I watch myself in the mirror carefully, my reflection staring back at me aimlessly. My eyes are empty. I cannot help but wonder if anyone else sees how broken I am on the inside. It's not like I'm discreet about it. Most notice and I really don't care. I stopped caring a while ago.

"Lighten up, would ya?" Brent comments from his outstretched position on my bed. He really takes the whole 'make yourself at home' saying to a new level but I don't mind.

"Sorry," I mumble. I need to stop being such a downer.

Brent meets my gaze and finally takes in my appearance. He suddenly sits up, his eyes never leaving mine. "Damn, Gabriela..." he whistles suggestively, openly admiring me, "you are looking fine. If you weren't my best friend..." he trails off and shakes his head to get his message across.

I roll my eyes at his harmless talk and smile slightly. I swear, males just can't help themselves when it comes to flirting. "Thanks," I reply quietly.

I'm not at all looking forward to this night. If anything, I want it to be over already, but I promised Brent months ago that I'd be his date seeing as he has no one else. He doesn't get a chance to socialize because he's always tending to me and my broody attitude. I wish I could change and be happier for him.

Tonight, I'm going to put the effort in. I'm going to try and have fun because I know how much Brent has been looking forward to this. Besides, no one wants a miserable date. I refuse to ruin this night for him. I don't want to be the one to hold him back from anything, ever. He deserves the world and more. 

"I'm speechless...you are so hot, Gabriela Hill, we should just date," Brent says and crosses his arms behind his head, getting comfortable on my bed again. He winks flirtatiously at me when I keep staring at him in surprise. "I've never seen you look like this before," he adds.

He's been acting a little off tonight. He flirts with me sometimes but not like this. Earlier, he also seemed anxious about something. His mind has constantly preoccupied all day and he's just...he's not himself.

I can't seem to shake off the feeling that there's something bothering him but then, I know that he'd tell me if he wanted to.

I narrow my eyes at him, curious. "Don't you still have the hots for Stels?" I ask, feigning ignorance. Brent has always been quite private about who he's with. He doesn't really tell me much about his dating affairs but I've suspected that he has thing for Stella.

He shrugs, averting his green eyes from mine as he stands up. "I guess. I mean, we don't really talk anymore but I'll always like her. She's different from other girls but she's still not you," he explains and then smirks at me.

I'm able to see through him. He's still on edge about something but he's making several attempts to try and make up for it.

"Are you okay?" I finally decide to ask him.

My question catches him off guard. It takes him a moment or two to recover. "Yeah," he replies and smiles at me. "Why?"

"Are you sure, Brent?" I bravely ask again. "Because if something is wrong, you can tell me. I'll listen. I may not be able to help but I'll always listen," I tell him, wanting him to know that. He's done so much for me. I only want to return all of the favors.

"I'm fine, Gabba," he reassures me a second time.

I nod, choosing to believe him, "Okay." I take a seat beside him on my bed and smile down at him, "You're right, by the way." I see his confusion and clarify, "About Stella. She is different."

One particular conversation with Stella comes to mind:

"One of these days, I'm going to surf over the horizon and into the sunset," Matt tells for the hundredth time.

I only laugh and shake my head at him, used to him being the dreamer between the two of us. I love that he always has his head stuck in the clouds. I love that he wants to do the impossible all the time. I love his big dreams and wild imagination. I love his taste for adventure. I love that he lives.

"Why are you laughing, Gabriela?" Stels asks me, backing Matt up, like always. 

The two of them are the dreamers and I'm the realist that crushes their dreams. They are the ones that give me hope when I need it most. It doesn't seem like a fair trade. They do so much for me and all I do is tear down their incredible ideas.

"Stels..." I drawl, puzzled, "you can't really be with Matt on this one."

"And what if you are wrong?" she asks me simply. "What if you're just looking at it all wrong? What if the horizon is merely a boundary waiting to be crossed for the first time? A path unknown to man? And what if the sunset is the faith that something greater is coming our way? That there is something better out there?" 

I stay silent, just listening to what she has to say. Her perspective is unique. She and Matt always open my eyes to a world of light.

