“I wish I wasn’t so unloveable” I say, making eye contact with the foam teddy bear my roommate George had put into the latte now in front of me on the table. “It’s just so…so…”

“You’re not unlovable,” George says. “Just because Churchill was a dick doesn’t mean it’s true for all guys.”

“But all I ever seem to attract are dicks. Where are the nice guys? Don’t you have any friends you can set me up with?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks, and I know I’ve gone too far. I’ve suspected for a few months that George has a thing for me. The trouble is, we’ve known each other our entire lives. Our mothers were high school besties, and Mrs. Knightly took me in as a daughter when my own mom died when I was a baby. George has never been a consideration because George can never be a consideration. I can’t risk it because if it didn’t work out…

He puts his coffee down. “Emma.”

“George.”

“Emma,” he says more earnestly.

“George…”. I match his tone, not exactly mocking but doing my absolute best to let him know that this conversation is over. It needs to be, for both our sakes.

But this time, it looks like our boy did not get the hint. Because rather than dropping it like he should, George reaches across the table and to pulls my hand away from my mug. “Emma, I don’t have any friends.”

“Of course you do,” I say. “Plenty of them. What about Will? Or Edmund? Or….”

But the words die on my lips when I see the positively ashen look on George’s face. I guess we were finally having this conversation and like it or not our friendship would be officially over. “How long?” I ask.

I was expecting melancholy, but instead George barks out a laugh. “How long have I loved you? Emma, I don’t know a time when I didn’t.”