I had one of those dreams again, the ones where we were just friends. You had no idea you were my every heartbeat.
 

We were on a trip somewhere, back in high school or something. You had a crush on the foreign exchange student I was rooming with. I was barely tolerating her. You invited us to hang out though, and I couldn't deny any second spent near you. We stayed late in your room listening to you play guitar. You kept encouraging her to sing with you even though her voice was rough and she didn't want to at first. I'd been singing with you softly the entire time, too low for you to notice.

When she finally started gaining confidence, I started singing louder too and harmonizing with you. But I couldn't stand the way you looked at each other so I got up to run to the bathroom and I heard her say, "Whoa," as in "Yikes! What is she doing with her voice--why does it sound so off" (me in my head: IT'S HARMONIZING, YOU UNAMERICAN BITCH--MAYBE IF YOU HAD ANY MUSICIAL CAPABILITIES YOU'D GET THAT), and you laughed along with her. At her non-joke. At the unnecessary comment meant to demean me in some small way when--screw you--was undeserved. I shut the bathroom door and tried to remember how to breathe. In and out. No, slower. Wait for the drumming to leave your ears and then the numbness to leave your body. There we go. When I was about to come back out, I realized your guitar playing had stopped.

I walked out to find her on top of you on the couch, you guys making out fiercely. The fingers I loved were entangled in the wrong color hair. Your lips were hungry for hers, thin and too pink, while mine had dreamed of touching yours, itched for the opportunity for what seemed like my entire life. My entire body was frozen in place, too shocked to move as my heart broke into a million pieces. I stared for seconds too long, unwittingly torturing myself with every millisecond, until you noticed, jumped up like I was a school chaperone, and pulled yourselves apart. I think you began to recognize the hurt in my eyes though, or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part, because I heard you mumble a sorry excuse for a "sorry" as I hurried out the door fighting back tears.

She didn't come back to our room though. I think that was significant. And I woke up from my dream missing you, even as you lay right next to me.