I was lying in bed, awake and checking my email. I was smiling to myself, relieved that the day had gone smoothly. Justin and I bonded. Joked, teased, shopped... That part was even fun, but I didn't tell him that. I did, however, play along with his childish ways as he forced me to model in an array of outfits he'd magically appear with before he snapped my photo with his fancy digital camera, saying things like 'Give me sexy, you sexy beast!' in the worst French accent I've ever heard.

It was hilarious and completely endearing. Yes, I loved him and it grew more today. I didn't let myself believe we were a couple, but I did allow myself to wish for it, stop and pray for it, and even dare to think at more than one occasion that if I leaned close enough, I could steal a kiss and maybe stir something in him that would make him feel the same.

Of course, nothing went beyond my thoughts because I loved him enough to save him drama and accept that when he left tomorrow, the pain of being alone with him so far away and not mine again would drown me. I frowned a little when I thought of it, but a part of me failed to care. I couldn't take pleasure without accepting the hurt that came with it. No pain, no gain. I wanted him in my life, friendship was good enough, even if I fantasized a little on the side...Or a lot. Whatever. Minor details in the grand scheme of things.

I sighed. Maybe this was just a momentary lapse of judgment because of my good spirits. I don't know. I guess I'll have to wait and see what tomorrow will be like in order to determine whether or not having him around is really worth the torture. Did I love him enough to have him around regardless or did I love him too much to endure not being with him?

"Sash?" The voice came from the hall outside my door and I tilted my neck to speak to him.

"Come in," I said, and he turned the knob and strolled into the room in gray sweats and a Pink Floyd prism shirt on. I smiled instinctively. He did the same.

"What are you up to?" he asked curiously, stretching and cracking his back. I glanced quickly at the exposed skin his hiked t-shirt showed before he relaxed with his arms lazily at his sides. I shrugged.

"Email," I answered with boredom, "I can't really sleep." I glanced at the time in the right-hand corner of the computer screen. It wasn't even half past ten and I figured that was why. Much too early for bed. I had enough sleep in this week than I had in a while and I was much too rested and happy to sleep the good night away. Justin walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. I was sitting Indian-style on the bed, so he was sitting right by me, tilting his head to peek at the screen.

"I can't sleep either," he sighed, "I'm debating about going home tomorrow." I rolled my eyes.

"Justin, it's fine," I assured, "I'm not going to die if you leave tomorrow. It's not like I'll never see you again."

"I know that," he pouted, looking down at his lap as he picked at invisible lint, "I'm not so sure I wanna go just yet. I had fun today."

"We'll have fun other days," I cooed, "Besides, don't you miss your precious LA? Oh, the beautiful beaches and weather!" He snorted a laugh and shook his head.

"Yeah, but Philly's a lot more appealing, less paps and you..." he trailed off, "Besides, Mike and his family aren't done exploring yet. He wants to stay another day or two." He shrugged nonchalantly. "No harm will be done... unless you do want me to go."

He looked up at me with big, doe eyes and I shook my head and smiled. "You're disgustingly childish. And your act is unnecessary. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"In that case... what's the rent like?" I laughed and rolled my eyes as he settled in more comfortably beside me. I ignored the butterflies and the anxious pounding of my heart, sitting up a little straighter as he lied back against my propped up pillows and gently rested his head on my arm. "I'm seriously diggin' it here though."

"Is that right, jive turkey?" I joked and he snorted a laugh beside me before pointing at the screen.

"You made that?" he asked as I opened up a wallpaper I had created out of boredom in my Photoshop program. I nodded, becoming self-conscious about my abstract work as he examined it with his wandering eyes.

"It's just silly stuff," I mumbled, "I do it when I have free time."

"It's really good," he complimented, "I love the colors." I took in the arrays of blues, yellows, and greens and the one red streak I thought looked good. It seemed too bright now and I closed the window before opening up the Internet explorer.

"I used to want to do graphic design," I told him, "Nursing was more realistic though."

"Why?" he asked, confused, "Graphic design's as realistic as nursing."

"I meant as far as getting a job," I explained, "It's too in demand, I guess. I'm not much of a competitor. I just do what I'm good at and what will get me by."

