In high school, and even into my early twenties, I could never imagine being attracted to anyone. Couldn't fathom being romantically attached to anyone either. It was hard enough for me to meet one person I could call a true friend. I feel dramatic saying this, but with my high school and college friends, socializing felt more akin to an obligation rather than something I chose to do willingly for my own happiness. Although people were surrounding me, I felt as though I was trapped alone in a small room, devoid of light.
Slowly, I separated from everyone. Convinced myself that if I wanted to feel alone, I might as well feel alone by myself. They say that when you stop looking for something, that is when you find it. Not sure if I believe that in all situations, but in this particular one, it rang true.
The grocery store... not the first place you'd expect to find a friend, or run into, in my case. Looking back, it feels almost too cliche, but maybe reversed. I was watching where I was going, glancing down at my list and then back up at the aisles. That is when I felt it, a force hitting me from behind. I lost my footing momentarily, but braced myself back up with the help of my buggy. I turned my head around quickly, more out of curiosity than of anger. Then, a voice.
"Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I-" As my dark brown eyes made contact with lighter green ones, the voice cut off abruptly. I looked up quizzically at the face that must have belonged to the body that bumped into me. Shocked eyes looked down on me, as I was trying to figure out if I was looking at a masculine feminine face or a feminine masculine face. Ultimately, I decided it didn't matter one way or the other.
"Yes, I'm fine, but you'll end up hurting yourself if you don't watch where you're going." I ended my sentence with a small businesslike smile and turned back around. I glanced back down at my list and then began nudging the buggy forward. Before I even entered my desired aisle, I heard footsteps behind me and that voice spoke out once more.
"Sorry if it seemed like I was staring into space there, but I knew I knew you from somewhere! It just took me a few more seconds than I would like, but you're Elizabeth from high school, right? I'm Walter Smith. I was a few years behind you, but we hung out a few times before you graduated." He ended it with a genuine smile I could only describe as warm.
I tried to think back to my high school days briefly before settling on the memory of a shorter boy with long brown hair in one of the same clubs as me who had gotten excited talking about anime with me once or twice before I graduated.
"Oh, yeah. I know you! We talked about Fruits Basket a couple of times, right? Sorry I didn't recognize you at first. It's been a few years since high school!" I let out a lighthearted chuckle. He scratched the back of his head and smiled even wider.
"Yeah, I know, it wasn't as long ago for me as it is for you, but even I had to second guess myself about if it was really you or not. Sorry again about, y'know, rudely bumping into you and not saying anything."
"Well, I'm sorry too for taking so long to recognize you." And suddenly, in a matter of seconds, I had gained a buddy.
At first, we talked about what we had been up to since high school, hobbies, new interests, old cringey interests of the past. we walked slowly down each aisle, grabbing whatever we needed and chattering all throughout the time. The conversations seemed so normal, so casual, but also genuinely comfortable. I found myself smiling quite a bit more that day than I had in perhaps a few years.
----
A true friend. I finally had that. We talked on the phone a few times a week and met up at least once every week. At first, I felt that perhaps I was putting too much on him. He was three years younger after all and had a smile characteristic of someone who had many good friends. I thought that perhaps I was bothering him a bit too often. Even in my own eyes, it was pretty pathetic for me to have only one friend at that age. Finally, I spoke to him about it. He just laughed, said I was thinking too much and pat me on the head.
After a few weeks, I was slowly becoming a part of his bigger friend group. We all met together once a week and I enjoyed myself. Even if a small part of myself wanted to keep him with me and only me. The part of me longed for those nights we hung out alone, talking only to each other about everything.
That was the first thing I recognized something odd about my feelings towards him. At the time, I thought it was just me wanting to monopolize my first good friend. I had never experienced as close as a friendship as I had with him after all. So, I dismissed it.
Then, I got a better job and had more free time and yet again, we found time to hang out together, just us two. I admitted to him that I liked being a part of the friend group, but that it was nice to be alone with him every once in a while. He agreed and just smiled back at me. And it made me feel...happy.
We got even closer after that. Despite me not typically being fine with touching people, I got comfortable reaching for his hand, hugging him when we parted, and, eventually, exchanging 'I love you.' Well, not 'I love you' exactly. More like texting each other or saying to each other "I love you, pal." or "Love ya, friend." And I knew then that I really did love him, but maybe I was still in denial about the type of love I felt towards him.
Whenever we were together, I felt an increasing urge to reach for his hand more often. Even lightly brushing my shoulder onto his in the movie theater on accident made me feel fuzzy. More and more, I became conscious of his touch and my own as well.
----
One day, as was typical of us, we took a walk at the park. I remembered memories of wanting to label the clouds in the sky as a child, like in the movies, but never actually doing it. So, I convinced him to lay down in the grass with me and try to come up with as many shapes as possible that each cloud could fit into. It really was an innocent thing. I reached for his hand yet again as we were gazing up at the sky and pointing out certain clouds and calling out what they could be. He grasped my hand as well. Then, he turned to look at me and I looked back. He smiled at me and I smiled back then calmly, warmly, he asked a question.
"You really like holding onto my hand don't you?"
I knew. I knew it was just a comment and that he didn't mean anything by it, but still. For some reason, those words hit me especially hard that day. My smiling face turned into a quizzical one as I tried to process everything. So many things were running through my head in that short moment until I went back to my original thought and tried to use the same excuse I had before about finally having a friend. And then, just as I had convinced myself once again that it was normal, he opened his mouth again.
"But that's okay, because it's nice to hold your hand too." And he smiled even wider, without a clue. And I felt myself smiling back at him... and then, I felt the strongest urge I had ever felt in my life. In my head, I pictured stroking his face with my hand, closing the gap, and kissing him hard.
