Can't Go Home (Oasis Waterfall) Read Online Free PDF

dirtiest, coolest thing I knew. Syd said that I just wanted to be her and steal her growing popularity. He didn’t know what to do, so he let us both off the hook and sent us back to class with a very stern, very fake warning. Our friendship was sealed.
    Our friendship has faced some rugged terrain from time-to-time. In tenth grade, I shrunk her lime green cashmere sweater after I put it in the dryer on high heat for two hours. Also in tenth grade, Syd kissed the guy I was crushing on in the hallway right in front of me. (Coincidentally, the sweater incident happened a few hours after the kissing betrayal. I’ll never admit that it was intentional.)
    In eleventh grade, Syd told everyone at a party that I’d never seen a penis. (I hadn’t.) With in three seconds flat, five penises were whipped out and flapping in the wind. I was mortified—and quickly educated.
    In twelfth grade, Sydney walked in on me making out with her older brother one weekend when he was home from college. All of Syd’s friends had to swear to never touch Kyle. I made the vow, but he was way too hot to care about that silly promise. (He’s married and has triplets now, completely off the market.)
    Then, in college, I got the grades Sydney wanted, and she got the bar maid job I applied for. (Sydney didn’t even apply for it. She got the job, simply because she walked in with me when I turned in my application.) I stayed in college, graduating with Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees. She did not. It’s been a battle of the best friends for nearly fifteen years.
    But all-in-all, we’ve remained friends, best friends through it all. I was there, holding her when her father was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer, crying with her, tear for tear. I was even there when he went into remission. We celebrated with Tequila and nachos, shot for shot, chip for chip.
    Sydney was there for me when I discovered that my father had been cheating on my mother. Syd was actually the mastermind in getting them back together and into counseling. Syd saved my parents. I owe her. Our friendship has withstood the test of time, and we’re still here, bickering like enemies and loving each other like sisters. But man, sometimes she is such a witch. Like today.
    “What can I do to make you see how hot you are?” Sydney asks, leaning in closer to me. Okay, maybe she isn’t so bad.
    “It’s not that I don’t think … I mean, I know I’m not butt ugly. But Syd, this guy … he’s … I don’t know how to explain it,” I respond.
    “Who does he look like?” she asks. Sydney likes when people are compared to famous people. If you can piecemeal a visual description from multiple celebrities, then she’s satiated. For instance, saying something like “The girl had Sandra Bullock’s hair, Megan Fox’s eyes, Julia Roberts’ mouth, Leighton Meester’s wardrobe …” would make Syd’s day and paint the perfect picture for her. She’s very visual.
    “I don’t know who he looks like … like … I don’t know. Like every hot fantasy, I’ve ever had.” I admit truthfully.
    I’m stalling, because I know she’s going to freak when I tell her. Sydney won’t be able to handle what I’ve already come up with. I spent a good portion of last night thinking about it—figuring out his perfect physical “movie star” description.
    “Alright, I already thought about it, because I knew you were going to ask me again. But, you can’t think I’m delusional, okay? Promise?”
    “Scout’s honor,” she says, using the wrong gesture, unless of course, the Scouts are really mad at the world these days.
    “Dre looks like a triple combination, a twisted delightful perfected version of …” I stall, knowing she’s going to laugh at me and not believe me.
    Syd glares at me, motioning for me to continue. “Okay … okay … Paul Walker.” Sydney’s eyes widen. “Taylor Kitsch,” I add, while Sydney, licks her lips vulgarly and suggestively, “and Wilson