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I sat on the right side of Michael, my hand intertwined in his and my head resting on his shoulder. We were cuddled up on the sofa, beneath a soft white blanket. The room was dark as the lights from the T.V. danced off of our faces. My free hand absentmindely played with the hem of my t-shirt. It was hot in my house, but for some undgodly reason he was cold, so I wore nothing else but a thong.
On Michael’s left side sat my other best friend, Amy. Her hand was also holding Michael’s, trying to soothe his broken heart. She had and arm around Michael’s waist and her head leaning up against his upper arm. She wore a pair of white cotton underwear and a tight purple v-neck that made her pale skin look even lighter.
Ever since we were young we had been taking care of our best friend. He had never been confident with himself, always second guessing his actions and shying away from any girl that wasn’t me or Amy. Once he began dating Lauren we didn’t get to spend much time with him, as he was always with her, but we were happy for him. We’d even encouraged the two together, which made us feel even more like shit because it was our faults that Michael was so upset.
I felt my phone vibrating against my thigh, and Amy’s eyes connected with mine, silently telling me that it was a message from her.
We have to do something.
I turned away from the brightly lit screen to look back at her, and she still hadn’t looked away from me. I chewed on my bottom lip, a thousand things running through my mind but I still hadn’t the slightest clue of how to cheer Michael up. He and Lauren had been broken up for almost a week now and he was still as miserable as he was on the first day.
Amy discreetly typed me out another message, and within 5 seconds I felt my phone vibrating again. My eyes flickered to Michael, who didn’t even seem to notice the small exchange between us, before they flashed down to Amy’s message.
Think of something.
I felt Michael’s hand twitch in mine and I gave it a tight squeeze. He ran the underside of my hand up and down his thigh, scratching my knuckles across the hem of his tight red briefs. The small action of him using my hand to scratch his leg sent a memory into my mind, one that happened about 4 years ago.
I tried to keep the epiphany from my face as I used one hand to send a message to Amy. She was watching me curiously, clearly recognizing my excitement as she slid her phone unlocked. Her eyes widened in understatement, because she knew exactly what I meant just by a few simple words.
Michael’s dream. I don’t mind as long as you don’t.
I saw her thumb race across her phone screen, eagerly sending me a reply. Michael’s eyes drifted over to Amy’s phone, and he frowned slightly. I knew that he couldn’t see what she was writing, but he looked upset that she was using her phone during our friendship time. He returned his attention back to the T.V. a sad expression still present and I wanted Amy to give me the green light before I initiated the plan.