For a moment, I felt my heart race. My face heated up. My mind became even more of a mess than it was before. It became so obvious then and I felt stupid. No one wants to make out with someone they are just friends with, even if it is a best friend. Somehow, I gathered myself back up and pretended to feel normal, even if the hand that was grasping him started to feel clammy or I started to feel nervous.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I just kept thinking about it. The feeling was something I had never felt and as such, was something I was completely not used to. I had read romance stories and erotic stories, even liked some, but the idea that I could feel something even close to the feelings displayed in those books had never occurred to me. And I was scared of it. Something that for my whole life before then felt so foreign to me, started to become a part of me. I recalled all the times I rejected people in my life without giving it a second thought, all those times people tried to push their attraction on me through the guise of friendship. I became disgusted in myself, thinking that finally, I was just as bad as the rest of them.
Months went by with just me one-sidely thinking about my situation. I would second guess the looks Walter gave me. Read too much into a single touch. Then think about how obsessive I was becoming. The cycle was painful and I didn't know what to do with all those new emotions. What was, for the longest time, a source of comfort for me, became a type of self-torture. And it only escalated from there.
Most of the day, in the morning, I wouldn't allow myself to even begin to think about it, but when I was alone in my bed at night, I would grasp at my body pillow and imagine things that I would only allow him to do. First, it was the idea of a kiss, a simple, chaste kiss. Then it was a deeper kiss. Then I allowed myself to imagine that perhaps, at night, he would think of me too. Maybe he would touch himself while thinking of me. I plunged into those thoughts deeper and deeper. What I would do to him, where I would touch him, his vulnerable expressions, the sounds he would make. Him begging me for release.
In those moments, I was so turned on, but had no idea what to make of it. With my limited knowledge, I could only just imagine an imagination of what I wanted and I still didn't understand it. Light erotic books and movies were my only source. I craved desperately for some way to release those feelings I was having.
It wasn't long before I looked some things up. Found some porn, read some graphic accounts. And then I knew what it took to release some of that tension. I tried multiple methods until I found a juvenile one that worked quite well for me. I would roll up my bedsheets, straddle them and position my clit right in the sweet spot where it would get attention. All I needed was my imagination.
I'd go through it again and again in my head. Kissing him, laying him down, putting him in me, watching as he squirmed under me. Then, I would cum, the image would dissipate and, instead of full-on relief, I felt massive guilt. What would he think if he knew I did that kind of thing while thinking about him? Would he be disgusted? It was a constant cycle, almost every night. ecstasy then massive guilt.
Just looking at his face when we would hang out together would bring on a tinge of guilt. Exactly what had I imagined that mouth doing the night before? Sometimes just holding his hand would turn me on. My imagination got away from me much too often. Then he would smile a warm, innocent smile at me, and I hated myself all over again. I became so afraid that he would notice that I started making up excuses and meeting him sporadically. Something was very, very wrong with me. I knew it, but I didn't want to stop being around him. I didn't want to never see him again.
The feelings, the urges, they just became too much for me. The guilt was killing me. And the idea that he didn't even think of me in that manner crushed me. I knew it wasn't his fault though. Anything I felt for him and about him and what I did with those feelings were just my own selfish actions. I didn't know where my love and lust for him ended or where my self-loathing began. I wanted, no, I needed it to end. It took me a few more weeks to get the resolve to end it.
I was cowardly like never before and only sent it through a text message.
Hey Walter, I know you've noticed me being strange around you lately and I just wanted to apologize. I really and sincerely want to be the best friend I can to you. That's why I'll be honest now. I've been having different feelings towards you for a while that I haven't been able to stop. Things that I shouldn't feel towards a friend and things that are unfair of me to feel towards you without you knowing. I think it will take me a while to get rid of them, so until then, I don't think it's good for me to see you. I'll need a bit of distance. Sorry to lay this all out on you out of nowhere, but I felt bad not letting you know. I love you. And I'm sorry.
I didn't get a reply, but my phone clearly said that it was delivered. I spent the next few days moping, even feeling down while I was at work. I took it as my sign to get my feelings in check, even if it was way harder than it seemed to do that.
And then, that Saturday, I got a knock on my apartment door. It was funny that I knew him so well that even the way he knocked on my door was enough to identify him. I walked up and opened it slowly.
I was greeted with the image of him, breathless, his brown hair disheveled and sticking out in all different places. Despite myself, images of him in my fantasies came to surface and I felt immediate guilt that only intermingled with the feeling of me slowly getting turned on. Logically, I knew this was the exact wrong time, but my body always had the habit of betraying me.
"Elizabeth," he breathed out, looking at me straight in the eyes. And somehow, I didn't look away or start crying. I, like many times before, met his lighter green eyes with my darker ones. I didn't know what would happen and I was scared to death, but I managed to remain stoic. Then, he hugged me. And the warm feeling that shouldn't be there was back. Three days was far too little to begin to get out of the habit of loving him romantically, it seemed. I wanted to imagine at that time that I could just push him away and stop it, but I knew I couldn't. I had to hug him back. Then, his mouth was right next to my ear. He whispered something.
"I love you." In a breathless whisper that just felt so different than it had before. This just couldn't be what I wanted it to be. There was still something wrong with my logic somewhere and that's honestly how I felt at the time. I felt a shiver at even being whispered those words, but it was wrong. I was wrong. That couldn't be what he meant. I teared up and started whimpering ever so slightly.
"W-what do you mean when you say that?" My voice trembled. He pulled away slightly and just smiled down at me.
"Well, I love you romantically, of course," he said it so easily that I just couldn't believe it. My face went blank.