"So, I'm not asking if you are wrong, Gabs, I'm telling you that you are wrong," she informs me bluntly. "There's a 'greater' waiting over the horizon.  We can get to it if we just take the risk for and cross that boundary in our lives, that very obstacle that always seems to hold us back. And then..." she pauses dramatically, smiling at the glistening sea, at complete peace, "then we can finally live."

I tear myself from my memories and smile to myself in realization. It's possible. Matt did it. He went past the horizon to go and rest in the sunset.

"You alright, Gabs?" Brent asks. He gets up and steps in front of me, concerned at me spacing out again -- I'm doing it often, lately.

"Just thinking back," I answer him honestly. "Stella's a great person," I tell him, meaning it.

"Glad I have your approval," he remarks with a cheeky grin before getting bossy. "Now, twirl for me," he demands.

I raise an eyebrow at him, taken aback. "You're being serious, aren't you?"

Of course, he is.

"Of course, I am," he answers, reading my mind.

I know that he won't stop until I do what he says. I spin once, my navy dress fluttering effortlessly with the motion. "Happy?" I grumble, stopping right in front of him, my hair falling in tumbles around my face.

"Yes," he says and takes hold of my hand, directing me to the front door. "I've got the hottest date ever." 

I'm not fond of that. I tug at my sweetheart neckline anxiously and take my hand back from his. I don't want men to just see me as 'hot'. Being 'hot' is never enough. I don't like being called that, except, I've never told Brent that.

Brent is observant tonight. He picks up on my jitters and offers me a warm smile, "On a more civil note, you look beautiful, Gabs."

This time, I take the compliment well and smile at him. "Brent, you are the sweetest," I tell him, touched by his sincerity.

"I'd have to agree." 

I turn to face my mother at hearing her voice. I love my mom with all my heart but things have not been the same between us since Matt's passing. I'm not sure if we'll ever be able to get along again. I know that she'll never admit it but it's difficult for her to be around me. I'm a reminder of all that she's lost. 

I internally sigh. I just want my family back.

"I wish you'd man up and propose to my daughter already," my mother teases Brent, fully aware that Brent and I are only friends. 

Brent's green eyes light up in amusement and surprise, obviously a little stunned by my mother's forwardness. "Oh, I would but I'm so terrified that Gabba rejects me. You know she has a tendency to crush me," he decides to humor my mother. He's obviously joking but he's giving off a tense vibe and I'm not sure why.

I lift my hand to playfully whack him upside his head for his inappropriate behavior but my arm falls limply to my side when I hear the sound that awakens a tiny part of who I used to be -- my mom is laughing.

I find myself smiling from ear-to-ear, my emotions getting the best of me. I was beginning to forget what her laugh sounds like. Brent just made her laugh and I love him all the more for that.

I step closer to Brent and touch his hand lightly in thanks. The action doesn't go unnoticed by him. He takes my hand into his and gently squeezes, shooting me a smile, before releasing my hand.

My mom's brown eyes eventually find my own. The crinkles by her eyes don't go unnoticed by me. They only appear when she smiles and right now, she's smiling directly at me. "Honey, you look lovely," she tells me.

Whenever Brent is around, he brings out a side of my mom that I haven't seen in years. When she laughs openly like this, something inside of me switches back on, and suddenly, I don't feel so empty inside. 

Brent is slowly but surely putting my family back together again.

"Thanks," I mumble and hesitantly return her smile.

My mother returns her attention to Brent. "Enjoy your date and make sure you have my daughter back by eleven," she jokes, well aware of the fact that this it isn't a date, and well aware of the fact that Brent will have me home much later than eleven if he has any say in it, and he does.

My mom knows that a couple of months ago, Brent shyly asked me to be his date to this frat party because he wants to impress his college buddies and now she's using that knowledge to her advantage.

"Okaaay..." he trails off in jest, "but just so you know, Mrs. H, that doesn't give me much time to propose to your daughter." 

I scoff aloud at this. Why must he encourage her?

"After eleven it is," my mom humors him this time.

