You've never felt love until you dream about her hands in your hair and your nails digging into her hips, just above the waistband of her tennis skirt, and after that, you want nothing more than to kiss her until your mouth tastes like the sweet honey and peanut butter Riley packs on special occasions for lunch. She's a secret that eats you from the inside out, and you know that it's love and not just lust when you see her looking at Lucas like he's a god and your throat begins to swell.

You've never wanted to hold her hand more than when you two are late to catch the subway, and the busy New York street and everyone in it threatens to pull you apart. People pass so quickly and every time you pass a teenage boy, you're reminded of Lucas and your hand clutches on hers a little bit tighter. Skin as smooth and soft as satin turns into your favorite texture, and you find that when you take out your pencil to draw you can only sketch half-moon nails flecked with bits of chipping nail polish; that light aqua that soon becomes the only color you dream of her in.

You've never hurt as badly as the way you do when she calls you at eight o'clock to tell you that Lucas has invited her to have dinner with his family the next night. You're glad that she talks so much and you're not there in person because when you open your mouth to reply your eyes are burning with what feels like salt and you think you might faint if she says another word. But you're supposed to be happy for her, and to keep up this painful charade of you just being her best friend; you have to say what Maya Hart two years ago would say. So it's between clenched teeth that you get out, "You have to tell me all about it afterwards." You hang up the phone and dig your nails into your palm, hard.

You've never known the urge to kiss someone as much as you have when you're sitting with her in the bay window, her face lit up as she rambles on about the way Lucas smells, and you're not listening simply because you can't let yourself listen to that; it might actually kill you. Instead you stare at the shape of her lips and wonder what would happen if your hands were to wrap around her heart-shaped face right now. To assume she's straight would be wrong, but to assume she might see you in the same way you see her is going too far. Your mouth tastes bitter as you think that Riley's love of Lucas seems so wrong, so forced, and that you could make her happier than he ever could. Your heart stings as she tells you that if she could've just stayed a little longer after thanking his parents for dinner, then maybe he would've leaned into kiss her. You swear you taste honey on your lips when she tells you how glad she is to have you be here for her, always.

You've never felt as empty as you do when she texts you to come over right now because something happened, and you arrive there three minutes later, dizzy with worry for her. Riley hugs you so tightly you can feel the wall around your heart shattering for her each time you breathe in. You almost let three words i love you slip out but then Riley pulls away to tell you that Lucas and her are a thing, and what thing you don't want to know but this is worse than the phone call. This time you're there to see how starlit her face is and how her eyes are glazed over with love, and you hate yourself for being so miserable over her happiness. Outside, Maya Hart smiles so wide her face might split and tells Riley how excited she is for her. Inside, you feel your chest falling to pieces and whisper underneath your breath that if this boy breaks your girl's heart like she broke yours, you will end him.

You've never needed as much help as you do when your mother laughs with muted atrociousness dripping over the creases of her mouth and tells you, "Your dad has a new boyfriend." The two simple words combined on her lips sounds like the feeling of a sharp blade against your lungs and you know better than to ask her why that's a bad thing. Instead, you force your lips upward into a smile and drink water instead of answering. You know that if you stay with your mother, who has cruel sympathy shooting out of her eyes, any longer than the water in your stomach will harden into ice. So you go back to your room and take out the paintbrush but all you can do is stare at the blank canvas and beg yourself to feel emotions for boyscelebritiesLucas anyone who will make you feel and appear normal. But there's no one who's touch would make your skin burn with desire the way Riley's does, and so you get up and stare, shivering, at yourself in the mirror, realizing for the first time with a pang of disgust why you look so goddamn much like your father.