Maggie's POV

Dinnertime rolled around and Brian and I were still just sitting around on the couch, watching Law and Order reruns. I was starting to get a little hungry, since we mostly just snacked all day.

"Hey, Bri?" I nudged Brian and started to reach for my phone on the coffee table.

"Yeah, Garcia?"

"Pizza okay for dinner? I don't wanna cook or get dressed to leave," I said, poking through the contacts in my phone to find the pizza place's number. Brian nodded in agreement and I called to place our order. While I was on the phone, I got up from the couch, which earned a grumble from Brian, so that I could go into the kitchen and get a glass of water. I was standing by the sink with my water, thinking to myself. Brian was my best friend. He knew everything about me. There had been moments during our friendship where things happened and we ended up in awkward, compromising positions, but nothing ever came of them. In high school, we were hanging out together at a party and decided to play spin the bottle. We sat across from each other and laughed it up whenever we had to kiss someone we normally wouldn't look at twice. Then, because it's my kind of bad luck, one of my spins landed on him. My best friend. I didn't think kissing him would be strange or weird, or even feel forced. But it did. I kissed him, and I found myself hoping the floor would open up and swallow me.

But now, things were different. When I looked at Brian, I saw what other women saw. I saw his pretty, dark eyes. I saw his sculpted cheekbones. His kind smile. I didn't just see my best friend. I saw a sexy man. I saw the appeal. That thought scared me a little. I knew he would never see me as anything but his friend.

I had been in the kitchen wallowing for a while when he came in to get something to drink. After he got a glass of water, he leaned against the counter next to me and nudged my shoulder with his.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, Maggie?" Brian asked quietly.

"Do you remember that train wreck party we went to in tenth grade? Taylor Williams threw it, invited the whole school," I said, looking at him. Brian grinned, nodding.

"Yeah. Spin the bottle was the train wreck, the party wasn't so bad. I heard you hooked up with the captain of the football team that night," he said on a laugh. I felt myself blush. That rumor hadn't died after all these years. It wasn't true, a fabrication meant to tarnish not only my reputation but that of Cody Bryan, the star football player that year. We had been close to dating until Molly Williams came along. She was everything I wasn't. Blonde, blue eyes and slutty. She was Taylor's sister.

"You can fuck right off, Brian. You know as well as I do it never happened," I grouched, still only slightly sore about the whole thing. Brian was just outright laughing now, clutching his glass of water close to his chest, presumably to keep it contained. I shook my head and watched him laughing, smirking in spite of myself. His laugh was beautiful. When he would sincerely laugh about something, it was all I could do not to laugh with him.

"Yep. I know. Half the school was jealous of him. The other half was jealous of you, for ages." I always wondered why anyone in our school was jealous of me. I was average. Brown hair, green eyes, awkward lips. I wasn't tall or busty. I was just Margaret.

I was about to tell Brian off when the doorbell rang. I shuffled over to the door, picking my wallet out of the ostentatious bowl by the door that Brian insisted we have. I fished through it and opened the door, paying for our pizza and thanking the delivery boy. Brian was moving around in the kitchen, getting plates and probably opening each of us a beer. I knew that we both loved drowning our pizza in Parmesan cheese, so I'd bet my foot that it was already on the small table, waiting for us. I made my way into the kitchen and put the two boxes down, smiling at Brian as he opened them both and dished up our dinner.

I thought about how well we worked together like this, like a well-oiled machine as I pulled my chair out and sat down. He did the same and we ate in companionable silence, only commenting a few times about the food or weather. I wondered briefly what it'd be like to actually date him, to have the status of rock star girlfriend. Sure, as a model, I had dated a few guys in bands, but his was actually successful, they were more than just some garage punk band, pissing off the neighbors. There were times where we'd be out shopping for groceries and he'd be stopped to sign something or someone would want a picture. He was always apologetic about it, but I didn't really mind. It came with the territory. I recalled the first time someone recognized me while he was with me, and that was an awkward conversation. I had been offered a sizeable amount of money to do a nude spread for a calendar. Far be it from me to turn down a month's wages at my regular job for a few hours' worth of work, so he went with me. It was tastefully done, I enjoyed myself and had forged a solid working relationship with a new photographer. Brian was more embarrassed than I was when a kid who couldn't possibly have been old enough to have the calendar approached me. It was a job to me, nothing more or less. Brian's face was priceless, though, and to this day, I give him grief over it.

When we were both finished with our dinner, I shooed him away to wash the plates we used and put the leftovers in the refrigerator. When I was finished I went into the living room to find Brian sprawled on the couch, flipping through the channels on TV. I walked over to the couch and moved his feet long enough to sit down, resting them on my lap. My fingertips dance idly up and down his shins, stopping short of his knees. If I find a ticklish spot, Brian snickers and squirms and I smile. Some of our friends swore we'd be perfect with one another. I always told my girlfriends that Brian just didn't see me like that. I was his kid sister, if anything, and as much as I'd like for him to want more, who am I kidding?

A soft snore from the other end of the couch alerts me to the fact that Brian's out cold now. We had made it through a few episodes of CSI, which was a mutual favorite. I make it through one last episode before I carefully push his feet off my lap, depositing them back on the couch. I grab his throw from his bed and take it back to the couch to drape over his body, turning the TV off before going to bed, tossing fitfully before finally dozing off around one in the morning.