"You're good at graphic design," he told me, "You could've gotten by."

"You saw one wallpaper," I argued, "You can't judge off of that."

"Well, it was so amazing that I can only imagine what else you're capable of," he said, giving me a light nudge, "You really oughta give yourself more credit, Sash. What happened to that fierce confidence of yours?" I shrugged, wanting to drop the conversation, but I could feel him burning a hole into my head and I knew he wasn't going to get off my ass about it until I actually answered him.

"I'm still confident, I'm just honest with myself," I said, "If I suck at something, I'm going to admit that I suck at it."

"You don't suck at graphic design," he said, "Or nursing...Or cooking. In fact, you don't suck at anything."

"I can't sing," I argued, "Or dance."

"I don't know about that," he said with the hint of a smile in his tone, "I haven't seen you done either."

"Trust me, you don't want to," I said, shuddering at the thought.

"Like I should trust that you suck at graphic design?" he retorted sarcastically, "I'll be the judge, thank you very much."

"Well, you'll never hear me sing or see me dance, so thank you very much," I shot back, googling Shia LaBeouf absentmindedly. Justin grunted disapprovingly as I clicked on a fan site.

"Aren't you a little old for him?" he asked and I rolled my eyes.

"He's maybe two years younger," I scoffed, "And I'm not old, grandpa. You're three years my senior, remember?"

"Well you don't see me googling the Olsen twins," he grumbled and I nudged his head off of me.

"Why does it matter?" I said, clicking around the image gallery. "Are you jealous?"

"No," he quickly denied. A little too quickly. I smiled. He was jealous and I liked that.

"He's really cute," I went on, "I mean, look at those big ol' doe eyes."

"He looks lost and confused," Justin criticized, "He looks like a little boy."

"He has a baby face," I shrugged, "So do you." He snorted at the comparison.

"I'm rugged though." I laughed.

"Rugged?" I squeaked, "You have to be kidding me, Justin."

"What?" he asking, completely innocent, "I am! I have stubble and stuff."

"And stuff..." I mumbled off, giggling a bit, "So does Shia." I clicked on a picture with him in a light beard. It was the Eagle Eye look that I loved and I couldn't help smiling at bit at the picture.

"That's peach fuzz," Justin dismissed, completely unimpressed, "I looked like Big Foot one time. My beard was massive." I wrinkled my nose in disgust and turned to face him.

"That's foul," I complained, "Why did you run around looking all hobo for?" He pouted in response, glaring at the screen.

"It wouldn't be hobo if Shia did it," he childishly whined and I rolled my eyes, returning to the Yahoo screen.

"Fine, no more Shia," I told him, still smiling inside, "What do you want to do?" I felt him shrug as he leaned back on my shoulder.

"Laying here seems good," he yawned, "That couch is really starting to kill my back." I frowned at the screen, not wanting him to see that I was disappointed that he'd chosen to sleep on that godforsaken couch instead of in bed with me. He didn't seem to notice my frump face before I changed it into a relaxed one. I had to play it cool when I said my next line.

"Well, you're more than welcome to sleep up here," I told him, nonchalantly and without any hidden messages. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea, but I didn't want him to get the right one either. If I sounded indifferent, then he'd just have to answer without any pressure from me. He paused and 'hmm'ed in thought.

"I guess I could get a good night's sleep for the next day or two..." he mumbled, "I'm going to be on that plane for a while and it would be nice to have a fully functioning spine..." I chuckled.

"You're the one who chose to torture himself," I reminded, "I offered my bed and you declined." I bit my lip once the words left because that sounded bitter. I didn't mean to. It came out that way. I was hoping it was in my head, but I felt Justin shift uncomfortably away from me, recoiling at my tone. I felt the blood rushing to my head as I became embarrassed. My brown skin protected my outside appearance. My blush wasn't showing and I was grateful.

"Sorry," he apologized sheepishly like he had actually done something wrong, "I just wanted to make sure I wasn't crossing any boundaries."

"I offered," I argued weakly, "What boundaries could you have crossed if I was giving you permission to sleep up here?" Another uncomfortable shift.

