I was hopelessly, madly, wholeheartedly in love with my best friend. I had been from almost the very moment we had met; there was something about her that I hadn't encountered in a single person before I met her, or since I met her. A quality so disarming, so overwhelming, that sometimes I feel like I can't breathe in her presence. You all know the saying that opposites attract? Well, that must be true because she balances me so perfectly that we seem to be two halves of a whole. Yin and yang. Peanut butter and jelly. Movies and popcorn. Combinations that work so well that it seems almost criminal to have one without the other.

When I looked into my future I could see myself and Beca, a white picket fence, 2.5 children and maybe a dog. The children all looked like Beca – I was happy to spare my children from the 'ginger gene', plus the idea of having mini-Beca's was pretty appealing if I do say so myself. She would be a music producer and I would be a kindergarten teacher, both of us being successful in our own rights. I would teach our children to sing, and Beca would teach them how to feel music. I'd be the good cop, and she'd be the bad cop. We'd be amazing parents, because we'd be in it together. We could do anything, fight anything, achieve anything as long as we were together. We'd be invincible.

The only flaw with my future plans?

Beca didn't know how I felt.

The other flaw?

I didn't know how she felt.

Sometimes we'd have moments where I'd be certain that there was something there, a spark even. A glance that would last just a second too long to be platonic. The way she'd hug me but actively avoid even touching anyone else. The Bella movie nights where she'd save me a seat next to her, automatically moving to cuddle into me. All of the distinctly non-Beca qualities that she seemed to save for me. Either she felt it too, or she'd given up on fighting the affection.

We were running out of time with graduation looming. She was planning a move to LA, and I had no idea where I was headed. Graduating had been a last minute decision, after I'd realised that Barden really held nothing for me if Beca was leaving. I actually had to crack my Russian Lit text book after three years of avoiding the dreaded thing. I knew I needed to tell her, but how? If Beca felt trapped, her instinct was always to run. I didn't want to corner her and risk losing her for good. If I didn't tell her soon though, I'd lose my nerve and possibly her as well. LA was a big city, she'd disappear into it and I'd just be 'someone she used to know'. No. I refused to let that happen. She had meant too much to me for too long to just let her go. Not without a fight anyway.

When I woke up that morning, I knew it was the day to finally take the biggest risk of my college career. Hell, the biggest risk of my life. What the hell should I wear on such an important day? I didn't want to appear too casual, but dressing up would make it seem like a bigger deal to Beca than it needed to be. Perfect outfit? Check. Hair styled the way Beca seems to like it? Check. Make up done? Yes. Okay. Breathe. You've got this.

I headed down stairs with my heart beating a million miles per hour. I could actually hear it thudding. I felt slightly ill but that was to be expected. I was moments away from revealing to my best friend that I'd been in love with her from the first moment I glanced at the intense eyeliner, the intimidating piercings and the 'stay away from me' glare she'd perfected. Everything about her was perfected. She was perfect.

"Hey Chlo."

I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I saw Beca standing in the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand.

"Morning Becs, how'd you sleep?"

A shrug, a gulp of coffee, the clattering of a mug being placed in the sink. "Eh, okay I guess. I kinda got side tracked with a mix. Shit. Actually gotta run!"

Okay, this was not part of the plan.

"Wait, Becs, can we talk?"

Beca paused in the doorway, already about to dash out. "Sorry Chlo. I'm going to be late, is everything okay?"

I nodded, despite wanting to beg her to stay and hear me out.

"We can talk later, Chlo. I'll be home by 4."

Then she was gone.

"I-I love you." I whispered into the silence of the house.