He was always just a friend wasn’t he? The kind of guy you’ve know your whole life.
She knew everything about him. The colour of his hair, the shade of dark his eyes went once the sun had set, his habit of scratching the table when he was stressed. His mum was her second one, smothering her in hugs and kisses every time she went round for dinner or to let him copy her homework. His house was her second home, marked with her initials on his wallpaper and her scent left on his pillow. He was the brother she never had, and the kind of best friend you always wish for.
It never occurred to her that maybe he meant more. She missed his lingering stare and the hesitation behind every hug. She didn’t notice that their hands brushed a little too often to be a coincidence or that he didn’t need to copy her homework because he had already done it. She never remembered drawing the feint heart around her initials on the wallpaper or ever seeing him use a different pillow.
But then one day it was just different. She woke up and she was breathing and blood was running through her veins but it was different. And although she’d never seen it before, suddenly she was aware of the way she fit right under his chin when they hugged, and the deep breath she took as his hand touched hers, and the feeling she got when he laughed.
He became her fascination. She couldn’t help but wonder how she had missed it all this time. The way his eyes lit up at the mention of his favourite band that reminded her of Saturn. The way he bit back a smile when she told a terrible joke. The way his voice changed when he spoke about her that made her blood pulse with electricity. And she came to realise that he might have been her fascination all along.
Because he was never just a friend was he? The kind of guy you’ve actually always loved.