"Look, I just don't want to get...confused...or confuse you...or...I dunno," he sighed, frustrated. I was confused now and he didn't seem to notice when I stared at the side of his face with questioning eyes. He looked at the laptop's screen. "Sash, you're not the only one trying to get over everything. I'm having a hard time myself remembering that Matthew's gone and it's not my place to be hanging all over you like he could... I got to keep myself in check, ya know? Not let myself get too... close. Don't get me wrong, I know I wasn't going to attack you or anything like that, but I have to ease myself back into our friendship."

"Geez, Justin," I sighed dramatically, "I didn't know I was that damn tempting." He chuckled and nudged me, looking up from the screen and at me now.

"Don't joke when I'm trying to be serious," he scolded with a smile. "I'm trying to be a good guy."

"You are a good guy," I told him, looking down at my hands. "Really, you are... And if you think it's better for you to sleep downstairs, it's fine. But I think it's ridiculous to throw your back out just because you have some...issues with being close to me. That'll get better with time. I mean, I used to burst into tears just thinking about you and now you're sitting here and I'm fine."

"Oh...Sash, I'm-" I held up my hand to silence him.

"Please, Justin, it's fine," I told him, "It's completely natural to have been so distraught after you left. I was being emotional, but now... I'm pretty much fine. The idea of us being friends is good to me. I miss you when you're gone, but it's not the same kind of pain. It's on a more stable level of acceptance, I guess. It'll work the same way for you. You can't avoid being close to me forever." I was trying to sound all relaxed and uncaring, but that had to be the hardest thing to say out loud, especially to him. God, Clarissa, and myself were the only ones who knew about those tearful outbursts. Oh, and my dear Bob. His feline eyes staring intently at me before moving up to run his body against my legs. I was exposing my embarrassing vulnerability just to get him to stay up here with me tonight. How desperate was I? Had I no pride?

"I guess you're right," Justin said, "Sleeping up here tonight will be fine." I guess not because I mentally patting myself on the back for convincing him to stay. I was already scooting over to give him space and fluffing two pillows before handing them to him. He must be able to smell the desperation off of me, but he didn't seem annoyed. He looked more at ease than before, stealing my laptop from me to check his mail. I watched as he did so, glancing at the screen to make sure he didn't see me staring at the side of his face the entire time. I was just observing and appreciating every detail of his baby face. The stubble, the wrinkles, the curves and grooves... It all seemed brand new. It made him more real. I gently caressed his light side burns, getting a feel of his curly brown hair. He looked at me then, quizzically.

"Lint," I lied, pretending to rub my finger against my lap to remove the "lint". He just smiled softly as he turned back to the laptop. I pulled my blanket over me as I stretched out my legs. Justin yawned and stretched his legs as well, lifting the computer to cover himself up with the sheet too. I moved a little closer to him, leaning against his arm as he browsed around and replied to emails that were a mile long. His responses were maybe two or three sentences. I didn't really pay much attention to what they were about. I did watch how quickly his fingers touched the keys and the way he'd get frustrated when he missed a letter or spelled something wrong. It was like it was too much work to press backspace. I snorted a laugh.

"What?" Justin asked, already smiling like he got the joke. I shrugged. He didn't say anything else, but he exited out of the yahoo screen window and shut down the computer. He waited for the screen to go black before closing it shut and placing it under the bed. Once he sat up, he looked at me and laughed a little. It sounded nervous and I wondered why as I looked up at him.

"What?" I asked this time and he shook his head with a smile still on his face.

"Nothing," he chuckled. I looked up at unconvinced, but he didn't say anything, stretching awkwardly and groaning in discomfort as he rubbed his back.

"You sure you didn't pull or dislocate anything?" I asked, a bit concerned by the agony etched across his features. He shrugged.

"You tell me Nurse Betty." I rolled my eyes, but smiled a little.

"Fine, roll over," I instructed as I climbed out of bed. He looked at me like I had three heads.

"What?" he asked as I stood at his side of the bed.

"Roll over and let me take a look," I said, "I'm a nurse, I might see something." He narrowed his eyes in suspicion and I rolled mine.

"What are you really going to do?" he asked and I placed my hands on my hips and huffed.

