Brandon

Damn it, what was I thinking cuddling into her like that? I've not held Lizzie since shit knows when. I mean, we were just kids when we used to cuddle and hunker up. I loved how we were when we were younger, becoming a teenager and growing into an adult can be really sucky sometimes.

I easily make my way down the trellis minding not to get stabbed by the thorny roses. This trellis has been the bain of my life for so many years. If tonight hadn't been so serious, it would probably make me smile that I act like some damn cat burglar sneaking around in the middle of the night. Visiting my girl. Wait. She isn't really my girl. Yet, Lizzie has always been my girl.

It's pitch black outside the sky displays an array of stars, Lizzie loves stars. We sometimes drive farther into the mountains and just sit on the hood of my jeep and take them in. I like them but not as much as she does, she's kind of obsessed with them. My girl Lizzie, there is no-one quite like her in the world.

My breathing is rapid, even though I know her folks are well and truly asleep and mine will be too when I get across the street; it still makes my heart race with all this sneaking around. They'd probably think we are fucking or something and make a huge big deal out of nothing. Could you imagine how embarrassing that would be? My own parents thinking I'm at it like a rabbit with my bestie.

I'm at my house now; I slip the key out of my front left jeans pocket and slide it easily into the lock. The door opens easily. I've already turned the alarm off. I did it when I snuck out earlier. At least at my own house I don't have to climb a frigging drain pipe or rose bush trellis. I slip my shoes off because, yeah, my mom freaks out if we wear our shoes, boots, or sneakers in the house. She says my dad doesn't work his butt off to earn good money to pay the cleaner, for us to just keep making it a mess.

Heading for the kitchen, I notice I'm still breathing erratically; it must be the adrenaline still from taking that guy out. In the kitchen, I quietly took a tall glass from one of the maple cupboards and poured myself a glass of water and headed back into the large entrance area, up the stairs and into my bedroom.

Then and only then do I allow myself to think, not of the beating we just gave that shit, but of Lizzie. My beautiful, gorgeous best friend Lizzie. How it felt to hold her, feeling her butt pressed up against me. I held her so tight she was right there with that cute ass of hers right into me. It took everything I could muster not to get a raging bulge in my jeans.

Jeez, this isn't good. Maybe it's because I'm some kind of hormonal teenager and if the wind changed, I'd probably get an erection. I fucking hope so, because getting hard against my bestie, who, by the way, didn't seem to notice it- at least I hope she didn't is a good situation. It's kinda freaking me out. Seriously. Freaking. Me. The. Fuck. Out.

She smelt of her favorite shampoo, mango and lime; I could eat it. That's how divine it smells. I couldn't stop inhaling her hair as I hugged tightly into her with my arms around her. It's bad I know, but I also wanted to kiss the back of her neck to feel her warm soft skin on my lips. Feeling hungry for her lips on mine is definitely a big no-no. She only sees me as her best friend, and I don't know where these insane feelings and thoughts have come from. I wish they would stop. I can't afford to think of my bestie like this; it would ruin everything.

I'm not a relationship guy, no way. I only see girls for when I need to see them, if you get my drift. Everything is casual; I hang with them for maybe a couple of dates, and then, when I've got what I want, I generally move on. They don't mind, they really don't care because the girls I pick are that type in any case. It suits them; they're not interested in dating me.

Sure, there are girls that want to sink their claws into me. I'm a billionaire's son; I will inherit everything when my father passes, and they all know that I'll be a multi-millionaire in my own right, especially with my football career taking off like it's going to. I already earn big bucks, and I'm not in the top league yet. But I will be; everyone already knows that. I've only got to make my choice of who I want to play for.

I'm guessing it will be the San Francisco 49ers; they've already had five Super Bowl victories, and I want to be on that team in the NFL. No other team will do it for me; besides, I love it here in Cali. I don't want to move away. Not like Lizzie. Jeez, I'm going to miss her when she goes to college in Texas.

She's also talking about going to Paris. That makes my stomach twist in knots; I feel a physical stab of pain to my chest. What will I do without her by my side? Her smile greeting me every day and the way her eyes light up when she sees me. Damn. I fucking can't cope with this.

I lay on my bed in the pitch black, not even having bothered to get changed out of my jeans and hoodie. There'll be no sleeping for me tonight as my mind is wild with insane thoughts about the girl that is my best friend. Fuck man, I seriously can't be crushing on her. It's going to be game over. Lizzie deserves a guy who can commit, who can worship the ground she walks on, who will marry her and give her kids. Oh yeah, she wants those like an army of them. That makes me smile.

She deserves the best, and I'm not sure I can give her that. I'm too busy being young, free and single and a badass. I'll have to rein it all in if I want to hit the big league.

As I begin to drift off and my eyelids grow heavy, I think about Lizzie and her small, warm body against mine. How her delicate hands stroked mine around her tiny waist. The same hands that I've felt year on year, since we were children and playing together in the park, running through the fields.

I need to get this out of my system and quick.

I am not the right man for Lizzie.

I don't do commitment.

I can't give her the whole marriage-and-children thing.

Shit.

These emotions are all-consuming.

I feel like I can't breathe.

It's scaring the shit out of me.