Curled on the couch the world dropped away as he sang. She’d always heard people talking about being so completely lost in another person but she had never experienced it. Until him that is.

From the way his eyes closed at a particularly emotional part to the strum of his fingers over his guitar strings he was magnificent. She took the time to run her eyes over his hunched form, paying special attention to his fingers and his face; the fan of his eyelashes against his pale cheeks, the small dusting of freckles across his nose, the way his lips formed the words he sang.

It was like he was weaving magic.

When he finally finished she was speechless. It took a moment for her to even realise he had stopped. And then there was the sense of loss that invoked.

“Hey, you ok?”

She was dangerously close to crying. She hated when she got this way. So full of emotion that her body’s response seemed to be to cry. Instead she blinked it away and forced a smile that felt more like a grimace.

He in turn grimaced, “That bad?”

“What? No! No! You were perfect! Seriously, it was … perfect.”

Her voice ended in a whisper. The awkward silence that followed made her want to disappear. Had she just said he was perfect? It must be why he was looking at her funny.

“So you think she’ll like it?”

Pained she squeezed her eyes shut. For a moment she forgot the real reason she was here. Ashley. He was Ashley’s. Not hers. Forcing her eyes open she tried to smile again.

“She’ll love it. Trust me.”

“I do,” his smile made her ache. “That’s why I asked you first. You’re like my best mate. I know you won’t lie to me.”

It was bittersweet the feelings that statement invoked. He considered her his ‘best mate’ and yet that was all he felt. That she was a great friend. Suddenly unable to stand his presence she stood.

“I’m gonna go get some cookies. You want a cookie?”

Turning she didn’t wait for his reply, just disappeared into the kitchen. Sugar, her drug of choice. She had changed her diet in order to get healthier but now she was craving cookies something fierce. Luckily she had baked two days ago. There were still some cookies left and she quickly sought them out, biting into one before placing the rest on a plate. She turned to get some milk (clichéd but she really wanted some right now) and jumped when she saw Henry standing in the doorway. He looked concerned.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You seem …off.”

“Fine, fine,” she avoided his eyes as she moved towards the refrigerator. “Would you like some milk?”

“Sure,” she felt more than saw when he entered the kitchen. He reached for the cups as she got the milk. How many times had they done this while waiting for Ashley to come home from work? While she poured he got the cookies.

“You know if you ever needed to talk, I’d listen.”

Selina couldn’t help her small smile when she glanced up after he’d made the statement. He looked so determined, so concerned. Henry was sweet. So very sweet.

She looked away again, “I’ll remember that.”

As she replaced the milk she noted him pulling out two chairs by the kitchen table. It made her gut twist. Resolutely she walked over to the opposite end of the table, sitting and pretending she couldn’t see the confused/hurt look on his face.

The cookies were delicious but she could barely taste them. Henry had yet to touch any and he usually had two down to her one. Nervously she glanced up at him.

“Don’t you want any?”

He was staring at her funny again, “Did I do something to offend you?”

“What?” This time her brow was furrowed in confusion, “No. Why would you think that?”

“It’s just … I guess …” He shook his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

With that he reached for a cookie and began to eat. It had never been this tense between them. Awkward maybe, but never tense. Immediately she regretted not sitting by him but it was either this or be tortured by the feel of him so close. She’d had enough of being a masochist for one night.

“Ashley’s late.”

His eyes flew to hers. This time she managed to hold his gaze and he seemed to relax just a bit.

“Yea, she messaged me and said she’d be a bit late. Hope it isn’t a problem.”

Like she’d complain about spending more time with him, “It’s fine. Um, wanna watch a movie or something until she comes?”

He broke into a smile and just like that the tension was broken. They flowed into easy conversation from there. Talking about what they did that day and what to watch tonight. He insisted on washing the dishes while she set up the movie. Looking back at him in the kitchen it all felt so domestic she ached with longing again.

Resolutely she turned away. They were friends. She liked being friends with him. She didn’t need anything more than his friendship.