#tytfto

            In the days that followed, I had made little to no progress working up the courage to talk to Michael about what I was feeling.  I liked to tell myself that it was because there was never a good time to bring it up.  At school, there were always classes and other people getting in the way.  But even when the opportunity came and I managed to catch him alone, I couldn’t get the words out.  When it came to the two of us, all Michael and I knew was complicated and messy—or so it seemed.  I was afraid of starting something that would lead us back there.

           “Are you even listening?” Michael asked, taking his eyes off the road for a second, glancing at me.  Truth be told, I’d been in my own little world since we left the school’s parking lot. My mom had needed to borrow my car to get to work this morning since hers was in the shop, so I’d asked him for a ride.

           “Yeah, totally,” I said.

           “Okay.”  He sounded skeptical.  “So, what do you think?”

           “What do I think?” I repeated, staring at him, confused.  The jig was up.

           “I knew it!” He laughed, then made a turn, pulling into my neighborhood. “Have you been blanking on me this whole time?” he asked.  I suddenly felt bad.  Lately whenever I was around him, I often found myself distracted, so focused on keeping everything I wanted to say bottled up that nothing else was able to break through.

           “Sorry,” I told him.  “It’s just been a long week.”  That much was true, at least.  Between Melanie discovering her newfound sex-drive with Luke, constantly asking questions and seeking reassurance, and Ronnie stressing everyone out over SATs and college applications, my mind was working in overdrive.  “What were you saying?”

           He sighed, opening his mouth to start again.  “I was saying,” he began, “I’m really liking the new music class my advisor switched me into. I feel like I’m learning a lot.”  At this I perked up a little.  I loved when he talked to me about music.  After Dana’s accident, it became the only healthy form of relief he had, the one way he could channel all that darkness and pain into something light and beautiful. I also liked the way he got excited over it; his eyes would light up at the smallest mention of the subject, putting a smile on his face that made you believe nothing in the world could ever hurt him.

           “That’s great,” I said.

           “Yeah, a guy in the class saw me play for one of our assignments, actually,” he said, turning right, onto my street.  “He asked me to jam with him.”

           “Wow.”  I raised my brows.  “Who?”

           “Eric Maxwell,” he said after a beat.  We were stopped outside my house, engine still running, as the radio hummed low. It took me a second to realize why that name rang a bell.

           “Eric Maxwell?” I said.  “As in, Ronnie’s Eric, Eric Maxwell?”  He was known as her ex-Eric now.  Obviously. They’d been together for nearly two years before calling it off the summer before our junior year.  It was a mutual decision, Ronnie claimed, but a small part of me sometimes wondered.  Eric was her first love and I just didn’t see how something she once felt so strongly could fade, just like that, eventually burning out like a blazing fire reduced to nothing but ash.

           “Is that a big deal?” he said.  Frankly, I wasn’t sure.  After the breakup, Ronnie and Eric had agreed to be friendly, not become friends with each other’s friends.

           “I don’t know.”  I shrugged, raking my hair back with my fingers.  “Probably not.”

           “Okay, cool,” he said, followed by silence.  I sat there for a moment, thinking that this would be a good time to bring up our relationship.  I took a breath, about to open my mouth, when Michael suddenly said, “Are you still going to Ashton’s later?”  I blinked, having completely forgotten that Ashton had invited all of us over for a party tonight.  Thinking about it now, I was a little nervous.

            “You sure that’s a good idea?” I said.  “You and alcohol don’t have a very good history.”

           “It’s just a small get-together,” he said.  “Besides, I’m not even planning on drinking.”  I narrowed my brows at him.  “I swear!”

           “All right, all right. Fine,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.  He smiled, leaning over the console, and went in for a kiss.  I turned at the last second, so his lips collided with my cheek, and then opened the door beside me.

           “See you later!” I called over my shoulder as I started up the walk.

“Bye.”  He waved, sitting there—parked and unmoving—until I went inside.

***

           “Sydney!” Jenna squealed, pulling me over the threshold of Ashton’s apartment, giving me a hug.  She looked out behind me, expecting to see someone else waiting there, but it was just empty space.  “You came by yourself?” she asked, hesitating a moment before closing the door.  I hadn’t exactly planned it this way, but after the awkward goodbye kiss when Michael dropped me off earlier, I’d just needed some space to clear my head, so I texted him to meet me at the party instead of picking me up.

           “Yeah,” I replied.  “Where is everybody?”  It sounded like a dumb question as I looked past her.  The place was packed—I could already see a table for beer pong set up just a few feet away—and there was music playing from somewhere, probably the living room, the bass pounding in my chest.  Small get-together my ass.

           “Come on, let’s get a drink.”  Jenna took my hand and led me through the crowd, weaving in and around people until we reached the kitchen.  I saw Calum and Ashton sitting at the table, beers in front of them.  Jenna grabbed two from the fridge, handing one to me before popping hers open and taking a swig.

           “Hey, Sydney,” Ashton said, then looked around.  “Where’s Michael?” he asked.  My face flushed.  Besides Mel and Ronnie, he was the only other person I’d told about Michael and me.  I saw Jenna and Calum look up curiously, and then opened my beer, taking a sip to buy myself some time to think of an answer.

            Finally, I shrugged. “I thought he’d be here already.”

