1

"Hey. Look my way."

Those were the words I always wanted to say to him, and the words I never could. For the longest time, forever, I trailed quietly behind him just happy to be near him. Even if we weren't together in that way, we were together and that was enough. We would walk to school together everyday and come home just the same way; he would ring my doorbell in the morning to make sure I wouldn't be late and he looked after me because he thought I needed it. Actually, I was always awake when he came into my room to wake me up. I only pretended to be asleep to know that he would comeā€”just for me. Special, I guess, is what it made me feel. I wanted to be special to him, more than anything. So I hurt when she came around.

In all the years I had known him, from birth to elementary school to high school, he had never looked at me, or anyone, the way he looked at her. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she was smart. Yes, she was graceful. Yes, she was perfect. And yes, I hated her. I hated her because he looked at her the way I wanted him to look at me, with warm melty eyes that say "I love you." I am sure, without a doubt, that that was the way I looked at him.

We met her first in sophomore year in our history class. She was the kind who was subdued, mature: the kind who sat in the corner with all her ethereal beauty and was a delight for most to watch, even if she was just reading the textbook. I was so jealous of her, for being beautiful and elegant the way I was not. Whenever I was gregariously telling a story to the whole class, some funny incident or another, doing my best to be sociable, he would always sneak peaks at her. Those were the instances when he could love her without anyone seeing, when everyone else was looking at the spectacle of his friend and she alone sat serenely studying post-war politics. At least, he thought nobody saw, but I always did. How could I not have?

So when he asked her out and she said yes, I wasn't surprised. Not in the least. I told myself not to care, that I was still the most special to him as his best friend, but they were lies.

You should see them eat lunch together. They'll sit side by side under a big tree and lean on each other, eyes closed. They look like they're the only two people in the world, like there isn't anyone else around, like nobody else matters.

I wanted that. I wanted him. I still want him.

But I can't.