"Boy, if you don't roll over, I'm gonna punch you in the nuts," I threatened and he grimaced before sighing and rolling onto his stomach. I had talked a lot of shit, but now that he was laying there and my hands were lifting up his t-shirt to reveal his muscular back, I was feeling a little weak in the knees. I remembered when my nails used to dig into this back. When my lips kissed that angel tattoo, and when I watched his muscles flex whenever he walked down the hall naked or shirtless or in a towel coming from a shower.

It seemed so long ago and now his back was this new, intimidating thing to me. I hesitated before my hands touched his skin. He shuddered at the contact and I jumped back a little.

"You ok?" I asked and he nodded with his head pressed against my pillow.

"Yeah, your hands were just a little colder than I expected," he laughed lightly, "Go on though." I nodded once and did as instructed. My hands rested on his shoulders, another shudder, but I didn't have a heart attack over it. I pressed down to add pressure. He grunted.

"Did that hurt?" I inquired.

"No, that felt kinda good," he smiled.

"Okay, well tell me if it hurts."

"Will do," he assured as I massaged my way down in circular motions. He sighed a bit as I pressed down a little harder, putting some more expertise into it. I kept myself from unclean thoughts by trying to remember the muscles in the general area I was working on. Justin had closed his eyes and was enjoying himself while I was naming muscles and their functions. It seemed to me going well until I had an ingenious idea.

"This would be a lot better if I used some oil," I announced, already walking over to my drawer and pulling it open. I grabbed some lavender scented massage oil and walked back over to him. Justin was turned to look at the bottle in my hand incredulously.

"That's not girly shit is it?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. I sighed dramatically in annoyance.

"Not it's not girly shit," I mocked in a whiny voice, "It's lavender scented massaging oil by Bath and Body works. Got it on sale a while back. Puts you right to sleep." He looked doubtful, but he turned back around and relaxed against the pillows again.

"Fine," he said simply and I went back to work. I poured some oil into my palm and rubbed my hands together to heat it up before rubbing it over his skin. The oil seemed to make his muscles stand out more like some cheesy, sleazy magazine cover for swimsuit models. I never understood why guys went crazy over that shit 'til now. Now that I had this fine, oiled up, completely untouchable, yet touchable man beneath me, sighing ever so often because my hands were pleasing him. I was somewhat overwhelmed. The lavender scent didn't relax me at all. I grew more anxious as my mind clouded over with thoughts him of rubbing the oil all over me. Both our bodies oiled up and-

Shit.

I need to stop. Why am I turning into a teenage boy? Ever six got damn seconds my mind is wandering. Maybe that's what my problem was. Maybe I wasn't in love, maybe I was in lust. I was having a hard time distinguishing between the two in this moment because I have never wanted or needed another human being more. My hands pushing down against his warm skin more forcefully. I had to ball them up to keep my nails from running along his skin. He grunted as I moved down to the small of his back.

"Does it hurt?" I managed to breathe out and he grunted again before answering.

"No, that's really good," he told me softly, "You're getting all the knots out." Fuck the knots, I wanted to tell him. Fuck me. For the love of god, if I couldn't have his heart, could I at least have a piece of his body? Why was he completely off limits? It didn't seem fair. I almost cried it out in agony.

My blood was boiling in frustration. Why was I torturing myself this way? Why was it even torture just to massage his aching muscles? It shouldn't be this hard. I was stronger than this. I was better than this... But he sighed a little and I remembered the sounds he made when we made love on this very bed for hours at a time.

My hands stopped moving as I took a breath. Justin squirmed a little to look back at me. He smiled tiredly.

"You done?" he asked gently and I looked away from his navy eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm done," I said, standing up straight and capping up the bottle. I walked over to my dresser and tossed the godforsaken thing into the corner of the drawer.

"I don't get to return the favor?" I heard Justin ask and I almost got whiplash when I turned to look at him.

"No," I answered curtly. He frowned.

"Are you okay?" he asked, confused, "You seem mad." I shook my head as I turned away from him, glancing at my reflection for a moment.

