I sat on Jace's bed, flipping through an old issue of Sports Illustrated, blankly, not reading a word. He was standing in front of his mirror, combing and shaking his hair dry.

I looked up and cocked my head to the side. “You going for a Bieber look?” I asked with a smirk.

Jace turned and looked me in the eye seriously with his honey-brown eyes. The desk lamp next to his bed made them look especially vibrant. “Don't even joke about that,” he replied sternly. He even pointed a steady pointer-finger in my direction for emphasis.

I laughed and tossed the old magazine on the floor. Leaning back against the pillows, I glanced at the bedside table. The broken alarm-clock flashed twelve o'clock, and spare change, movie tickets and used toothpicks littered the majority of the table. But amongst the useless garbage laid on the table stood a picture frame. It held a picture of Jace carrying me on his back, with my arms wrapped around his neck, and both of us in mid-laughter. The captured moment was framed by an old, macaroni frame with BEST FRIENDS FOREVER childishly written down the side. Although the picture frequently changed with us, that frame had been there for as long as I could remember.

“Hey,” Jace was trying to get my attention. I turned to see him holding up a lavender polo in one hand and a royal blue zip-up sweatshirt in the other. He stood amongst a pile of rejected clothing that covered the floor. He was stressing out a lot about his first date with Evelynn. They'd dated before, and I never thought I'd see them together again. But I think he's more serious this time.

I studied the options he held before me. “Light purple isn't your color.”

“So... the blue, then?” He asked, holding it against his front.

“Yeah.”

Jace pulled off his baseball t-shirt, revealing his recently toned upper body. My heart skipped a few beats, since it wasn't a sight I was accustomed to yet. Over the summer, he'd lost a lot of weight, completely refining his image. His muscles now exposed themselves on his chest and stomach, and his arms were now firmed and muscular too. He stood in front of the mirror inspecting – and probably mentally criticizing – everything about his new shape.

“You know, I think I'm joining the cross country team next year,” he said.

I sighed. He hated running. “Why?”

“I've been eating like a cow since baseball started,” he replied.

I gave him a look. “You're SUCH a girl!”

He shot me a sarcastically offended look, pulled a pillow off the bead and whacked me in the side of the head with it. We both peeled over in laughter. I don't think he will ever understand how truly perfect he actually is.