Chapter 1

Note: the following is a second draft, the story is set in 2015, when the first draft was written

《You can close your eyes to the things you don't want to see, but you can't close your eyes to the things you don't want to feel.》

- Johnny Depp

Summer 2000

"Boo? Hey, Boo ... I can't sleep." I whined, poking his cheek with my index finger. He rolled over, grumbling, but didn't reply. My eyes filled with tears as I hugged my teddy bear. The room was so dark, I thought anything could come out of the closet and get me, and I'd have sworn I saw a hand emerge from under the bed, trying to get me. "Boo ..." I cried lowly, my voice broken.

Chris finally opened his eyes. "What is it?" He asked, rubbing his eyes.

"I can't sleep." My bottom lip quivered at my attempts to hold back tears.

"Why?" His voice was drowsy.

"If I do, they'll come."

"Who?"

"The dead people." I told him in a tone that was meant to be irritated, but I would never be mad at Chris. We'd just watched The Sixth Sense, I was convinced that if I closed my eyes, I would be woken up by some girl that'd been murdered by her stepmother, or some woman victim of a fire. I was terrified something would grab me in my sleep.

"Don't be silly, dead people don't visit children." Chris said.

"But the kid in The Sixth Sense ..."

"That was just a movie."

Somehow, that didn't sound reassuring at all to my 9-year-old mind. So, I kept crying quietly, wanting him to hug me, but not wanting to annoy him.

Chris sighed, and indeed hugged me for a few seconds. Together, we lay down again. "Nothing can get you if you stay with me." He promised solemnly.

I giggled, wiping my tears with my sleeve as I hid my face against his chest. "Promise?"

"Promise. I will always protect you."

"Together forever?" I wondered, hopeful.

"Against all odds."

☆☆☆

February 2015

Fast forward to 15 years later, and what do you know, he actually kept that promise. That night we were only 10, we'd met 5 years before. You'd think, friendship between man and woman is impossible, and it definitely can't get past the age of 13-14. Well, ours did.

I smiled as I ruffled his hair gently. We've been friends for 20 years now. Whenever I say that, people always look at me disbelieving, because a friendship that lasts that long is already a one in a million, but a man-woman friendship that survives puberty? According to them, impossible. And yet, Chris and I were proof that yes, it's possible.

At some heavy cost, though. The cost of my heart, to be precise. Yeah, I know, I'm in love with my best friend, so cliché. What can I say? I'm predictable. And Chris knows it. As much as he knew that, when he knocked on my door, distraught, I would pull him in, hug him tight, prepare for him a delicious dinner, and cuddle him through the night.

It's our heartbreak remedy, really, or just a way to relieve sadness. It's what we do for each other when we need cheering up. Well, except the cooking – Chris couldn't cook to save his life, so in exchange, he gives me a massage or washes my hair – there's something soothing about the way he touches it.

Right now, I was sitting against my headboard, his head on my lap while he was sprawled on my bed, deeply asleep. He didn't say what upset him, but it must be something big. I can only assume it's about a girl. I sighed, brushing his hair, which had him hum in his sleep. The thing is, Chris is handsome, hot and sexy, and of course, women fawn over him, but ... unlike so many other guys, especially the good-looking ones, he's not a player. He gets attached, and when they hurt him or betray him, he feels lost.

He tried to be one of those one-night-stand types, but never succeeded, because he ended up calling the girl after the deed, feeling guilty. I guess you could say that Christopher Knight is one of the last gentlemen standing. He will give you his whole heart if he thinks you worthy, but the rest is up to you: if you spoil your chance, he won't give you a second one.

Alas, many girls don't understand that. They think he's your typical player, good for a night or two, and he inevitably gets disappointed. Not that he's always innocent, but most of the time he gets hurt, I comfort him, he mops for a few days or weeks, then he gets back on the saddle. However, when he knocks on my door distraught and exhausted, even if he doesn't tell me, I can only guess the cause is one and one only: Karen Miller, his latest ex-girlfriend, my ex-roommate.

I'm the type of person that tries to always see the good in people, but Karen? She was never good for him. Probably the worst girlfriend he's ever had, yet the one that, paradoxically, lasted the longest. They broke up a few months ago, yet she still bugs him now and then. The odd part is that the reason she gave for breaking up with him was, well, me.

According to Karen, Chris is too attached to me, it keeps him from fully committing to a girlfriend. It's true that other partners have said the same, and my ex was no different, but Karen knows full well that's not the reason why she left Chris. She had someone else, plain and simple.

