Everything in Between

Chapter 5: An Excerpt from the Cheesball Diaries

Priestly and I have always been close. We're talking "first grade" close. He was like a male secretary, who secretly judges me for what I say but never actually says it. In a way, we've been through a lot, we've fought a lot, because let's face it, what brotherhood won't be complete without a fight for girls?

In fact, girls have been such an important key part in our friendship adventures, it's like we were Sherlock and Watson, except crushes would always be the mysteries we have to solve. We've gone on treasure hunts, ruined parties, and wild goose chases. And he pretty much knows everything there is to know about the life of this handsome gentleman.

Needless to say, we're like brothers from another mother. So it's no surprise that he wasn't shocked at all when I said I was falling for Angie. In fact, a part of me was wondering whether or not that devil expected it to happen sooner or later.

"Angie, huh?" He asks over a car ride from school, on a rainy autumn afternoon.

"Yeah man. Not again, dude."

He laughs and nonchalantly, says, "Come on, it can't be that bad."

Oh, good lord, it was that bad.

If love was a bird soaring above the sky, I would be the fish it'd just effortlessly sweep up in an elegant gesture. If Cupid shot arrows, they'd all land square on my chest. If life was a canvas, she'd be the colors that complete the picture. If she was a song, I'd put her on repeat until the player breaks. I'd analyze all the lyrics and let the melody take me away. She was like...a star, that's constantly shining, as if she's shining brighter than most galaxies.

Did I say that out loud?

"Yeah, you did."

Damn.

"What are the things you like about her, anyway?" He asks absentmindedly. Staring out the window, watching the trees pass by in a blur, something tells me he couldn't really care less.

Well, I wouldn't either if it was the tenth time I was hearing about someone's girl.

Okay, I'm not that obsessed. It was more like the fifth.

However, being the vocal speaker that I am, it wouldn't hurt to say it one more time.

"Her smile, man. It's like God's drop of pure sunlight whenever she does," I say, about to go off on the cheesiest ranting spree since the invention of cheese. "I'd give a lot of things, if I can make her smile like that again, if I can make those brown eyes shine as if they were the lighthouses that guide my way. Simply put, she is "all the colors in one-"

" 'at full brightness," he finished, not a sound of doubt as he finished the quote. "Yeah, you said that before. Many, many times."

Okay, I may have reached the level of comparing her to book quotes (shoutout to all ATBP fans).

"But she really is," I say. "The colors-"

"In your canvas of life."

I may have said it more than five times. But it was true. I'd find myself relating her more to stars, nebulas, supernovas; things that are so bright and full of life. Because that's what I feel every time I see her: bright. As if I could write a thousand sonnets on her smile alone. As if she was the stardust that made up everything for who I was.