"I'm fine," I lied and I didn't even try to sound convincing. Justin sighed a little and I heard the bed creak beneath his moving weight.

"Maybe I should sleep downstairs," he said, walking over to the door, I could guess from the sound of his footsteps. I didn't say anything. He took my silence as an answer. "Goodnight, Sash." The door opened and closed and I listened as he jogged down the steps. I let out a breath I was holding and stared at my reflection head on, shaking my head.

"Coward," I mumbled to myself, realizing that I was one. I was always the go-getter. If I wanted something, I fought for it, but what I wanted was downstairs and I was too busy having wet dreams to lift a finger to fight for him. I looked down at the wood of my dresser top and thought of nothing, but his face. His scent mixed with the lavender in the air around me. It wasn't Matthew's, but I grew to recognize and love the smell. Simply because it was his and loved him. I loved him and I loved the Matthew in him. I knew that wasn't going to change, no matter how hard I fight the feeling, I'd always love that man. It would hurt every single day knowing that I didn't have enough faith in that love to tell him and see what would happen.

I was dragging myself back to bed in that moment, reaching for my cell perched on my nightstand and dialing the familiar digits. Two rings and she picked up.

"I love him," I said before she could utter a hello. I heard her sigh.

"Don't tell me, I already know," Clarissa 'tsk'ed in disapproval. "I will never understand why you won't just tell that boy."

"Because he's already in love," I argued, "And it's not with me."

"He does not love that woman," Clarissa groaned.

"How can you say that?" I asked in disbelief.

"Because Justin Timberlake has more money than every got damn person in Philadelphia combined and he's not laying in his bed next to Jessica What's-Her-Face or staying in a five star hotel. He's sleeping at your house, on your couch, no less, just to spend some time with you. No man will do that for anybody."

"He's just more comfortable at my place instead of a hotel," I argued again, "Besides, Clare, they're having a rough patch. He's just running away... I'm just some type of vacation from the stress of it all."

"A trip to the Bahamas is a vacation," Clarissa told me firmly, "You are his place of solace. That boy has his own mansion somewhere in LA that he can have all to himself. He could go anywhere in the world, but do you know where he went?" I rolled my eyes at her dramatics, but listened in. "He went to you because he wanted to go to a place where he could just be. And where can we all just be?" she asked again and I waited. "We all can be ourselves at home. And where is home?" She paused dramatically again like she wasn't going answer her own question. "Home is where the heart is. And where there is a heart, honey, there is love." I stared at my feet as they dangled off the edge of the bed. I wanted to believe her with every fiber of my being, but my fear that she was wrong wouldn't allow me to think positive, even as the excitement grew in the pit of my stomach.

"I hear you, Clare, I do," I said softly, "I just don't want to be wrong."

"You're not wrong," she told me with certainty, "When have I ever been wrong?" I snorted a laugh.

"I can't name one time at the moment, but I'm sure you've made mistakes."

"The only mistake I've made is allowing you to run around this long, beating yourself up, and living in denial," she snapped, "I should just come over there and tell the boy you love him my damn self."

"Clare, I know you'd do that and I really do appreciate your honesty," I said, my voice covered in sarcasm, "But, for the sake of my dignity and our friendship, not to mention my sanity, I'd appreciate it if you'd stay right on the line and not in my house."

"You're a fool," she criticized. "You're a damn fool."

"Thank you," I grumbled, wishing I hadn't called her. "I think it's time to say goodnight."

"I know you're mad that I'm saying this to you, but I'm not holding your hand through this, Sash," Clarissa went on like she hadn't heard me, "It's your life and you're grown and I know that, but Sasheirah Hanes, you are better than this self-conscious, scared, and unwilling stranger I've been talking to lately. I don't know why you're doubting yourself like this, but it's seriously time for you to take charge. This should've been your week-"

"My week to what?" I yelled before I realize he'd be able to hear me. I calmed myself down and spoke quietly, "Look, I already made myself fantasize about things that will never ever happen again between him and I-"

"Says who?" she interrupted.

"Says me," I answered, "And Jessica and Justin."

"I don't remember anybody else saying that but you," she childishly mumbled.

