A/N: This is my very first attempt at writing a f/f story, so please be lenient ^_^ I would be grateful if you reviewed this story! And yes, I know it is rather short...

I can still see you standing in front of me, Jennifer, with the tears on your cheeks, your hair mussed, your lips quivering; a picture of helplessness and vulnerability...

Looking back, I think of how nice and yet how sad those times were when you and I were best friends, Jenny.

And we both destroyed the wonderful attachment between us; I told you something I should not have told you. I did something I should not have done. You couldn't accept either.

I am a twenty-two-year-old student, and I am going to tell you a story which took place three years ago.

I had just started college; I was about to go for my very first lecture in English Linguistics. I was nervous, jumpy and restless. Leaning against the wall, glancing surreptitiously at my watch, I gazed up and down the corridor impatiently. I had come fifteen minutes too early, and no one else had arrived as yet.

"Hello, are you also going for the lecture in English Linguistics?"

I turned around, startled, and looked at the speaker. It was a tall girl with auburn hair reaching till her waist. Her eyes were blue and rimmed in smoky black, giving them a mysterious, oriental air. I answered her question in the affirmative.

"I am Jennifer, by the way," she said, extending her hand with an open, confident smile.

I introduced myself, too, and shook hands with her. Her fingers were warm, and their nails were painted a fresh, rosy colour.

We sat down next to each other, her legs, dressed in blue jeans, casually crossed. Her bare midriff and arms were delectable. Soon, the others arrived, most of them excited and discussing what was in store for us in low, hushed tones.

It was not long until the professor walked in; the door of the lecture-hall was unlocked and opened, admitting the throng of restless students. Jennifer and I installed ourselves right in the front row. Jennifer's auburn hair brushed my arm, and for a reason I couldn't-or didn't want to-determine, I felt a shiver run down my spine and continue down to the very tip of my toes. I extracted my notepad and pen. The professor's eyes swept our faces with a keen glance. He proceeded to address us, introducing us to his course.

The weeks passed; Jennifer and I became very good friends. We studied together, hung out together, and chatted on the phone a lot. I was very happy. Until this guy made his appearance on the scene. Christopher.

You fell in love with him as soon as you saw him, didn't you, Jenny? You laid your eyes on him, and you were lost.

We had passed our first-semester-exams with flying colours, Jennifer and I, when Chris decided to strike up an appearance. I studied History and English, and Jenny the latter together with French. She got to know Chris during one of her second-semester-courses in French Literature. She came back floating in seventh heaven after the first session, saying that it was the best course she had ever had. And she continued praising the lecture for weeks after that. However, one of my colleagues observed that she was only having fun because Chris was flirting with her. I felt upset. I refused to acknowledge that I was already in love with Jennifer by that time, and could see any remote hope I had of having my love requited blown away with the wind.

Of course you were not aware of what was wrong with me, Jennifer. You thought I was unhappy about something else, that I was too stressed, or that a guy had turned me down. You never realised that it was you who was the reason for my sorrow, for my growing pain.

It was not long before Chris and she were boyfriend and girlfriend. I had rarely been so unhappy before. I cried night after night. Of course I had always been certain that Jenny would not feel the way I felt for her, but as long as she had been single I had been able to dream of myself as the one who had her love.

Then you found out that he was cheating on you, Jenny. You refused to believe it even though people were hinting at it, and afterwards even told you openly that Chris was sleeping around with other girls while he slept with you, too.

She caught him in the very act, finally. He was doing it with a girl we both knew from our English classes in a deserted lecture-hall.

Did you get suspicious, Jennifer, and decide to see if people were indeed telling you the truth about Chris?

You came to me, then, Jennifer. Crying, your eye-makeup in ruins, smeared beneath the hollows of your eyes, running down your cheeks in black, watery rivulets, your face distorted with utter anguish, your whole body shaking with sobs. Oh, and how sad I felt for you. And happy. Because you were free. For me. So I dared to hope. Awful feelings.

I consoled you. We hung out together more often now that there was no Chris anymore to take up your time. I did not know how to show you that I found you attractive, and that I desired more than friendship. You noticed that I was very quiet and thoughtful. You took me aside after the end of a course, and asked me what was wrong. I struggled; I said I was fine. You got angry because we were best friends and I was hiding something from you. I felt hurt.

And I told you that I loved you. Before you could answer or move, you were in my arms, my lips pressed against yours. You responded, your lips tightening on mine. And then you drew back. You stared at me, your eyes wide. Wide with horror. You stared at me as if I had hurt you more than Chris had. You did not say anything. You turned your back on me, then, and walked away, and walked out of my life for good.

Yes, that is what she did. She ignored me and sat down next to somebody else after that incident. I don't know how I got through those times without her. I wanted to contact her, but I didn't. I was too proud.

I am dating a girl called Irene, now. She is very charming, spontaneous and sweet. We're both in the same boat where our so-called sexual orientation is concerned. I hope it works out.

But I will never forget Jennifer.