“I’m just afraid that you’re gonna try and kill me or something.” I thought he was joking, but when I looked up from my phone and looked at his face it was nothing short of seriousness. Dark curls gathered like a wet mop on top of his head; his green eyes staring straight at me. His calloused hands rested on the sides of his sanguine colored recliner, gripping a can of Root Beer.
“Why would I kill you?” I smirk, amused at this accusational statement.
“Because…well…I don’t reciprocate any feelings back.”
I look at him with concern, “What are you talking about?” What did he know?
“The other night, when you came to apologize to me…after we got into that small tizzy…”
“Well…you told me you loved me.” I pause. Concerned that what I thought was a dream wasn’t a dream at all. But it felt so fake. It didn’t feel like it happened. Was I drunk?
“Okay…so you think that just because you don’t have any feelings matching what I feel…that I’m going to…to kill you?”
“I mean…yeah,” he stammers, looking down as if suddenly the ivory carpet looked interesting.
“Do you think you’re the first guy to ever reject me or something?” I paused. He waited, confused and concerned. I continued.
“You’re not. Do you realize that pretty much every guy I’ve had any feelings for rejected me? I’m not the most likable person around. I’ve only ever had that one serious relationship. Obviously he didn’t even like me in the end. In eighth grade, do you wanna know why I started having an eating disorder. Because I was rejected by some douche-waffle that I had a major crush on. I wrote him a stupid love poem, and shoved it in his locker. The next day I heard him laughing about it in gym class with a couple of other dudes. Laughing. And making fun of ‘some girl who spends too much time inside.’
“And do you know, my best friend at the time, who was a guy because I couldn’t make friends with girls, because I was such a tomboy, went and told that boy, that very boy that I had a huge crush on…the one that I made a poem for, he told the boy that I had a huge crush on him. His response? It was ‘eww, shes gross and fat.’ I died inside.” Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes. One slid down into the corner of my mouth. I licked my salty tasting lips.
“I literally started starving myself. Anything to make myself more appeasable to someone out there. Do you realize I emphasize how much I want to just stay single, that I’m better off by myself, so that if I end up being single the rest of my life, which will probably happen, I emphasize this so that I’m never disappointed with the results? I don’t fear being rejected. I actually fear being wrong. I fear that ‘what if.’ What if I ever did find someone—then what?”
He looked baffled. Not really sure what to say. His green eyes looks at me then down then back at me. “I think that you’re too hard on yourself.”
“And I think you overthink anything I do, and my supposed intentions.”
He opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it, not sure how to respond at this point. I got up from the faded brown chair to plug my phone in at the nearby outlet. My back still towards him. I let out a long breath.
“Look, you’re my best friend. And just because you don’t have feelings for me doesn’t change anything. I appreciate our friendship…just as it is. And I always will. I used to think you had feelings for me but…honestly I know that you don’t. And that’s okay.”
I let out a sigh of relief. I turn around to the old, red chair across the room; it was empty.
Any events, persons, and/or materials are completely fictitious and any resemblance to non-fictitious events, persons, and/or materials are completely coincidental.