We kissed once. The type of kiss that was drunk, on your side. The type of kiss that was filled with pure desperation and want. That’s all I feel for you nowadays, while you still treat me like I’m just someone that you know. Someone that you’d make small talk with when the teacher tells you to talk to the person sat beside you.

All I can do is try. I know that you were drunk that night and I know that it probably wasn’t the most mature thing that I’ve ever done by letting myself kiss you back. I took advantage of the intoxication and I shouldn’t have, now you’re probably annoyed at me for allowing it to happen.

You’re my bestfriends sister and I’ve never felt so much attraction to someone I’m practically forbidden from having. It’s not necessarily a secret to you, I know that you know but we just don’t talk about it. It’s bound to happen, your brother finding out, because I’m not exactly good at hiding how much I want you. I compliment you as much as I can, I’m completely hopeless around you and my flirting never lands.

I walk into the kitchen and you’re stood there making some noodles. Your brother ran off to the bathroom after eating some of those spicy ones, he’ll probably be in there for awhile. I rest my hip against the cabinet beside you, shamelessly staring at how long your eyelashes are, or the perfect slope of your nose, or the way your lips pout a little when you’re focused on something. I cannot wait for the day you come to your senses.

“I haven’t seen you in awhile, how’re you doing?” I tilt my head, trying to see more of that pretty little face. You don’t respond to me, I didn’t think you would. “Come on, you’re all shy now because we made out?” I tease, instantly realising that this wasn’t going to make our relationship any better than it is now. I watch your brows knit together. I definitely pissed you off.