As told by Eli McBride

I changed my clothes for the third time in fifteen minutes. I felt so stupid! I always did the same when Natei came over. I'd carefully select an outfit the night before. Something nice, fit for both work and home, so I wouldn't have to change once I was back and could prepare everything for the evening with time to spare.

Once I returned from work, tired and moody, that original outfit would not work for me anymore. I'd take a quick shower, spend an unholy amount of time trying to tame my hair, and choose something different.

Office formality was not a factor by then, so I could get more creative. I wanted to look casual, as we were just hanging out, but with a hint of sexy. Just a little bit. A unicorn whisper, a glimpse of fairy dust, just a tiny detail here and there to bring out the rawr factor.

And then I'd raid my closet and try everything on and off over and over again until everything started to look weird on me, and then all confidence was lost, and I would end up choosing the same old clothes I always wear on Game Night.

That night was particularly frustrating, though. I had bought a new pair of jeans specially for the event. I had even sacrificed my lunch hour to rush over to the store and get them. They were not something I’d usually wear, but they had caught my eye on my way to work, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how cool and different they were and how the novelty might surprise Natei.

I went, tried them on, LOVED THEM, and barely worked the rest of the day as I couldn’t stop staring at the bag under my desk.

If you have ever indulged in an impulsive shopping spree during a rush of confidence, you can guess what happened once I got home and tried them on.

They looked awful.

And I mean too big, horribly baggy, spectacularly unbecoming, even a bit douchey awful.

My already flat ass was impossible to spot. And to add insult to injury, I got all sweaty as I was moving around so much, desperately trying to salvage the wreck with a belt or a shirt that worked, and my hair frizzed like a startled cat.

I felt stupid and stupid I was; I could wear a garbage bag for the occasion, and Nathan wouldn't notice.

Why, you ask? For starters, he doesn't have the slightest interest in fashion. Goodness, he should get on his knees and thank his lucky stars for having been born as effortlessly handsome as he is, bless his mother, because I don't think I've ever seen him wear anything other than plaid shirts and jeans, and everything two or three sizes bigger than necessary.

Secondly, it doesn't matter how much I doll up. Even if I opened the door wearing nothing but a huge red ribbon in a strategic location, Nathan wouldn't bat an eye. 

He doesn't see me that way. 

And even if he did, shame on me; the guy has a girlfriend now! Even if all the moral, ethical, and sentimental reasons that keep Natei behind three layers of relationship-proof glass weren't enough, I had no business trying to make myself appealing to his eyes. He's taken, and even if he's not 100% committed to the relationship, I still had to respect that.

I owe him that much. He's been great throughout the years with every single one of my boyfriends, even when none of them held a candle to him. I have a duty to return the favor. 

And yet I had already failed the very first test miserably. I had been such an asshole to Amanda when we met at Darcy's. I tried, I tried my best, but I was entirely not up to the task.

The memory of my behavior made me feel anxious, worried, and so impossibly guilty. I should have been the bigger person. I should have tried harder to get along with her. When Natei called me later that very night, and I heard him panicking over the phone… I wanted to flush myself down the toilet. He has enough on his plate as it is, I of all people shouldn't cause him more trouble. I wondered if he was disappointed in me, in his kind, generous, silent way. 

I shook my head to shush the thoughts away. I wouldn't think about it on Game Night. Game Night was ours, and ours only; our sacred Friday ritual. Just the two of us, a bunch of pizzas, and video games. It was the only time I allowed myself to be as close as I wanted to him. Nobody was watching; we were completely at ease, enjoying each other's company, laughing, and chatting. 

In my immense selfishness, that one night a week, I allowed myself to just be with him the way I wanted.

Well, of course, not entirely the way I wanted; that was out of the question. But you get the point. It was a license to be coupley, even if he had no idea about the torrid machinations of my corrupted mind.

Goodness, I sound so shallow. I swear I'm not. I know it looks like I have a selfish, superficial crush on my best friend, and I try so hard every day to convince myself that there's no more to it than that, but let's be honest here: what crush lasts freaking years?

Saying the L-word sends shivers down my spine, but I can't deny it. I am in love, like an idiot. I don't know how it happened, and I don't think I ever had a say in the matter. Since the day I met him, back when we were brats, he got relentlessly promoted from tiny, annoying school acquaintance to playmate. From little brother to confidant and then best friend. From best friend to crush, and finally, he graduated as the firm object of all my deepest affections.

I've tried so hard to get over him. There are many reasons why we wouldn't work out, heavy reasons, and I'm painfully aware of them all. I've tried dating my way out of these feelings, hoping I'd find someone at least good enough to settle down and free Nathan from my obsession, but as you can probably guess, nobody made the cut. God, I nearly got married to the last one in my desperation, and I probably would have done it if he hadn't thrown an ultimatum at me. He was understandably jealous of Natei, poor thing, and he wouldn't propose formally until I cut contact with him. Needless to say, I gently urged him to run for the hills and take the ring with him.

I'm such a mess. 

I took one last look at the mirror to make sure that was it. Nothing fancy. Skinny jeans and my ragged green off-shoulder top. It was far from new, but it made me feel pretty. Kind of. I kicked the treacherous new jeans under the bed. I’d exchange them for store credit as soon as I could. They did not deserve the dignity of being traded for an acceptable item of clothing.

I sighed. I wish I weren't so helplessly skinny. And short. And so annoyingly covered in freckles. At least my hair, still wet and mercilessly plastered in curl-defining cream, looked a bit better.

The bell rang. I flinched and ran to the door. My dog darted before me and reached the entrance in a burst of enthusiasm. Dalí was even more in love with Nathan than I was. He knew Natei would visit, so he had been lurking at the front door for a good couple of hours.

I took a deep, calming breath, fixed my hair one more time, and opened the door.

“Welcome to the Billionth Edition of Game Night, my friend!”