Brent grins at her and quickly loops his arm through mine before pulling me out through the front door. I only speak when we're safely in his car. "Nice one, B," I exclaim and nudge his arm with my elbow, "now you've got my mother's hopes up."

"Nah," Brent dismisses my words and reverses out of our driveway, "she knows that I'm just messing around," he insists, confident.

"You would think so, seeing as she knows you so well by now, but you fail to realize just how much that woman loves you. I can see it in her eyes every time she looks at us. She never says it but I know how much she wishes that you would actually marry me," I carefully explain my observations to him.

He visibly stiffens in his seat and clutches the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. "She's not the only one," he whispers, barely audible, but I'm still able to hear.

My eyes widen at the insinuation. "What?" I blurt out, shocked.

Then, much to my relief, he begins to laugh. "What? Did you forget how Ty and Caleb always wished that we'd become a couple?" he asks me, reminding me of back then.

"Gabriela, you need help with that?" Brent asks me with a full-blown smile. His green eyes are glittering with his positive energy as he motions to my surfboard and all the other stuff I'm carrying.

Before I can even answer, he's already taking all the weight of my hands. What a gentleman! "Thanks, Brent," I offer him a warm smile, my heart suddenly pounding a little faster. "I appreciate it."

"No problem." Brent grins as he walks long side me up to my car after an awesome morning of waves.

We fall in a comfortable silence up until I decide to make some conversation with him, "So how're things going with Stella and you? You getting anywhere with her yet? Or is she still gaga for Duke?" I ask, running my free hand through my dark wet curls.

Brent's smile slips off his face at my words and I notice straight away, "Yeah uh...about that. There's something I've been meaning to tell you, Gabriela. Look don't get me wrong, Stella is hot, real smoking, but she's not the one that I--"

"Who's whipped!" Ty shouts loudly from behind us, interrupting Brent so that I can't hear what he had to say.

"Brent is!" Caleb shouts back, running beside Ty, the both of them catching up to our slow lazy pace quite quickly.

Caleb lunges for Brent and gives him a nookie whilst Ty wraps a muscular arm around my shoulders, leaning all his weight on me, "Sup Baby." He smirks down at me. I shove him off of me at the same time Brent shoves Caleb away from him.

"Yeah, he is!" Ty then nods profusely before fist pumping Caleb for going with him on his devious plot. I wouldn't expect anything else. No one would.

Caleb is always all for Tyler. Everyone knows that they're some kind of package deal, definitely not a package I would want.

"He's so whipped he makes whipped cream look like regular cream!" Caleb yells enthusiastically, going in for another fist bump with Ty as the rest of us fall quiet at his dry joke.

Tyler shakes his head at Caleb, expressing his disappointment. "How can you expect me to fist bump what you just said? No, just no. That's a new low for you. You're embarrassing me." Caleb pouts at this before dropping his lifted fist back to his side. Tyler continues on with his pointless teasing, "Bros and hoes, listen up yo, Brent is whipped for Gabs! Hola!"

I frown at Ty's words. "Brent is just helping me carry my things. Jeez, you two really jump to conclusions." I say, before adding, "Besides, everyone knows that Brent has the hots for my girl Stels-"

I'm suddenly cut off by Brent who chooses to only speak now, "But that's what I was trying to tell you, Gabriela. It's not like that with Stella because--"

He gets cut off by Caleb this time 'round. "You two should get married and have a bazillion and two babies. They'd be the cutest babies and I'll be their godfather and I expect all of them to share my name. All. Of. Them." Caleb whispers threateningly as I step back, creeped out by his usual behavior.

"You're both delusional. Brent and I aren't like that," I answer, setting Caleb and Ty straight.

"You say that now but in a few years from now you'll be popping out his babies, Gabs." Ty winks, his filthy mind coming into play.

"Ty," I whine, shoving him playfully, "you don't know what you're talking about," I say, not taking the two of them seriously. Who ever does? They just speak a bunch of rubbish all day long.

Ty glances Brent's way, skeptical, before he directs his gaze back onto me. "This time, Gabs, I can say that I do know what I'm talking about. One day you'll remember this day and see that I was right."

