beauty & her beast

1 - my life is changed

"I swear to God I don't have enough time for everything!"

"I'm pretty sure everyone has twenty-four hours, Bailey." I look up from my computer and glare at the boy sitting across from me. After being best friends for fourteen years, I recognize his facial expressions better than his own family. His lips are tugging up into a familiar smirk, and I roll my eyes before returning to my computer.

"I'm serious. Think about it. I've got my book, my little brother, and a blog to run." I yawn, feeling exhausted at the thought of it all. "Plus I have to deal with you," I add to annoy him.

Hayden throws his hands up in faux frustration. "And here I thought we were friends."

I shrug and lazily toss a pencil at him. "Whatever. I need to get some actual work done."

He chucks it back and pushes himself off my bed in a fluid, graceful motion, heading downstairs to undoubtedly raid my fridge. Shaking my head, I turn back to my blog post.

Dear Bailey,
I'm in love with my best friend... and everyone thinks he likes me too. What do I do?
Jess from Minnesota

I begin typing out a response. Jess, I say go for it. If you're really best friends and he doesn't like you back, you guys can

I stop and consider for a moment, and then shut the laptop lid abruptly. Writing on a dating advice blog always makes me feel the slightest bit hypocritical and guilty, and this question feels off somehow. There are some questions I can't answer simply due to lack of experience and insight, but this one feels different. It's mildly ridiculous that at twenty-three, I've still never found a guy I wanted to date for more than a couple months. Reminding me of this sad reality, and the irony of my love blog, is one of Hayden's favorite pastimes.

As if I've somehow summoned him upstairs, Hayden races back into my room and plops onto the bed, making the mattress bounce. Speak of the devil...

I glance at him and stop short, feeling a slight dread. He has a mischievous glint in his eye that doesn't bode well - something is up his sleeve. He notices my curious stare and raises his eyebrows, just waiting for me to ask what possibly could have happened in the five minutes he was downstairs. He knows I'll break before him, and I do.

"What did you do?"

"I'm hurt you think I did something. It's just that while I was downstairs, your brother came up to me, and we had quite an interesting conversation..."

"Oh no. What did he tell you?" I groan, covering my face with his hands.

"Wellll," he stretches out, smiling at me in a way that's almost indecent, "he told me about something you did while you were sleeping last night... or were you awake? You see, we didn't get to talk about the specifics," he continues, eyes sparkling. "You yelled my name?" He finishes in a low, husky voice, his tone questioning yet mocking. His eyebrows raise suggestively and his grin widens.

"It's not like that," I mutter, too aware of the blush rising in my cheeks. I fling a pillow his direction and know by the oof that it hit its target. I'm fully aware of how my brother would have tried to make it sound - make me sound. I look down, trying not to be pulled back into the dream. A deafening crack, and then blood that wasn't my own and screams that might have been.

"If you wanted me to stay the night, you could've just asked. You didn't have to scream my name all on your own." He stretches out the last four words in the sentence so there's absolutely no doubt what he's hinting at, and I seriously consider throwing my computer at him. This flirty back-and-forth has been happening for as long as I've known him, but lately, it feels different. The kind of different that can make me blush instead of slap him, like I used to. I know he feels a change too, and he's only amped up the flirting.

"Shut up. It's not like that." Thinking about the dream makes my mouth go dry. My hands start shaking and my eyes fill up despite my best efforts to stop them. In a flash, he's by my side. He takes my hand in his, squeezing, the glint turned to guilt.

"Hey, I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything. I wasn't serious..."

"I know you weren't serious." I force the words out, swallowing the lump in my throat. It's almost painful. "I've just been having these dreams of being back. On the sidewalk. And I wake up and it's dark and I couldn't help myself from-" I have to stop myself from saying needing you - "I don't know what."

But I do know. Hayden makes me feel safe. When I feel his arms wrap around me, it feels like my insides have knitted themselves back together. Like I can be myself for a second, no ghosts or shadows. Waking up from the worst nightmare imaginable, of course I want him there. I don't have to say this for Hayden to understand it. He always, always knows what I mean anyways.

All of this happens in a split second, and I feel him pull me closer. I rest my forehead on his chest and let out a shaky breath, immediately feeling better. Hayden feels like the last puzzle piece being put in place. He feels like the beginning and the end of my world in one breath. He can chase away my monsters better than anyone I've ever met. He feels like home and he feels like unexplored territory in a way that's both familiar and terrifying.

I think all this wistfully, inhaling in his familiar scent - something that reminds me of salted caramel and the slightest hint of pine.

That's when it hits me.

The reason everything's been feeling different. The reason Jess from Minnesota hit me so hard.

I'm in love with him is my first thought, closely followed by Oh God, how much more cliche could this get?

I pull away sharply, disentangling myself from his arms, and he stares at me, confused.

"What-" he starts before I move backwards. One slow step quickly turns into stumbling, tripping over my own feet as if to distance myself from this realization. As if to distance myself from him. I squeeze my eyes shut, breath coming faster and faster until I think I might hyperventilate. I turn and run out of the room, hating myself more before every step I take.