The Only

Chapter 6

You might think that Lisa is luckier than most. And in a way she is.

Sharing a dorm room with someone who isn't a horrible person? Check. Her roommate also happens to be her best friend, soulmate, and favorite person in the whole wide world? Check. Her best friend, soulmate, and favorite person in the whole wide world also being a really good cook and doesn't mind cooking for her and feeding her nearly every day, whether it be a weekday or a weekend? The cherry on top of the three-tiered triple chocolate cake, check.

It's perfect.

It would have been perfect.

The ugly boot kicking in the three-tiered triple chocolate cake, making a dirty ugly hole in it, is that she fell in love with her.

Her falling in love with her best friend has utterly, completely ruined the cake. Stomped on it. Shat on it. Lit it on fire. Threw it in the dumpster. Then set the whole dumpster on fire.

And her feelings for Rosie have been growing exponentially faster and faster every moment they spend together. Every little thing Rosie does or says, Lisa finds endearing. She is obsessed with Rosie's sleeping face, absolutely enamored with her little facial expressions, helplessly enchanted by the way Rosie moves - whether it be walking, or dancing, or painting. And Rosie's voice?

God Rosie's voice.

Lisa feels the heavens welcoming her, clouds embracing her into their arms as she ascends whenever Rosie sings - be it while showering, cooking, or painting. Any time Rosie hums a tune, Lisa melts, her heart flutters up and peeks through her eyes like windows.

And with her falling deeper, Lisa finds it more and more difficult not to just burst out in either scream or song about how absolutely, madly in love she is with Rosie.

And it has made her life a living hell.

Lisa is literally suffering.

And if she could teach herself to not feel the things she feels, she would. If she could reverse the process of her falling for her roommate-slash-best friend, she would. If she could go back to seeing Rosie as nothing more than a friend, she would.

Because one of the stupidest things a gay woman could ever do is to fall in love with her straight best friend.

But who can blame Lisa, really? Roseanne Park is a very intelligent, very kind, very sweet and very driven woman. It's insanely difficult not to fall in love with her. She is as close to perfect as a human being can get.

And sometimes on afternoons when she and Rosie are walking connected at the hip - her arm lazily slung across her best friend's lower back and held firmly there by one of Rosie's hands intertwined with hers at her hip, Rosie's other arm slung over her shoulders - their vibe screaming like they claim ownership over each other at the public aquarium one hour away from campus, she thinks it isn't so bad.

Especially when Rosie is wearing a tight crop top and high waisted, elephant leg jeans that accentuate her hips and hug her ass perfectly, and the people at the aquarium with them - men, women, people with ambiguous gender expressions - all turn, look, and ogle her.

And Rosie - dear, sweet, oblivious, Aquarian Rosie - wasn't any more aware about it than a little wild rabbit being watched by a python hidden in the grass, its maw open and ready to sink its fangs into its prey at any moment.

Lisa would have been uneasy. She is. But having Rosie basically be a human towel wrapped around her gives her great comfort. They're even wearing matching necklaces and matching rings.

It gives a very, very clear message to all who dared to even think of making a move on Rosie - that Rosie is hers.

Not officially. Not in the way, Lisa wants her.