Bestie

It’s genuine.

It’s pure.

Roman was meant to be in my life, and I was meant to be in his—of that I’m sure.

“How are you?” I say, looking up.

“I’m good,” he smiles. “Coffee?”

He’s lying.

I can see it in his face.

Those brown eyes will always tell the tales he thinks he keeps hidden.

“Of course,” I say.

I walk into the kitchen and try to make the conversation as easy as possible.

“How was work?”

“It was okay,” he says, sitting down on the kitchen stool and watching me.

“You okay?”

He nods.

He’s not.

Dammit.

This is going to happen. I can feel it, right down to my core. It’s that feeling that washes over you, grabbing your heart with both hands, squeezing it tight, making you feel so sick you wonder if you’ll even be able to stand. It’s the feeling you get when you know something is about to tear you in two.

“You’re not,” I say softly, and my heart is already pounding. “It’s because she’s away with that other guy, isn’t it?”

He flinches. Dammit. Damn her.

“It’s a bit fucked.”

My heart does go out to him. To me, all this is so clear, but when you’re in love, when you’re giving your heart to someone, sometimes you just can’t see all the awful things they’re doing. Roman is hanging onto threads of a relationship he cherished, but she severed the cord months ago. Now she’s playing him.

I hope Karma eats her alive.

“I’m sorry, Roman,” I say, and I mean it.

I am sorry for him.

I hate her for what she’s doing, but mostly I hate that he’s in so much pain and can’t find any relief from it. There is no worse feeling in the world than wanting something to just stop, getting a little hope that it’s going to, and then having it come crashing back down just when you think you’re moving forward.

“I think right now we should definitely stop sleeping together,” I say, and I know in that moment, it’s the right thing.

He’s not ready. I knew he wasn’t ready. I know, for a while, when she backed off and he started to feel good again, that he thought he was ready and everything he said was real. I believe that because Roman is a good guy, but I knew he wasn’t at the right stage. I was the one in this situation without intense emotion, I should have pulled back and given him time.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I think so.”

I flinch.

I didn’t think those words would hurt as much as they do.

He looks up at me, and God, I just want to hang onto him and tell him it’ll be okay. But I can’t. He has to learn this one. And I think he’s going to have to learn it the hard way. I hate that for him. He doesn’t deserve it. Nobody does, but Roman is the best kind, and he shouldn’t have to feel this kind of pain. I wish I could make it go away for him.

“I still love her,” he says, his voice thick. “I was over it but ...”

“You weren’t over it-” I interrupt.

He jerks back, looking a little pissed. “I was over it.”

“Roman, you weren’t over it. You thought you were over it. You believed you were over it. But if you were over it, you wouldn’t just fall back in love with her.”

My hands start shaking. Dammit. Don’t cry, Molly. Do not cry. His words repeat over and over in my head. I still love her. I still love her. I still love her.

I knew that.

So why the hell does it hurt so much?

His eyes roam over my face and I know he’s hurting about doing this to me. I know he is, but that isn’t enough to stop him from doing it. “I meant it when I said I have feelings for you, I do, but ... I can’t help how I feel about this.”

My legs shake now. They feel like they’re going to turn to jelly and cause me to collapse onto the ground.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he says, and I know he means it.

I know he does.

This one is on me. I knew. I knew, and I let it continue instead of just being his friend and giving him space. Once again I let my stupid heart take over and in doing that, I stopped thinking rationally and with a clear head.

“We were having fun,” he says. “We were getting closer. I wanted that. It’s just too soon.”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Look at me, Molly.”

I can’t look at him.

If I look at him, I’ll break.

I’ll break, and that is going to do nothing. All that will do is make it worse. This isn’t his fault—he’s always been honest with me, he never promised anything more than he could give. I accepted it for what it was, knowing he wasn’t ready. Dammit. Why didn’t I just keep it as friends for a little longer, until he went through all this?

Then this might not be happening.

And fuck, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

“She’s away with another man,” I whisper. “She treated you like dirt. She was the worst human being I’ve ever known. How can you still love her? How can you even consider taking her back?”

He shifts. “I know all this.”

But he’s going to fight again anyway. He’s going to, because that’s the kind of incredible human being he is.

It’s also going to be what destroys him.

“But it doesn’t matter,” I say to my hands.

“Please look at me.”

I can’t.

I won’t.

“Molly ...”

I don’t move.

“I should go,” he says, his voice hurt. He stands, and I can feel his eyes burning into me. “I don’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry if I did.”

I nod, keeping my eyes turned down to the ground.

“Can I have a hug? Please?”

No.

Because if I hug him, if I take a step towards him and put my arms around him, I’ll break. If I break, I’m not entirely sure I’ll have the strength to pick myself back up again. He has helped me so much, he has been my rock, my best fucking friend, my everything. Now, I might just lose him. I might lose the best person I’ve ever met, and I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to cope with that.

So, I keep my hands by my sides.

I keep my face turned down.