Platonic

Chapter 1

"Come on! What's the worst that could happen?" Oscar says.

I grimace. "Oh, I don't know. We could die?"

"Please, like that's ever stopped us before."

"I'm serious, Oscar."

"So am I, Max." He stretches his hand out for me. "Don't you trust me?" He pouts. I look up at the billboard. It's old and rusty. It hasn't been in use for years now. It doesn't look sturdy enough to hold the both of us. But I know I'm going to climb it. Because I do trust him. I trust him more than I trust will ever willingly admit.

I sigh. "If I do die I'm coming back to haunt you."

He smiles. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't." His smile is all teeth and dimples. I love his smile but I roll my eyes as I take his hand.

The ladder squeaks as we climb up. I think I'm going to fall every time I hear the metal creak. "Oscar," I say, uneasy.

"We're almost there," he says back.

I swallow my nerves. 'I can do this,' I whisper under my breath.

When I reach the top, Oscar is already sitting on the edge of the catwalk. He motions me over. I settle next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. My heart is beating so fast and so loud I'm afraid he can hear it. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. His breathing is steady, I try to sync mine to it. It takes a moment for my heart rate to slow and my breathing to stabilize. When I open my eyes Oscar is looking at me.

"Okay?" he asks. My cheeks heat up and I nod. He offers his hand again. I take it without hesitation.

He tilts his head to the sky and I follow his gaze. The sky is full of stars. Shining so bright and so beautiful I'm speechless. I take another deep breath. My nose fills with his scent. He smells like a blend of fresh herbs: valerian, kava, chamomile and lavender. I recognize that blend. He uses it to brew a tea to help him sleep. He's had trouble sleeping for as long as I've known him. The tea helps, sometimes. I offered to spell him once. He said it'd be a waste of magic.

"How is you getting a full night's rest a waste of magic?" I'd argued.

He'd shrugged. "I like staying up."

"You like being sleep deprived?" I furrowed my brow.

He laughed. "The world is quieter at night," he explained. "I like wandering the house when everyone else is sleeping. It's the only time I can actually think." Which I knew wasn't true. He's always thinking. That's his problem. But I didn't tell him that. I knew what he meant.

He has three little brothers and two little sisters. His house is always noisy whenever I visit, kids running all over the place. I can't imagine living in that chaos. I'm an only kid. I'm used to quiet. But I guess he takes it whenever he gets it.

I worry about him. He tells me not to. But his eyes are always slightly bruised. His movements sluggish, his mind forgetful. I can't help but worry. I take another deep breath. Not tonight, I tell myself. It's such a lovely night. The sky is starry, there's a cool breeze blowing at us, cricket chirps fill the air and we're far enough away from town that we don't have to worry about being disturbed. It's just us. I feel more myself in the quiet moments when I'm alone with Oscar.

"I found something today," he says suddenly. I turn my gaze back to him. He pulls out a folded up piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it.

He gives it to me. "A spell?" I say as I scan the page.

He nods. "Remember your eighth birthday?"

I laugh. "I try not to remember it." I was obsessed with fairies that year. The outfits, the wings, the hair. For my eighth birthday I wanted a pixie cut. And for reasons I can't remember I convinced myself I could do it myself. Let's just say it didn't go well. I made one side too short and the other was lopsided. I tried to fix it with magic. Which was my second mistake. I ended up attending my eighth birthday party bald. Not fun. "Why are you bringing it up?" I ask.

"Remember your wish?"

I nod. "I wanted to be a fairy,"

"You wanted to fly."

I look at the spell again. "You didn't."

"I couldn't get it to work back then," he tells me.

"You were eight."

He nods. "Yeah, but I wanted to surprise you."

I smile. "That's sweet."

He smiles. Teeth and dimples. "I'm sweet." He gets to his feet. "Come on."

"Come where?" He gestures to the spell. My eyes widen. "We're not."

He laughs. "Why do you think I brought you up here?"

"I don't know, star gazing?"

He shakes his head. "We're trying the spell."

"Oscar," I say pointedly. "We're not trying a spell you wrote when you were eight!"

"Of course not," he says. "I wrote this one today, well edited it."

"No," I insist.

He tugs on my arm. "Don't you want to fly?"

"I don't want to fall."

"You won't." He smiles. "Trust me." I do. I trust him.

I get up. "I swear to god if I die—"

He laughs, cutting me off. "You won't." He holds both my hands in his and says the spell. I close my eyes and wait for everything to go wrong. Nothing happens. I think the spell hasn't worked but then Oscar whispers, "Open your eyes."

My heart skips a beat and I chance a look. We're flying. No. Not flying, floating. We're at least six feet from the catwalk. I squeak as I grab hold of Oscar, hugging him tightly.

"You're okay," he says soothingly. I take a deep breath. I'm okay. I'm floating. This is amazing. I smile looking up to face Oscar.

"I love you," I say before I can stop myself. My eyes go wide instantly as my face heats up. "I mean you're my best friend and this is awesome. I just mean..." I try not to groan. "Thank you," I finish.

He laughs before ruffling my hair. "I love you too," he says back. I force a smile.

It'snot that I don't like hearing him say it. I do. I like it a lot. I like it alittle too much. That's the problem. I'm in love with him and he just loves meas a friend. His best friend who he's known since he was five. He loves me butin the most platonic way possible. And I hate it.