You're my best friend

If it weren't for the fact that the idiot who was standing next to me was my best friend, I'd have just left him on the sidewalk and drove off laughing sadistically.

But no, considering the odd fact that I had some strange feeling for him already beginning to grow in me, I couldn't leave him there.

I sighed as he entered by beat up green chipped Honda. I actually hated my car but stupid Ichigo had to go on about how much he liked it and how it suited me.

Me?

Definitely not.

This car had the nastiest green to it, like the color of nausea if you could see it. The tires were already covered in muck from all the years no one had cleaned it. It was practically caked dry on it. Plus there were already bug guts on the window too. Yuck.

This car suited me?

Glad to know my best friend thought of me as an ugly green car with poop on its wheels.

My best friend was most definitely insane.

Ichigo hopped in the passenger seat next to me with a grumpy face and his arms crossed over his chest.

Since it was already three in the friggin' morning, I wasn't in the mood for his crabbiness.

Or it was at least close to three, only ten minutes to go. Either way it was too late for me to be out and cheery.

When he called me about fifteen minutes ago I didn't even bother to put a bra on. Who the hell is gonna see me at three in the morning anyway? Just in case though I put on a baggy sweater.

Besides, having a cup of coffee at Starbucks seemed good right about now.

In the passenger seat beside me in my tiny cramped car Ichigo gave a long frustrated sigh through his nostrils.

I ignored it and began to drive to a wonderfully awaited Starbucks.

Out came another, angrier sigh from his nose. So considering the amazingly cool bestiest best friend that I am, I turned to him and rolled my eyes.

"What's eating your cranky ass?" I asked, slightly turning to face him.

A grunt came from him and a moment after that another sigh.

Not getting an answer from Ichigo was like wasting about thirty-six seconds out of my life until he finally responded because he felt like he needed to get it out.

"Some crazy girl kissed me and it felt like I kissed a monkey." He replied to me, visibly ashamed.

That's it? Like you haven't kissed a monkey before. I thought to myself, annoyed at how stupid his reason was.

I gave a smug smile. "What, did she taint your innocent virgin lips?" was my sarcastic response to his moronic reason.

"No," he responded quickly, earning my right eyebrow to raise a centimeter or two. "She was just ugly."

A snort came out of my nose and I laughed. "My, I didn't know you were so picky. I thought that as long as you got laid it wouldn't matter."

He turned his entire face to me and scowled. "Funny."

-

Parallel parking was a bit difficult for me. Considering I lived in a large city you'd expect me to get used to it and be a pro. But no, it doesn't work that way for me. Most of the time I walk or ride my moms bicycle from the seventies.

I don't need to use a car unless I feel lazy or if I need to go somewhere far.

So parking at Starbucks got me angry. And can you believe it?

I work there.

"Look, if you're grumpy just 'cause of that I'm gonna leave you here at Starbucks and have you walk home." I shut the door and stood on the sidewalk waiting for him.

Even though the streetlight barely illuminated the streets I could still see Ichigo through the window glaring daggers at me.

Starbucks didn't open at this hour but since I have the keys to it I'm able to go in whenever I want and brew myself a nice cup of Café Au Lait.

"I'm counting to ten and if you're not out by then I'm staying in the café until it opens." I warned. "Besides, I have the keys with me, and I know you have no clue how to hotwire a car." In my attempt to provoke him I took the keys out of my pocket and jingled them like bells.

After I counted to ten and he still hadn't come out I unlocked the door to Starbucks and let myself in, but I heard the car door shut quietly and some incoherent grumbling and I smiled to myself.

I'd love to say in a sense that I have Ichigo whipped, which to another person could be true, but I still don't think so.

Sure he listens to me, but every now and then, even though I specifically tell him not to, he brings home girls and, speaking of the fact that it is my apartment he lives in, I find some half naked bitch titted ho in my living room on my couch while Ichigo is on my queen sized bed completely knocked out with drool painting the lower part of his face.

The nerve of him.

Which also leads to my self-consciousness of my boobs.

Every once in a while I find my moronese-speaking best friend telling me I have mosquito bite boobs and that I'm the owner of the itty bitty titty committee.

Nice.

It isn't my fault I still have the body of an undeveloped teenager. Seriously though, I've seen kids half my age who have huger boobs than me.

How cruel.

I hopped on the counter and sat Indian style on it.

"What can I make you dear grouchy customer of mine?" I asked him eagerly, smiling and leaning forward as he tediously shut the door and walked toward me while pulling up a chair.

He kicked off his shoes and stretched his long legs out and set his feet on the counter where I sat.

"Something that'll keep me up." Came the muttered complaint. He sounded tired and smelled a bit like alcohol. "And a massage."

I couldn't help but smile at how he acted. "Sure Strawberry." I hopped off the counter and started the coffee maker.

It only took about two to three minutes for the coffee to be ready so I jumped back on the counter and handed Ichigo his coffee and sipped mine.

I guess you could say it was days like these at two in the morning, just the two of us, drinking steaming coffee that I really enjoyed.

