"Are you serious?" Skylar asked.

       "I don't know if I'm bisexual or gay or maybe just in love with Monroe Kingston, but—" Oh, shit, did I say that out loud?  "I mean, I just—I'm not sure. Maybe I just need to, um, experiment. Maybe I'm straight but like . . . with . . . spice."

       Skylar narrowed her brown eyes. "Experiment?"

       "Yeah! Yeah." I coughed. "Um. That's a good idea."

       "Did you say something about being in love with Monroe Kingston?"

        "I was just. Um. Kidding."

        "Okay, because if you are, I won't kiss her." Skylar raised an eyebrow, like a challenge.

         But if I claimed Monroe, that was . . . that was the end. Then it was real. Then there was coming out, and telling my parents and telling my sister and—God. It just seemed so fucking impossible. 

         No. Not yet. It wasn't fair to Skylar, wasn't fair to myself.

         For the love of God, I had told Monroe I was straight.

         "No, yeah, it's—um—totally fine, if you still want to go ahead and do . . . uh, that. Kiss her. Yeah. That's . . ." I swallowed. "Fine."

         At that moment, my phone started ringing.

         Skylar leaned over. "Really? Why does that contact name say My #1 Best Friend, Talia? That's me."

         I picked up the phone. "What's up?" I asked. Like I wasn't having a sexual crisis.

         "Talia," said Aaron. "We need to talk."

         Those words were always inspiring.

          "Aaron, now's probably not a good time."

          Skylar was mouthing, Seriously? Aaron? That's your #1 Best Friend?  I'm your #1 Best Friend, not him!

          "No." Aaron cleared his throat. "It's a really good time. Talia. Seriously. Before I lose my nerve."

          "You're acting weird, idiot."

          "It's important. Please. Meet me on my roof in five?"

          "Five minutes? Are you fucking crazy?"

          "Five minutes. See you there, asshole." He hung up, and I was left staring dumbfounded at the screen.

           Skylar plucked my phone out of my hand, probably to change her contact name.

           "Sky, we have five minutes. Take me to Aaron's?"

           Skylar mouth curved, almost as if she was conflicted. But then she nodded, resolute, and slammed her foot down on the pedal.

          "Not that fast!" I cried, holding on to my seatbelt for dear life.

          "Why? Fast is sexy."

          "Vehicular manslaughter is not sexy!"

          "Everything is sexy when I'm the one doing it."

          "Yeah, and when I kill you, I'm sure you'll set a new standard for corpses everywhere."

          There was something suspicious about the gleam in her eyes, but I didn't have time to think about it. In four minutes and forty-nine seconds, we had arrived in front of Aaron's house.

           "See you later, Tals!" Skylar said as soon as I was out. And then she was speeding away as if the apocalypse had begun.

           That . . . was definitely sketchy.

           Alright, then. This was normal. This was perfectly normal. As I climbed the side of Aaron's house, using his recycling bin as a stepping stone, I latched onto the bend of the roof. Aaron's room was near the back of the house, so when we were on the roof, we were pretty much isolated from humanity. Most days, it made me feel safe.

          Not today.

          Aaron was already waiting. His hazel eyes brightened a little when he saw me, the rosebud colour of his lips turning white as he pressed them together. "Tal, there you are!"

          He had already engulfed me into a hug before I could stop him. His scent—cedar and spice—was practically home. I could actually feel the muscles coiling in his arms. When had he gotten so damn strong?

         "Aaron, we're going to fall over the side of the roof. Get off."  Secretly, I'd liked the hug. Aaron's arms . . . that was safety. 

         "Talia," he said, closing his eyes.

         "Did you take a special brownie or something?"

         "What? No! That's not—" He opened his eyes. We were so close now I could see the flecks of soft green limning the ring of his pupils. Green and gold. 

         Why did he have such beautiful eyes? It wasn't fair.

         "Aaron, spit it out."

         "I'm in love with you."

         I laughed. "Okay, sure, whatever. Get on with it."

         "I'm serious, Tal. I'm in love with you."

         "Yeah, and I fucked a porcupine. What do you actually have to say?"

         "Talia, I'm in fucking love with you!"

         The way his eyes were wide, vivid—the tensing of his strong jaw—the way his Adam's apple bobbed—

         Oh, fuck me. He was being serious.

         Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck.

         "Aaron," I said with growing horror. "You mean . . ."

         "I don't want to be your friend anymore. I . . . I want you to be mine. I want to—" He raked a hand through his curls. "Fuck, this isn't going how I planned. I'm just saying, I've been in love with you for a while, Talia. You don't have to do anything about it. It's fine if you don't feel the same way. It's just . . . I had to tell you."

          The thing was, I knew Aaron so well that I guessed his five-minute instruction, his desperate excitement . . . it had probably all been a result of the football team hyping him up. He'd told me to meet him here before he lost his courage, and now . . . now he was confessing his love to me.

          Fuck. Fuck. 

         "It won't be, though," I said suddenly. 

         "What?"

         "It won't be fine. If I don't feel the same way. It'll never be fine again. It'll never—" I wanted to cry, or scream, or throw myself into the void. "You just told me you loved me. What about this is fine?" 

         "I had to tell you." His hand was on my knee, but him touching me suddenly made me feel nauseous. He loved me. He loved me and he didn't want to be my friend anymore, because he wanted to—to—

         "Aaron, are you fucking crazy? What about Skylar and Cody? This is going to make our group all weird!"

