Jennifer's POV

I noticed my feelings for you almost a year ago now, and I still haven't done anything about it. That's because you're my best friend. I'd screw up everything. Not to mention that you're also a girl and definitely straight. So who am I kidding? Nothing could ever happen. Let me start from the beginning.

You and I have been best friends for years now. We met through our mothers who are friends. I always seemed to find myself staring at you, admiring you, almost. Of course, I didn't realize I was in love with you until you got a boyfriend. Alexander Ludwig. I hate him. Especially when he kisses you in front of me.

According to you, I've been distant lately. Probably because I know that I'll never get to call you mine. I tell you that it's nothing, and that I'm just tired. You tell me to stay the night, and that you'll make sure I get sleep. I'm not so sure about this idea, but you insist, and I finally cave. We change into our pyjamas, you run over to the TV and put a movie on, and then flop back on your bed. I sit awkwardly on the floor, and you roll your eyes and pat the space next to you. I move, and slowly inch myself onto the bed. You start to laugh, and say that I'm acting like you're going to bite my head off or something, causing me to giggle. I blush at my childishness, and you turn back to the movie.

I spend the entire movie staring at you. I don't even know what movie we're watching, because I'm too captivated by your green eyes and freckles. My eyes quickly flit over to the TV. Good thing they did, too, because you turn around and ask me if I want to sleep yet. I reply with a nod of my head, but then realize you haven't laid out a sleeping bag for me or anything. You complain, and say you're too lazy to do it, then roll over on your bed and pretend to be asleep. I laugh, but in my head, I'm thinking about how unbearably cute you are. You open your eyes again, and suggest I just stay in your bed with you. I jump up, and automatically say yes, a little too hopefully. Luckily, you don't pick up on this. Then you turn at me and grin, telling me you've figured out why I've been acting strange recently. You announce that I'm 'lovesick', and burst into a fit of laughter. I frown, and quietly tell you to shut up. You look at me, and begin interrogation.

After what seemed like hours of questioning from you, I finally decide to give you some information. I tell you that it's not a guy, and that I'm bisexual. You don't seem too phased by this, but you do look a little thrown off course. I ask you if there's anything wrong, but you just grin and continue to ask me whom my 'mystery lover' is. I try to ignore you, and turn over to try and get some sleep. As I'm ignoring you, you resort to poking me, making sleep impossible.

You leave me alone eventually, and after ten minutes of silence, I turn to you. I start to ask you if I should make a move on my crush, leaving out the fact that the person whom I am crushing on is you. You respond, saying that it depends whether or not they're in a relationship. I nod. You tell me of this plan of yours, in which once the relationship ends, I comfort the girl I like, and then when she's lonely, I make a move. I nod along with your plan, and decide that when you and Alexander break up, I'll do this. I laugh, and thank you for your relationship expertise. It's then when you laugh, and say that you've only been in one relationship, and you'd screwed that up.

I freeze, and a wave of hope hits me. I ask you if you and Alexander had broken up, and you say yes. I ask why, and you tell me that it was something along the lines of 'you won't put out so I'm done with you'. I hug you, and ask you if you're okay, and I expect a lot of crying to ensue, but you just shrug. You say that you knew it wasn't going to last, so there's no point in getting hung up over it.

I don't know whether or not to be happy. I should be sad for you, but this means I could have a chance. I curse myself for getting my hopes up, because I know that that'll never happen.

That night, you fall asleep in my arms. I try to stay awake, because I want to savour this moment for the rest of my life, but eventually, sleep consumes me.

When I awake, you're no longer in the bed with me. I frown, and wonder where you are. I hear a small laugh come from behind me, and I see you stood there eating a bowl of cereal. You roll your eyes, walk over and sit next to me. You joke that I'm as protective as your mother, and burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. It's a good thing you'd finished your cereal before that happened.

A few weeks later, you and I are hanging out. I decide that I'm done waiting around, and hiding my feelings. Besides, if I don't make a move now, you'll just end up getting another boyfriend, or getting back with Alexander. Right now, you're rambling on about something that happened on a TV show, when I lean in and kiss you. I pull away, and you just stare at me. The seriousness of what I've just done hits me, and I run away. Even though I can hear you calling my name, I refuse to turn back.

I avoid you for two weeks. I don't go to school; I tell my mother I'm being bullied. I refuse to answer your texts and calls. You even came round to my house a few times, but I've kept my bedroom door locked and acted like you weren't there. Today, however, there is an obstacle which seems unavoidable. My mother tells me that we're going out for a meal with you and your mother, and that I have to go. Apparently you've been worried about me. Yeah, right. You're probably just saying that, so that I'll talk to you, and you can yell at me.

My mother and I get to the restaurant at about 6pm, and walk up to the table you and your mother are situated at. My mother takes the seat next to your mother, initially forcing me next to you. I sit down, and I feel something grab my hand from under the table. I realize it's your hand. You squeeze my hand reassuringly, and I feel relief hit me from all ends. I smile, now knowing that you don't hate me. We eat our meals quickly, and you joke around and act cute like you always do. It's as if the kiss never happened. You ask your mother if I can stay over at your house tonight, to which she replies with a quick nod of the head.

After we've finished our meals, your mother, you and I drive back to your house. You slip off your shoes and hold my hand in yours, whilst pulling me up the stairs. We enter your bedroom, and you let go of my hand and walk to the bed. You sit down, and look up at me.

"It was me all along, wasn't it?"

"Yes."