In my junior year of high school I became best friends with him. I actually knew him since eighth grade and I hated him with a great passion.

Except in high school I guess it changed. For my freshmen year I didn't have a single class with him. It was one of the luckiest years of my high school experience. Next to my junior year, that is.

In my junior year I found that I had every, and I mean every, class with him.

Ha, and I thought he was stupid.

At first I thought this entire class thing and being best friends with him would never ever be possible, but oh yes, it happened.

And I found myself hating him again even after the two years I had dealt without him.

What made me become best friends with this bozoslashmoronslashladiesmanslashsweetandhotguyslashass?

No flippin' idea.

In front of me I heard a muffled laugh and I looked down to see what Ichigo was doing.

He was staring at me with a slight smile.

"What are you looking at chicken head?" I frowned at him and attempted to hide my reddening cheeks.

He shook his head while his smile grew wider.

"Nothing you dork. Why were staring at me and spacing out?" As he spoke I watched his lips and more heat came rushing to my cheeks.

The coffee I drank made it worse for me.

I closed my eyes and smirked, "Yeah right man. Me spacing out and staring at you?" Damn was I bad liar. "In your dreams."

And all he did was smile and laugh.

Today we spoke about Amish women.

He jumped in my bed this morning like a large St Bernard, causing me to spring in the air about four to five feet.

"Hey munchkin." Came his breezy, rough voice beside me. His arms were folded behind his head resting on my lavender plush pillow.

With a small sigh I turned to him (after I landed back on my bed), his face mere inches away from me.

I had to remember to breathe right.

But jeez he smelled so good that if I even breathed in I'd be having my heart pumping erratically.

"What is it?"

He turned his body toward me and rested his head on his hand, holding his head up with his arm.

"Just wanted to see my roomy this morning."

This happened every once in a while.

On days when he's in an amazing mood he'll come to my room and pointlessly wake me up and lay there with me. I don't have an extra room in my apartment so Ichigo sleeps on the couch in the living room.

There is no way to count the numerous times I have washed my sofa cushions from the "dirty whore" stains.

My apartment is most definitely not a fun house!

I rested my head on my pillow next to his and frowned. "Great, you saw me now get out."

Instead of getting off my bed he scooted closer to me until I could feel the heat coming off of his body. I scooted over on my bed more until I was almost at the edge. He scooted closer again and I groaned.

"Your game isn't working Ichigo." I said, as I lifted a leg over his body and rolled over onto the other side of him.

A tiny whine came from him and I turned over so my back was to him. "C'mon Rukiaaa. Get up and I'll make you some nice eggs with ketchup and homemade OJ."

I huffed. "You suck at cooking."

That wasn't a no though. So he took my last response as a yes and lifted me up by my left leg and placed it over his shoulder having my back to his, upside down, while my head was hitting his lower back.

I growled and crossed my arms over my tiny chest. "If this is your way of being kind and a good friend it isn't working." I complained to him.

Even though I couldn't see his face I could tell he was smiling.

He walked out of my room and out into the living room, which was actually part of my kitchen, and dropped me on the couch uncomfortably causing me to 'oof'.

Being on the couch upside down practically sent all of the blood in my upper body rushing to my head, making me feel like I had an enormous cranium.

While I lay on the couch in an irritating position, not bothering to move, Ichigo whistled, in a manly, cheerful way, making my soon to be disgusting breakfast.

"You sure you don't wanna just put some frozen pancakes in the microwave for me?" I inquired, sitting up and not wanting to start my morning by upchucking.

"Nah cupcake." He called back to me in a mocking, sweet voice.

"How nice of you, diarrhea colored muffin head." I responded back to him sardonically.

Ichigo gave a chuckle and continued on with his lousy cooking.

For a while there was just silence and the sound of birds singing. It was so peaceful that I didn't want to ruin it until I heard Ichigo shout "What the...!" Accompanied with a "fuck."

Abruptly I fell off the couch, rubbed my head and scrambled to the kitchen where Ichigo was. "W-what happened?" I asked, somewhat startled and wobbling next to Ichigo.

Inside the pan were black gooey eggs. Almost like tar, but worse.

"What the hell kinda food did you make Ichigo?" The thing in the pan was disgusting; I don't think I could even call it food.

Both of us stood there and stared into the pan.

Ichigo sniffed. "So much for making you my specialty breakfast." He said as he opened the garbage can with his foot and threw the entire iron pan in the garbage.

I hopped on the kitchen counter next to the sink and smirked, waiting for his next obtuse idea.

He turned to face me and opened the freezer with a slight smile, "Pancakes?"

A laugh escaped by throat and I couldn't help but smile at his suggestion. "Sure, bestie."

Bleh, anal dwelling monkeys are eating my puppy. And I think I've always discontinued a story and deleted it. Hopefully it won't be the same for this one. :\

I tried to be err… creative? Yeah. Anyways, if you liked it and would like a cup full of ultra cool awesome Sunny D then I suggest you:

Review! (or just yeah…)