BARRY PAXTON enjoys writing flash fiction stories, and is currently working on his bachelor's degree in film studies at the University of Southern California.

                                                       my best friend's girl


Drake, who's my best friend, is in the back seat of my car, passed out from drinking too much beer. Again. I'm driving him home because he's my best friend and I'm his, and that's what best friends do for each other. I'm sure he'd do it for me.

My best friend's girl, Victoria, is sitting with me in the front seat of my car. We're both staring straight ahead and listening to K-101 on the radio. I'm comfortable with the silence between us. We haven't spoken a word to each other the entire night. It's nearly morning now.

Suddenly, I feel Victoria's hand on my right thigh. I feel her lips gently touch my ear and I feel the warmth of her breath against my skin.

"I see how you look at me, Jimmy," she whispers. "I see how you look at me."

I continue to stare straight ahead, my hands firmly on the steering wheel. Victoria's hand continues to rest firmly on my thigh.

Drake, who's my best friend (I keep reminding myself over and over and over again), is snoring.

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