            There was a sudden crash to our right, and I turned to see that someone had stumbled into a side table, knocking a picture frame to the floor.  “Hey!” Ashton rose from his chair, looking less than pleased.  “Party foul!”  The guy on the floor scrambled to his feet, swaying a bit to the side as he did so, and picked up the now cracked picture frame, setting it back on the table.

            “Sorry, bro!” he called over.  Ashton just held up his hand, waving it off, and sat back down.

            Jenna walked over, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “The price of hosting a party.”

            He shrugged.  “It was an ugly frame, anyway.”

            I stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room with Jenna by my side, spotting a couple making out on the small sofa and clusters of people talking and dancing as the beer pong tournament raged on.  I mingled for a bit, catching up with a few people I knew from school, and then circled back to get another drink from the fridge.  I’d briefly run into Luke, Mel, and Ronnie on the way, but there was still no sign of Michael.  I was starting to worry.

            “Hey, Ashton,” I pulled him aside.  “Did Michael tell you he wasn’t coming, or something?”

            “Is everything okay with you two?” he asked.

            “Yeah,” I answered, probably too fast.  “I just haven’t seen him all night. He said he’d be here.”

            Ashton frowned.  “I haven’t seen him. Sorry.”  Just then we heard loud banging from the front door. “Hold on,” Ashton said, heading over to see who was there.  He looked through the peephole, and then shook his head, grinning.  “Well, look who it is,” he said as he opened the door. When he stepped aside, I saw Michael come in.  He wasn’t alone.

            Walking in behind him was none other than Eric Maxwell.  His hair had grown some since I’d last seen him and he was wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans.  I watched, frozen in my spot, as Ashton greeted him and the three of them stood there, chatting for a bit.  He waved for me to come over, making Michael look up in my direction, his eyes catching mine.  I turned away, pretending I didn’t see him, and went to look for Ronnie.

            “Hi.”  I found her in the living room, perched on the arm of the couch.  Luke was sat on the cushion next to her, Melanie on his lap.  “You’ll never guess who’s here.”

            She furrowed her brows, taking a sip of beer.  “Should I be worried?”

            “It’s Eric,” I said, making Melanie look up between the two of us.  Ronnie just stared at me, her expression hard to read.  She had always been pretty thick-skinned; not much bothered her, and even if it did, you wouldn’t know it unless she wanted you to.

            “That’s weird,” she said finally, her voice calm and even.  “Who invited him?”

            It had clearly been Michael, but I decided to hold back on that snippet of information for now. “You’re okay, though?” I asked.

            “I appreciate the concern.” She laughed, but I could still see her eyes darting around the room, searching for a glimpse of him.  “But I’m fine. We broke up ages ago.”

            Before I could say anything else I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned to see Michael standing there, Eric right beside him.  “Hey guys,” he said, though I was pretty sure he was only looking at me.  “Hope we didn’t miss anything good.”

            “Nonsense,” Melanie said, sounding like she’d had a little too much to drink.  “The party’s just getting started!”

            “Hi, Eric,” Ronnie said.

            “Hey.”  He smiled, and then added, “You look nice.”

            “I know.”  She took another swig of beer, her eyes on him the whole time.

            Standing between them, the room felt smaller somehow.  I was grateful when Melanie jumped up, pointing out the empty pong table across the room.  The previous game must have just ended.  “I want to play!” She turned to Luke, who was already getting to his feet.  “Who’s going against us?”

            “I’ll play,” Eric volunteered, then turned to me.  “Partner?” he asked.

            I shook my head. “Nah. I’m good.”

            “No problem.”  He redirected his gaze to Ronnie.  “How about you?”

            “Sure,” she said, and the four of them went off, splitting into teams of two at each end of the table: one side Mel and Luke, the other Ronnie and Eric.  I watched them stack cups, overly aware of Michael’s eyes on me. After a minute or so of standing there, shoulder-to-shoulder, in complete silence, I felt his hand on my arm. “Can we go somewhere private?” he said in my ear.  I nodded and let him take my hand, leading me through the crowd, down the hall to Ashton’s room.  Once we were inside, he closed the door and turned to face me.

            “What’s up?” I said, as if I didn’t already have an idea.

            “Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

            “What?”  I was surprised by the bluntness of his question.

            “It’s just…” He sighed, walking over and taking a seat at the end of the bed.  “I feel like you’ve been acting weird around me all week. Are you mad at me?”

            “No, I’m not mad,” I said quietly, sitting next to him.

            “Then what is it?” he asked, turning to me.  I could already feel the lump forming in my throat, threatening to choke back the words I so desperately needed to say.  “Sydney?”

            I took a breath and looked him in the eyes.  Here goes everything.  “Are you still in love with Dana?”

            At this, his eyes widened and he sat up straight, increasing the distance between us.  It took him a moment to find the words, but eventually he settled with, “What would make you think that?”

            “I don’t know.”  I looked away, suddenly finding the hem of my skirt very fascinating.  “I’m just afraid you’re not completely over her, which is totally understandable. I just…” I trailed off, smoothing the fabric between my fingers.

            “Sydney, look at me,” he said, gently taking me by the chin, turning my head toward him.  “There’s always going to be a place in my heart for Dana. I mean she was an incredible girl, and what happened to her hurt me so badly. But I’ve made my peace with it. I need you to know that.”  He took my hands, bringing them to his knee.  “You make me so happy.”

            Without thinking, I leaned forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed my lips to his. He took my face in his hands and kissed me—really kissed me—back, making my insides spark, the swirling thoughts in my head dying one by one until there was nothing but pure bliss.  “I think I love you.”  The words came out in a whisper, so low I wasn’t even sure I’d really said them.

