A/N: Y'all, I'm really not crazy. But while in the dentist's chair today, I heard "Jessie's Girl" by Rick Springfield, and before I got home, this idea was in my head.

Disclaimer: Please don't make me say it...*hangs head in shame*

I know.

They don't know that I know, but I know.

I mean, I realize that I'm just technical support, but it doesn't take an intelligence analyst to see what's going on.

Well...truthfully, I probably wouldn't have noticed it, either. But she's my best friend, and we used to do everything together. Until we didn't anymore. It happened gradually. The game nights, the surfing lessons, the pizza and movie Saturdays- she suddenly started finding excuses to cancel. Fourteen times in a row, to be exact.

Not that I was counting.

The worst part is that she lied to me about it. Haha. Like she thought I wouldn't find out. I mean, I broke the Internet.

It was easy, actually. First, she doesn't have headaches. Or belong to a book club. Or volunteer with underprivileged children. I mean, she probably would, but... Anyway. Yeah.

So, I got suspicious. And... may or may not have...utilized my computer skills to track her cell phone. And the traffic cams between here and her apartment.

And that's when I saw them.

I never would have guessed it was him. It just didn't occur to me. I mean, her? With him?

She was supposed to be with me.

I mean, she's a geek, I'm a geek. She's a genius, I'm a genius. Girls like her aren't supposed to be with guys like him.

But there it was, on the big screen in front of me. Mocking me.

The man I admire most in this world. And the woman I lo...care about.

This shouldn't make me feel so dirty. I dig into people's private lives for a living. But this is my partner. And my boss. Kissing. Touching. Going into her apartment and turning off the lights. Not coming out until morning.

But I can't stop watching. Like a train wreck. Or a heartbreak.

The next day she had the nerve to look embarrassed when I asked if she was feeling better. I even complimented her on her new dress. Which, I noticed, was the blue plaid shirt he had worn the day before, belted.

But it works for her. The shirt. The slight glow. The mussed up hair. The 'woman-in-love' thing. Too well, I think. God, why can't it be me?

They think they're being subtle. But I swear the looks between them will cause something to spontaneously combust one day. He thinks I don't notice when he pulls her aside for special assignments and she returns smelling like his cologne. She thinks she can throw me off track by leaning into my personal space when she talks to me. But I know.

Now, I want to tell her that I'm not feeling competitive. I'm feeling jealous.

I thought we had something. A connection. A chemistry. Isn't that how it's supposed to go?

It's a moot point.

Because how can I compete with that? With him?

Because he's the one she's watching with those hazel eyes. He's the one who gets to kiss those glossy pink lips. He's the one who makes her smile like that.

So, for now I'll stay in my corner and watch out for her. Say the right things. Keep up the charade.

I want her to be happy, and I guess he makes her happy.

But it should be me.