Want.

I'm not someone who gossips. I'm not, really. Not usually. But God when you touch her hip I start screaming. The distaste I have for the both of you-

I was sitting in the stadium seats, looking down at the stage. You two held hands, and gazed into each other's eyes, stars and moons swirling and silent words being exchanged between fluttering lashes. You sang- how I love your voice- and she smiled. It's just acting. It's just acting.

I'd leaned over to Iris and buried my face in my hands. It hurts I gasped Really bad-

I know She had paused. It was a thoughtful and honest pause. Not like when you're hesitating or stuttering, but like you're really preparing yourself and the other person silently.

She of all people would help. She'd known you, Holiday, longest of all, and best of all. You two had gone out, back in 2022. For a year at that. All of her advice, every speck, was taken as gospel. Without a doubt in my mind; that she could never be wrong.

It's not real love. It's not. He barely even sees her as a friend. You're so much closer to him than she is. Plus, his love language is physical touch- she can't walk past someone without gasping she hates it so much.

How does she know how close you are, Holiday? You've liked her for, what, six weeks? Her all the same- I've liked you for six months. I've liked you since before she even considered it a possibility. But you two have gone on three dates already- and how many double dates?? Too many to count. I haven't even hung out with you one on one in the two years I've known you.

I clasped my hands and rested them on my knees, my rosy brown hair spilling atop my shoulders. She doesn't even deserve him. She's so basic- and not even his type!! And she flat out brags to me- how can he like someone so two faced?!

She's one of my best friends- and Holiday is too- but the blocks on my Jenga tower are teetering; begging to be pushed down by gravity. I can't stop the words once they leave my mouth.

She is, you're not wrong.. Iris responded, looking back over at you two. She is so cookie cutter... but they're not gonna last- don't fester on it...

I collapsed quietly onto Iris' leg, exhaling. She put her hand onto my head, weaving her fingers in my hair.

The jealousy and loathing I feel for both of you hurts. It overcomes every other feeling I have. I want to take a knife, and with all the might in my Sixteen year old arms-

No, no...

You're my friends. I can't hate you- or envy you- not when you're my friends. Picture books and Bibles and Scriptures and songs tell me I can't. My internal compass tells me I can't!

And the pain-- it's not like a stomach ache. It's not like butterflies. It's closer to the sensation of someone grabbing my heart and my tongue and squeezing them tight and tying them in bows and putting them back into my body. It makes my mouth feel numb, and my skin itch and tingle.

Tingle. I scoff, knowing that's how she feels. But- I shouldn't.

I can't-

I'm happy for you both. I want to scream and cry and retch thinking about it. I'm happy for you because we're friends. I'm happy for you because I have to be- get to be- and because love overcomes temporary emotion- right? You both text me and stop me to gush.

She said this, he did that, we held hands! she brushed past my backpack and I smelled her perfume, he wrote me a letter! How love story, romance movie. You and me, Madison. We always giggled and stuffed our feet under our sweaters, talking about how we'd both experience love like this. I haven't even held a boys hand. Never.

Well..

I held yours, Holiday. Curtain call, we were standing next to each other. When the director told us- God- we looked at each other and scrunched our noses. We were both smiling though; it was all a joke. Cast, Mr and Mrs Ralton. We were just friends, as far as you knew.

You had no idea I liked you- so you put your hand in mine and we bowed, waving to the audience as the curtain swooped our way. We were just side characters- but our four or five scenes meant the world to me. You'd sit next to me during breaks, dress rehearsals. It felt good. But still- we were just friends.

Now I'm staring at you and her, husband and wife, staring into each others eyes. What makes it different now? Is it because she's prettier than me? Is it because you're leads now? She's the same age as me, you a year older. How was she cast?

It's because I'm not skinny. And I can't sing. It's because she's... she's...

Madison's not better than me. She isn't. I can love her and think she's the world- while still having enough self love for me.

Me, me, me. That's all you ever say. No, it's all I ever say. Am I turning into you or are we both just drunken by Holiday's... everything. His enamor is enough to strike anyone through the heart with cupid's quiverous arrow.

I stand up and place my arms at my side, covering my thighs, replacing the space between my skirt and my knee with fingers packed tightly. I ball them into fists, keeping calm until I can look you in the eye.

"I love you- I love you, Holiday, and there's nothing you can do that'll ever change it. Unrequited and disregarded as they may be, I'll never be able to express to you how much I really hold for you in my heart. Every breath, every glance, I play over and over in my head hoping it means something. Every text you send me, over-analyzed and forwarded to my friends- I want you to want me and want us- want you to wish like I do we can hold hands again and go on dates. Let me brush your hair and kiss your lips and hold my secrets like no one else will.

"I want us Holiday. Can't you want us too?" Hoping, I hold my breath. You look at me, speechless.

"I-" You can't even form a whole word, too.. what, disgusted? You don't really know what you're trying to say either, I can tell. I hope you go home and cry as much as I do.

Except you don't, because I don't say that and you didn't talk to me and I'm still in the bleachers watching you want to kiss Madison.

I'm not a jealous person. I just wish it were me, not her.