I returned from the kitchen with a steaming hot bag of popcorn, nudging my bedroom door closed behind me with my foot.  Mel and Ronnie were over for a much needed movie night.  It felt like ages since we’d had a sleepover or a Girls’ Night in general, and I was extremely grateful to have the opportunity to finally dish out everything I’d been keeping bottle up lately.  It had been exactly four weeks as of yesterday that Michael and I had mended our friendship, and then consequently put it back into question by making out on his bed.  We didn’t let it get any further than that though.

            I should probably get home, I’d said.

            He’d nodded and walked me out to my car, parting with one last kiss.  I felt strange the entire drive home; I couldn’t even bring myself to turn on the radio.  It was all so new, the feeling of his hands on me, brushing over places they’d never touched before.  The more I thought of it, the more my stomach knotted.  I almost didn’t answer when he sent a text the next morning, asking to hang out.  I didn’t know what we were now and I wasn’t sure how to act around him; Michael, the guy I’d never think to make me nervous over anything.

            Gradually, things began to feel more normal, despite the sneaking around.  We still didn’t consider ourselves to be a “thing,” but I felt more comfortable about whatever we were.  We hung out with the group most days, joking around and teasing each other the way we normally did so we didn’t raise any suspicions.  We also got together, just the two of us, when we could.  He’d take me to the movies and we would sit all the way up in the back, free to hold hands under the cover of the darkness surrounding us.  When it was over, we’d go back to his place or mine and lie in bed, either watching mindlessly funny videos on YouTube until one of us had to leave or just fooling around if we were lucky enough to have the house to ourselves.

            There were still some moments where I had my doubts, and it would keep me up at night for hours at a time.  It was clear we both cared for each other, but I couldn’t help but wonder how Michael really felt sometimes.  It hadn’t been that long since Dana was in the picture.  Was it possible that I was just a part of his healing process?  Some sort of rebound?  Would he eventually get bored and back off once he came to his senses and realized that there was nothing in me that resembled her other than the fact that I was another body to hold close when he needed it?  I couldn’t give myself to him completely until I had solid answers to those questions that so frequently came up in my head, which was why I was ready to break the silence with Mel and Ronnie.

            “Did you find anything to watch?” I asked Ronnie, who was sitting cross-legged on my bed, hunched over her laptop.

            “It’s between Safe Haven and She’s The Man,” she said without looking away from the screen.

            “Let’s watch the Nicholas Sparks one! Josh Duhamel is such a babe!” Mel shot up from her spot on the floor, strands of hair coming out of her bun, falling around her face.

            Ronnie grimaced.  “He’s like forty, Mel.”

            “So? He could still get it. Right Sydney?”

            “Personally I find Channing Tatum more attractive,” I said, crawling over next to Ronnie.  I opened the bag of popcorn and held it out to Mel as a peace offering.

            “Whatever.”  She rolled her eyes and took a handful before joining us on the bed to start the movie.

***

            By the time the movie was over, we were all feeling pretty sleepy.  I fought to keep my eyes open as I peeled myself off the bed and grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats from my dresser.  The three of us changed and washed up for the night.  I shut the door once we were all finished and climbed back into bed, pulling the sheets over me.  Ronnie took up the other half of my bed, while Mel was curled up on an air mattress on the floor.  This is the moment, I thought, I have to tell them now.

            “Guys?” I said, staring up at the ceiling.  Thank God the lights were out; they wouldn’t be able to see the color rising in my cheeks.  The two of them mumbled drowsily in response.  I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to continue.  “There’s something I need to tell you. It’s about Michael…”

            “You guys aren’t fighting again, are you?” Mel rose slightly from her pillow, sounding more alert.  I could feel the mattress shift a bit as Ronnie turned on her side to face me.

            “No, we’re not fighting.”

            “Then what?” Ronnie asked.

            I drew in a deep breath, probably worrying them more.  Just get on with it, I scolded myself.  “I’ve kind of been...well, um,” I wasn’t really sure what to call it, “seeing him for a while.”

            Silence.

            “What do you mean you’ve been seeing him?” Mel asked.  She was propped up on her elbow now and though I couldn’t make out her features in the dark, I could just see her arched brow in my mind, as well as her piercing narrowed eyes trying to place mine.

            “We might be more than friends now. I’m not really sure.”

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Ronnie shot up, turning on the lamp on my bedside table.  “How long has this been going on and why are we just hearing about it?”

            After at least five apologies, I told them everything—the night we made up, our first kiss, and all the secret rendezvouses that had come after.  I had expected the bombarding questions to continue after I was done, but to my surprise, the two of them were silent, letting it all sink in.

            “So is this serious?” Mel was the first to speak.

            I could only shrug.  “I don’t know. I mean, he’s one of my best friends and I obviously love him, but…” I trailed off, playing with the ends of my hair.  “I just don’t want to feel something and get my hopes up for nothing.”

            “You have to talk to him, Syd.”  Ronnie put her hand on my shoulder.  “It would be nice if you could control how you feel like that, but you can’t. If this is becoming serious to you, he needs to know.”

            “Yeah, it’s just like when you told me to talk things out with Luke,” Mel said.  I turned to her, suddenly curious.

            “How did that turn out, hmm?”

            Now it was her face going red.  “You saw us the next day, you know.”

