I think I've fallen in love with my best friend...
It started when I first arrived in America, seeing my best friend up close. That first hug we ever had made me realize, I might be in love—his warm embrace, his broad shoulders, his strong muscles, his fluffy hair, and stubble beard, holy shit.
Even Nick realized my flustered reaction when the man pulled me so easily into a tight hug, like I was nothing but a feather, it made me feel small. However, I was small compared to the American, Dream was at least six foot one—with me scaling of five foot eight—obviously he was a bit taller compared to me. Of course, me having to tilt my head back slightly and look up at him doesn't give that away, or when I stood right next to him.
As the tall man walked me into the house in an attempt to show me around, I kept glancing back at the Texan man for assistance as if he was even sure what was going on in my British scrambled mind—that's not counting the jet lag from such a long flight.
Now, we were inching closer to almost a year of not only me moving in, but Dream's face reveal and my visa being approved—I wasn't sure if it was something we were going to celebrate, surely it wasn't that important?
However, my weird feelings that I wasn't sure of about my best friend grew with each day. The glow up—as it was noticed everywhere, I was the first to witness all of it. I noticed how he started working out once to twice everyday—to the point that he'd have no shirt with beads of sweat rolling down his Florida kissed skin.
His fluffed overgrown hair that fell over his eyes, fuck. The shape of his face even changed—not too mention how hot he looks with the light mustache and growing stubble beard; I had to beg for him not to shave it.
He teased me a lot about cutting it, along with chopping his hair off back to the mullet—that night I was on my knees begging him not to.
It's not even just his looks I've grown attracted too, being in the same house, sharing the same air, everything. My body reacts in weird ways during certain points when I'm around him.
Hearing his laugh—the thousand different laughs he has from a simple chuckle to his tea kettle wheeze. His goofy aroma that just enlightens me whenever, even if I'm not in the mood. His hugs, don't get me started. Sharing an atmospheric perspective with this man has tripped me like a mouse in a mouse trap.
I want him, in more than one way. I want him in every humanly way possible—even inhumanly.
"George?" I heard my name being called, and suddenly I realized I was stuck in a trance—some weird trance that I had to be snapped out of before it was too late. I blinked a couple of times, settling on the light that dangled from the restaurants ceiling—I don't quite remember walking in, but remember pointing it out to my blond friend.
Here recently, me and Dream would go for little "adventures" together—some people, including Nick, say it's a date. Though I wish that were true deep down, and that we basically do it once or twice a week, it's meaningless. It's just two friends bonding, two friends who have been oceans apart for more than enough years.
"You good? You just completely zoned out, and your eyes are watering." The sweet Floridian spoke to me, but my mind was going in circles, doing leaps and backflips—things my physical body couldn't do even if he tried.
I quickly nod with approval and glance back down at the menu I've been clutching onto for dear life—I couldn't tell you how long I've been holding onto that either. He quickly chuckles and my heart explodes—great, it's one of those days where every small thing he does excites me.
"Do you know what you want yet?" He asks me, his deep erotic voice, that calm but alerting voice that draws you in so easily—like those mythical creatures, sirens. I gently shrug my shoulders as I scan the menu, trying to actually read what's on it, but my mind had other plans.
