I just started writing this story Sunday or whatever. It was born out of the ashes of a dead story I had already written. I guess it's a working piece. I plain to write a chapter everyday so I can get it finished without the procrastination. I am bad for that. Well...here's to my new story and my determined goal. Cheers!
Those Sweet Words
I don't like being in love with my best friend.
If it was someone else, I'd end the ailing emotion by keeping away fro her, ending the whatever relationship we had. If it was someone else, I could just easily forget about it after two hours of jogging around town, listening to soft rock. Dammit, if it was someone else, I wouldn't care as much as I did.
I just needed her way too much to end the way I felt about her. But, god, did it hurt because I couldn't tell her.
Ben remained perfectly still on the soft, pale yellow love seat, staring blankly before him. Chanel shook her head, laughing.
"Ben," she touched his arm gently. Reluctantly, his frosty gray eyes met her bright, glowing ones. The inexpressible look in his gaze puzzled her. She stopped smiling.
Her forever warm voice melted away some of his pain but part of him was too stubborn and angry to let go. He looked away from her worried face.
"Ben," she pleaded, "talk to me."
He wanted so much to hate her, to forget how much she meant to him.
"Please, Ben...just tell me."
...To scream out the hurt and heartache she caused yet healed at the same time. To be free of her unknowing hold on him.
Her hand on his arm tightened. Furious now, Ben moved to stand up, but Chanel pushed him back, gently. Her touch had weakened him. Ben stared with a racing heart at Chanel. It took him a full moment to realize that she was holding him in her arms, her head on his chest, her lips moving softly against his ribs. Ben was utterly breathless.
"Why won't you speak to me, Benjamin? I thought we were best friends."
"So did I," he replied steely as he caught the subtle, sweet scent of her hair. In spite of himself, he lowered his face in her hair lovingly.
"Ben," she sang softly, then added in a whisper, "what are you thinking?"
Ben refused to say, and Chanel didn't speak as she began to nuzzle his chest with her lips innocently. He caught his breath.
"Chanel," he moaned painfully. But his friend wouldn't stop.
"Just say it, please. I tell you everything..."
"It's nothing, Chanel. I swear!" he shouted in agony. She was breaking him, slowly and she didn't even know it.
"You're lying to me. That hurts, Ben."
She had finally gotten through.
Out of anguish, he threw her off him and she fell to the floor. A very empty silence followed. Ben felt terrible.
"Damn, Chanel. I'm sorry."
The girl refused to look at him as he spoke.
"I've been going through hell this past year--"
"Starting?" Her eyes remained on the thick, shaggy carpet.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice, which was so full of compassion moments before, was now emotionless and dull.
"I as confused and angry. You have to understand that, Chanel. I-I didn't want to accept my feelings."
She jerked her head up and looked at him. Her deep brown eyes were flashing dangerously. He had never seen her so angry.
"Whatever it was, you still could have told me," Chanel said, still without feeling.
Ben stood towering over her coldly. "It was a hard time for me!" he yelled.
Chanel scrambled to her feet. He was still much, much taller than she. But they both knew that didn't matter. She stared at him for a long while. Then, as in defeat and despair, shook her curly head solemnly.
"Sometimes, I don't know why I love you."
She was so beautiful. Everything about her sang "angel". She glowed when she laughed, sang when she talked, broke my heart when she was with me. Angels were only meant to comfort, not love.
I may have been in love with her my whole life, but last year in June, the feeling peaked.
We had gone camping with the rest of the gang. Mo's dad owned this huge, brand new RV and with much, much persuading, he let us borrow it for three days.
On the first day, we just sat around a campfire, reminiscing the ended school year. Mo, our chiseled sports god, had become even more the athletic legend at our suburban high school. Instead of his usual football and track, he added basketball and baseball somewhere in his hectic schedule. He had attracted a massive audience at every sport and the newspaper couldn't get enough of him.
But one person could.
"God, why does everyone think so much of you?" Katy had interrupted moodily. "If they could see for one moment how crooked you are, I wonder how many chicks would continue to follow your taut ass around."
Robert had given her a strange look. "What's up, Katy?"
"What isn't?" Mo'd questioned flatly as he leaned back on the tall maple behind him. "She just broke up with her boo-boo."
Katy hadn't even looked at him as she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top of them. She hadn't even replied as she stared into the fire.
Katy had been going out with Randy Crowell all sophomore year. Randy was actually part of the drama crowd, but because of his pretty features and natural charm, he was claimed by the popular clique. It had seemed so predictable for Katy and him to get together. Because even though they were complete opposites, they looked damn good together.
They were the sweethearts of Larrel River High.
But even though they were disgustingly sweet on each other, everybody could tell their relationship was coming to an end because almost everything they did together had been becoming a show.
"Fucking jerk," Katy murmured, covering her head in her arms.
Chanel and I exchanged looks as Robert silently came to sit next to her.
Robert, who was normally shy everywhere else, was extremely nice to Katy. It wasn't that he loved her or anything, it was just that she was his favorite amongst us.
"Come on, Katy," he'd said in his soft way. "You don't need boys. Especially now. They don't care about anything but their dicks when it comes to girls."
Katy looked at him thankfully, but shook her head. "No. Not him."
Robert sighed and looked up at the stars. He was what the girls at school called "eye candy". His long, shaggy brown hair was naturally curled at the ends and his ivy green eyes were big and dreamy. But no matter how many girls threw themselves at his feet, he still would not come out of his shell and speak. It was just he way he was.
"Man, there ain't even no way to talk to that girl," Mo had spoke up in agitation. "She's stuck."
Robert hadn't replied as he kept staring at the sky.
I looked at Chanel. She was staring intently in the fire. The warm glow had illuminated her unique features, enhancing them noticeably. Her auburn, curly hair was out and it surrounded her face snugly. The shadows on her high cheekbones brought out her lips and I couldn't help but realize how nicely curved and full they were.
Abruptly, she turned her eyes from the fire to me. Embarrassed that I had been caught staring openly at her, I looked away quickly. Then I heard her laugh softly and felt her sit down on the log, beside me. Instantly, I caught an enticing whiff of her perfume and I couldn't breath.
She sighed and I looked at her. Her eyes were sad as she stared ahead. Then, without, warning, she laid her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes.
"I'm so glad we managed to stay together this year," she had murmured sleepily.
"Me too," I'd answered softly.
I had always thought that Chanel was beautiful, but at that moment, I knew she was something else, something deeper and more real.
It was then I knew that I in hell, because I was forming a crush on my best friend.
Yeah, like in the middle of the chapter, Chanel had told him something very heartbreaking to him and that was why he was acting all cold. Just wanted to clear up some confusion anyone might have. I can't tell you want she told him but you'll find out soon enough.