No one ever asks to fall in love with their best friend.
At least, I didn't.
Francis and I had been friends since we were young. My mom worked at the French resturant his mother owned. He was very french, and I was the epitome of Canadian. For some reason, we hit it off. We played together every day. Eventually, we went to elementary together. Then middle school.
Until the summer before the first year of high school.
That summer, Francis' father came over from France, and decided to take him back with him. I was miserable. I was close to our other two friends, Antonio and Gilbert, sure, but I had always been closest to Francis, and it was hard to lose my closest confidant. I withdrew from everyone, sitting by myself at lunch, not hanging out with Gil and Antonio as much (in fact, almost never leaving my house besides school at all), and basically moping around. After a few months, I realized that even if Francis was gone, that didn't mean I had to stop living. I started coming out of my shell (okay, so maybe I just went back to hanging out with my two friends, but still), joined the music club, and basically got on with my life.
Francis came back the next year. He had grown up a lot in France. Suddenly, he was charming girls left and right with his new French accent. He started dating girls left and right, and basically became the most popular guy in school. He was still my best friend, however.
It was around this time I realized I had a crush on him.
It sucked. Majorly.
I couldn't even look at him without my heart rushing. And him with those girls? Torture.
I'm in my third year of high school now. And I've realized I, Madeline Williams, am in love with my best friend, Francis Bonnefoy.