I caressed his cheek, half smiling. He's really cute when he sleeps. The woodsman beard he's been sporting lately is so sexy, though. In the end, that's Chris: a mesmerizing, captivating mix of cute, lovely guy, and hot badass man ready to play knight in shining armor. It's really difficult to keep control when your best friend, whom you happen to be so desperately in love with, is that much of an ongoing temptation. Especially considering how much we sleep together.

No, not in that sense. We sleep-sleep together. As in, same bed but clothes on, often spooning. Many people have told me it's weird, my ex thought it appalling and definitely a deal-breaker for our relationship, and I'm aware that no, at the age of 25, a man and a woman that are not in a relationship with each other nor have any intention of getting dirty shouldn't sleep together as much as we do. But we've always done it and none of us wants to stop.

Well, okay, I definitely would not want to stop. It's my only chance to actually be in his arms and pretend there's more to us than just a friendship – which there is, but again, not in that sense. How can I give up on the only joy I am allowed in this tormented one-sided love I've been living? Would you renounce to getting cuddled and spooned every night by the love of your life? I doubt it.

I stretched my back slightly, because it hurt – guess what, spending the night half sleeping against the headboard makes you sore, and not in a pleasant way. When I felt Chris moving, however, I inevitably smiled, raking a hand through his sandy-blonde hair. "Hey, Boo, you awake?" When in response he grumbled sleepy nonsense, I knew he was only keeping his eyes closed, but he could hear me. "How about you let me move, so I can fix us breakfast?"

"It's Saturday." He grumbled in his sexy, groggy voice.

I giggled, pinching his cheek. "Yes, but we should eat breakfast before it becomes lunch."

"We can have brunch." He bargained.

I rolled my eyes, albeit smiling. "Come on ... I'll make you pancakes. You love pancakes."

As a response, Chris wrapped his arms around my legs, gripping them. "This pillow is too cozy to move."

"This pillow can also cook for you, if you let her."

"Nah, pillow better." He claimed in his childish voice. He knows it kind of annoys me, but at the same time it's cute. It's also why I can never get mad at him – whenever I am annoyed, he hugs me and uses that silly child voice that inevitably makes me forget everything.

I know how to make him move, though. I reached his sides, and started tickling him. Predictably, he started tossing and turning. Just as predictably, when he realized that complaining didn't work, Chris flipped us, throwing me onto the bed only to pin me down, his hands gripping my wrists, keeping them at the sides of my head, his right leg in between my thighs. Okay, okay, maybe this reaction is also highly predictable and I try to cause it every now and then.

I smiled innocently when his green eyes fixed on my browns, even though my heart was racing like a fool. He was so close, only a few inches more and he could have easily bent down to claim those lips that have always been and always will be his. If only he knew.

The fact that I did see his green eyes darkening the slightest and twinkling didn't help. I had to mentally slap my romantic self to make her understand that no, it meant nothing, Chris wasn't seriously considering kissing me. He just doesn't look at me that way. And yet ... he didn't move. He looked so serious and focused on me that I had to avert my gaze – his was scorching.

"Are you gonna let me move?" I wondered, turning my head to the side.

"Should I?" Chris teased. "Not only you woke me up, but you even tortured me."

"Torture?" I laughed. "Since when tickling is torture?"

"You know I'm ticklish." He grumbled, yet unmoving.

Laughing, I shook my head. "It was the only way, you wouldn't wake up."

"And look where that got you." He smirked.

It got me in a very promising and nice position, to be honest. But I wasn't gonna tell him that. "So ... no breakfast?" I giggled, placing a hand over his hard chest – God, those abs. I feel them so clearly every time we sleep together, and let me tell you, it makes it so difficult to actually sleep. But at the same time, his cuddles are the best sleeping pill ever.

Chris stared at me, his face molded into a very serious expression, and I swallowed, starting to feel anxious, especially when he bent down a little. Was he really going to ...? No. Chris grinned impishly, and placed a wet kiss on my cheek. "You're too lucky I love you, so I can't punish you."

Ah, Boo, if only you knew how much those words pain me every time. Because I know he doesn't mean it the way that I do. I bit my tongue not to reply. I think I stopped using those 3 words ever since I realized I meant them in a non-platonic way. "Let me go then." I murmured, trying to calm down my heart.

"I still need to make you pay for what you did." Chris smirked mischievously.

I rolled my eyes. "It's a small crime. At worst, maybe I should make you breakfast, which ... I could if only you let me get up."

