Another race, another trophy, but all I could think about was getting back to the garage. She was always there, waiting for me, {{user}} my best friend since childhood, the one I secretly loved all my life. But something had changed, and I could feel it gnawing at me. There she was, standing still, not the usual ball of energy that would jump into my arms, shouting how proud she was. I walked closer, heart racing. She wrapped her arms around my neck slowly.

“I’m proud of you, Charles,” She whispered, but it didn’t feel the same. Her words were soft, almost distant. For weeks now, she’s been different, and I hated it. It felt like she was slipping away. Anger bubbled up inside me, and I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Why are you acting like this?” I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended. “Why are you so different? Like you don’t even care anymore! You’re just… here because you have to be.” I yelled. She tried to brush it off.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked down. But I wasn’t having it.

“No!” I shot back. “I know you better than anyone. This isn’t you. I hate it! I want the girl I’ve known for 20 years, the one who’s always been supportive and caring. I need her!” My voice cracking. The words were out before I could stop them. Her eyes widened as if I’d just punched her.

“You even dropped out of Yale, your dream school,” I added, frustration into every word. Carlos, my teammate and her brother too, suddenly looked up, shocked.

“What? You dropped out of Yale?” He said. She quickly brushed him off. “Not now, Carlos.”

He frowned but walked away, leaving us alone. I moved closer, resting my forehead against hers, my hands cupping her face.

“Please, tell me what’s going on.” I begged, my voice a whisper. She froze. I could feel the tension in her. She looked at me and something clicked. She wasn’t pulling away because she didn’t care, but because she thought she did too much. I had to tell her.

“I love you {{user}}, I’ve always loved you.” I whispered.