He was wrong.

"They use to mock us all the time," I say, adding my input to the memory. "It was annoying at the time, but now it makes for a laughable memory. I really miss it." I sigh aloud, then remember that this night isn't about me being all mopey. Tonight is about making Brent happy. That's all I care about because I care for him immensely. "But I still have you," I say, lightening the mood which results in a smiling Brent.

"I can't explain how elevated I'm feeling right now. I'm so freaking glad that you're here with me right now." Brent confesses as the car finally comes to a halt in front of a gigantic mansion flooded with hoards of people everywhere. "My college buds are going to go crazy out of their minds when they see you at my side as my date for the night." Brent expresses proudly, making me feel slightly more confident about myself.

"Don't forget the ladies," I tease. "They're going to be drooling after you."

Brent isn't pleased with what I just said. I can tell. I know him well. Yup, there is something on his mind and it's bugging him. He's acting out of character.

"No," he retorts stubbornly. "No other chicks, not at this party, you're my only girl for the night."

Maybe he's not in the mood to be a party animal tonight.

I shrug. "Sure, whatever keeps your boat afloat."

"You do." He winks as we both step out the car and head inside the house, the host making his way past the crowds to greet us having spotted Brent's entrance.

Apparently, the host and Brent go way back, which is why Brent wants to make such a good impression on him by using me. If he really wanted to, Brent could score a supermodel -- instead, he chose me. He makes me feel so significant at times, well, all the time. I couldn't ask for a better friend.

"Brent! Glad you made it bro," the host greets Brent before turning his attention to me. I smile at him shyly as his gaze trails over me before he whistles slowly. "Wow, Brent, got yourself some girl here."

Brent grins boastfully at this as he wraps an arm around my waist and draws me to his side. "She's my good friend, Gabriela." Brent introduces us.

I see my cue and step forward, offering my hand out to the host, "Hi." I greet awkwardly, "Nice to meet you."

He steps forward too, shaking my hand in greeting, "Aren't you a shy one huh?" He asks, hitting the nail on the head.

I'm extremely shy around new people.

"The name's Logan by the way." He concludes and I merely nod, signifying that I'd heard him. He keeps his eyes trained on me as if forgetting Brent completely. "You're not much of a talker. Are you?" He states more than asks.

I shrug as Brent helps me out. "She's a woman of few words. Well, that's until you get to know her. Then she never puts a sock in that blabbering mouth of hers," Brent tells Logan before sending me a teasing wink.

I hit Brent's chest weakly for that one. "But hey, she gets by rather fine," Brent adds, trying to make up for his little jab at me.

Logan smirks. "So I see," he says as his eyes rake down my form yet again. "Rather fine indeed."

I visibly stiffen on my spot.

Brent senses my discomfort instantly. "Anyways, Lo, I'm gonna go say hi to the others. Check you later then."

Brent places a hand against the small of my back as he leads me past the crowds and to the kitchen lacking people. "You still breathing, Gabba?" He asks in concern, smiling down at me. I nod up at him, appreciating the fact that he cared. "Snap!" He snaps his fingers for the effect. "I thought I could do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on you," he jokes, successfully making me feel a little better with his playfulness.

I roll my eyes at him childishly, not at all offended by what he'd said. "Backtrack a little. Think about what you're going to say and then don't say it," I reply as I lean against the checkered kitchen counter.

"Rather feisty tonight, are we?" Brent chuckles as he opens the fridge. "Want a drink?" He asks with his back to me as he inspects the fridge's contents. I hesitate, thinking it through and over analyzing everything like always, "No one said it had to be an alcoholic drink Gabba." Brent reads my mind, knowing that I'm not big on drinking. Neither is he. As much as he hates to admit it, he's a 'goody goody' and drinking in his eyes is unacceptable.

"I'll pass," I say all too quickly.

"Suite yourself." Brent shrugs as he takes out a can of coke for himself and opens it, taking a sip. "You sure?" He asks again, a habit of his to repeat himself in order to make sure that he was being attentive toward my needs. Some may find it annoying, but I absolutely adored it.

