Blake has always been the prettiest girl at our school. She just has been and everyone knew it; she knew it. She knew she could get just about any guy she wanted, and she still went for the idiots, the jerks. And me? I was never part of her pool of potential guys, but I was always there to put her back together when the ones who were had torn her apart. I never cared much that I wasn't, though; I never really wanted to be. I knew we were going to be friends forever. That sounds so cliché but in all honesty I couldn't really see me without her. We were best friends in middle school, we stayed best friends in high school and then we went to college together.
Right before graduation, Blake and I broke up. We had been "dating" for a couple of months but nothing between us was any different, we were still best friends. The only thing that changed was now it was socially acceptable for me to kiss her anytime she wanted. It was basically the best relationship I had ever been in, and, honestly, the best I've been in still today. Anyways, 2 months before graduation, I ended it. I'm not going into why because it's a stupid story that I'm not up for telling right now. So, we had this big fight that night at my house and, when she left, she was sobbing. I'd never seen her more torn up over a guy than she was that night. When I knew she'd gotten home, I tried a thousand times to call but I went straight to voicemail. Finally, I just called her mom; she would never deliberately ignore me. When she picked up at last, I didn't give her the chance to say anything, I wasn't giving her the chance to stop me from asking about Blake.
"Please, Peggy, I really need to talk to Blake. It's urgent. I won't be long. Please..."
"Carter," she began, the worry and frustration in her voice very prevalent, "I don't think now is a good time. I'll let her know you called, but, please, honey, give her some time. Good night."
27 unanswered phone calls, millions of tears, and an hour and a half later, my phone started buzzing. I didn't even bother to look at who it was; I already knew.
"Blake?! Blake, I'm so sorry! Please forgive me? Please, I jus-"
"Can I come over?" She interrupted. Her voice sounded stuffy and wet after the hour of crying. "Please?" she laughed a pitiful little laugh, "I am in serious need of a movie night."
At first I am in shock, then everything comes out all at once, before she can change her mind, "Of course, yeah, come on over. Drive safe, I'll see you when you get here. I love you."
When she pulled into my driveway, I was already waiting at the door to let her in. She walked slowly up my sidewalk. I'll never forget what she looked like that night. Her hair was a wreck, half-up in a bun but mostly falling down into her face. She was wearing her baggiest pair of pajama pants and her dad's old sweatshirt. That's when I knew how bad it was, she hadn't even touched that since he had died the year before. I think that's why I remember this all so vividly, because I realized how hurt she actually was. When she made it up my steps she stopped in front of me and her eyes were the brightest shade of green I've ever seen. Maybe it was because they were up against the bloodshot red in the rest of her eye or maybe it was because they were just always that brilliant.
"Some boy broke my heart," she tried to joke, fixing her makeup. It came out in gasps and sobs more than in words. "I just really need my best friend right now."
We watched movies until she fell asleep that night and before I fell asleep, I made a promise. I promised her that I would never let this happen to her again; no one else would ever hurt her in the way I had. And if I failed, I would do whatever I had to to fix it, to make it better. Laying on the floor beside the bed, I asked myself how I could have let this happen? Why had I put myself in the position to hurt her? Why did she come back and trust me to fix her? How do I handle this girl, my best friend, collapsed on my bed in mess of wet hair and runny mascara?
