A beautiful black, white and blue sundress fluttered in the wind, catching my eye. It was silken and loose, yet tight fitting around the body. As the skirt flared up, I could see beautiful legs, long and smooth. I loved those legs. And around her feet were tied cute black and white clogs.
As she turned, a bright smile lit her face, and blue eyes lit up her features. Light brown hair with blonde streaks also fluttered in the wind, along with her dress. The sun kissed her caramel colored skin, her dress contrasting nicely against it.
In that moment, she was gorgeous. And all I wanted was to be her, the embodiment of beauty in that precise perfect moment. I loved her. I wanted to hold her, kiss her, and possess her.
Instead I sipped on my coffee, pretending to listen to my best friend. That girl would never want to be with me. I was chubby, I wore glasses, I wasn't pretty and I only wore baggy clothes. My legs were hideous, nothing like hers. She looked so social and happy, and I spent my days locked up in my living room, playing videogames.
I turned back towards my best friend. Why were we even friends? Why had she even forced us being friends? She was beautiful. She was curvy, like a woman should be, with nice big breasts and a small waist and an amazing ass. She always dressed in baggy clothes that looked so comfortable and natural on her, but at work or when we went out, she looked so nice. At work she wore tight fitting polo shirts that showed off her cleavage, and a baggy pair of cargo pants that made her ass looking amazing. And when we went out, it was always corsets, mini-skirts or shirts with the shoulders missing and/or torn up with fishnet underneath. My best friend, the beauty, and me, well, I was the beast.
It always pissed me off when she said she wasn't attractive. Whenever we went out, she would flirt with guys and girls, and they always seemed to respond. She stole the girls who I was interested in all the time. She had sex freely and frivolously, acting like such a slut, and always came home with such funny stories that the rest of us would listen to and laugh. And we all wished we were just like her.
Why were we friends with her again?
The rest of us just wanted someone to love us for us. We didn't connect well with other people, we couldn't just walk up and do what she does and make people fall in love with us. We all just sit in the corner, and talk, watching her. And she pretends like she doesn't even know it.
Does she know it? Does she realize how much we envy her? Does she know how much we want to be just like her? To wear clothes like that, and know we looked great in them no matter what and not even consider it? I hate how she spends like no time getting dressed and looks so amazing. I spend the same amount of time and I look like shit. She spends the night getting us all pretty. She picks out clothes for us, she does our hair, and she even does our make-up. She makes us look our best, and barely throws her stuff on and looks amazing.
And yet she tells me how beautiful I am. I know that's a lie. I put on weight again. I can't fit into my own work pants. The next time she spends the night at a fuck-buddy's house, I'll have to sneak out to go and buy bigger pants. I hate this. She eats and drinks whatever she wants and doesn't put on a pound. She weighs fifty pounds less than me and eats more than me.
"Are you listening to me?" I broke out of my thoughts to see her staring at me, curious. I nodded, but I could see in her blue eyes she knew I was lying. "What're you thinking about?"
"Nothing. Just wondering if that new videogame I want was released today." I lied. She then chirped about us going and looking since we were at the mall anyways. I didn't want to but she insisted. She always does. And I can never say no.
I hate being in love with her. She's not interested in me. Not because she isn't into girls, she's bisexual. It's because as she puts it, she's shallow. I'm just not to her taste, as she put it. She's always blunt, always truthful, but she says I'm still beautiful and amazing. I just want to punch her teeth out. If I'm so beautiful, why aren't you into me?
Not that I ever asked her out. I'm too much of a coward. She just brought it up one day, out of the blue. It's her damn intuition. She always seems to know what I'm thinking or feeling. I love her because of it, but I hate it too.
"Want to go get some food after this? It's Friday, half off on burgers and fries at our favorite restaurant." She whispered cajolingly in my face, making me want to kiss her.
"Alright, you pay." I replied reluctantly, just happy to spend time with her. Maybe one day I would be confidant to tell her what I thought, especially since she always asked for it. She took any good or bad criticism people thought about her with a smile and a response that, that was their opinion, and no matter what their opinion of her was, it wouldn't make any difference in what she thought of herself. And if they didn't want her to act in a certain manner around them, she wouldn't act like that in front of them. She didn't hold people's opinions against them. So since she was like that, why was I such a coward?
"That's fine. It's my turn to pay anyways. You paid last week." A wink from a guy walking past went unnoticed by her, but not me. He checked out her ass, I wanted to glare, but she didn't belong to me. Hell, she probably had slept with him in the past. I couldn't even keep track of who, where or how many people she had gone home with.
I know why I didn't say what I wanted to, to her. It was because I didn't want her opinion to change of me. I wanted her to love me, in whatever capacity that she could, for as long as I was able to keep her around me. I was so pathetic.