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Lizzie met Bela at her old job, and the two became friends. For Bela, Lizzie was the best friend she had ever had; for Lizzie, Bela was her love. When they went out and Bela talked about her crushes or introduced Lizzie to the girls she liked, it hurt Lizzie so much that she would feel physically sick.
Lizzie threw the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with her foot, then took a sip of coffee. None of this went unnoticed by Bela.
"You hadn’t quit smoking?"
In truth, Lizzie had only quit because Bela didn’t like smokers.
"I decided to start again."
"Why?"
"Because I like it."
"Why are you so distant, Lizzie?"
"You’re imagining things."
Lizzie picked up the cup of coffee on her desk and brought it to her lips.
"You said you didn’t like coffee."
"It tastes good after smoking a cigarette."
"Smoking is bad for you."
"I know, Bela."
"...Yesterday I went out with that girl from the pet shop."
"And how was it?"
Lizzie didn’t seem interested.
"It was nice, she’s kind, but I still prefer Elena."
Elena was Bela’s ex-girlfriend, the one she had been hopelessly in love with. Lizzie had no way to compete, even if she wanted to.
At the end of the day it was always the same: each of them went home, and Bela sometimes went out with friends, sometimes stayed home talking with her next date, while Lizzie lay bitterly in her bed thinking about Bela, or playing video games.
This was one of those nights when the young woman would think about her blonde best friend, about what she must smell like, what her touch must feel like, what it would be like to kiss those lips that could belong to anyone except her.
Bela wouldn’t leave Lizzie’s thoughts, so it was a mess when the blonde girl texted her at two in the morning. Lizzie, hopelessly in love, didn’t hesitate to answer.
Bela: I feel bad
Lizzie: what happened?
Bela: my body hurts, I think I’m getting sick.
Lizzie: did you take any medicine?
Bela: yes, but the pain won’t go away.
Lizzie: maybe it’s better to see a doctor.
After that message, the blonde didn’t reply anymore, probably fell asleep, and that time without an answer made Lizzie rethink her life. Why fall in love with someone who doesn’t care about you at all? "You’re just a friend." That’s what Lizzie told herself. Which wasn’t a lie.
She felt most inspired when she was sad, so she decided to write. She wrote texts for her next book that sounded more like a confession.
...
The next night Bela came to sleep at Lizzie’s house. She asked to stay there whenever she had problems. Lizzie was resting on the couch, a joint between her fingers while holding a glass of wine. Lizzie seemed too absorbed in her own world to say anything. So Bela broke the silence.
"Why are you doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Smoking that."
"It’s just to relax, I’m very tense."
Lizzie offered her a sip of the wine, but Bela refused. She didn’t like drinking either.
"That’s bad for you..."
"The smoke is really bad, but I like feeling relaxed."
"Is something going on?"
"I’m in love."
"With who?"
"You don’t know her. She’s beautiful, but unreachable, at least for me."
"You should tell her how you feel."
"I don’t have the courage."
Bela rested her head on Lizzie’s shoulder, and Lizzie wrapped an arm around the blonde’s shoulder.
"I know how you feel, Lizzie. It’s horrible when your feelings aren’t returned."
Lizzie said nothing. She just stayed absorbed in her own world, smelling the aroma of wine mixed with the smoke from the joint filling her nostrils. Hearing the traffic outside, the owls that had been awake for a long time, and feeling Bela’s breathing against her body, feeling the blonde clinging to her arm and pretending she didn’t long for more.
They stayed like that for about five minutes until Bela noticed a notebook on the cabinet near the TV.
"What’s in the notebook?"
Bela didn’t wait for an answer. She walked over, picked it up, and flipped through the pages, looking at the scribbled drawings and reading the texts that seemed to have been written by someone in love.
"It’s just my sketchbook."
That was all Lizzie said, and she fell silent again while Bela came back and sat beside her, reading every text she found.
Bela didn’t need permission to do that. They were close enough, and Lizzie pretended she hadn’t left it there on purpose for the blonde to find.
When she finished reading, the blonde placed the notebook on the coffee table where Lizzie had her feet resting.
"Wow, all of this was really beautiful, and sad at the same time."
"You think so?"
"Yes. You write with such certainty that it feels like you’ve lived it. Where do you find inspiration?"
"In many things."
"Do you hate happy endings?"
"I don’t hate happy endings. I base my writing on what I see, what I feel, the world around me. I don’t base it on happy endings, I base it on love I felt and never received. I base it on life."
"But sometimes it’s good to have a happy ending."
"I know. People like happy endings because life is unhappy, and I understand that. I actually love happy endings. But I’m a drama writer. Happy endings aren’t my focus."
"You’re depressive haha."
Bela looked so beautiful when she smiled. It was impossible not to notice, and Lizzie was staring too much.
"What is it, Lizzie?"
"Nothing. I’m just noticing your bone structure."
"Creepy."
Lizzie let out a small laugh and put the wine away. It was time to stop. She was thinking too much about things she shouldn’t.
...
The following week Bela was excited. She came over and showed a photo of the girl she was flirting with at the moment, and Lizzie smiled.
"She’s strange."
"She’s not strange, she’s cute."
"Maybe she’s just not my type."
Lizzie had to listen to Bela talking about this girl for the next few weeks, about how she was in love and how much she missed her.
Seeing the photos, seeing them together wherever they went, Bela took this girl everywhere. It was suffocating. But Lizzie would endure it for her friend. Bela seemed so in love. She smiled for no reason and excitedly talked about how her girlfriend was making her feel good.
Sometimes Lizzie felt jealous, but she realized that the jealousy was fading. She was just afraid of losing her friend and, suddenly, she wasn’t in love anymore.
Except this time, it lasted even less.