My Best Friend, Evan
Introduction:
I keep accidentally deleting this story over and over but I seriously want to continue this. This is story is true, and I know my gramma is terrible, but english isn’t my first language, so I’m sorry.
I was originally born in Tokyo, Japan. I was adopted and raised as an only child. I lived in a rural area where literally, no one was. Before, my life wasn’t so great. My parents struggled financially, and would always jump from one place to another. My mom was an alcoholic for awhile, and suffered from depression. She tried committing suicide, but my father believed if we just hold on long enough, we’ll be given happiness and everything we needed. And surely it did.
When I turned five, for my birthday was a plane ticket to America. My parents had somehow gotten a couple of millions of dollars, and bought three tickets for all of us. I couldn’t be more happy at the time. We left and moved into a suburban neighborhood with people from all over the world. I swear, when I mean from all over the WORLD, every nationality was there. But when we finally settled in, we began to greet each and every family. I loved it each time, since whenever I saw a new family, there would be a kid around my age.
I ended up making friends. It was all fun. But only one in particular caught my eye. It was the boy who lived next door to me. We seemed to like the same things as me. Video games, books, swimming, food, and pillow forts. His name was Evan. He came from a Caucasian family, and was an identical twin to his brother, Greg. They both were three years older than me, and I enjoyed spending time with both of them. I grew to like them both, and we immediately became friends. I can say that it definitely made our parents get a long a lot easier.
But about a decade later, we were all in high school. I was a freshman, and they were seniors. And around that time, I had just got slugged in the stomach with puberty, and was quickly developing faster than a 1D fangirl could scream. Although I was short, I held the figure models strived for. I had long, black/brown hair, caramel colored eyes, and a nice tan from being on vacation during summer. My body curved in all the right places, and that made me happy! My ass was full, and tight from all the sports I’ve done, and my breasts developed into 36Ds. I know vanity is a sin, but I was secretly proud of my body. And I always found my hips the best feature.
That was when boys from my school began to notice me, and were always trying to talk to me. In the halls, I couldn’t walk a few feet without getting slapped on the butt from older classmates. I really wished I had had an older sister, so they could hit on her instead. But some even tried getting me to go out with them. I’d say no, and most were understanding. But a lot were really angry, and called me a stuck up bitch. I hated it, and thought all guys were just egotistical jerks that only crave sex.
But I tried to not let it get me down whenever I was with Evan. Although I couldn’t lie to him, because he’d find out anyways the next day. So, I’d usually talk to him about, cry for awhile, then get uncontrollably mad. But Evan always knew what to do to calm me down. He’d pick up a movie, go out to buy some burgers or ice cream, a flower, and bring it back as we kind of snuggled on my bed, while watching the movie.
It wasn’t weird for both of us. It was just the way we comforted each other. I liked it, since it made me happy. I didn’t know why, but then I started to take notice of how Evan treated me. It was like I was his princess, and he was my prince. Although we were friends at the time, I couldn’t help myself, and started to like him. It wasn’t because he was good looking, but the way he treated me. He always knew what to say to get me to smile, and knew when the right time was to talk about something silly, or serious.
And before, I had no idea or clue to why he treated me so good. But as time had passed, I had realized that Evan had liked me ever since we met. I’m not very sure what to call it, but I guess it’s one of those forever-crushes things. It’s a little hard to get out and write, but I guess that’s what it basically means (to me, at least)
From then one, once I noticed my true feelings, I actually did want to go out, kiss, or hold hands with a boy. I just wanted to find the right one that I’ll know for sure, that they’ll NOT leave me after they get what they want. And that guy was Evan. I wanted him to be the man in my life.
And we actually ended up confessing to each other, and started dating. I was pretty happy, and so was Evan. And of course, I had no idea what I was doing, so I’d occasionally ask him what couples do, since he had a few girlfriends in the past. But I was afraid I’d get hurt in the end, so I’d usually try and do things he liked.
But little did I know, I’d be happy that I made the choice to be with him. That he was sweet, caring, kind and gentle. He was the definition of a gentlemen/perfect boyfriend. And even further, a man that made me into a women. Something that I’ve never thought I’d be until my wedding day…
