Like I said, if you didn’t have the wrong chromosomes and all that testosterone, things might be different. Sometimes I wish they were different, because you’ve tolerated my bullshit longer than any of my girlfriends, and that has to mean something. But they’re not. Anyway, whether or not you love me, you’re in love with someone else.”“For what it’s worth, I do love you and I don’t have any problem admitting it. You’re much more than just a friend. And you know, with the occasional exception, I actually enjoy your bullshit.”“That’s the crying shame of it right there. Or maybe it says something really awful about you.”“Why not both?”“Definitely both. Anyway, you’re avoiding the elephant in the room.”Sighing, he replied, “she’s not in the room at the moment.”“More evasion.”Should I tell her? She’s my best friend, but these are deep waters, even for us. Then again, if I can’t talk to her, who can I talk to? “Something else happened yesterday. Something ... big.”“It wasn’t about your. Finally I hear the back door open and they walk in. She didn't notice her bag down by the bathroom so they both go upstairs. She comes back downstairs about 30 seconds later. She falls for it, hallelujah! She walks into the bathroom flips on the light switch, confused look on her face and all, and closes the door behind her. She removes the straps of her one-piece, one at a time, not quite yet exposing her breasts. My heartbeat is jacked, and I try not to blink. She slowly dries her hair a bit more and after waiting for what felt like an eternity, finally pulls the swimsuit down. I immediately zone in on her breasts, pale and freckly, C-cups I'm guessing. Her nipples are immaculate, areolas around two inches in diameter, beautiful reddish-pink complexion, incredibly perky and bumpy from the still damp skin and air-conditioning. She stops and with her swimsuit still wrapped around her midsection, dries her chest with a towel. Patting down and wiping, her breasts bounce freely and see.
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