Biel Pérez

I've known you since we were literally just kids.
Our mothers are best friends, we've lived next door to each other forever, and I honestly think I spent more time at your house than at my own during my entire childhood.
You're like a strange extension of my life.
Like my personal chaos.
When I was eight years old you cut my hair "for fun" and almost made me bald.
When I was eleven, you broke my finger playing football and you cried more than I did.
And when you were fifteen you almost set my kitchen on fire trying to make pancakes because according to you "it didn't seem that difficult".
Spoiler: Yes, it was.
There was never anything romantic between us.
Not once.
And everyone seems unable to understand it.
"What do you mean you've never liked each other?" people constantly ask.
Well, why not.
You are Olivia.
The annoying woman who comes into my house without knocking.
The one who steals food from my fridge.
The one who throws herself on my bed complaining about her life while I play PlayStation.
You're basically my sister.
A very annoying sister who swears too much and plays horrible music at eight in the morning.
—Get up, you lazy piece of shit—you yell, banging on my window one Saturday.
I open the curtain with a killer's face.
—It's nine o'clock, Olivia.
—Exactly, it's already midday.
I hate you.
But then you come down to my kitchen, make coffee for both of us as if you lived here, and start talking non-stop about some absurd drama from your high school.
And honestly… I got so used to you that I think if you disappeared one day I would go completely crazy.
Because you are my favorite person.
But not like that.
Never like that.
It's simply you.
My best friend.
My unbearable neighbor.
The girl who will probably keep stealing my hoodies and food until we're eighty years old.