"They've both said it by having a relationship together," I said, "He's off the market. I'm not some home wrecker. I've been on the flipside of that and it's not a good feeling to lose somebody like that."

"Is this not the same woman that cheated on Justin in the first place?"

"That doesn't matter," I sighed, "It doesn't mean I should help Justin cheat."

"I didn't tell you to help him cheat in the first place," Clarissa said, "I told you to tell him that you love him. That's it. Just say 'Justin, I love you.' You can walk away or stay or cry or anything else you're willing to do after that, but at the very least, let him know how you feel so he can make a knowledgeable decision."

"I already told him I was getting over him and being friends was good enough for me," I admitted.

"Take it back," Clarissa said simply. Everything was so simple for her.

"But what if his knowledgeable decision isn't in my favor?" I asked, "What if he still chooses Jessica?" Clarissa sighed and I waited for the love guru to speak her mind.

"Then it's his loss and the fact that you know you tried."

"That's it?" I asked, "That's all you have to say about the worst possible thing that could ever happen when I tell him I love him?"

"Well, the best possible thing is that he'll choose you," Clarissa told me, "Isn't that worth it?" I debated for a moment, wondering if it were worth it... I knew that him actually choosing me would be worth all the hassle of telling him how I feel, but the fact that he might not feel the same and will reject me completely... That was a bit harder to deal with.

"Clare-" I began to whine, feeling like I was on the verge of tears.

"He's going to choose you," she told me, "Sash, I feel it. He's going to choose you." I sighed and shook my head. I can't believe I'm doing this.

"He's going to choose me?" I asked again, one last boost for my confidence.

"Yes, he will," Clare told me with such assurance that I had no other choice.

"Okay," I said, sniffling as I wiped a stray tear from my face, "Okay, I'll tell him." My heart was pounding in my ears, the excitement and fears both raging. I couldn't tell which was stronger.

"Thank GOD!" Clare cheered, "Go! Go now!" I laughed a little at her enthusiasm.

"I'm going to slap you if you're wrong," I giggled, taking a deep breath.

"Girl, please," she chuckled, "You're not that crazy."

"I'm crazy enough to do this," I mumbled.

"You're brave enough to do this," she corrected, "And that's my Sash. That's the girl I know."

"That girl's pretty stupid." Clarissa sucked her teeth at my negativity and I surrendered before she could preach. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. I'm thinking positive."

"Good," she said, "Now go on and get that man."

"I thought I was just telling him something, not getting him."

"Well, you'll get him once you tell him," she explained, "Now stop playing around and wasting time. He's probably halfway asleep."

"Fine..." I trailed off, reluctant to go; "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I can't wait!" she squealed excitedly and I had to smile a bit. "Night!"

"Goodnight," I said before she hung up on me. I closed my phone and stared into space for a moment before willing myself up. It was now or never and never was starting to look better as I made my way down the short hall and stopped at the top of the stairs. I could see the glow of the television illuminating my living room. Maybe he fell asleep with the television on.

"Sash?" Justin called up as I stepped down one stair. I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment. So much for sleep.

"Yeah," I replied, jogging down a little quicker than before. He sat up and clicked on the lamp on the table to his right. The orange glow tanned his pale skin as he looked up at me. I crept around to stand at the front of the sofa, a little to his left.

"You okay?" he asked after our moment of silence. I immediately wiped my face, thinking I may have missed a tear.

"No, I'm fine," I said, relieved that there was nothing but smooth, dry skin. He looked confused before he glanced to his left at the empty spot beside him.

"You sittin'?" he asked and I just sat down instead of answering. We sat for a minute and he sighed a bit. "I heard you yell something about the week. Is something wrong at work?" I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

"No, that was just Clare irking my soul," I explained and he chuckled lightly.

"How's she doing anyway?" he asked, muting the Dr. Phil episode he was watching. I shrugged, not meeting his gaze.

"She's okay," I answered meekly. "But...yeah, I have to tell you something." I winced at my lack of eloquence. Justin shifted in his seat and it made me more nervous than before. Did he already know what I was going to say?

"Are you talking to me or the floor?" he asked jokingly. I guess I was staring at the carpet kind of hard, so I slowly looked at him. He was smiling gently, like he didn't want to frighten me. I sat up a little straighter. I wasn't a coward. I was going to tell him.