My lips twitch into somewhat of a smile. "I'm sure, Brent."

He sees my partial smile and offers me one of his own, his dimples showing. He often tells me that he loves it when I smile and I try to smile more for him, but my efforts aren't always successful because to smile, you need a reason. Mine happened to be Brent and the friendship we shared.

"Just checking." He flashes me a sparkly grin before taking the last sip of his soda. He immediately throws it in the trashcan. He's a neat freak by nature. He's abnormal because most guys his age are utter pigs. But not Brent. If he were one, he'd disgust himself. He turns back to me with a dazzling smirk as he takes hold of my hand in his warm one. "Dance with me." 

My eyes widen as I blink up at him fearfully. But just as I open my mouth to protest, he begins dragging me along behind him toward the dance floor. I try to dig my heels into the hard tiles, but I merely slide along after him. He's too strong and way too determined.

Before I know it, I'm on the dance floor and Brent's holding me near to him gently in his arms as a slow song plays. It's when I finally look up, to see Brent's emerald eyes darken, that I begin to panic. He's too close. He's touching me. This song is romantic. We're just friends. This isn't how it should be.

I begin to pull away from him before he tugs me back to him. He laces his arms around my waist after he'd forced my hands around his neck because I wasn't holding onto him. He leans in closer to whisper in my ear. "What's gotten into you? You were fine a second ago."

A second ago I wasn't being held like this.

I try to relax and calm my breathing as I try to explain why I was so uncomfortable, "This is a couple's song." I state, breathing out nervously.

"So what? Who cares?" Brent brushes it off as he continues to lead my movements.

"I do," I confess truthfully. "We're not a couple."

A brief flash of hurt splashes across his green eyes like a violent storm washing against an island of gold. "I know that. You know that. So what's the harm in just a little dancing?"

He's right.

'It's just fun is all,' is what most would surmise.

But what if it's not?

"It feels too intimate," I tell him honestly, pleading with him softly through my eyes. I need to convey to him that I just can't do this with him. I take my hands off him, before removing his hands off my waist, "I love you, Brent, I do. But please understand that I can't."

On most occasions, Brent would understand.

But tonight is not most occasions.

"Why are you always so defensive, so cautious, so indifferent?" Brent breathes quietly in a cold tone, causing me to flinch back with the harshness I hear in him behind his words. "Why can't you just be human for one night and feel something? Anything?" He heaves, frustrated. "I'm sick and tired of being friends with a robot!" He raises his tone, now capturing the eyes and ears of many an audience as some even stop dancing to eavesdrop on our argument. It's the worst thing he can do. I hate attention and I'm petrified of being in the limelight. I've had enough judgments to last me a lifetime.

I have to end this before it escalates into a full-blown fight.

"Brent," I start softly, "I'm not--"

I'm cut off rather quickly. His temper is rising quickly. It's rare. I've done it now.

"How are you human? I swear that you're just not capable of feeling. You always get your way and I'm done! Do you hear me, Gabriela?" He breathes roughly against me as he closes off the small gap between us. "Done," he finalizes in one ragged breath.

He's been holding this burden for a while. If he felt that way he should have said something a long time ago.

I squeeze my eyes tight, afraid, begging the world to just let me go already.

I'm the one who's done.

"Look at me!" He hisses as he takes a step back. I shake my head. If I do, I'll see the hatred in his eyes and I'm certain that I will not be able to handle it. I can't face that. He's the only thing that's kept me going for so long. I don't want to lose him now, not after all we've been through together. I feel him pull at my arm and not as gently this time. "Open your eyes." 

And this time I do. But I can't see much because everything blurs as the tears begin to spill out uncontrollably. I reach up and rake my hand over my eyes frantically as I hear some people laugh in the background. This is so humiliating.

Brent's eyes instantly soften when he sees my tears tracing my cheeks. He suddenly glances around and then back to me as if now only realizing his actions that he took.

"Gabba." He whispers quietly as he places his hand against my cheek in sorrow and regret.