He grinned, lowering his head enough for his forehead to brush mine, which inevitably caused my heart to do somersaults. In my head, I kept seeing the moment when he would just put me out of my misery, kissing me as ardently and feverishly as I've often dreamed of. Sadly, Chris only kissed my cheek, then pulled back, and stood up, laughing. "I need a shower." He said, stretching a bit.

"You've got something called bathroom in your apartment, right across from my door." I said, not wanting to be tempted by the idea of him all naked under my shower.

He walked to my wardrobe, instead, and opened it, and a few minutes later, much to my surprise, he took out jeans, t-shirt and even underwear. He grinned mischievously when he turned to me, winking. "Emergency outfit." He explained.

"Are you trying to move in without me noticing?" I furrowed my brows, sitting up.

Chris shrugged. "What if I am?"

"Chris, come on ..." I sighed, "we talked about this."

"I just don't get it." He said. "We basically live together anyway, why not just save some money?"

"You sound like my mother." I sighed again, standing up. I wish I could say I was wearing some skimpy night outfit that would make him gulp twice, but ... no, just red plaid pajama bottoms and an old oversize t-shirt. My face was likely puffy and my hair was likely a huge mess. The only good thing was that my breath was perfect, sine I always keep mints within reach. Huffing, I headed out of my room, to go make breakfast.

It's been the same ever since we moved here for college. After the dorms I lived together with a couple of other girls, thinking maybe my mother would relax about the whole "it's not safe to be alone" thing, but no ... living with girls is still not as safe as living with a guy. Well, guess what, mom, living with Karen was far from safe. Nastier woman never drew breath, I don't know what Chris ever found in her.

Knowing he would take his sweet time under the shower, and needing to distract myself from the sinful thought of just joining him there, I focused on making blueberry pancakes for him, and whole grain avocado toast for me, plus an apple smoothie. Yeah, I'm on a diet, again. I don't even know why, it never works. Mostly because I can never stick to it long enough. I even tried going to the gym, but working out with people around seeing me feels awkward.

"Seriously," Chris said as he entered the kitchen when I was almost done, "we would save rent money, and we could split every expense. All in all cheaper."

"Since when you're out of the shower in 10 minutes?" I joked, wanting to change the subject. "Last I checked, you needed at least 1 hour."

He shrugged, sitting at the table. "I'm hungry."

"Right. Well, here are your blueberry pancakes." I placed the plate before him, and then went to the counter to eat my breakfast. I didn't sit with him because I knew that if he saw what I was eating, he would restart with his rants about how I'm fine, I shouldn't put myself through this bullshit, and whatever.

"Where are you going?" Chris asked, his mouth still full after he'd taken a large bite off a pancake.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to speak when your mouth is full?" Again, me diverting the subject as I tried to secretly grab a bite off my toast.

"Vivy?"

Ugh. I turned around, guilty, because I heard him move the chair to stand up. "Yes, yes, I know, I shouldn't care about diets, my weight is fine, and blah, blah, blah." I rolled my eyes, turning around.

"You are." Chris stated firmly.

I nearly choked on the toast when, upon turning around, I found him so close. You'd think that, because we sleep together and are always so cuddly with each other, I would be used to him invading my personal space. But no, I will never get used to the man I love suddenly coming close enough to grab me and kiss the hell out of me. Ah, if only he would!

"Vivy, how many times do I need to tell you?" Chris sighed, caressing my cheek. "You're perfect just the way you are." Try not to faint when the man of your dreams tells you something like that, standing so close, his green eyes sparkling. "Don't let anyone ever convince you otherwise."

I rolled my eyes, pulling away to avoid my hormones taking over my lovesick self. "We both know that's not true. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been single most of my life."

"That has nothing to do with your weight." Chris argued, seemingly offended. For some reason, he takes my self-esteem issues as a personal insult to him. "Also, you're 25, most of your life is quite small for an interval."

"Said he who's dated 17 women in a span of 10 years."

He chuckled. "And because I'm so bad at relationships, that's reason to think you need to starve to get a man?"

I heaved a deep sigh, leaving my toast. He'll never understand. If it was Laura, she would. There's one thing you learn when your best friend is a guy: you need a female one to counter his absence of feminine knowledge. Yeah, I know, sounds a bit sexist, but the truth is, even though he's had a girl best friend for 20 years and he's dated a lot, Chris, like many guys, still doesn't really understand women. If he did, he'd have realized what I feel for him a long time ago.