I met Carlos Roberto Pena, Jr. when we were both fourteen. We were freshman, we got to know each other, and we became great friends. He helped me through my hardships, as did I with him. He was my best friend. He knew everything about me.
We graduated and drifted apart. He did good for himself, and now he's a celebrity, performing with a not-so-little band called Big Time Rush. Little does he know I've been in love with him since I was a naive little underclassman.
I still remember when he carried my books for me when I broke my arm in ninth grade. I still remember when he held me and let me cry when I found out my mom had cancer that same year. I still remember when he threw a surprise party after my mom healed. I still remember when he beat the crap out of my one-time boyfriend for using me for sex and then dumping me in eleventh grade. I still remember when we walked across that graduation stage together. I remember everything. But most of all, I remember when he told me he loved me.
It was during senior year. We were at a party, and he was drunk. He stumbled over to me and said, "Riley, you're my best friend...you know that?" In slurred speech. "And I wanna tell you that I love you." He said before passing out. Yes, it may have been the booze talking, but it didn't matter. I've been replaying that sentence in my head for the last four years.
Years have passed, now I'm 22 years old. I'm an aspiring model, trying to get a break in this messed up business. My life is great, there's just one thing missing. My best friend.
I moved out to Los Angeles today. My agent said it would be a good idea if I wanted a shot in the modeling world. It was difficult leaving all of my friends back in Florida, but it was something I had to do. Here I am sitting in my new apartment on the other side of the country. Everything is so surreal, it's insane.
I decided to explore my new home a bit. I hopped in the rental car and drove aimlessly. As I'm driving around, I see a billboard for Big Time Rush. I wince when I look at Carlos' picture, feeling the pain I've put up with for so long. It's been years, but I can't seem to forget the feelings I had for Carlos. My high school years were good, yet tough at the same time. I watched Carlos get girlfriends, and every time, a part of me died a little. Something I never told Carlos was that I punched his ex-girlfriend in the face. She broke his heart, the least I could do was break her nose.
After driving for about an hour, I finally turn around and head 'home'. Before doing so, however, I went on a coffee run at Starbucks. I was waiting in line when I heard an all too familiar voice whisper, "Riley...?" I turned toward the voice anxiously, and lost my breath. "Carlos..." I said breathlessly. "I can't believe it's you!"