“What about her?” he asked, pointing at the barista with a figure that any girl would die for. She had short curly hair that framed her heart shaped face. I was close with her to say the least. Her name was Destiny and she was everyone’s favorite. We sat at a table with only two chairs by the window looking outside where a few people sat. Mainly couples, which made my stomach, churn. Today was supposed to be the day where I told him everything. But it was turning out to be more along the lines of another round of Which Girl Should I Go for Now. Justin was my best friend and had been for the last six years we’ve known each other. For the last three I’ve posed as his own personal wing man. Always giving him advice on the girls he wanted. But never once spoken up for myself. Justin’s turquoise eyes followed her behind the counter, shimmering with the hope of new found love. I shrugged at his question. “I don’t know her well enough,” I lied, “she’s cute though.”
After he talked her up, Justin met me by my car outside in the parking lot. My brown hair pulled away from my face in a loose ponytail, waves still visible. I gave a thumb up as he walked towards me. “I take it it went well?” It was a lukewarm statement. I wasn’t really concerned with how things went or whether or not he got her number. To be completely honest I wanted to burst into tears. But I would rather die than let him see that. “Oh yeah,” he said, cheerfully. I took in a deep breath, sticking my hands in my jacket pockets as I gave him a halfhearted smile. “Yay,” my voice was weak and to my horror, it even cracked. You would have to be a total idiot not to notice my disinterest now. He tilted his head to the side with curiosity, brown hair remaining in place. “What’s wrong, Effs?” he asked me, using his favored nickname for my name. It was what he used to coax me into telling him everything. I rolled my eyes to the sky, which was darkening now, fighting back the sobs that were about to take over. My hands still shoved in my black, fleece, jacket’s pockets were shaking. “Let me count the ways,” I said, using one of my favorite quotes, “I have been so disgustingly in love with you for the last,” I paused, thinking over whether or not I should tell him I fell for him when we first met, “God, six years? And you haven’t so much as noticed how I try my hardest to make you happy.”
He blinked at me, surprised at my outburst. He shouldn’t be. This has been a long time coming and quite frankly I was shocked that it hadn’t come out sooner. Oh say, about a good five years sooner. I took in another deep breath, trying to regain my composure as I stood there like a complete moron as I waited for him to at the very least pull me into a hug. But nothing came. “I have been standing here, waiting for you to notice me for the last six years, practically begging you not to ask me for another opinion on another girl, who, by the way, you would just end up breaking up with after two months anyways.” Our eyes were locked but he never said another word. Not until ten minutes passed anyways. “Effs,” he said, not even trying to cushion the blow this time, “I’m re-engaged to Kamille.” My jaw damn near hit the floor. This was a complete waste of my time not to mention not one month ago, we had slept together. “Since how long ago,” I demanded. My teeth were barred now and my eyes narrowed, tears flowing freely from my hazel eyes. To be honest, I didn’t even want to know. The mere thought of it made me sick to my stomach. “Six months ago,” he didn’t even look sorry. It was like I was supposed to automatically know. “Get the f**k away from me,” I said, sobs rising in my throat now. I raised my hands, which had formed into fists in my pockets, pushing them against his chest. Trying to get him as far away from me as possible. I waited for him to resist me. But he never did. “Forget I even exist,” I sobbed. I listened for something as he walked away from me. Some sort of an apology or a fight. But all I heard was, “Okay.”
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