            “I don’t think I do.”

            She glared at me, folding her arms over her chest.

            “Jesus, now you and Luke are going at it? Why am I so out of the loop?” Ronnie sounded a little hurt.  “I thought we were all friends here. Why all the secrets?”

            “There aren’t any secrets, Luke and I are fine,” Mel tried to assure her, a grin stretching across her face.  “A lot better than fine, actually.”

            “Go on,” I said.

            “Remember that night we had a party at Calum’s?”  Ronnie and I both nodded.  “Well Luke found me in the bathroom somehow and we started talking about…stuff and long story short—”

            “You did it in a bathroom, you dirty bird!” Ronnie said, pure shock written over her face.

            “I did not do it in a bathroom. We still haven’t gotten there yet, but you know…”

            “Uh-huh,” I said with a smirk.  She rolled her eyes, tossing her pillow at me.

            “You’re disgusting.”

“Ah shit!” Calum said as struggled with the lights he’d somehow gotten himself tangled up in.  Michael was standing beside him by the tree, laughing as he watched Calum grumble under his breath, looking as though he wouldn’t be offering help any time soon.  The rest of us were scattered around Ashton’s apartment, together on the eve of Christmas Eve.  A tradition we’d kept over the years.  A short distance away from the tree, Ronnie and I were sitting on the floor, putting everyone’s name on a stocking in glittered fabric paint.  Luke claimed he was helping Melanie in the kitchen with the cookies, meaning he was really just watching her bake and eating the left over cookie dough she’d set aside for him.

            “No fucking swearing! It’s Christmas!” Ashton called from the hall.  A moment later he appeared with a big box of ornaments in his arms, Jenna trailing behind him, holding the star for the tree.  I was just about to start the last stocking.

            “If any of you break my concentration right now, my foot’s going right up your—”

            “Okay, Syd!” Ronnie cut me off, holding the stocking still for me to spell out my name.  Once I was finished, she helped me lay all of them out on the coffee table to dry and then went over to Calum who looked as though he was ready to strangle Michael with what was left of the lights.

            “Cookies will be ready in fifteen minutes!” Mel said, poking her head out from the kitchen.  “Who wants hot chocolate?”

            “ME!” our voices rang out in a chorus.  She disappeared again and everyone busied themselves with something.  Ashton had Jenna on his shoulders, holding her tight as she placed the star on the top of the tree.  On the other side, Ronnie and Calum were just starting to put up some ornaments.

            “Hey Sydney, could you do me a favor and get the other box my mom brought over?” Ashton asked, still balancing Jenna.  “It’s in my room, on my bed.”  I nodded and got up, heading into the hall and down to Ash’s room.  The box was where he said it was, overflowing with tinsel and other shiny little trinkets.  I picked it up and was about to turn around when Michael popped up from behind, nearly giving me a heart attack.

            “Mistletoe!” He smiled widely, dangling the stupid thing in my face.

            “Are you kidding me?” I laughed, swiping it away, still holding the box in my other arm.

            “Aw come on,” he pouted.  “Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

            “What are you talking about? I’m covered head to toe in glitter right now, I’m practically radiating Christmas spirit.”

            “I got you something.”

            My face went soft and I felt a warm burning in my stomach, slowly spreading out to the rest of my body.  “What? I thought Luke was your secret Santa,” I said and the grin returned to his face.  He sat at the edge of the bed and I followed, putting the box of decorations down at my feet.

            “I know we were only supposed to get one gift, but I saw this and I couldn’t not get it for you.”  He pulled out a small bag with red tissue paper sticking out from the top.  I couldn’t even form words.  “Open it,” he prodded.  I pulled out the paper, revealing some sort of notepad at the bottom.

            “What is this?” I asked, studying the image on the front of it.  It looked like an outline of a rag doll and it had instructions on the side.

            “Paper Voodoo,” he said, his smile never fading.  “You write out here the person you want to use it on and then you draw the needle anywhere on the doll that you want affected.”

            I stared at the notepad for a moment, confused, and then looked up at him.  “Are you saying I’m a witch or something?” I asked and he only laughed.

            “No, no. I just figured you could use it whenever I do something that pisses you off. You know, put a pin in my head whenever I do something stupid.”

            I smiled, looking down at the pad again.  “Or maybe here,” I smirked, pointing to the figure’s crotch.  “That would be more effective, don’t you think?”

            “No! Read the instructions!”  He leaned over, pointing to the bottom of the page.  “The head is for knowledge and awareness. The crotch is strictly for sexual desires, which I mean, I’m totally fine with if that’s the way you like to handle things,” he added, turning back to me.  I just shook my head and smiled.

            “I love it, thank you.”

            “It was nothing,” he said, shrugging it off, his cheeks turning a slight red.  I reached over and grabbed the mistletoe, holding it over my head.  “What are you doing?” he asked with a nervous laugh, studying me carefully.

It had been two weeks since Michael returned to classes and nearly three since we officially ended our friendship.  I hadn’t spoken a word to him since the morning after Calum’s party and I’d been doing everything in my power to avoid him at school.  Instead of taking my usual seat in the back of the room for the classes we had together, I sat up front, and when lunch came around I sat at the picnic table out in the senior lounge with Mel and Ronnie while the guys all ate in the cafeteria.  On weekends it was a bit easier.  Whenever the group wanted to get together, I just had to make sure Michael wasn’t attending before I accepted any invites.

