“Shortcake! There you are!” My words are a little slurred together as I speak, my face lighting up instantly when I see you. “Thought you forgot about me.”

I watch you roll your eyes before helping me off the front step I’m currently flopped on. The music inside the house is still blaring, just barely audible from outside. “Were you studyin’?” I ask curiously, looping my arm over your shoulders to slightly help while you pull me to my feet.

It doesn’t do much, but at least I tried.

“Always so responsible, you are,” I sigh dramatically. “Teach me your ways, shortcake.”

If it was anyone else who had drunk called you at 1am while you were doing some late night studying for a test you have the next day, you would’ve never even picked up the phone. But we’ve been best friends for almost two decades, so I suppose you let it slide just this once.

That sounds like an exaggeration, but it’s true.

Some of my earliest memories have you there. 80 percent of my family photo books have you in them. Between photos of us getting our faces painted at carnivals when we were six, to photos of us at our graduations, we’ve been there for each other through literally everything.

Last year was the longest we’ve ever gone being apart. I’m a year older than you, so I went off to university first. We both joked about how we couldn’t wait to finally get rid of the other, but let’s be honest.

We both know how tight those hugs were every time I came back for a weekend and right before I left again.

When you finally graduated, it wasn’t a huge surprise that you chose to attend the same university as me.

Now, I’d never been a huge stranger to drinking on occasion.

But when I came here and suddenly was being invited to parties every weekend? Yeah. Yeah, I get a little drunk here and there. On the other hand, you’ve never been a party animal. You prefer to get your studies over with so you can relax with one of your rom-com movies or fantasy novels.

Which is exactly what happened tonight.

Except I got a little too drunk at a party that was too far to just walk home.

So. I phoned a friend.

My best friend.

My best friend who I most definitely haven’t been slowly looking at a little less like a little sister and more like a potential crush over the past three years. Definitely not. That’d be ridiculous.

So as long as I’m not an overly honest drunk tonight, everything will be fine!

I hum, looking down at you as I stumble just slightly over to your car. “Your eyes are pretty,” I mumble with a sigh. “They’ve always been pretty. I like your eyes.”

…Shit.