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Like Bree

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"Tom's lucky," Felicity says with a grin as she looks around your living room.

You raise your eyebrows and she continues. "It's so spotless in here! The man's away for a weekend, and you clean the house. He'll make a housewife out of you, yet!" She giggles, showing she's kidding.

You grin in reply, but can't say anything. If you open your mouth, you know you'll end up saying something stupid, like how you didn't clean for Tom. Or how you only cleaned because she was coming over, and you want everything perfect for her, because she deserves it.

"If you don't be careful," she says, still grinning that beautiful, infectious grin of hers, "you'll turn into Bree!"

You can feel the blood drain from your face, and you thank God you're already pale to begin with -- maybe she won't see it. But you still don't answer, for fear of saying something stupid, and now she's looking at you intently. She's still smiling, but you know her looks inside and out, and she has a glint in her eye that wasn't there a moment ago.

You force yourself to open your mouth: "Yeah, well, gotta keep him happy!" You cringe inside at how trite that sounds, but you can't help it. You're lying to her, and you never really did that too well. It explained why you were giddy as a school girl after she kissed you at the GLAAD Awards, and the stupid -- and entirely too transparent -- comment about going to bed with her lipstick still on your lips. It explained how you held her to damn tightly at every premier or awards show or event you were at.

She's still watching you with those eagle eyes, and she says softly, "You're more like Bree than you think." She pauses. "You even lie with the same intent of keeping up appearances."

You can feel the fake 'Bree' smile frozen on your face, but can't seem to shake it off. She has no idea what she's talking about, you think. She thinks the source of your Bree mannerisms is Tom, when really, it's her.

She makes you feel warm and loved, even though you know she loves Bill. She makes you want something you know you can never have. She makes you repress. Repress your feelings, repress your desires, your emotions. She makes you want to be perfect, just on that off chance that maybe, maybe, you could have a chance with her.

She tells you that you're more like Bree than you think. But you're not. Because you know something she doesn't.

You know that you're exactly like Bree.