            “This is getting ridiculous,” Mel said one day while we were sitting in the lounge for lunch.  I was mid-bite into my turkey and swiss sandwich from home—Mom had been insisting I eat less school food these days.  I think she just wanted a reason to start making me lunches again, knowing she wouldn’t have the chance to next year.  Being the only child, it must have been hard for her and my dad to come to terms with the fact that I’d be “leaving the nest” pretty soon.  Even I tried not to think on it that much.

            “What are you talking about, crazy lady?” Ronnie asked.

     “We’ve been eating out here for nearly a month and I’m so tired of having to separate from the guys. It’s our senior year, we only have so much time left with each other!”

            “No one’s forcing you to sit here, Mel,” I told her once I swallowed my food.  “If you want to go, then go.”

            “You should spend some time with them too!”

            “I do spend time with them.”  Just not here, I wanted to add, but thought better of it.

            She groaned and threw her head back dramatically, her long hair falling from her shoulders and cascading down her back.  “Don’t you want to fix this thing with Michael before we graduate?”

            “He has been doing a lot better,” Ronnie weighed in.  I was starting to feel attacked.  If Michael was doing better, it was probably because of the distance between the two of us.  I still hadn’t told either Ronnie or Mel about him trying to kiss me for a number a reasons, one being that I didn’t want them making a big deal out of it and two, I wasn’t actually sure how I felt about it yet.  I figured he’d just been looking for comfort in the wrong place and didn’t realize what he was doing.  He’d never said he loved Dana while they were together, but I knew he cared for her a lot and you don’t just get over that overnight…especially under the circumstances.

            “I told you guys already,” I said, “it’s just better this way.”

 *** 

           After school let out, I decided not to meet up with the rest of the group and instead, got in my car and took a drive over to Ashton’s.  His apartment had really come along since the last time I’d seen it.  The TV was hooked up, along with his PS4, the wireless controllers mounted on his glass coffee table as if they were part of the decor, there were pictures of him and his family all around the place—actually framed and everything—and only a few boxes still filled with random items were left, stowed away neatly at the bottom of his closet.

            “So what’s up?” Ashton asked, grabbing a can of Coke from the fridge.  He kicked the door closed behind him and took a seat across from me at the kitchen table.  He could always tell when I needed to get something off my chest.

            “Is me not being friends with Michael really causing that much trouble for everyone?” I blurted out, and then quickly added, “I mean, Mel keeps going off about graduation, but you’ve graduated and we’re all still close.”

            He sat back and opened his soda, taking a moment to let my words sink in.  “Why aren’t you and Michael friends, again?”

            I gave a long, drawn out sigh before saying, “It’s complicated.”

            “You know I did graduate high school and have some college experience, I could probably figure it out.”

            “Okay, Oh wise one.”  I rolled my eyes.  “Then riddle me this.”  I told him everything, from the very beginning.  Back to when Michael came calling up to my window in the middle of the night to just a few weeks ago, in Calum’s kitchen.  Nothing was filtered out, I gave him every last detail of every fight and meltdown I’d gone through with Michael; I could feel the weight coming off me as the words left my mouth, freeing me from all the guilt and anxiety that I’d been carrying alone.

            “He did what?” Ashton’s eyes bulged after I was finished, the part about my almost-kiss with Michael clearly sticking out in his mind.  “I’m going to need to have a word with that boy.”

            “Please don’t,” I begged.  “It’s over. Done. Forgotten.”

            He didn’t look so convinced though.  “You sure?” he asked, studying my face carefully.

            “He doesn’t need that kind of complication in his life right now…”

            “What about you, Syd? What do you need?”  It was obvious, I thought.  I just needed some space, or at least I’d thought I needed it.  Now I wasn’t so sure.  “We all know you miss him.”

            “Oh you do, huh?” I turned away, fixing my eyes on the corkboard hanging on the wall, plastered in pictures of all of us, I realized, tacked on in random order.  There was one of everyone standing in front of the fountain at Six Flags with some characters from the park.  It had to be from at least two summers ago, before Ashton met Jenna and back when Michael had started experimenting with hair dye.  It was jet-black against his pale skin, earning him the nickname “Emo Kid” which had stuck for a while, until he dyed it back to blonde and eventually bleached it.  “I guess I just don’t want to ruin his progress,” I said after a beat, tearing my eyes away from the board.  “I’ve been told he’s getting better.”

            “Do you even hear yourself right now? Don’t be a martyr and make it out like you’re doing him a favor by keeping your distance. He misses you. A lot.”

            “He said this to you?” I asked, raising my brows, a wave of heat flaring in my cheeks.  As much as I hated to admit it, a part of me couldn’t deny how good it felt to hear that.

            “He doesn’t have to. He’s about as transparent as you are,” he teased.  “Maybe you two are perfect for each other.”

            “He just lost his girlfriend, Ash,” I said with a sigh.  “Besides…it’s Michael.”

            “I know.”  A somber expression crossed his face.  “But he can’t dwell on what happened forever, and neither should you.”

            I still wasn’t sure how I felt about Michael trying to kiss me, but I knew Ashton was right.  I couldn’t let what happened turn me into this bitter, begrudging person.  That wasn’t me and I was tired of feeling so angry all the time.  “You figured out all that with just a high school diploma, huh?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest, leaning back against the chair.

            The corners of his mouth turned upwards, into a smug grin.  “You’re welcome.”

