Lizzie

It's brilliant. I absolutely love this movie and Brandon, and I haven't been out to a proper cinema in ages. Usually, we hang out at his house or mine. Downstairs, my father had a full-screen cinema room installed. You can easily seat 20 people in there. Because dad is well-connected in the movie business, he knows many celebrities, and we're often able to get early access to premieres. It's a huge perk of being my dad's daughter. My favorite movie I watched so far has got to be Maverick. God, I absolutely love that film and Tom Cruise. Anything with his name stamped on it, and they've definitely got me.

So, back to Lennie at the counter. I have to admit, it really irked me the way she was giving Brandon puppy-dog eyes. I wanted to wipe the smile right off her face. She knows who he is, and I bet she'd love to be dating him. Only Brandon doesn't date. To be honest, it's already bad enough when I know he's out shagging some girl senseless just for his sex fix. I swear he's going to be a man-whore. He's already a teenage-male-whore. I'm always enraged with jealousy when he's with another girl.

This is the part about crushing on your best friend that sucks the absolute most. I wish I wasn't crushing on him, it makes me want to die with shame and embarrassment. Sometimes I wish I could turn the clock back, and we'd be those little innocent kids climbing trees, running around, and playing hide and seek.

I am trying desperately not to look at Brandon. He's sitting with his legs open, those long legs of his. They're so muscular from all his football games, practice, and the running he does on top of his gym workouts. When he wears shorts, I feel myself flushing and getting wet panties.

How fucking wrong is that? It's not on, but there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. My heart wants him so badly, and my body has got a mind of its own where Brandon is concerned. I try hard to focus on the film, but I'm still sneaking looks at him.

Brandon continues to gaze at the screen. It brings a smile to my face because I know for a fact, that Disney movies are so not his thing. But he likes to go along mostly with what I want to do, and I love him for it. I really love him.

It's like a smack in the face. My heart bangs rapidly against my chest and I almost can't breathe. That's it. It's just dawned on me that this is more than just crushing on my bestie; I am actually in love with Brandon. Oh Fuck.

Holy Fuck.

Big Trouble

Such Big Fucking Trouble.

My face has flushed as I sip more of my drink. One day, he's going to college, straight after summer, and I've already decided to go to Paris. My parents will relent for sure. The time will pass by way too quickly, and I'll feel like my left arm has been severed and cast away. It brings a tear to my eye, which I manage to wipe away without causing Brandon to avert his eyes.

Perhaps I should reconsider. I mean, it's not a bad idea.

I could go to Cali Uni and be with Brandon still. They do fashion courses there, I don't actually need to go all the way to Paris, Europe. Would I give up my dream just to be with Brandon?

Or should I go, and maybe it'd help me – you know, like help me to get over being in love with Brandon? I could meet a French boy, and we could walk along the Seine hand in hand, go to movies together, eat pizza, and shop along the Champs-Élysées. It all sounds romantic like the scenes in my romance books. But they won't be Brandon. And I'd feel like I am betraying him, even though we're not even a couple.

I'm so damn conflicted with what I want to do, and I've already been accepted into Texas Lizzie. This is so fucked up.

"Are you enjoying the movie?" I feel his warm breath on my ear, it sends tingles right down my spine and makes my heart flutter.

I nod. "Absolutely." He doesn't know what inner turmoil I'm going through. I need to speak with Lilly and Tammy. I've not properly confessed my feelings for Brandon to them, but I reckon they've guessed. It's been a couple of years since I've been hiding this, so it doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess what's going on inside me.

He squeezes my hand. Like he's done a hundred times before. His touch is warm, and his hands are soft. I feel myself drowning.

I'm a hot mess of a puddle of mush.