"Sorry," I apologized, "I'm just a little nervous."

His brows creased in concern. He subconsciously reached out and placed his hand on my knee reassuringly. The heat of his skin warmed mine. "You can tell me anything. There's no need to be nervous." I was staring into his eyes and I saw that he meant it. He cares about me. I know that much. He's having a hard time getting over me too... He may not be in love with me, but at least there's attraction, right? That's all I need... A little bit of hope.

"Well...Justin..." I sighed, trying to find the words. How did you say this without sounding like a cheesy romance film? "I probably should've told you this before everything got so...complicated. I don't think it would've helped any, but at least I could've told you without knowing there was so much working against me now..."

"What's working against you?" he asked.

"You," I answered, "You and everything attached to you now." He shook his head.

"I'm not really following," he said softy.

"Well, I don't want to sound... like an idiot, but I guess it doesn't really matter what I sound like as long as I just say it."

"Then just say it," he encouraged gently, "Tell me what me what you need to say."

"I need to tell you..." I searched his eyes for a moment and they looked completely intent on listening to what I had to say. I needed his undivided attention because I would never have the guts to say it out loud again. "I need to tell you that-" The words were coming, but the shrill ringing of his cell phone cut me off. He groaned and turned to find it as he rang and rang. His hand left my knee as he searched. He finally dug it from under his pillow and glanced at the screen.

"It's Jessica," he announced, rejecting the call, "I'll get back to her." He turned back to me; his focus back on point, but his warm hand was gone, just like my confidence.

"Sash, tell me what's up," Justin said anxiously. I blinked away from his gaze.

"I just wanted to tell that I'm sorry," I lied, but a part of me was sorry. It was sorry for being stupid enough to come down here in the first place. "I shouldn't have flipped on you upstairs. It's not your fault that I'm...I don't know. I don't even know what I am...But I don't want you sleeping on this couch. I want you to come back upstairs." Justin's hand lifted my chin up so that I'd be forced to look at him.

"Is that what you wanted to tell me?" he asked, sounding unsure. I nodded and looked away. He didn't believe me, but he just let out a breath and leaned forward to gently kiss my forehead. "Okay, let's go to bed." He stood and held out his hand for me. I slipped my hand in his and allowed him to lead us back up to bed. I gave his fingers a squeeze and he glanced over his shoulder at me to offer a small smile as he squeezed them back. He was so damn beautiful.

We were halfway up the stairs before I halted my walking. I couldn't do this to myself. I couldn't keep wondering and wishing. Clare was right. It would be his loss. Besides, it would probably be easier to get over him if he outright rejected me, right? Angel wasn't so bad to get over once I decided that hated his guts for turning his back on me instead of being sad over everything. Maybe can I do that with Justin? Get mad and get over it.

"You okay?" Justin asked me, turning around to face my still form. I must be confusing him to new levels. He must be questioning my sanity.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said, "But I lied. That's not what I had to tell you down there."

"I figured that much," he smiled softly, "But you don't have to tell me if you're not ready. No pressure."

"I know," I said, "But I want to tell you. I want you to know." My tone shifted to a passionate tone and his interest peaked as he stared down at me.

"Well...tell me." He stared at me, looking as nervous as I felt.

"Justin, I'm not okay with us being friends," I said, "It's too hard to sit here and act like it's okay that you're going back to your LA life tomorrow or whenever it is that you decide to leave. It's not okay that you're not here...with me." He wobbled a little beneath my gaze.

"Sash-"

"Wait, just let me finish," I interrupted, "It's too hard because I'm not a mature enough person to stand here and say that I love you enough to let you go. I actually love you too much to watch you try and love somebody else. And that's what it is. I love you and I don't want to pretend that I don't and I don't want to hide behind this friendship facade. I just want to be with you and.and that's all." I was staring at the step I was standing and breathing so hard that I almost forgot Justin was there. My heart was still pounding in my ears. Blood was rushing and every nerve ending was tingling. I did my part. I said the words out loud and I was waiting. Waiting to see if he loved me too.