I know three things about my neighbor, Adam Wainwright.
1. He liked to play his guitar on his balcony, often in his underwear.
2. He lives up to his f-boy reputation.
3. He must never, ever exist outside of the Friend Zone.
But the problem with number three is over the last year, he’s become my everything.
Adam’s the best friend I’ve ever had. The one who pushes me to follow dreams I’d written off as impossible.
We have strict lines that we don’t cross. Even when we blur them on occasion by playing you can look but you can’t touch, the lines are always there, guarding our friendship.
Taunting me with possibility.
Anytime he’s near, butterflies wage war in my stomach, desperately wanting those possibilities to become reality.
But me and my stupid butterflies are alone in that desire.
Adam Wainwright will never be mine, and I can no longer watch him be everyone else’s.
I don’t know how this will all go down, but one thing I do know?