What If

“You could go to the local community college,” Briar said hopefully, pulling away from me so she could meet my eyes. My arms were still folded around her when she continued with her idea, “I’ll help you study. You’ll get good grades and then you’ll transfer. That’s a viable option, Arrow! Lots of people our age go that route,” she said excitedly. Hope blossomed in her dark brown eyes.

With my elbows resting on her shoulders, I took her face in my hands, brushing my thumbs against the temples of her head.

“Support me in this, Briar,” I begged.

Air hissed through her clenched teeth. She kept her eyes attached to mine. I tried to will her into understanding how serious I was about it all.

“This is what you want?” she asked.

“It’s what I want and what I need.”

“You’ll write me? You promise? You’ll call me when you can, right?” She looked so forlorn, so unsure on the answer I’d give her.

“Are you crazy? Of course I will! Every chance I get. I swear I will. Come on, Briar, you know that,” I grinned at her, shaking her shoulders slightly trying to get her to lighten up.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she said faintly.

Her chin was between my thumb and forefinger as I tipped her head back. I wanted to kiss her, to taste the ruby of her lips, to know that she felt the same way for me as I had for her since day one. But that wasn’t an option. She didn’t love me in that way. We were best friends, and that friendship meant more to me that most of my family ever did.

“I’m going to miss you too, beautiful.” I kissed her forehead, wishing it were her lips. My eyes closed in that moment. I took in the feel of her skin against mine, burning it into my mind, so that when she was away from me, I could think back to that instant of time.





Darcy seemed really heartbroken the first week after their break-up. She made me stay the night at her house for three nights in a row. She agonized over the memories she and Arrow shared, and, to be honest, it was excruciating to hear her go through every “first” she gave him. I tried to be the good friend and listen aptly when she wanted to talk and allow her to cry on my shoulder when she ran out of words. But, I was just going through the motions. I had more important things to think about, like all the wasted time… If Arrow and Darcy were never meant to be, then why is it that Arrow never took that chance with me? Had I read all of his signals wrong the first night we spent together? How about the constant state of flirtation that always seemed to bubble to the surface when we were around one another? Was that all just part of our friendship? All the signals pointed to yes. Arrow could have been with me. We had our chance, and neither one of us took it.

Darcy didn’t know that Arrow was joining the Marines. He wasn’t ready to drop that bomb on her yet; he figured breaking up with her was enough for one day. I had to live with the knowledge that not only was I single, but so was Arrow, yet he was also leaving.

The future wasn’t meant for Arrow and me. He’d always be a part of my life. In the past, I imagined it would be with him married to my best friend. Now, it’ll be us as best friends, separated by distance, and a what if that would never be answered.

After a week of Darcy’s mourning, she moved on quickly. She began dating some guy named Mark. He was six years older than us and, from what I could tell, not amounting to anything.

I tried to spend as much time with Arrow as I could, but soon summer was around us and graduation was filling the air with excitement and nostalgia. Graduation carried a deeper meaning now that it was closing in on us. We’d be leaving high school, which was a happy occasion, but it also meant Arrow would be missing from my everyday life.



We graduated. Majority of everyone shed at least one tear. A few students only smiled and seemed thankful to move on with their lives. I was the opposite. I wanted to cry an ocean of tears, but I held them back for the most part. The only time I allowed myself to let them fall like the rain during a thunderstorm was when they played a video of pictures of our past four years. The class wasn’t huge, so each of us were featured in the video multiple times. In every image I was with Arrow. In one he was giving me a piggyback ride and running down the halls singing a song laced with curse words. The reason he did it was because I had tripped on the stairs and twisted my ankle. I tried walking, but every time I put weight on my left foot, it would give out. He told me to hop on his back. I had a pool of tears in my eyes, but smiled at him when he offered. I jumped using my good foot, and he hefted me up higher on his back. I wrapped my legs around his waist. He held onto my legs, and then to make me laugh, started to run. He was taking me to the nurse’s station. On our way there the Dean stopped us. We both got detention for running in the hall.

Another image was of Darcy, Arrow, and I standing against the lockers. Darcy was standing close to Arrow and his arm was around her shoulder. I leaned against my sophomore year locker, looking up at Arrow like he was the star in my sky. I struggled to keep my eyes from darting to Arrow to see if he saw what was written so clearly on my face in those images.

Everyone took pictures with each other. It didn’t matter if you were enemies or friends, if you had a fist fight at some point in your time together. It was behind all of us as the endless flashes went off from phones and cameras. My parents didn’t like it, but I made them take at least ten pictures of just Arrow and me. He hugged me close to him. We made silly faces, like our cheeks pressed together with our tongues sticking out at the camera.

His parents looked proud for the first time ever. They were never kind to Arrow. He got put down a lot in his house because they didn’t think he was smart and always said he made bad life decisions. But I never saw that in Arrow. He wasn’t dumb; he was smart in a different way than I was. He knew about cars and how to make them run. He could read people better than anyone else I knew. He could tell within the first minute of meeting someone whether they were bad news or not. He was artistic, energetic, and a hell of a good time.

When the school’s principle read off Arrow’s name and his future plans, which included joining the Marines, I watched the smile on Arrow’s lips and then into the bleachers where his mom wiped her eyes with a tissue. His dad stood with a stiff back, clearly proud.



I took up more hours at the boutique. I wanted the money to buy myself a car, but more than that, I needed the job to keep my mind off of the foreseeable future. Working more meant less time with Arrow, but I had to do it. I was weaning myself off of him. Sometimes he would pick me up after a long, late shift, and we’d go out for a shake or a drive or both.

Soon, I was working later and later and Arrow was getting harder to get a hold of. I figured he was spending time with his family and other friends, but that didn’t stop a bit of lingering jealously and a sick feeling that I was missing out on a crucial period of time with him.

It was a few days before Arrow was set to leave when he called me. It was late, nearly eleven pm when his ring tone sang throughout my bedroom.

“Hello,” I answered.

“Hey! Come over!” he yelled over a deafening background noise. Laughter, conversation, and music mixed together.

“Uhm, what’s going on?” I asked, rolling over onto my back.