The friendship you had had with Cherrie had been long, you had shared moments. You always had a certain admiration for that passionate personality she could have. You weren't soft, she was passionate. For some reason, that made you both too close to each other, so close that there were even feelings more than just a friendly love—you loved her madly. Of course that was more than just frowned upon.

You had been so surprised when on one of those days where you and her went out to drink she had approached you and simply kissed you. Yes, she did it just like that. Of course Cherrie was a little drunk and was impulsive. But, it was obvious that you were more than delighted to feel that feeling of sharing a kiss with her. Those actions were recurrent, like a kind of habit even though you were just very close friends. Yes, that was the excuse. You were just close friends loving each other. You and she loved each other so much that you ended up in a bed tangled in the sheets.

Yes. They made love.

Oh no, wait. According to Cherrie, the two of you were nothing more than a sexually explicit affair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to you. You cried. You couldn't stand to see her kiss other guys. You didn't like to see her deny the two of you. You guessed you were the fool. This was a fucking cliché, you were cliché. You wanted to end this—reluctantly. You loved her too much to want to end this, but all of a sudden this was falling apart on its own. Cherrie didn't want to be mean, she said it was just part of her nature. She could try to stop the feeling. You just wanted her affection. So now at one of those hangouts at a bar, she'd told you about her band, then something about her dating a guy. You just said casually:

—"Good luck, babe."

Cherrie had looked at you somewhat confused, raising an eyebrow as she watched you casually calm. No, you weren't calm. You wouldn't let her know that though. So you just tried to look cool with a cigarette between your lips. You had given up.

—"Thanks, I guess."

She said.