We're perfect together, we really are. But we aren't meant to be. Even though I love him, and he says he loves me, we can never be. Because of my best friend, who also loves him. But she doesn't know, she can never know how I fit perfectly into his body, and how he says my name when he sleeps. She would die if she knew that I was the one that he loved, and I couldn't bear to hurt her.
He doesn't want to hurt her, neither do I, but at some point, it hurts me. Knowing that they can walk around holding hands and kissing, why I have to pretend not to care. I have to listen about what he did for her, and not be able to tell her about what he has done to me. He is more mine then he is hers, but she doesn't know that, and he will never tell her.
Sometimes, I want to tell her, I want to tell everyone. I want to tell them about our secret meetings, and how everyday after school, when he says he is practicing, he's really with me. But then I think about her, and how she would cry. I could never make her cry, It would kill me to do that to her. But it doesn't matter, I love him still.
She told me the other day that she wants to break up with him, that she doesn't think it's working out, and that she loves someone else. I pretended not to be excited, but I wanted to jump for joy. He could finally be mine, but even then I knew it wasn't true. We would have to wait, for at least a couple of months, before she would be okay with him seeing anyone, much less me.
I told him, about how she was going to break up with him, and he seemed less excited then me, but still excited. It doesn't matter, all I know is that right after I told him, he leaned down and kissed me till I couldn't breathe. He always was good at doing that. He told me he was going to put up a fight, make it seem as though he really cared about her leaving him.
I watched him act; he was always a good actor. He played it off like he had just been kicked in the stomach, like she had just slapped him across the face. But I knew better. He smiled at me later that day in class, and I knew he was over her. I knew he was over her because I knew he had never been into her in the first place.
Later that day, he cornered me behind the school, and told me that he thought we should be public. I had to tell him that we couldn't, and he understood. Besides, I told him, sneaking around had always been fun. And it wasn't like I was being forced to hate him, entirely.
We made a habit of hanging in the back of school, and finding reasons to ditch class, just to be together. He had ways to get into the janitors closet and empty classrooms. He made it so we didn't have to worry about getting caught. It wasn't just that, he didn't try to do anything I didn't want him too. He was always a gentleman. And I loved him for it.
He started to outwardly flirt with me a little bit, and I saw my friend fume in the corner. I told him that it still wasn't time, but he didn't listen, and I could barely resist his happy brown eyes. I felt horrible for what I must have been doing to my best friend, but I couldn't help it, I was in love with him. It wasn't till a couple months past their break up till he made his interest definite, by making me be his partner in a project.
He came over that day, and we "worked" in my bedroom. He told me that he didn't care what anyone thought, especially my friend. But I did. And he knew that. And that's when he tried to end it. After the project he told me it wasn't going to work if I never want to become public with him. I tried to convince, to tell him that one day it would work, and that one day we would be together for the world to see. But he knew that day wouldn't be soon.
So I watched as he went back to being the jokester, and regarding me as a distant friend. It hurt inside to watch him go off with another girl, but I did, and I watched as he got her pregnant. It was hard, but I did it. Because I loved him.
Shortly after he got her pregnant, he came to me, and told me that he still loved me. I told him that I loved him too, even though I was with someone else too, but we still knew that it wasn't going to work. We shared one night together, one that I would never forget, before he left me again. It felt like we had some closure this time.
Later that year, he died, in my front lawn. And I couldn't believe it. I mourned for a solid three months, fearing that I hadn't let him know just how much he had meant to me, but something told me that he knew. Later that year, Toby approached me, and told me something he found in his room.
He had written about me in his diary. He had written about all that we had done, and about how he loved me, and always had. And how he knew that I loved him. It was perfect. I had closure. Toby never told our secret, and I live everyday knowing that my first love will always be watching over me.