         "They know," he said quietly.

         "They—they—" I jumped to my feet, pacing the flat length of his roof. "They know?" 

         Aaron nodded, as though he was almost unsure of whether to admit it.

         No wonder Skylar had driven off in a hurry.

         I clenched my fists. "Absolutely fucking not! Everybody but me knew you were in fucking love with me? Fuck you!"

         "Tal."

         "No, don't Tal me. Fuck you, Aaron. Seriously. Fuck you."

         "Talia." 

          I crouched back down, desperate. "Are you sure? Maybe it's just a one-time thing, like a . . . a phase. Maybe you've just got all these endorphins from football and you're projecting them onto me, you know. So you don't really love me, you just . . . it's just a lapse of judgement."

         "Are you going through the five stages of grief right now?"

         "No, I—" What are the five stages of grief? Better yet, who fucking cares? "I can't do this. You . . . you're . . ." I shake my head. "I'm out."

         I hopped down from the side of his roof, landing on the upside-down recycling bin.

         I lived less than thirty seconds away, just across the street. But that walk was the longest one I had ever had in my life.

        He's in love with me.

       The stupid idiot is in love with me.

       Stupid fucking fucker. What the fuck is wrong with him? We've been best friends since fifth grade. What's this love shit? 

       Stupid hormonal teenage boy. Can't fucking keep his dick in his pants. Fucking fuckface fuckhat fuckwad.

        I probably came up with ten new swear words. But by the time I got home, slamming the door to my room and burying my face in my bed, I was no longer mad.

        "Why?" I moaned into my pillow. "Why, Universe? Why?" 

        I didn't want our friendship to end. But I had never heard of two best friends who survived one being in love with the other if it wasn't mutual. And I couldn't lose Aaron.

        He was in love with me. If Skylar were here, I knew what she'd ask: So how do you feel about him? 

        As far as boyfriends went, Aaron would be a great one. He was sweet, sensitive, and we had the same sense of humour. Our marriage proposals were my favourite hobby. And it didn't hurt that he was good-looking, too—classic football jock, with broad shoulders and curly hair. He was probably over six feet tall, too.

        No, Aaron wouldn't be a terrible boyfriend.

        And if I was going to like boys, wouldn't Aaron be the perfect one? He was everything a girl could ask for. Maybe I just had to . . . try.

        A voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

        "If you think about it, people are like icing squirter outers."

        "Claudia, why are you in my room?" 

        "Because I had a very fascinating theory that I wanted to share with you, and I shared it with you, so now your mind can be blessed and I can leave."

        "Did you . . . hear all that?" Namely, the yelling at the universe.

        "Oh, yeah," Claudia said brightly. "Want to talk about it?"

        "Aaron just told me he fucking loves me."

        "Oh. Like more than a friend."

        "Yeah. Like more than a friend."

         Claudia hesitated. I peeked out at her from underneath the pillow. Her honey blonde hair was tied up into a ponytail, and she was still wearing her cheerleader uniform. 

         "Well, I'm sure it's fine. He'll get over himself."

         "What if I was thinking of, um, trying it out?"

         "Trying it out? What the fuck? He's a boy, not a brand-new car. You can't try him out. You either like him back or you don't."

         "I kind of do? It's complicated! He's my best friend."

         "I support you, you know, it's just . . . um. I guess this sounds kind of weird, but I never thought you were straight?"

         "What? But what about my boyfriend?"

         "Paul? I thought he was just teaching you how to drive a motorcycle."

         "Don't you remember that whole birds-and-bees conversation Mom and Dad tried to give me?"

          "Yeah, sure, I just didn't think it applied to you. Besides, why would you date a guy named Paul? Imagine moaning his name during sex. Paul, Paul! Oh, God, Paul, just like that! Yeah, Paul! Fuck, Paul, I'm coming! Aaaah!" 

          I shoved the pillow over my face. "You're a heathen."

          Claudia grinned. "What? I'm right."

          "Get out!" I threw the pillow at her. "You're literal devil-spawn, you know that?"

          "I'm going, I'm going!" As she closed the door, I heard her muffled voice imitating a high-pitched moan: "Paul, baby, wow, you really know what you're doing—said no one ever."

          "I'm sure there are some Pauls who know what they're doing," I grumbled.

          Claudia opened the door a crack. "Sure, that'll be the day a guy ever finds a girl's clit!"

          "Oh, my God. I don't want to hear this from my sister. Get out!"

          Claudia closed the door with a soft click. I heard her laughing all the way down the hall.

          But despite what Claudia had said, I didn't want to lose Aaron. And I was certain I would if I didn't feel the same way about him.

          I wasn't ready to let go of my best friend. And I knew him, better than anyone in the world. If I didn't try and love him back, he'd be devastated. More than that, he'd be hurt.

          Aaron was . . . Aaron. My Aaron, who had always made me feel better, who had always made me smile, even if it was just by calling me an idiot.

          Maybe those feelings were love, and I just didn't know it. After all, I did feel safe in his arms.

          I could love him. Probably.

          So before I could second-guess myself, I sent him a quick text.

          Come over for dinner? We should talk.

          And maybe it would even be a test of sorts. Because if I didn't love Aaron—the perfect boy—then I would know I'd never be able to love any boy.

>>>

Okay...let's see how this goes.

From the moon and back,
Sarai