch eluded me all night long. I think I got around three hours if you add up all the times I wasn’t wide awake with my mind running wild.
My best friend who has always safely lived on one side of the line we’ve mutually agreed to saw me in nothing but my birthday suit.
Fine. Whatever. So it finally happened? Big whoop.
It was bound to happen given the number of years we’ve known each other. We could have gotten over it after a few days of not making eye contact. She’d say something silly and I’d make fun of her and we’d be fine.
Except Caroline didn’t run. She didn’t hide. Didn’t even cover her eyes.
No.
She stared.
And I mean gawked.
Ogling me like I was her favorite ice cream flavor and she was being handed the last scoop.
I can’t remember the last time a woman looked at me like that. It took every ounce of willpower I had to keep my dick down as much as I did. I thought of every awful thing I could conjure, and I still rose to half-mast just from her stare alone.
Then, she brushed against me.
And I died.
In that short millisecond in the hall, I felt my heart stop beating.
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. Breathing was out of the question.
I just couldn’t decide if it was because everything I had with my best friend had just changed…or because it was being challenged.
You’re being dramatic, you moron. Just don’t make a big deal out of it. You made her laugh with your joke last night. She’s over it. You’re over it. You’re both moving on.
Right. Moving on. That’s what we need to do.
Her bedroom door clicks open, and I freeze.
Just like I know she freezes when she sees my bedroom door is open.
She knows I’m awake. I know she does because I can hear her sharp inhale from here.
Time to face the music.
I imagine her pushing her shoulders back, charging forward with all the false confidence she can gather, and padding down the hall.
She appears around the corner, her blonde hair a curly mess, her favorite pair of tattered jammies hanging off her like they always do.
She looks normal. The same. Like nothing at all has changed between us.
See? It’s not a big deal.
Then our eyes meet, and her cheeks turn bright red.
Yeah, it’s definitely a big deal.
I clear my throat.
“Coffee?” I ask, trying to push forward and act like everything is fine.
Maybe if I pretend enough, it’ll be true.
“Please.”
I nod, reaching for the coffee beans from the cabinet above the coffee station we’ve created. I pour the desired amount into the grinder and turn it on.
From my peripheral, I see Caroline move through the apartment and into the kitchen. I try to ignore her, focusing on getting the coffee from the grinder and into the filter and pressing start on the pot.
The legs of the stool scrape noisily across the floor, the sound breaking through our silence. She hauls herself up onto the seat and rests her elbows on the counter, looking anywhere but at me.
I lean against the counter, as far away from her as possible.
I can’t help stealing glances at her as she picks the polish off her nails. Then moves on to pulling at the strings of her worn pajamas, still avoiding looking at me.
She looks nervous, and Caroline hasn’t looked nervous around me since we first met the summer before high school.
I recognized her from school almost instantly. She was the girl people whispered about when there was no other good gossip to go around.
She was so quiet back then. It’s not that she isn’t still quiet now, especially around people who don’t know her, but back then her shyness was ten times worse. She lived inside the pages of her books, and it was near impossible to get her to talk to anyone.
When she moved in across the street, something in me screamed to talk to her.