Uneasy Hearts Weigh The Most

Aubergine entered the shower off her bedroom five minutes ago, and I have spent those past five minutes lying spread eagle on her bed, smelling the delicate purple sheets that smelled like my best friend.

It always amazes me how people can smell so different even though underneath it all we’re all human. Girls usually smell like flowers, lotion, or candles whereas guys typically smell like whatever body spray is on the biggest craze lately. I am certainly no exception to the rule; I go to Target and buy my Axe when I run out.

I knew she would be in the shower for a long time; we had been out in her backyard throwing mud at each other created from the last rainstorm. I had already changed into my spare change of clothes I kept in her dresser drawers. She would be cleaning off though, washing mud out of every crevice of her body.

I shivered. The female body never ceased to make me shudder, with all of it’s differences from mine that I could only anxiously anticipate to discover.

I never met a decent-looking girl I wasn’t attracted to, but unfortunately most girls didn’t feel the same way. I’m relatively inexperienced for a sixteen-year old boy, but I think I deserve some slack. Aubergine and I have been best friends since we were eleven, so it looked like we were together. Other girls just assumed we were together, so they never bothered with me.

I pulled one of her pillows to my face and inhaled deeply. Just like heaven.

The water stopped running in the bathroom and I could hear the shower curtain being drawn. I put the pillow back where it belonged to avoid any suspicion. I still had a few minutes until she got out, so I rolled onto my side and got semi-high off the smell once again. It was a good distraction away from my half-naked friend but five yards away.

I let my eyes droop in comfort; the double bed was the perfect size for me to stretch out by myself, and just the right amount of space for us to share the bed and spoon. And yet the feelings she has for me are just platonic…

I’m not going to lie, I’ve imagined my best friend and I together more than once and I always felt guilty about it afterwards.

Now would be one of those times.

I pictured the two of us in this very same bed, underneath the sheets and our legs tangled. She would smell like the delicate flowers she always did, and her hair would be moused and sweaty but she would be as beautiful as ever.

And it was then I realized; holy shit. I like her. It took having post-sex fantasies about her to realize this. Because she is my best friend, I know that I could never just get a simple lay out of her; no, I would want something meaningful that wouldn’t make things awkward between the two of us.

She must have left the bathroom extra-quietly, because the next sensation I felt was a wet towel on my face.

“Ugh!” I yelled, mostly for show, because the towel had been on Aubergine’s naked body – as her male bet friend I was obliged to express disgust even though she could hand me her bloody tampon and I would still be transfixed because it had been inside her.

I rolled over to face her, where she was standing at the side of the bed in a pair of black basketball shorts and a plain white v-neck t-shirt. I could see the lines in her face, but I knew it wasn’t because she was stressed about something.

“Move over,” she grumbled. “I’m tired.”

I obliged without hesitation. She turned to face me and smiled sleepily.

“Do you mind if I take a nap?” she asked, even though she probably already knew the answer.

“Of course not. I don’t mind if you’re a lousy host anymore.”

“Zac, you’re here so much I can barely call you a guest anymore.”

That was the end of the argument, because she had a very valid point. I spent more time during the weekend at her house than my own, really. Her parents have accepted me as a son, mostly because I spend so much time here it’s like I’m part of the family. The only thing I’m missing is my own bedroom.

The sound of her relaxed breathing met my ears and I looked over to see her with a small smile on her face. I would have given many things in that moment to know what she was thinking. Probably dreaming about ponies and chocolate rivers and rainbows…except not. She has never been like that as long as I have known her, which has been longer than we’ve been best friends.

When we were younger, instead of pastel pinks and greens, she wore different shades of red and black. She has grown out of that some; she no longer is at the point where she feels naked if she’s not wearing either of those colors. She still likes them, just not as much. It was a natural progression that just about every “young” person goes through. I went through the same thing at pretty much the same time. I stopped wearing pants with chains. And now when I go back and look at those pictures, I can’t help laughing at how hopeless I was.

In her sleep, her right arm twitched a little and her hand fell onto my stomach. Her touch made it almost impossible to stay still. It also conjured thoughts of her touching me this way while conscious.

Stop Zac, you have got to stop! Get a grip on reality and quit thinking like that!

But at the same time I just could not find the will to stop. You like who you like, no matter age, gender, size, money. It just happens. And I should probably stop fighting it so much. It couldn’t possibly be healthy to have an argument with myself every five minutes.

Lifting my body up with my elbow, I scanned the room for anything that might keep me entertained while she slept. I obviously was not going to sleep under these conditions. I spotted her iPod laying across the room on top of her dresser. I groaned internally because it meant I would have to get up, which could potentially wake Aubergine. I decided to take my chances. I moved her hand that had curled into a fist off my stomach and laid it next to her side. I rose slowly off the bed, careful not to make it squeak. I tiptoed over to the dresser, grabbed the iPod like I was a professional thief, and walked back over to the bed, laying down gently.

I looked over at Aubergine to ensure she was still sleeping peacefully, which she was.

I unwrapped the earphones from where they were wrapped around the iPod. I put them into my ears, flipped the Hold button, and began to scroll through her library. I searched around for a good while before settling on something that might chill me out a bit.

I love Stevie Nicks so much. Honestly. You have no idea.

And apparently she loves me too, because she let me fall asleep.