More Than a Best Friend- One shot

We sit across the bed, you and I.

You're fuming and I'm left wondering why.

Why are you like that?

What's that look in your eyes?

Is it anger?

Is it sadness?

Or is it love?

I hope it's the last, the very last because I love you.

My best friend for three years and then my crush for the next two and yet for these last few months I think I've found myself lost without control over the way that I feel for you.

Your breath catches as you realise a change in the atmosphere and your eyes intensify with that look. Those brown eyes of yours, I've yet to discover if they're actually a gift from the Gods. Maybe it's because your favourite brand of chocolates are 'Ferro Rochers' that I've been lead to think that but, who knows maybe it's the truth.

Have I left you angry because I didn't agree on that movie for us to watch? Do you really want to watch a movie where the best friend ends up marrying some random girl he met three weeks ago and has 'fell in love with her' and leaves his other best friend all alone with nobody to love, but him? You want to watch that, why?

Or maybe you're angry because I don't like your latest boy friend? He's a total douche bag might I add and doesn't know anything about you, like I do. You know his friend, that girl, the one you tried to set me up with? I don't like her and if I had been one of those guys- which I'm not- I would have dated her to shove it in your face, but you would've of noticed.

This very moment, I'm itching to pull you close and whisper that 'I love you' but with that look in your eyes, I feel like it's not the best time. Instead I end up tugging at strand of your hair and putting it neatly back behind your ear. It wouldn't of have occurred to me just how cheesy that would have been to do earlier but I find it irresistible not to touch you.

You shy away at my touch at first but then you find yourself leaning in and that look in your eyes- what is it?- dies down a bit and something else replaces it as a smile surfaces on your face. Just that moment your phone rings and you glimpse down at it. I see that look that surfaces on your face and you get all love-sick over it.

Before you can answer it though, I lift the phone to my ear, answering it and ask, "What do you want?"

I hear a gulp from the end of the phone before the voice answers, "Claire."

Beside me, you begin to reach for the phone, but as your best friend for years, I've always been taller than you and so it ends up being a harder mission as I stretch to make the phone unreachable. "What about her?"

"She's my girl friend-"

"Really now Einstein, she's my best friend."

"There's a difference-" The douche bag begins to say- did I mention that I haven't taken notice of his name, because I really don't care.

"Oh yes, you get to hold her hands, whisper things like 'I love you' and kiss her whenever you want to," I say icily and look over at you, where you're fuming with anger. Lifting up a hand, I brush it softly against your cheek and watch as you coil back with surprise. Or maybe it's something else entirely?

"Dylan, I'm not in the mood for this talk. Just give Claire the phone," he demands loudly enough for you to hear.

"Dylan, give me the phone!" You yell as you try to reach for the phone again.

"Give her the phone Dylan," he demands again.

Ending the call, I chuck the phone onto your bed and grab you by the waist, kissing you hungrily. For a couple seconds, you don't respond. After that you quickly push me away and look at me with that look again.

"Get out!" You yell and without saying anything, I sulk out of my room.

As you say goodbye to my mother I hear her ask 'What's the matter' and 'You're staying for dinner aren't Claire?' Mumbling answers to her, you exit the house and I'm left wondering when you'll come back, that's if you'll come back.

But surely you feel the same way about me like how I feel about you.

Or maybe I'm exactly like the best friend who gets left behind, missing you every moment and wishing for your partner to roll over and die.

Mum walks out of the kitchen and gives me a knowing look. I haven't told her about how I feel about you but somehow I get the feeling she already knows.

It's a motherly feeling; they always know the unknown abut all of their children.

On Monday we walk past each other, you're being held by the douche bag not looking at me and I'm left looking at your sweet face that has turned to a sullen one. Again I'm left wondering why you're like these, or more like who's made you like this. I'm left wondering if it's me, but how can it be me when you told me to get out?

But it's only revealed later how you truly feel about me.

Mums still at work and maybe that was the reason why you came knocking at my door.

Maybe that's the reason to how you ended up grabbing me by my shirt and sucking the life out of me, bringing me air only when you whispered things to me that made no sense whatsoever.

Leading you to my room, where I had kissed you not so long ago, I shut the door behind me and there you were like in my dreams. Waiting for me breathlessly by my bed, you look up at me with hunger and as I walk to you a smile surfaces, replacing the sullen look.

Maybe that's the reason to how we both ended up stranded on the floor and not the bed, pulling at each other's clothing, asking no begging, for more.

Maybe that's how we ended up locked into place, breathing each other in wanting to know what took us so long to get us here.

It's true what they say about you being even more beautiful when you're in love. I thought it was nonsense but I notice that you've been like this for as long as I have. Before your words breathe along my skin, I know it before you say it. "I love you Dylan."