Two weeks ago, I slept with my best friend’s brother. Now, this was more than my best friend; she was practically my sister. She was, and is, my everything. Now that I’ve lost her, I can’t stop thinking about her laugh, her freckles, her crepe making abilities, our late nights sipping vodka out of water bottles, giggling and feeling invincible with her by my side. But now I’ve lost it, and it was all for nothing. Her brother was charming, oh so charming. He was eighteen, and I was hooked. It was like a drug – everything was clouded by thoughts of him. He smelled like clean sheets and kissed me softly, telling me he loved me. Maybe it was because I saw so much of his sister in him, but I fell in love back, and I fell hard. All of a sudden I was sneaking downstairs to his room to be with him in the middle of the night, choosing sleepovers with him instead of her. She voiced how uncomfortable this made her, and I should’ve listened; right now I would do anything to go back in time, walk upstairs, and take my rightful place in her bed, not his. But I didn’t. Trips downstairs turned into trips to movie theaters and lunches. I floated through my haze of infatuation with this seemingly perfect older boy that I got to call my own, ignoring the glaring consequences that would inevitably arise. On July 3rd, I got a text from him, “Come outside.” I snuck out of my house, meeting him in his car. He wanted to take me stargazing. We laid down the blanket and I curled into him, tracing the outline of his jaw that looked so much like his sister’s. The sky was so black it enveloped the field we were sprawled on, narrowing my world so that all I could see was him. I initiated it, I told him I wanted it, and as I kissed his neck I fully believed that I was the luckiest girl in the world. He dropped me off at home with a goodnight kiss, and a promise to call tomorrow. He didn’t call, he didn’t text – I was devastated. I thought that having my heart broken by him was the worst pain in the world, but I was wrong. The worst pain I’ve ever experienced was the moment I realized I had broken my best friend’s heart. He had already told his friends, and she was bound to find out. I didn’t know who else to go to about what had happened; she was the one I told everything to. Not only did I tell her that I slept with her older brother, but I ranted about how he had discarded me for hours. She sat there politely, because that’s the kind of person she is. She comforted me, even though I had hurt her to the point where she may never be able to trust me again. When I left her later that day, I didn’t realize I was leaving the best thing in my life behind. I’ve apologized and groveled for forgiveness, but there’s nothing I can do but wait. We haven’t talked in a week, and it’s killing me. The worst part is that I know that she feels alone, betrayed by her sister and soulmate, and it’s completely my fault. If you’re reading this, I want you to know that you’re the only sibling I want. I love you, I am so sorry.