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Honestly?
She loved her. She loved her with everything she had, with every fiber of her being, and seeing her with him made her want to be physically sick, but she kept her silence. Just like any good friend would. She could never just pull Hanna close by her hips, press her lips to her ear and whisper those three forbidden words. They were best friends.
That just wasn't going to work.
And again, best friend. She wasn't willing to lose her over... over this. Over her begin... well, you know. Emily was sure that Hanna knew how she felt. It was too intimate. Nights spent wrapped in each others arms, hiding under the sheets giggling, walking hand in hand when they were out, the occasional kiss on the cheek. It was like a game. To 'act' gay.
And she loved it. She loved it so fucking much and she never wanted it to end, but every time she saw Hanna kiss Caleb, she saw red. She didn't want to be jealous, wasn't sure when it started. But the fact was that she was jealous. She craved Hanna, craved to have her bare creamy skin pressed against her own tanned skin, craved to taste her, to feel her, to /have/ her.
Emily wasn't sure how many nights she had woken up sweating, the blonde's name on her lips as she was ripped away from her latest sex dream. She wanted Hanna so bad it hurt. She wanted to hold her when she cried, kiss her salty tears away, be the first thing she saw in the morning...
Yes, Emily Fields loved Hanna Marin.
But the problem with being best friends was either you had it all... or nothing. And Emily could never take the risk of losing the one she loved, simply because she had fallen in love with her straight best friend.
