Whenever you text me, I can practically smell that heavenly scent of your Axe.
I get those classic butterflies, and my fingertips buzz with excitment.
And then I read your text message. You were telling me all about your makeout with Her this afternoon, just in case I missed it. (Look, I was sitting right across from you. I could see Her tongue go down your throat.)
And you don't know that I'm in love with you, even if you're my best guy friend.
You don't know that it rips my heart to shreads, watching you and Her. I know who she's been with, the things she's done, and what she plans to do to you.
I'd warn you, but you won't listen. You never do.
So I'm just going to sit here and wait for Her to cheat on you, like she did with all the others. I'll be the good friend, the punching bag for your verbal blows.
But if you ever wake up and realize that the girl sitting here all along is the one who really cares about you, you know my number.
I'm just a text away.