But imagine best friend Harry and you having nicknames to each other and teasing each other in a friendly way all the time and one day you go for lunch with his friends that already have a baby and he sees his best friend interact with the baby and being very motherly like and it hits him that he might like her more than just friends and maybe he sees a future in there.
He’s sporting heart eyes from across the table - the literal heart-eye emoji - with the biggest grin on his face, in awe and with infatuation rolling his veins, whilst he watches his best friend fawn and coo over the tiny baby girl tucked in Ben’s arm, wide awake and cooing, pursing her tiny pink lips together and blowing gentle raspberries that had her falling deeper in love with the tiny baby. Dragging a curled finger down her cheek as she calls her a “pretty girl” and claims how she looked so beautiful in her cherry-patterned dress; one that Harry had brought her specifically, and gifted to her on the day she was born, because cherries were sweet and his favourite fruit because they reminded him of how he was surrounded by some many sweet people in his life. Meredith, drinking a cup of her own green tea as she settled back against the comfy sofa of the coffee house, has her eyes focused solely on the 23-year old man in front of her as he watches his friends interact, chatting lowly about how it was to be a new parent.
“You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried, mister,” Meredith smiles, kicking his ankle softly as uncrossed his leg and set his foot on the ground, “why haven’t you tried anything yet? You two are practically boyfriend and girlfriend anyway. You think we haven’t noticed?”
“She’s just my best friend,” he murmurs behind his cup, the steam coming from his coffee clearing his airways, “just my friend.”
“That is utter nonsense, Harry. You’re both infatuated with one another. I can see it. It’s written all over your face,” she points out, nudging her elbow into his side and jogging his cup, droplets dribbling down from the rim to the base, “you have nicknames for one another. You both live with one another, in each others houses. She wears your clothes. You use her shampoo, by the smell of it. You invite her everywhere and insist she’s your priority for the night, even though friends want to take her off for a bit. You love her. You love having her around. Stop kidding yourself,’ she smiles warmly, “just think about it.”
And think about it is exactly what he did.
Whilst making dinner for himself that night, and whilst he was busy stirring the pan of pasta that had caught his eye in the middle of Tesco after he’d dropped her home from the coffee date with Ben and Meredith, his mind drifts to something he hadn’t really paid much mind to; his future and who was in it. Staring at the tiles behind his cooker, wrist falling into a rhythmic motion, he’s off in his own world, picturing kids and a wife that looked so familiar from behind. A face coming into his view, and his heart just pangs when he sees his best friend’s face there, smiling at him with love behind her eyes. A belly homing a baby, with their two children running havoc around the garden. A cat roaming the grass before finding a comfortable warm spot on the patio tiles to have a snooze.
He’s pulled away from daydream when the smoke alarm blares around the house. Green eyes widening before he’s pulling the spoon from the pan and pushing it away from the flames, grabbing the nearest object to waft the smoke out of his back door. The image still fresh on his mind as he looked out towards the end of the greenery his garden had grown, flowers lining the fences and a tree planted right towards the back, growing apples that were a nightmare to pick up after a night of strong winds.
Feeling for his phone, that sat heavy in his shirt pocket, he pulled it from the material and dialled the number he knew off by heart. A number he was calling almost 2 times a day - usually more if they had plans and needed to confirm them or couldn’t find the other in the middle of London town. Muttering about how the tube was a nightmare in the late mornings and that buses would have been just as bad on the way into the centre.
“Hey, uh, I’m not sure why you didn’t answer my call. You’re usually jumping on the horn as soon as I call,” he chuckles, cradling his phone in his hand as his socks slip along the floor with each step he took towards the sink, “m’making pasta and some kind of cheese sauce that Nigella recommended on Instagram. Uh, I have extras so, I was kind of hoping you’d come and eat it. If not, I’ll have to pop next door and give it to my old lady neighbour,” he peeks out the kitchen window and over to the fence that guarded his garden, “gi’me a call back. I’d love your company. Didn’t speak much today, did we? You were too busy with Ruby,” he lets out a breathy laugh, before rubbing his eyes, “gi’me a call to let me know. I’ll keep it in the oven for you. Let it stay warm. Hopefully you can make it. See you soon! Lo-”
And before he lets the words “love you” roll off his tongue, he’s hearing the dial tone of her voicemail coming to an end. A breath of relief flushing from between his parted lips. He couldn’t tell her over the phone, but, he could tell her over a bowl of cheesy pasta. xx