I have never before believed in love at first sight until the moment that I met Brent. Brent is the one guy who as held my heart from the very start. From the moment that I first laid my eyes on him.

I met him about six years back, when I was just ten. I was still getting over the 'cooties' stage.

Mama had forced me out of house to meet the new neighbors despite my unending protests.

'Courtesy', she had said then.

Even if I put up quite a fight, I secretly yearned for a new playmate. And so, I hoped that the Myer's would have a little daughter my age.

Imagine my surprise and annoyance when I found a boy (an icky boy, in my 10-year old self's words), playing on the freshly-cut lawn.

He looked up from his toys, chose one and offered it to me as some sort of peace offering. He was grinning so cheekily and boyishly that it was infectious.

Lo and behold, we were instant friends. And just like that, I was his first 'friend that's a girl' and he was my first crush.

Ever heard of that line that goes, "Be careful when you get a crush because sooner or later, you will be crushed?"

Been there, done that. I'd say without a moment's hesitation. Get crushed I did, many, many times.

Brent was adorable as a child, a heartbreaker as he grew older. Girls flocked around him, they swooned when came near. Girlfriends came and went, as fast as he changed shirts he changed girls.

Brent is his name, and heartbreaking is his game.

He has broken more hearts tan you could ever hope to count, this includes mine. And he hasn't even turned 18 yet.

But that doesn't stop the girls from coming; I think it makes him more likeable. If that even makes sense…

I wonder what bad boys have to make girls fall at their feet.

You wonder who I am.

I'm Blanche. Otherwise known to Brent as 'Blankie', his best friend. That pet name of his for me makes me sound like some sort of possession; I hate it with a passion. But he refuses to change it. And as the ever-loyal bestie, he expects me to listen to him tell tales of all his escapades, over and over again. His first time, his first kiss, all his girlfriends and everything else of the like. He'd unknowingly break my heart again and again.

But as a playboy would, he refused to breathe a word on love.

Elementary, middle school, high school.

The different stages of growing up.

He changed, I changed. He became the Golden Boy, the heartthrob, the one everyone loved and wanted to be. I was no one special.

I don't know why but at school, he acted like he didn't know me. I did him a favor and did the same, even if it hurt my heart.

Yet, at any time of day, whenever he felt like it, he was free to barge into my home and crash on my couch.

Mama adored him; Papa thought of him as his own son, he was my best friend.

Everyone loved him, it was the perfect arrangement.

My home was his own but not vice versa. For his home was a mansion.

It hurt me that he refused to acknowledge my existence at school. Weren't we best friends? Didn't we pinkie promise that nothing would ever drive us apart?

That only goes to show, that sometimes, promise are broken.

But really, was it that humiliating to be seen with me?

Nothing would ever change. I was his confidante, his friend. Nothing more.

"Blanche," there he was, in all his glory, sitting on my bed. He had been flipping through my seemingly endless photo albums.

"Yeah?" I looked up from my work. Being alone with him for hours on end, made me quite immune to blushing when I was around him.

It was necessary so that he'd never know.

It'll be my secret to keep.

I'd rather stay as his dear friend, his 'little sister'. Than to destroy the beautiful friendship we had.

"I love you," his words failed to faze me. I was used to his sudden declarations of love. Platonic though, not romantic.

Even if I knew all this and more, still, it never failed to make my heart beat the least bit faster.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

There goes my heart.

"Awww…." I cooed. I walked over to where he was and planned to give him a peck on the cheek. A 'thank you' gesture.

"I know you do and thank you. I love you too." He might not know the truth behind my last sentence. I meant every word. I loved him, more than platonic. I've had years to think about it, I'm pretty sure of my feelings. He didn't need to know.

I'll tell you what I expected to happen, I expected him to grin cheekily and kiss my forehead in return. As he always did when we were in our 'moments'. It was in his nature as well.

But I should have known that life never goes the way you want it to.

But still, I never expected, except in my wildest dreams, for Brent to turn his head so that our lips touched.

That was my first kiss.

Imagine it, a 16-going-on-17 girl, who hasn't yet had her first kiss. Can you blame me for wanting to save it for a certain someone?

Still, as inexperienced as I was, I could feel the sparks.

I froze. I moved not an inch, my eyes wide in shock.

"Do you think that I'm only playing with you whenever I tell you that I love you?" he murmured against my lips.

Somehow, I had ended up sitting on his lap. His arms were wrapped protectively around my waist.

He was kissing me!! Brent was kissing me!! My brain screamed at me to do something, anything!!

I pulled back as fast as I could when I finally regained my common sense. It felt so right to be in his arms, but it felt so wrong to be with him… what was I thinking?? I don't even make any sense to myself!!

"W-what?" I stammered. I must look absolutely stupid. I felt stupid too.

Brent cupped my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"I love you. I honestly do love you. With all my heart." He can't be serious. Playboys don't talk about love. Love is taboo. But then, he does look serious.

I stared into his eyes, searching. I could stare into those brilliant blue eyes forever.

I'd be willing, all too willing, to drown into those endless depths.

As did most girls in existence.

That fact alone reminded me of what I had to do.

I held my ground. I loved too… But… But...

"You're lying. You were caught up in the moment. It's alright. No hard feelings. Besides, you already have your girlfriends."

He let his hand fall from my cheek. I instantly missed the warmth that it brought.

He rested his hand on his lap, only to run it through his hair a few seconds later.

Dark hair covered my view of his handsome face. He already had it all. Wasn't friendship enough for him?

I loved him. I loved him enough to tell him no.

"I already broke up with them weeks ago. Blankie, I love you. Why don't, wont, you believe me?" He whispered. His words were like caresses. Deadly caresses that only served to heighten the pain.

Bang, bang, bang. Bull's eye right through my heart.

His eyes pleaded with me, urging me to listen. To give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Good to know you're giving up your womanizing ways." My tone was nonchalant, cool and uncaring.

Acting as if nothing was wrong.

A flash of pain appeared on his face, disappearing as fast as it came. If I wasn't looking at him so intently, I wouldn't have caught it.

He hesitated for one brief second before looking at me with such pain.

Heartbreak and heartache etched on his features.

My heart went out to him. I never intended on fooling him.

Forgive me. I am so sorry.

He stood up and walked out of my room. He walked out of the house, out of my life.

I stared at his retreating back. Regret filling me.

Despite myself and the pounding rain, I called after him.

"I love you, Brent!" knowing quite well that he couldn't hear.

He couldn't see me and so, I let myself shed a tear.

I loved him, that's why I had to tell him no.

I cared about him, that's why I had to let him go.