The summer was short. It felt short.
------ and I still had our usual hang out with her friend. Her garage. Playing video games. Her friends' mouth, stuffed 18th cheetos, cheering us on.
But as senior year came along, things
c h a n g e d .
It was like pure hell.
Towards the end of the summer we had, what's thought was a re-budding romance, The new guy and her. They-
y e a h .
He kissed her to that motherfucker.
How did I find out. They held hands like second graders. They exhanged saliva and sweet and spicy warmth between second period and third. In a fricking closet.
I was the one that was supposed to do that. We kissed. We held hands. We did all of the above. It was her and I. Not her and him.
But the least I could do is be happy for them.
The least I could do is cheer them on and support them. No matter how much it hurt. Because I was still her friend. What was I thinking.
How could she like-
love
someone.
s o m e o n e
I i k e m e .
· · ·
h o w c o u l d a n y o n e
l o v e s o m e o n e
I i k e m e ?
YOU ARE READING
s o t h i s i s l o v e #wattpride
Short StoryWhat does it mean to be h u m a n ? · · · To live? Breath? To be able to feel, perhaps? Physically, yes. Everyone with a beating heart can do so. · · · Or possibly to be human is to l o v e . · · · To love a person and cherish every second with them...
