If you asked anyone at school who knows me best, they'd say Jamie.
If you asked me who knows me best…
I'd still say Jamie.
That's the problem.
Jamie and I have been best friends since we were eight years old — back when life was simple and the biggest secret I had was that I hated soccer.
I still remember playing soccer, with him and a few other friends, back in sixth grade, on the grass mid-summer break. I remember I only wanted to go, because I knew he was there, I wanted to watch him play, and that's what I did.
He sat there... On the grass, sweaty, breathing heavily and sipping his water. And for some reason, I couldn't look away.
It was in that exact moment I started feeling a strange warmth in my body, a feeling I've never felt before, at least not this way.
My body was reacting to my best friend drinking water.
Great.
It was embarrassing and confusing, because why did it react to a boy?
Let alone my best friend?
After that I couldn't stop thinking about it, and what it meant.
Now I'm sixteen and the secret I carry could shatter everything.
I'm in love with my best friend.
And he has absolutely no idea.
Jamie is the kind of person people naturally gravitate toward. He laughs too loud. He steals fries off your plate without asking.
He has that kind of face that makes you feel safe, the face of an angel.
Light brunette curly hair that's always styled neatly, his icy blue eyes that remind me of the ocean, and that pretty smile of his that makes my heart skip a beat every time.
He's effortlessly charming without realizing it — which honestly makes it worse.
Because I notice everything.
The way his eyes crinkle when he laughs.
The way he nudges my shoulder when he's joking.
The way his small, friendly touches leave my head spinning.
His gentle teasing that makes me fall even harder.
The way he looks at girls.
That last one? That's the part that hurts.
Jamie is popular among girls.
I notice every stare, every whisper and every smile from girls, as we walk down the school hallway. And the worst part is I don't even know if he likes it.
I don't know if Jamie is straight. I don't know if he's gay. I don't even know if he's ever even questioned it.
All I know is I like him, I really like him and I hate that i can't tell him.
I hate how i have to hold in every word I want to say. I want to tell him everything. Ask him to be mine.
Hold him without pretending it means nothing.
And I definitely don't know what would happen if he found out about me.
Because here's the thing:
Being gay isn't the scary part anymore.
Being in love with him is.
Every time he throws an arm over my shoulder, I have to pretend my heart isn't trying to punch its way out of my chest.
Every time someone asks if we've got girlfriends yet, I laugh it off and say, "Nah, we're too cool for that."
Jamie always laughs with me.
If he knew the truth — that when I say I don't like any girls, I mean it — would he still laugh?
That's the worst part about loving your best friend.
You don't just risk rejection.
You risk losing your home.
And Jamie has always felt like mine.
I pull my duvet over my chest, trying to calm my thoughts. Tomorrow is just a normal Monday, like every other Monday, so why am I thinking about this so much?
I keep thinking about him — every glance, every joke.
Tomorrow I'll see him again.
Of course I will. He's my best friend.
But why is liking him affecting me so much on a random Sunday night, when I've been able to ignore it all this time?
Idk.
All I know is I can't overthink it… or he'll notice I'm acting different.
He always does.