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“Careful,” I said, letting go of his hand. “People might actually think we’ve had sex.” “We have had sex.” “You know what I mean.” I blushed. “They’ll think we’re together now, and I’m pretty sure we’re not.” “We’re still best friends, Ari.” “Best friends do not hold hands.”
“Do you think it’s possible for this guy to have sex again with this best friend of his without the two of them fucking their friendship up?” “I think it’s very possible for them to have sex again, and I think he and this best friend can assess the damage afterward.” “The woman in question is used to going on dates whenever she’s sleeping with someone.” “Then the guy in question will take her on dates.”
Awwww
She stuck to her key and pen, and I decided to let the designer have free reign on my right arm. I didn’t even realize what exactly he’d drawn until the next morning, when a snooty kid walked up to me on the bus and asked me why I had the state of Arizona on my arm…
Awww
was pretty sure I loved him, and not in the way I loved him before. This was different. This was love in the “I needed to have him every hour of the day,” “be around him whenever I could”, and “do whatever I could to have him,” type of way. From the way he looked at me, I could tell he felt the same.
I almost pulled her into my arms for a kiss, but I held back. I still wasn’t sure what the hell was happening between us, and even though we were more than intimate now, we had yet to show any public displays of affection, and I wasn’t sure what that would mean if I initiated
My days were now a lot shorter without talking to him, a lot less memorable and trivial, too. But I couldn’t sacrifice my heartache in exchange for empty conversations between us. Not now.
Even worse, I felt like the two of us were so fucking close that I had nobody else I could talk to about this. He was literally all I had.
