11:11 P.M., August 21, 2008
"What did you wish for?"
Selena opened her eyes.
"If I tell you, it won't come true."
Demi rolled her eyes at her best friend of eight years. She didn't know why she even asked anymore; Selena's answer was always the same.
"Come on, let's dance again," Demi said, pulling Selena off of the couch.
Selena was glad for the distraction. Every time Demi asked her that, she had to literally bite her tongue to keep herself from spilling out her secret: that every wish she made was for the very girl in front of her.
The music thudded out of the large speakers and sweaty bodies surrounded them. Demi watched Selena sway, spin and jump to the beat. She would always be the better dancer of the two. Demi herself had no rhythm and would always latch onto Selena if she got lost. Like now for instance.
She didn't want to look stupid dancing- trying to dance- that was all, Demi thought as she slipped her arms around her best friends neck. Best friend. This is what everyone does with her best friend.
And when that familiar feeling gripped the pit of her stomach and pulled it downward into that unknown territory, she ignored it.
Meanwhile, Selena was in turmoil. This was her favorite and most hated thing to do, dancing with Demi. She loved the feel of the girl, rubbing and wrapping around her, then had to fight back the tears knowing it was all innocent fun to her. Still, she allowed herself this tortuous indulgence. It was all she had.
Demi smiled at Selena- God, that smile!- and Selena shook her hips- God, that body!- and each girl danced around the barely-reigned-in want flowing between them.