Platonic

Chapter 2

Oscar is levitating, well, more like hovering a few inches off the ground. He tends to do this when he's meditating or deeply focused on something. Shepard, his tabby cat, is scratching at the couch. He tends to do that when he's craving attention.

"I brought cookies," I say, petting Shepard with my free hand. He purrs as Oscar startles, losing focus, and flopping onto the couch cushion under him.

"Max," he says, not disgruntled but surprised. "What are you doing here?"

I take a seat on the couch, and immediately Shepard jumps onto my lap. I continue to pet him as I hold out the plate of chocolate chip cookies for Oscar. "Your mom let me in," I explain. "She made cookies. She says you haven't eaten anything all day so I volunteered to bring them up for you."

"Thanks," he says as he snatches a cookie then turns back to the large leather bound book in his lap.

I set the plate on the coffee table in front of us then lean over Oscar's shoulder. "Whatcha doin'?" I ask in my best Isabella impersonation.

He looks up at me and smiles. It's a small smile but any smile from him is enough to have my stomach doing weird twists. "Studying for the U.A.E.Es. You know, those exams we'll be writing in two weeks. "

I groan burying my face in a couch pillow. The sound startles Shepard and he jumps off my lap with a look of disdain directed my way. "It's Saturday," I whine. "You can't make me think about school."

The U.A.E.Es or the Umtrome Academy Entrance Examinations are a series of exams you'd need to take to get into Umtrome Academy, the best magic school in the country. It's been our dream to go there since we were eleven. I just didn't realize back then how much studying would been involved.

"I have something for you," I say to change the subject and because I really do have something to give him. Something I need to give him before I lose my nerve. I pull out a folded up piece of paper from my pocket. He raises a curious brow. My whole face goes red. I grab the pillow again and hide behind it.

"What is this?" he asks as he takes the paper and hear him unfold it. "Our hearts we have sowed into the earth like sunflower seeds."

"Don't read it out loud," I yell at him. He furrows his brows. I sigh. "It's a poem," I explain. "I wrote you a poem and I'd really prefer it if you read it in your head. Okay?"

He nods without a word and then turns his eyes back onto the piece of paper.

I watch his expression as his eyes move over the words I wrote. The seconds tick by painfully slow and doubt starts to creep in. Oh god, this was a mistake. What was I thinking? Did I really write a poem confessing my feelings for him?

I suddenly feel like snatching the poem away and running for my life. This was dumb. So dumb. He's going to hate me. He's going to laugh at me. He's never going want to talk to me again. I feel like crying.

Why am I like this?

I take a deep breath. This is Oscar, I remind myself. We've been friends for years. I know him better than anyone else. He knows me better than I know myself. I've loved him for half our friendship. And I wouldn't have written that poem if I didn't think that maybe there was chance, however small, that he might feel the same. And even if he doesn't like me like that, if this is truly platonic, then I still want him to know. I still want to tell him I like him.

Five minutes pass by. His expression remains unchanged. "It's not that long," I finally say because I feel like one of us should say something.

"Yes," he says without looking at me.

I swallow nervously. "So," I urge, "What do you think?"

He finally looks up at me. His eyes meet mine and I wanna look away but I force myself to keep looking at him. My face is probably fire-truck red at this point. "It's pretty," he says.

"Pretty?"

"There are a lot of metaphors," he continues. "Like a lot. I'm not really sure what you're trying to say. I mean this in the best way possible but you suck at poetry."

Ouch. That was not what I was expecting. But it's the most Oscar thing he could have said in this moment. I start laughing and don't stop. He laughs with me. Leave it to me to pick the most go around way to say something really simple.

When I finally do sober up I join him on the floor. I sit cross legged just like him. Our knees touch. "I like you," I say, because I should have just said it in the first place. "I like you, a lot. I'm hopelessly in love with you. And apparently hopelessly bad at writing poetry."

He smiles. "Oh," he says and it's his turn to blush.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," I add hastily. "I just thought you should know." I'm so awkward. I can't help but face palm myself.

"Max," he says and taking my hand from my face and into his. Our eyes meet again and he says, "I'm hopelessly in love with you too."

It takes me a full minute to react to that because at first I think I misheard him. When I realize I haven't all I can do is blink at him. What just happened?

(2100 words)