My throat went dry and my knees wobbled as she hugged me close. The distinct smell of her, that delicious perfume she always wore, wafted into my nostrils like an addictive inhalant. I wished that I wasn’t so entirely and foolishly in love with her. But it wasn’t as if I chose to be in love with Ashley. If I had a choice, I would’ve never fallen for her, would’ve never fallen for a straight girl. The heart wrenching pain inside my chest was unbearable; I tried hard not to tear up, lest she notice my sudden emotionality towards her. Ashley leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. My skin tingled and burned from where she had kissed me, and I engaged in the guilty pleasure of kissing her back on the cheek. I knew I shouldn’t have, I knew that by feeding my addiction to her I was only making things worse, I was only hurting myself in the end when she found out that I had feelings for her. Feelings that people like her would deem inappropriate. Feelings that shouldn’t exist in their world, feelings that couldn’t exist. But I couldn’t deny it. I was in love with Ashley Davies. “Aw, you’re so sweet Spencer.” She cooed, excited over the stuffed bear and the long sleeve shirt I had given her for her birthday. I always called Ashley my bear, because she was so strong and cuddly. Not a day went by when the thought of her didn’t cross my mind every single second of my life. Our eyes met and the undeniable feelings for her inside of me bubbled up and tried to surface. I wanted to kiss her on the lips, I wanted to hold her, I wanted to make love to her and ask her to be mine, to love me and be loved by me. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to form in my eyes and looked away. I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell her how I felt. I knew it would destroy everything; it would destroy our friendship forever. Being friends with her and suffering the torment of not being able to be with her was still better than not having any contact with her at all.