I didn’t know Blake and Josh knew each other, but Blake vouched for him nonetheless. Kristi, Blake and Brady left an hour ago and we’re relaxing on the couch. The radio is softly playing, WAAF of course, and he’s sitting up with my head on his leg.

“If you had said you knew Blake Carlson, I wouldn’t have been so anxious,” he tells me, gently brushing his fingers around the sides of my face and smiling in a love drunk way.

“How was I supposed to know you guys grew up together?” I calmly reply.

He’s silent for a few minutes, just looking at me. “Could we talk about us for a few?”

“Sure.”

“I like you so much it scares me sometimes and I guess that I’ve been denying it from the beginning, but Nick told me to just tell you.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“That you don’t treat guys like they’re just rebound toys you’ll just heartlessly toss aside when you’re done playing with them.”

“That’s not something I’d do to someone I get involved with; I’ve had it happen to me.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“You didn’t do it to me.”

“I do know how it feels, though.” Our eyes lock, a love sick look takes over his face and he smiles. “How about that answer?” he ruefully questions.

“When we’re done talking you’ll have that. Kenny told me you’ve had some pretty bad dreams when you’re not near me.”

“Yeah. It’s basically that we go our separate ways and my life goes to shambles, everything that could go wrong does for me and we don’t talk. I go into a deep depression, forcing Nick to drag you out to see me about five years later and it ends with us seeing each other. You just talk to me, but I can’t hear what we say after we meet up again and things fall into place,” he explains, studying my face.

“I’ve had almost the same dream,” I confess, looking away. “Nick comes to see me, telling me I’m going on a trip and I refuse, instead of listening to me argue with him is when he packs my bags for me. He puts them in his rental car, grabs my keys and phone, making sure to toss me over his shoulder. He locks my doors, puts me on my feet and tells me to get in the car. He won’t take no for an answer. He blindfolds me once we land at LAX and gets me into his car safely with my two bags, making a single call along the way. ‘You’ll like it, I know it,’ is what he tells the person. He and I argue over whether I’m able to take off the blindfold, his hand batting at mine when he threatens me with trapping me in Aaron’s spider room. I stop trying to take it off, but bitch at him the rest of the way. We stop, he helps me out of the car and up a small flight of stairs. Once in the door, he takes it off and I see you being miserable in your bed and you won’t roll over to look at me. I climb on your bed and hold you, making you look at me after awhile. You turn over and we lay there hugging, Nick beaming at his successful mission. The only downfall is that I can’t make out what anyone says from when I see you until after it ends.”

“Wow, maybe Nick and Kenneth are right,” he thinks out loud to himself.

“About what, Josh?” I demand, furrowing my brows.

“They said we seem right for each other and are probably meant for each other.”

“Like Nick and Lauren? Brian and his wife? Kevin and Kristen? Howie and Leigh? AJ and Rochelle? Justin and Jess? Joey and Kelly? Brady and Leilani?”

“Wait a minute, you know Justin, Joey and their wives?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“How?”

“Through Nick.”

“You know Lance?”

Now I have to try to remember who he is! Fuck! “Uh, maybe.”

“He’s with Michael, they’re married now.”

“Oh, James! Mich is so sweet and James has a heart of gold! Their daughter is beautiful!”

His head drops onto the back of his couch, groaning. “Why didn’t I meet you?”

I shrug. “Who knows?”

He sighs, pulling a photo album off the bottom part of the coffee table with his hand on the other side of himself and begins frantically flipping the pages like a man on a mission. I sit up, leaning on him and he moves it from the coffee table to his lap. “Who’s this girl with Nick, then?” he asks a few pages later.

I see my brace covered grin, my dark black JNCO jeans without rips in the knees (the only pair not falling apart) and my strapless blue leather snakeskin print halter top. My black hair is straightened with huge blue streaks in it, just before I turned 18 and about the time ‘Black & Blue’ came out. I groan, embarrassed and drop my head into my hand. “I thought I destroyed all copies or at least the part I’m in,” I admit.

“This is you?” he asks, pointing at my dorky 17 year old self.

I sigh. “Unfortunately.”

He eyes me curiously. “Mikkaila?”