FriendsA Story by Elizabeth LaughlinA very short story that I submitted for a contest on another writing community. I would love your feedback! (: Thanks so much.She was dazzling; she was elegant. I look at her with an open mouth, trying to be discreet. "How do I look?" she asks over her shoulder, gazing at her reflection. I shift feet. "Um-" I don't know quite where to begin. "Come on, Lacey! You're my best friend," she groans. She sets her hands on her hips. "I want to look good for him." And that's when I land back to reality, flat on my face. Her words leave me feeling hopeless; deflated. "You look amazing," I say honestly, and then I look away. I have always felt detached from situations like these. Smiling from ear to ear, she sets her hands on my shoulders. "Thanks, girl. You know I appreciate you," she replies warmly. Ripples go through my bloodstream; I can feel myself blushing. But I must shake this away. My eyes dart to the window, to the brisk winter weather. The pelting snow swallows us, eats us alive. I feel entrapped by the unlikeliness of my own desires. I walk her to her car, never raising my head. "It is too f*****g cold out here," she comments with disgust. For a second, for one brief second, I have the urge to offer her my coat, but I must control myself. Instead, I stuff my hands in my pockets and blow out some air. It is so cold that my breath turns into cumulus clouds. And then-- "Is everything okay with you?" I look up from the snow-covered ground, my dark eyebrows raised. "You've been so quiet all night," she explains, retrieving her keys. She points them at her car while she unlocks the doors--fumbling at first. "It's really weird," she adds softly. Stiffening, I look off into the distance. Somewhere, along the horizon, the sun burns a bright orange; the sky has claimed a pinkish color. Beautiful, yes--much like her. When someone says something funny (especially me) and she throws her head back, laughing. When she tucks a strand of brown hair behind her ear and I can only gawk, because I am at a total loss for words. I must stop thinking of these things. "Yeah, I'm fine." My foot, pressing deep into the earth, draws unidentifiable shapes. I am doing anything to distract my mind. "Lacey." She speaks in a whine while her lip pouts. "Why are you acting this way?" Usually, I am very good about this. I know when is appropriate to show my feelings. Most of the time, when she talks about the guys she likes, I can pretend like it isn't absolutely killing me. I can give her good advice about her hair and clothes and makeup, even though I don't know much about any of those things. I can look at her and pretend just for a second that I am not madly in love with her. But not today. The tears roll down my cheeks profusely. She, taken aback, collapses into my arms and embraces me so tight. A few inches on me, she presses my head against her chest. I can hear her hammering heart and wonder if it is in-tune with my own. "Oh, Lacey," she whispers sadly. I look up from her, wipe the tears with the back of my hand. "I'm good; I'm good. Seriously." But my voice is so unconvincing. The lump in my throat is causing me to stutter, and I can't stop shaking. Like a leaf. "But I don't believe you," she retorts, pulling away from me. "You wouldn't be crying if everything was okay, now would you?" I can see the glare of the snow in her emerald eyes. I sniffle. "'Guess not." Her smile is so sweet, so sound. We lock eyes for a few seconds, and I feel my heart thaw. Not even the brisk winter air can stop this from happening. For a moment, we lose ourselves in our own little world, and I forget anything else exists. "You know I'm always here for you," she says honestly. Her voice never wavers. "If you're going through something, you can always come to me--" "Megan, I love you." Before I can stop myself, before I can even retract, the damage has been done. Her eyes widen; she inhales sharply. I want to say that I didn't mean it, but then I realize that I've backed out too many times. I can't live like this anymore. Being in love with your best friend is the literal definition of Hell. "You what?" I feel like I'm talking to the whole world. Speaking loudly, I make my case. "I know we've been best friends since the sixth grade and maybe I don't know what the f**k I'm saying." I look off into the trees again; they sway lifelessly. "But you can't keep pushing this off. You've known for awhile now and--" "Lacey." She holds up a hand, dismissing me. But I will no longer be shut out. "I just want to know how you feel." The sadness has since been replaced with a profound courage. "And I'm not going to leave until I get my answer. I have backed out so many times and I'm done doing that. I want you. I don't care if you have a boyfriend. I know we have something--else. We're different." She can't deny this. Her lips curve into a smile, and I think I'm dreaming. "You're right." I blink away the shock. "I'm what?" "You're right. We're different. You and me? We aren't normal, Lace." She purses her soft-looking lips together. "You want to kiss me, don't you?" "Um--" "But you can't. Because we're just friends. Friends don't kiss! Well, only a special kind." She laughs out loud, sending a chill down my spine. I fold one arm over the other. I've about had it with her antics. "So what are you saying, Megan?" "I'm saying that you're a lesbian," she replies, saying the word like it's on fire, "and I don't know what I am. But we've been friends for six years now and I'm not about to ruin that." When I reach out for her, she turns her back to me. She opens her car door, and with a sigh, steps inside. She takes one last look at me, and I feel my insides break. "Megan!" I exclaim, crying yet again. But her windows are up. I watch her drive away into the distance. © 2016 Elizabeth LaughlinAuthor's Note
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3 Reviews Added on February 13, 2016 Last Updated on February 13, 2016 Tags: love, heartbreak, lesbian, lgbt, sad, friendship AuthorElizabeth LaughlinGreensburg, PAAboutI am an eighteen-and-a-half year old who goes to the University of Pittsburgh at Greensburg, majoring in English Literature. Long story short, writing is my absolute life, and reading is a close secon.. more..Writing
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