I Hope So

Chapter 1

"I honestly don't get it, though. Does that mean that any other cake that isn't labeled is 'Baked Alaska' too, then?" I demanded.

"Probably not, Vic. Baked Alaska is called Baked Alaska for a reason, I'm sure," Sebastian answered patiently.

He and I were discussing the discriminating and unreasonable title of 'Baked Alaska.' I mean, it was a perfectly legitimately plausible question. Baked Alaska? What even?

"Victoria Laster! So sorry, but I was sort of in the middle of explaining Valence electrons, but if you'd like to do the job for me, by all means, go ahead. I'd love the break." My teacher, Mr. Francis, glared at me.

I chuckled and said, "No thanks, Mr. F. You do it way better than I ever could." Mr. Francis's glare softened at my fake genuine compliment before rolling his eyes.

Sebastian laughed under his breathe and shook his head. He never got in trouble. Jerk.

Mr. Francis narrowed his eyes at him and muttered something about regretting leaving the navy.

I couldn't name one person who wasn't susceptible to Sebastian's charm-- myself included.

Sebastian Thomas had been my best friend since kindergarten when he'd moved into the house behind me. Our parents kind of forced us together, but really, it was for the best, I can't imagine not having him because of who he is: unfailingly consistent, impossibly loyal, and beautifully honest; but also because I was in love with him. I remember the day when I realized. . .

***********************************

I was twelve and Sebastian was over at my house, like usual, and I had just got out of the shower. He was lounging across my bed. I heard him rummaging through my drawers through the door and found my CD player with an old embarrassing Sean Kingston CD.

"Bas! Get out of my stuff before you find something you don't wanna seeeee!" I sang playfully. He laughed.
I quickly toweled off, put lotion on and brushed my teeth.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, I stopped. He had my headphones in, his eyes were closed and his jet black hair lay softly on his forehead. He looked so peaceful and content, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him and run my hands through his hair. I stepped back and bumped into my dresser, which knocked my mirror off and made a loud crash. He jumped and looked disoriented for a second. I was so surprised at myself.

"Sorry," I whispered sheepishly. He smiled and my heart melted.

***********************************

It wasn't even one of those cliche "I'm in love with my best friend and it's killing me" things. It was honestly and truly enough for me to have him in my life 24/7 without all the extra pressure. I couldn't ask for more. Seeing him: jet-black, naturally tousled hair, scorching green eyes, broad shoulders, and lean 6'1 frame everyday? Like Charlie Sheen would say, "Hashtag WINNING."

We-- more quietly now-- continued our Baked Alaska debate and completely blocked out the valence electron lecture, which would probably be regretted when the test came around, but hey.