So here's the deal, I've known Roger since I was like 9. At first, he was like Collins before Collins actually came along. He would watch out for me, make sure I didn't get picked on and he was more like an older brother than a friend. Not to say that brothers aren't friends, there was just that kind of 'he's above me' attitude that little brothers always have. I wanted to be just like him, and I tried to be like him in subtle ways so as not to make him think I was a freak or anything.

But then, Collins came along in high school. He sort of picked up the older brother role, being 5 months older than Roger and a year older than me. So Roger took up the best friend role.

After high school, Collins and I went to college and Roger did his band thing. A few months later, we all ended up together again, sharing a shitty loft in Greenwich Village, taking on the role of roommates.

Roger decides to give up smack, and I become his keeper. I watched after him, I made sure he ate, I made sure he slept, and most of all I made sure he didn't do smack.

Now it's back to the same ol', same ol'. Roger mopes, I cope, Collins hopes. Roger strums, I film, Collins teaches; nothing out of the ordinary happens, nothing changes. So when did I start seeing Roger as a hot, rock god instead of my best friend? When did I start wondering what it would be like to kiss him instead of what it would be like if we actually had cash? I know I haven't had a girl in a long time, since Maureen five months ago and maybe it's just being lonely puts thoughts in your head. But now whenever we go out, I find myself looking at Roger instead of all the other beautiful girls around me.

Actually, I can pinpoint the exact day I started my crush: September 23rd, 1992. Roger had come home from his bartending job and I had come home from filming. We were hungry, as usual and decided to go to the Life since we actually had some money.

We headed out in the cold New York air, the breeze sending chills up my spine. I felt a warm arm around my shoulders and looked up to see Roger's arm draped across me. Just a friendly gesture I know, but the thing is the moment his arm touched my shoulder, more chills resonated through my body. Not from the wind anymore, but from his touch. I shrugged it off and kept walking, loving the feeling of Roger's warm body next to mine. About a block away from the café, Roger removed his arm and I looked up to see two beautiful emeralds staring down at me. A slight smile graced his face and I almost whispered, "beautiful". I didn't, but I came so close that my cheeks burned.

"You ok?" He asked me.

I looked down, trying to hide my reddening cheeks. "Yeah, I'm fine. You?"

"I'm great."

My head jerked up to see not a sarcastic look or an apathetic face, but a genuine smile. I couldn't remember the last time I saw Roger smile like that. And again, that one word popped into my mind: beautiful. That's all that could describe him with his green scarf wrapped around his neck, the golden skin of his face shining, his brilliant green eyes, and his smile beaming; beautiful. He looked down at me, the amazing smile still present and I smiled back. His pink lips parted to show his perfect white teeth and I noticed that he had actually shaved. I almost reached up to touch his now smooth jaw-line, of course I restrained my hand.

"What?" He asked with a chuckle. "Do I have something on my face?" He asked.

"No, you just actually shaved."

"Well, yeah. I do have to shave every once in a while. I don't want to be Z.Z. Top or anything."

"It just looks different."

"Bad different?"

"No, just…different different." I smiled and as the wind blew through Roger's hair, he started to move but it seemed as if he were gliding, like an angel. The sun shone down on him, and his golden hair shone brightly and seemed even more luminous than I remembered. And then I knew it: I was in love with Roger Davis.