***

             I’d spent the last fifteen minutes sitting in my car, engine dead, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were turning white, as I tried to work up the nerve to go outside and knock on Michael’s front door.  After my talk with Ashton, I realized I had to stop acting like I was protecting Michael by ending our friendship and I couldn’t linger on the downward spiral our relationship had taken forever, otherwise it would never get fixed.  It was time to pull on my big-girl-pants and put this all behind me.

            “Okay,” I said to myself, taking a deep breath.  “1…2…3…”

            In one swift motion, I unbuckled my seatbelt and launched myself out of the car, forcing my legs to carry me up the driveway before I could even consider chickening out.  Once I reached the welcome mat, I stopped and rang the doorbell, my heart pounding as I heard it chime from inside the house.  Then I waited one, two, three minutes?

            This is a total bust, I thought, about to turn on my heels and retreat.  Then suddenly, the knob clicked, freezing me in place, and Ms. Clifford poked her head out, a look of delightful surprise settling on her features.

            “Sydney?” she smiled, but her tone was confused, as if I’d never shown up at her doorstep unannounced before.  “How are you, sweetheart? You never visit anymore.”

            My palms were sweating and I was shaking everywhere.  “Yeah, it’s been awhile,” I managed to say with a polite smile.  “Is Michael home?”

            “He’s in his room,” she said, inviting me in.  “I was beginning to think you two weren’t running in the same circle anymore.”  I stepped over the threshold, the tension heightening in my body as my eyes moved towards the staircase.  I still hadn’t planned what I would say when I got up there.  “Are you hungry? Need anything to drink?” Ms. Clifford offered, snapping my attention back to her.  I just smiled and shook my head.  “All right, well I just picked up a few things from the grocery store, so if you need anything, help yourself.”

            “Thanks, Ms. Clifford.”  She smiled and then disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me without any more reasons to stall.  I grabbed onto the railing and climbed up to the second floor, stopping short when I saw that Michael’s bedroom door was cracked open.  It sounded like he was playing music or something, but it didn’t seem like a recording.  Slowly, I made my way over and peeked in, finding Michael sitting on his bed, his legs hanging off the side, hunched over an acoustic guitar.  His fingers moved fluidly along the neck as he strummed the chords of what I now recognized was Green Day’s Wake Me Up When September Ends.

            “I didn’t know you were playing again,” I said, stepping into the doorframe.  The song immediately cut off and he looked at me, eyes wide, staring as if he wasn’t sure I was actually there.  “You’re mom let me in.”  He watched, silent, as I walked in and pulled the chair out from under his desk to sit.  My nerves were still in frenzy, but I tried to at least fake a calm composure; Michael looked uncomfortable enough for the both of us.

            “You’re the last person I was expecting to see,” he said after a beat.

            “To be honest, I’m a little surprised too.”  Another awkward pause.

            “So…how can I help you?”  He had put his guitar down beside him, now smoothing his hands out from his thighs to his knees, anxious without something to keep them busy anymore.  I just had to spit it out.

            “I don’t like this whole not being friends thing,” I said, shifting my eyes from him to the guitar.  I hadn’t even considered the possibility of him rejecting me when I was back at Ashton’s, but now that the words were out there, it was all my brain could focus on.

            “But I thought that’s what you wanted,” he said, the expression on his face hard to read.

            “I never wanted to stop being friends with you, Michael. It just seemed like what we were doing wasn’t working and I didn’t think it was fair to put us both through that.”  My eyes were on him again.

            “So you just gave up?”

            “Well I’m here, so I haven’t given up yet,” I said, offering my olive branch smile, hoping he would return it.  He did.

            “You’ve got a point there,” he said and I could feel the tension in the room slowly starting to lift.  “So where do we go from here?”

            “Well,” I said, getting up and taking a seat next to him.  “We could start with you telling me when you got back into guitar. I haven’t seen you touch that thing since freshman year.”

            He gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck, and said, “Because of you, kind of…”

            “Me?”

            “I’ve been blaming myself for what happened to Dana, and it made me not want to be me, you know? So I tried a few things to get out of my head. I was drinking, putting all my anger on you…and it didn’t turn out so well.”  He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably before continuing.  “After Calum’s party, I thought I’d give this a shot and it’s been working so far.”

            “Yeah, you don’t totally suck, Clifford,” I teased.  It felt good to be able to laugh around him again.

            “Wow thanks,” he said, pulling his guitar back over his lap.

            “Play me something!” I demanded, reaching over to pluck a string, making a weird, twangy sound fill the room.  He pushed my hand away, laughing and shaking his head.  “Aw, come on! Please?”

            “No way!”

            “I thought we were friends again!”

            “I’m not your prized show-dog,” he scoffed.  “I don’t do tricks for treats.”

            “But what if I gave you a treat?” I said and he frowned, eyeing me warily.

            “What kind of treat?” he asked.

            “Does it matter?”

            “It might…”

            “Just play something!”

            Finally he gave in and grabbed his pick, starting out the chords of yet another melancholy tune.  I was about to give him shit for not choosing something happier when he completely took me by surprise and started to sing.

            “Hello there, the angel from my nightmare. The shadow in the background of the morgue…”

            I sat in awe, feeling as though I was watching a stranger, listening to this voice I never knew he had.  He didn’t look at me as he sang, only watching his fingers as they pressed down against each fret and closing his eyes whenever he wasn’t.  Warmness bloomed at the pit of my stomach, slowly creeping its way up through my chest, forming a lump in my throat.  Who was this Michael, and where had he been hiding all these years?

