Out of Reach

“You should ask her out.” She says, and I look up in shock to see her watching Natalie walking away. “She likes you, and I think you’d have fun.” Natalie? Me? I shake my head with an awkward chuckle as she turns to me. Sure Natalie is cute, and smart, but I’m not interested in getting shot down for a date today. Not even if my best friend thinks I have a shot.

“She does not like me at all.” I say and she smiles fondly at me. Her fiancé is a lucky man if she smiles at him that way every day. Any fiancé is a lucky man, really, to have someone to come home to every day. It would be nice to have someone to go home to, I think, and then I clear my throat to clear my mind and try to turn back to my station.

“Yeah, I forget how oblivious you are sometimes.” She says, not unkindly, and I turn back to her with a huff.

“I’m not.” I say, indignantly, but she only smiles wider.

“You didn’t know I had a crush on you for years.” She says with a smirk. “I’d ask you out to dinner constantly and even bought you chocolate on Valentine’s day one year.”

What?

WHAT?

“What?” I say, and it comes out a whisper despite the screaming in my head. I swallow as I feel my face flush and I tap my hands on my pants. Sure I remember, now that I think about it, that she would always ask the group for dinner, but she’d also ask when it was just us. She’d ask on weekends we weren’t working together. The year she brought in chocolate I assumed it was for everyone. I feel incredibly stupid. All this time she’d been sending signs that she liked me. I thought that’s just what best friends do.

“Ah…” I say, searching for any words in this fog I’m finding myself in. “Yeah…” It’s like I can’t breathe anymore under the pressure of her smugness. “I guess I was pretty oblivious.” I conclude. There is nothing I can say in defense to that. I hadn’t noticed. I hadn’t thought. I hadn’t dreamed.

“You were! I’m pretty sure I’ve made lifelong friends out of the people who would roast me for it.” She laughs, and her cheeks are pink as she rubs her forehead. “Your parents knew the minute they met me.”

Ah. So my mother wasn’t crazy when she randomly started talking about what a nice young lady my project partner was and telling me to say hi for her. I feel like my whole view shifts into a Dutch tilt as I relive some of our memories together. She liked me. There was a chance I could have asked her out and taken her on dates. The hugs that were too short and the friendly flirting were only cut short because I cut them short. The whole years I spent craving an intimacy that could’ve been mine if I had just taken it seem so regretful now. She’s one of my best friends and I love her, but now all my mind can circle around is the thought of more. My heart beats a steady song of longing as I watch her.

“You tortured me.” She says after a minute, still looking down. She looks up at me and grabs her heart in an exaggerated move. I laugh softly at her antics, but there’s not enough breath to make it loud. “Remember David?” The man who persistently asked her out and followed her around campus. The one we all joked about encouraging before we realized just how dangerous the whole situation was. “Nothing like your crush threatening to tell your stalker that his ‘flirtation’ was working.” She shudders, which might not be a joke.  

Fuck, I’m such an ass.

“Okay,” I say, “you win. I really must have been oblivious.” I hold my hands up in surrender, praying she’ll switch topics so I can save the rest of my panic for some time that I am alone and can maybe scream into a pillow.

“So, you should ask Natalie to dinner. I can recognize, uh, liking you.” She looks away at that. I wonder if it’s embarrassing to her that she liked me, or maybe it’s just embarrassing to talk about. I’m mortified, and I haven’t even confessed yet. Well, no. I’m not planning to confess. There is no confessing.

“Ah,” I say, noncommittal. There is nothing about Natalie that could possibly interest me now.

“I can help you if you’re nervous about it,” she offers, and there is no sign of conflict in her face. “We can talk about how you could ask her or where you could go. I know it can be nerve racking.”

“It won’t be awkward, for you?” I say, and I’m glad I don’t stumble.

“No. That was a long time ago.” She assures me. “And it’s not like you would have dated me had you known.” She trails off and I catch a glimpse of her engagement ring as she moves over to adjust something on the table. “So we’re good. Who knows, we might not have been friends anymore had I actually confessed to something.”

I would have married her. My thoughts ambush me. I would have dated her and wooed her and asked her in an embarrassingly short time to marry me. We’d already be married. No jokes about being her work husband, I’d be her husband.

She’d be wearing my ring. If only I wasn’t so fucking oblivious.

“Hun?” she says as I take in a strangled breath.

What if she feels the same? Could she still feel the same? Feelings like that just don’t go away, do they? A million questions I never ask demand answers as she looks at me with concern. She could still like me. If she spent years trying I could spend an afternoon thinking about it. Maybe string the right words together to tell her how she’s always been the most important person in my life.

But then I could ruin her marriage.

“Who knows.” I croak. She smiles at me like I’ve made a joke. She frowns as I don’t return her smile.

“You okay?”

No. How can I ever be okay again?

“Hey, I’m sorry.” She says, reaching out for me but pausing before she touches me. Would her touch ever feel the same after knowing how much more if could have been? “I shouldn’t have told you. I thought we were good enough friends that it wouldn’t make it awkward that I had a crush on you. Or rather friends for long enough…”

I’m reminded of that stupid meme. I can’t even think of anything to say, and I can tell I’m making it worse.

“I’ve clearly crossed a line,” she says apologetically. Sadly. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.” She stands and awkwardly looks away before back at me. I clench my fists so hard I feel the nails bite into my skin but it’s all I can do to prevent them from grabbing at her and trying to kiss her. Now that I know I could have, it’s all I want to do.

I thought I knew everything there was to know about her as a best friend, but there is so much I could have known had we been lovers. She purses her lips in worry. What does she taste like? Does she kiss like she’s got all the time in the world or as if there aren’t enough seconds in the day? How would she kiss me?

“I’m going to go take a walk,” she offers, like she’s going to help by giving me space when all I want to do is crush her to me and never let go. “You should ask Natalie out though,” she finishes lamely before stepping back and out of reach.

That’s what she is now; out of reach.