PROLOQUE
It has been twenty years since Jack and I became friends. He moved into the neighborhood when he was ten, and I was just five. My name is Michaela, and I have had a crush on my childhood friend ever since I hit puberty.
I remember following him around, trying to get his attention by joining in on the things he enjoyed. I was never the typical girl next door; I pretty much did everything the guys did. We went fishing, played marbles, and I even tried out various sports. But my short, chubby body wasn’t exactly made for athletics, so I usually ended up on the sidelines, cheering my best friend on in whatever sport he happened to be playing during our teenage years.
I was the ultimate tomboy of the group. So while Jack grew taller and developed a strong, athletic physique as we got older, I remained his short, curvy pal.
I watched Jack start taking an interest in the opposite sex right around the time he turned sixteen. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the heavy, twisting knots in my chest whenever he spent time with whoever he was dating. I brushed it off as mere friendship protectiveness, only to realize much later that those jealous emotions stemmed from a deeper, more painful truth: I was completely and hopelessly in love with my best friend.
