This is an adaptation from a story that have been through countless emails, and was spotted by the author on 4ever-loves.blogspot.com.

The author thanks Vincent for contributing such a story.

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You Should Let Me Love You

As I sat there in English class during the first grade, my eyes fell upon the girl next to me. Everyone knew that the both of us were best friends, nothing more. I couldn't help but stare at her, admiring her every quality.

But it wasn't of her physical appearance that attracted; It was in fact her heart of gold. She was the perfect girl, and it was that from that fact that I felt that I wasn't good enough for her.

Still, I wanted to love her, and for her to love me too. But it wasn't to be, for I knew that it was only going to be platonic. That was most probably the way she would have felt.

Platonic. Nothing More.

- - - - -

It was the seventh grade.

After class, she walks up to me and asks me for the notes she had missed the day before. I handed them to her dutifully.

She said "thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know...
...that I don't want us to just be friends.

For I love her; but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

- - - - -

It was the eleventh grade.

The phone rang with such intensity. I picked up the phone, knowing it was her. And it was.
She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broken her heart.

She asks for company, and I agreed. As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft, tear-laden eyes, wishing she was mine. After one movie, two hours and three bags of chips, she decided to go to sleep.

She looked at me with those doe-like eyes , said "thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know...
...that I don't want us to just be friends.

For I love her; but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

- - - - -

It was the senior year.

She walked over to my locker on the day before prom.

"My date is sick," she said.

That would make the both of us dateless, for I didn't have a date myself.

Back in the 7th grade, we made a promise that if neither of us had dates for prom, we would go together as "best friends". And only "best friends".

So we did.

Prom night went by smoothly, and after everything was over, I found myself standing on the steps of her house.

As we looked into each other's eyes... I wanted her to be mine, but I knew that it was not to be. For I knew that she thought us just as friends, most probably.

"I had the best time, thanks!" She said, as she gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know...
...that I don't want us to just be friends.

For I love her; but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

- - - - -

It was Graduation Day.

It has been a decade since I've known her. Both of us have graduated with high honours, our bachelors and diplomas attained after much hard work. We have felt dejected on various occassions while mugging for the exams, its contents a blur to us. Yet, through our support for each other did we perservere.

And now, we've finally succeeded.

Have we?

I looked on with a smile, watching her waltz up the podium to receive her diploma. The happiness within her was so subtle; there was no smile, yet one could sense it from afar. She walked to the middle of the stage and gave everyone a bow. Then, during that blink of an eye, both our eyes met. She gave me a mischievous wink, then walked off.

I wanted her to be mine, but it was not to be. For I knew she didn't think of us like this. We were just friends. Only friends.

Before everyone went home, she came to me in her smock and hat, and teared as I embraced her.

"You know, you're my best friend. Thanks!" She said as she lifted her head from my shoulder.
Again, there was that kiss on my cheek.

I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know...
...that I don't want us to just be friends.

For I love her; but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

- - - - -

A few years later...

Now I sit in the pews of the church. That girl is getting married now. I watched her say "I do" and drive off to her new life, married to another man.

I wanted her to be mine, but it was not to be. For I knew she didn't think of us like this. We were just friends. Only friends.

But before she drove away, she came to me and said, "You came!".

"Thanks," was what she said, before she gave me that sweet, sweet kiss on the cheek.

And that would be the last word she'll say to me.

I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know...
...that I don't want us to just be friends.

For I love her; but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

- - - - -

Decades have passed, and I've lived a fruitful life. My lovely wife and her loving husband beside me, we ponder upon the coffin of the girl who used to be my "best friend".

"From dust to dust, from ashes to ashes." And so, she was sent on her way.

Her husband came to me, an aura stirring within him that seemed to displaced me.

"You should have this," he said, as he passed me the yellowish, worn-out book. "I've found this while cleaning up her room one day."

It was her diary during her high-school days.
There, at the last page of the book, scribbled messily, but surely her handwriting nonetheless, was this message:-

I stare at him wishing he was mine, but it was not to be.
Because we're friends.
And only friends.
I want to tell him, I want him to know...
...that I don't want us to just be friends.

For I love him; but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

Oh, how I wish he would tell me that he loved me!!

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I wish I did too, I thought to myself.
Tears of angst flowed down that same cheek she has kissed decades ago, that very day.

I will, one day.

- - - - -

Now, as I lay upon my deathbed, I recall that best friend of mine in Heaven right now.
I would join her very soon.

My last few breaths were dedicated to muttering out these words.

I Love You.

-END-