I slap his hand away, hurt. "Is this enough emotion for you yet?" I interrogate him as I force myself to stop crying.

His face falls at my words.

I don't allow him a chance to answer because I'm out of there like Usain Bolt.

By the time I'm out of the house and walking away, Brent's caught up, begging me to stop so he could explain.

But what was there to explain? He'd made himself explicitly clear.

"Brent, just take me home," I retort. "Please," I beg, feeling consumed inside by sadness.

I know he's apologetic but he can't say that he didn't mean any of what he'd said.

Brent opens his mouth to debate, but seeing my expression, his mouth falls shut. He knows better than to push me now and so he complies, opening the passenger door to his car for me.

The drive is silent, so silent that it becomes deafening until my heartbeat is the only thing I can hear and it's beating furiously.

But out of the blue, Brent slams on breaks in the middle of nowhere. He pulls over, "That's it. I'm not doing this. Not with you. We should just talk this out like we always do when we fight. I can't let you go home like this. I won't be able to sleep."

We never fought.

I don't look his way, keeping my eyes focused on the window to try and block him out.

"Come on Gabba, please. Don't be like this."

I feel the resolve inside of me dying. I don't have it in me anymore to keep fighting. I don't have that kind of time, persistence or energy.

"Fine. Don't say anything," he replies. "Just listen then. It was never Stella. People made assumptions and I let them. I used Stella as a cover. It's always been you, Gabriela. I like you," he says loudly and firmly as to make sure that I'm hearing him, his words important to both of us.

My heart begins to race and I sense where this is going, my blood boiling, my veins thirsting for him to just say it. I'd always known but I'd refused to see it or acknowledge it.

"I love you." He finally comes out with it all. I freeze, my hands clenching in anxiety. My chest constricts and it almost feels as if I cannot breathe without it hurting. "Would you at least look at me?" It's the most I can do in return. But I don't. I'm too scared, too motionless to act in any way. I'm still trying to gather my thoughts and process it all. It falls quiet again, our breathing the only thing to be heard. "Gabriela, please just say something."

Again, I don't.

It's not because I'm shocked. To be honest, I saw this coming sooner or later. I hadn't expected it to be tonight. And it's not because I don't feel the same way. Brent has always been so sweet and compassionate with me. He's always been here for me and he's such a gentleman.

How could I not feel for him in some way?

The reason I stayed silent was because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to speak after hearing such a life-changing confession. No doubt he just changed the basis of our relationship. It petrified me. I'm not the biggest fan of change. Even if it is a good change.

"Tonight I was going to give this to you," he whispers carefully before I feel his warm smooth hand reaching for mine. He unclasps my hand before putting a velvet box in my hand. I don't look at it, still frozen. He closes my hand around it and pushes my hand back to my side. "I knew it was a long shot but I took the risk because you're worth the world and so much more. You may not accept it but it's yours. There isn't anyone else for me. Keep it."

His words and the box in my hand draw my curiosity as I finally summon the courage to move. I open up my closed hand and there I see it.

A purple velvet box.

An expensive one.

Pam padam! Pam padam! Pam padam!

My heart beats loudly to the rhythm and pace of my quick breathing as my chest tightens all the more, a knot beginning to form in my stomach, my throat closing up and my mouth suddenly feeling dry.

I don't need to open it to know what's inside.

I turn in my seat to face Brent with an awe-stricken expression, wonder clouding my vision. What is it that this man sees in me? I'm nothing special. I'm not him.

"I want to be able to call you mine," Brent tells me blatantly, his emerald eyes glowing and searching my face for any signs of rejection.

Again, my heart flutters as my eyes meet his enticing gaze.

I glance up at him, taking in his precious green eyes and the hopeful expression lit on his face, ready to give my final answer when I see a blinding light coming from Brent's side at an alarming speed. I blink and squint a little to readjust my vision. Then like a bucket of ice cold water, it hits me. "Brent!" I scream in panic as I try to warn him.

But it's too late.

An ear-splitting sound is all I'm able to hear as a massive truck swerves right into Brent's side.

He was wrong earlier, he would be able to sleep tonight.