"That's the problem, isn't it? I mean, when one of those two friends has a crush on the other, that other doesn't return those feelings and it switches back and forth."

She looks at him.

She remembers that time when she'd feelings for him, and told him, and now she looks at him – it's early august and that rosy glow is on his cheeks and the sun in his smile and she's live long enough to recognize the symptoms of love when she sees them.

"It's not always like that."

His hand brushes against hers. In the stark sunlight, the touch lingered and seemed to hold an unspoken promise.

She wondered.

(and switch – swing them around, pull back, than, in more ways than one. You're never on the same key; your feelings edge back and forth like waves. He only wants you when you don't want him, and it's true for you too)

"We're just gonna sit here for a bit, okay?"
I don't want you anymore. I wish I could, I'm sorry. I almost loved you, and I could have if he hadn't been so...

"Just gonna feel insignificant."

But this is how things happened, and now you're my brother instead. And I'm happy like this. I am.

(His fingers form a sentence, (I-l-o-) a soft path on her skin, (v-e-) and he know she realizes what he's saying (y-o-u-) even though he'll never say it out loud)

-We're going back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back -