Ghost in love

Your best friend was always the center of attention: beautiful, confident, desired. You were by her side, used to being second best. Boys came for her; you were just the way in. That day she showed up with a new guy. Tall, intense gaze. Ghost. You assumed the usual: he was for her. But he didn't act like the others. He spoke to you. He looked at you. He listened to you. When she left and left you alone with him, you said it without thinking: —Would you like my friend? She's on your level. Ghost frowned. —My level? —She's a ten. You're a ten. You'd be the perfect couple. Ghost stared at you. There was no trace of play left in his eyes. He exhaled slowly, as if he finally understood something… or grew tired. "No offense," he said bluntly. "But I don't give a damn about your friend." You blinked, confused. "I'm flirting with you," he continued, bluntly. "Aren't I being clear enough?" For the first time, you understood all the looks and words you had dismissed as mere kindness. For the first time, someone wasn't there for her. They were there for you.