            “So…where's my treat?” he said after he was finished, laying the guitar flat on his lap.  I was absolutely speechless.  The thought had been gnawing at me since the morning after Calum’s party and until this moment, I hadn’t been sure I really wanted to act on it.  “Sydney? You okay?” he asked, looking anxious.  “I know I’m a little rusty, but I—”

            I reached forward, grabbing the back of his neck and brought his lips to mine, backing away almost instantly.  “I’m sor—” I started to say, but he cut me off with another kiss.  He moved the guitar off his lap this time and cupped the side my face with his palm, moving his fingers back through my hair, entangling them in the strands.  When we finally needed to come up for air, we pulled away, pressing our foreheads against each other’s.

            “Wow,” he breathed, looking into my eyes.  “Who knew you were such a good kisser.”

            “Don’t make me regret this,” I whispered with a hint of a smile tugging at my lips.

            “So what do we do now?” he asked, one hand still caressing my cheek.  I didn’t know what this meant for our newfound friendship, or our relationship at all for that matter.  There were so many thoughts going on in my head at a million miles a second that I couldn’t begin to process any of them.  They would just have to wait.

The sound of someone’s fist knocking against the door was loud and unrelenting.

            “Whoever’s in there, get the fuck up and open the door!” I heard Ronnie shout from the other side, her shrill voice bouncing around my skull like a little ball.  I opened my eyes and found myself still on the floor of Calum’s bathroom, only now my back was sore and I felt like I’d be steamrolled by a truck.  My makeup felt oily on my skin and my throat was dry.  I was afraid to move, in case my stomach was too sensitive and I started projectile vomiting right on the spot—though to be honest, I was in the best place for it, which was somewhat comforting.  “Hello!” She pounded even harder.

            I slowly got to my feet, using the sink as leverage, and opened the door.  Her eyes went wide when she saw me slightly hunched over, Michael passed out on the floor behind me.  “Not. A. Word.” I grumbled, stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind me.

            As soon as the door clicked shut, she opened her mouth, the shock still visible on her face.  “I think you owe me some kind of explanation,” she whispered and I groaned, raking my fingers back through my hair.  I hadn’t even been conscious for five minutes yet and already my preferred ask limit had been reached.

            “Is anyone else up?”

            “Calum, but he went out to get breakfast for everyone,” she answered, and then crossed her arms, giving me a pointed look.  “He told me to get the assholes who locked the door out of the bathroom while he was gone. Now why were you in there with Michael all night? I thought you two weren’t speaking.”

            I sighed, trying to rub the last remnants of sleep from my eyes.  “Let’s talk downstairs.”  She nodded and followed close behind me, both of us stopping short once we reached the kitchen.  The place was a wreck.  Empty bottles and cans littered the countertops and table, the garbage bag hanging from the sliding door had sagged, the top of it overflowing and spilling trash out onto the floor, and the entire room reeked of beer.

            “Wow,” Ronnie said under her breath and I knew, in that moment, we were thinking the same thing: we were staying far, far away from here during cleanup.  Sidestepping the mess on the floor, we moved into the living room and settled on the couch.  I silently prayed someone would turn the corner or walk through so I could avoid this conversation, but no one did.  I wondered how long ago Calum had left to get food.  “Sydney,” Ronnie said, calling my attention back to her.  “Fess up!”

            I started with the fight I’d broken up between Michael and that couple and the rest came after.  She made a small noise when I got to the part about Michael missing Dana’s funeral, her expression matching what I imagined mine had been the night before, and when she asked if we’d made up yet, I shook my head.  “What?” I said.  Her mouth had dropped open.

            “How could you not forgive him after that?” she asked incredulously.

            “Um, because he’s still a dickhead?” It had probably come out more aggressive than Ronnie deserved, but how could she honestly think a few tears would get him off the hook?  What about the tears I’d cried?  None of this had been easy on me either.  Just then, the front door swung open and Calum walked in, clutching his keys in one hand and a large brown paper bag in the other.

            “Well look who resurrected from the dead,” he said when he saw me.  “Where did you disappear to last night?”

            “She was in the bathroom. With Michael,” Ronnie answered for me and I shot her a nasty glare.  Calum’s eyebrows rose and he took a seat on the edge of the coffee table in front of us.

            “I swear to God if you two fucked in my shower…”

            “Jesus, no!” I couldn’t say it fast enough.  Just the thought made me want to hurl.  “I was taking care of his drunk ass and we fell asleep. That is all,” I added, turning to Ronnie to emphasize that last part.  She looked like she was about to argue when my prayers were finally answered and two sets of footsteps came bounding down the stairs, Ashton and Jenna appearing at the bottom.

            “What’s that?” Jenna asked, eyeing the paper bag Calum was holding.

            “Bagels.”  He unrolled the top and held it out to her.  She took one and then turned to Ashton, whose eyes were still half shut, his long blond hair hanging in his face, looking even shaggier than usual.  He grunted in response, giving her a slight nod and she pulled out another, handing it over to him.

            “How was your night?” I asked them as they sat crisscrossed on the floor and began picking apart small pieces of bagel to chew.  I hadn’t seen much of them after I’d left the kitchen, but if I had to put money on it, I’d bet that they were even more hung over than I was.  Ashton still hadn’t gotten around to using coherent words meanwhile Jenna was practically beaming.

