"I have a boyfriend now!" said Macy, my best friend. We were waiting for our buses to come pick us up from school. She'd been acting ridiculously happy, and now I knew why.
I smiled at her. "That's amazing," I told her. "Is it Luke?" She nodded eagerly. Luke had been her crush for the longest time. Now she was living her dream: dating him. "Congrats. You two make a perfect couple."
But deep down inside I wanted to tear them apart. It wasn't fair. They hardly knew each other. He'd never acknowledged her, as far as I knew, unless it was for a school project. Now, out of nowhere, he suddenly had enough of an interest in her to ask her out.
That wasn't the only problem. I was in love with her. She was the sweetest, funniest, kindest, most selfless person ever, and we got along great. Why did I think we could be together? She was straight. She viewed me as a sister, nothing more. Yet part of me had still dared to hope that maybe there could be something more between us just waiting to be born, or that was already born but we just didn't see it. But no, I was wrong. There was nothing between us except friendship.
As long as she was happy, I would try to keep a smile on for her. I would be her wingman, except a female one. I would help her keep their relationship strong and stable, and healthy. I wasn't going to be the type of admirer – or friend – that tore my friend's relationship apart just because I was jealous.
As long as she was happy, I was happy.

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