            “It was fun.”  She stole a glance at Ashton, who at the moment was too fixated on his food to notice.  Calum caught it though, no surprise.  Nothing ever got passed him.

            “Good night, Ash?” he looked down at Ashton, flashing him a cheeky grin.  If it was me I would’ve been bright red at this point, but Ashton just swallowed and met Calum’s stare, looking smug.

            “Let’s just say I have a new appreciation for roses.”

            “What does that even mean?” Calum asked, looking confused and mildly horrified.  Jenna and I exchanged glances.  I guess there was no need to ask how Ashton liked her tattoo now.  She started to laugh and then looked down to her bagel, ripping off another piece and popping it into her mouth.  “What?” Calum demanded, the sound of his voice making me laugh too.

            Ronnie reached over, touching his shoulder.  “Let it go, babe.”

            We moved into the kitchen and cleared off the table for the moment so we could all sit.  Around noon, Mel and Luke came down, hand in hand, looking much happier than when I had last seen either of them.  I had so many questions bursting in my mind as Mel pulled out a chair beside me, but pushed them into a corner to save for later.  Not long after that, Michael stumbled in, ruffling up his hair and keeping his face down as he sat at the far end of the table.

            “Holy shit!” Jenna’s mouth dropped when she saw his face.  If it was possible, his eye looked even worse now, slightly swollen and a mix of red and dark purple. “What happened to you?”  I felt Ronnie’s eyes on me, but said nothing, not wanting to give Michael any reasons to look my way.

            It got quiet for a moment, but then finally Michael shrugged and mumbled, “Fight.”  No one pressed him any further.

            “You hungry, man?” Calum asked, tossing the bagel bag over to him.  He took it and unrolled the top to peek inside, considering the idea, but then pushed it away.  Aside from the black eye, he looked tired and worn down, like he hadn’t slept in days.  When his eyes flickered up, catching mine, I felt my cheeks burn and quickly turned away, busying myself with twisting the ends of my hair around my finger.  I could feel him watching me, making me painfully aware of my breathing.

            There was a long, awkward pause before Calum pushed his chair out from underneath the table.  “Well if everyone’s done, let’s start cleaning up.”

            “Shot not kitchen!” Ronnie shouted, putting a finger to her nose.  Everyone around the table immediately did the same, but I’d been too busy trying to ignore Michael that it took me a second to process what was going on.  “Oooooh sorry, Syd…” Ronnie frowned, as I was the last person to call shot-not, earning the lovely job of kitchen duty. 

            “Dammit,” I grumbled, looking around the room again, taking in the litter of empty beer cans and cups that were still half full; the floor was also sticky in some places, probably from all those rounds of beer pong.  Then I remembered, looking down at my shirt, the stain that had dried up there.  I’d completely ditched Matt to take care of Michael; English was going to be super awkward on Monday.  Without further delay, everyone else grabbed a fresh trash bag and spread out to the rest of the house while I stayed put, eyes wandering around the room, wondering where to even begin.

            “Hey.”  I turned around, surprised to see Michael standing there.  I tried not to look directly at his eye, but it was like an accident on the side of the road.  You don’t want to see it, but you just can’t seem to look away.  After a long pause he said, “I didn’t think you should have clean this up alone.”

            “No, I got it,” I said quickly, getting up from the table and heading over to the overflowing garbage that was still hanging from the sliding door handle.  Wrinkling my nose, I pressed down on the top of it until the mound of trash no longer spilled out and pulled at the red strings on the sides, tying them in a knot.  I glanced over my shoulder after, seeing that Michael hadn’t budged.  “Really, I don’t need your help.”

            “Come on, Sydney,” he begged, making his way across the room.  “How long are you going to be mad at me?”

            “How long are you going to be an idiot?” I countered, brushing past him to grab another trash bag from the closet.  I shook it out and got started on the counters.  Michael still hadn’t taken the hint.

            “Come on, don’t you think we’ve been at each other’s throats long enough?”

            It was then that I couldn’t take it anymore.  I spun around so fast a flicker of fear briefly flashed across his face.  “You really hurt me Michael, and the worst part is that I don’t even know if you remember the things you said to me, but I remember them. All the time and I’m not going to get over it just because you’ve finally decided that you’re sorry.”

            “But you’re one of my best friends,” he said, once again trying to close the space between us.  This time I didn’t back away.

            “Am I?” I folded my arms over my chest.

            “Look, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been kind of losing my mind over here, I’ve never dealt with anything like this before and I know I’ve sucked at it.”

            “Sucked majorly—”

            “The point is,” he cut me off, startling me into silence, “I need you, okay? I need you.”

            He was inches away from me now, looking down into my eyes with the same pleading look I’d seen on him that first night I found him sitting on my porch.  All I could do was look up at him and shrug, my voice dropping below a whisper.  “You had me.”  He held my gaze for a moment and then, without warning, started leaning in, turning his head a little to the side.  “Whoa!” I jerked back, my heartbeat going from 0 to 60 in a matter of seconds.  “What are you doing?”

            “I, um…sorry,” he mumbled, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.  I was still in shock.  Of all the ways I had imagined this conversation going, that was not the direction I thought we’d be headed in.

            “You know what, Michael?” I said, making him look up.  “I can forgive you going a little crazy because of everything that’s happened, but I don’t think we can be friends right now.”

            “What? But Syd—!”