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  I wasn't sure exactly what I was going to do in Detroit. I knew I had to face Jeff, but I couldn't bear the thought of doing so right away. I knew I'd hurt him badly. I knew he'd be pissed when I finally got the balls to talk to him. Knowing Jeff, he wouldn't have a lot to say, but his thick, tense silence would speak volumes.

  When my plane landed, I had no one to pick me up. My mom lived in Flint, and we didn't get along. Jeff was part of my problems. The only choice left was Jamie. She showed up an hour and a half after I landed. I spent most of that time in a little bar, nursing a margarita and attempting to get a hold of my crazed emotions.

  A part of me wanted to fly straight back to New York and punch Chase in the face. Another part wanted to give him a chance to explain. The third part of me wanted to run to Jeff and beg him to take me back. The fourth and, at that moment, the strongest part wanted to just forget both of them and bury my head in the sand.

  Being pulled in four different directions emotionally is confusing and exhausting.

  Jamie is really my only friend aside from Jeff. We've been roommates for nearly three years now, through two moves, several tragedies between the two of us, and innumerable break-ups, mostly on her end. She's a serial dater. She's the girl who has a new boyfriend every few weeks or months, but nothing is ever serious and she rarely ever gets truly emotional about breaking up with them. They're just hook-ups for her. I've never understood how she can go from guy to guy and not get attached. She claims they're fun for a while, but then she gets bored.

  I'm not that type. I get attached. My thing with Chase should've been just a fling: fun for a while, then over. I shouldn't have been devastated when I found him in the alley with those girls. But I was. I felt betrayed and confused. And now, with a couple thousand miles between us, I realized I'd been stupid to think it ever could have been anything for Chase but what it was: a fun distraction. He talked a good game, made it seem like he really cared, like it meant something to him.

  He was a rock star, and I was his flavor of the week.

  I'd turned my phone on to call Jamie, after having turned it off in the airport so I wouldn't hear Chase's deluge of texts and calls trying to explain away his bullshit.

  I scrolled through the missed call log: he'd called me eighteen times and left ten voicemails. I dialed my voicemail and started hitting the "seven" button: delete, delete, delete. I couldn't help hearing snatches of the messages:

  "Anna, I know what you think you saw, but please, give me a chance to explain. It wasn't—"

  Delete.

  "Goddammit, Anna. You have to listen. Please answer the phone—"

  Delete.

  "Seriously, Anna. It's not what you thought. I swear—"

  Delete.

  "Anna, for fuck's sake—"

  Delete.

  "Anna, this is the last message I'll leave. You're not answering, and your phone's going straight to voicemail, so I'm guessing you're not even listening to these. You're making a mistake. This is all a misunderstanding. I didn't do anything with those girls. They threw themselves at me. I would never...I care about you...I lo—"

  Delete.

  Oh, yeah. He went there.

  I was shaking with rage, standing at the curb waiting for Jamie's battered blue Buick LeSabre. He wanted me to believe it was all them? Horseshit. I wanted to throw the phone across the road and watch it smash, but I didn't, because I couldn't afford a new one. I deleted his twenty-three texts unread.

  I had one message that I hadn't read yet. I'd seen the unread mail icon but ignored it while I was in New York. It wasn't a text; it was an email. From Jeff.

  Anna:

  I don't blame you for going to New York. Seriously. I get it. I'm not saying I like it, or that I'm not hurt, but I get it. Just be smart, okay? Don't let yourself get hurt. I don't know this Chase fella, and I'm not going to butt into your business, when you clearly don't want me in it. Just be careful. I don't know what I'm trying to say.

  Here's my point. I'm your friend, aside from anything else. If things don't work out for you, or if they do, I'll still be your friend. I can't guarantee anything else, but at the very least, I'll be your friend. And your business partner.

  I guess that's all.

  Jeff

  It was dated the day I left for New York. It made my eyes burn. I'd gotten my crying jag under control, but reading Jeff's email made tears prick my red and burning eyes all over again.

  Stupid Jeff. He should be pissed off. He should be too angry to want to see me ever again. He had to know why I went to New York, what I was doing with Chase. He'd admitted in his roundabout Jeff sort of way to being hurt; for him to admit that in writing meant he was very deeply wounded.

  But he was still willing to be my friend and business partner? How the hell was that possible? If he'd done that to me, I'd never have spoken to him again. He was a better person than I, apparently.

  The racketing roar of a car without a muffler disrupted my thoughts. Jamie's LeSabre pulled up next to me. The trunk popped, and Jamie hopped out. She was a few inches shorter than me, making her not quite five-seven, and she was built a bit more willowy and svelte than me, which always made me jealous. She wore most of her weight in her hips and breasts, which were more than ample. She often talked, only halfway joking, about getting a breast reduction, if only to save her some back pain. She was a natural redhead, pure Irish orange-copper locks falling past her shoulders in absurdly perfect waves, and pale cornflower-blue eyes, freckles, the whole nine yards.

  When I said she was willowy and svelte, that was relatively speaking. She's still what most people would call "plus-size." Which is why she's my best friend. We understand each other. We tell each other, when life hands us pain due to the fact that we're not diet-obsessed stick figures, that God just gave us an extra portion of awesomeness. And then we watch Breakfast at Tiffany's and share a pint of Ben and Jerry's, washed down with a bottle of wine.

  In this moment, with Chase in New York and Jeff shoved aside until I had the courage to face him, Jamie was the only person I could stomach. She was my only real family, and the one person who'd understand what I needed in that moment: cupcakes and alcohol.

  She had a six-pack of Tim Horton's muffins (three left) and a grande skinny mocha waiting for me. Yeah, she's that kind of friend.

  "I honestly didn't expect you to come back," Jamie said as I slid into the passenger seat.

  The engine roared, and I held onto my mocha with one hand and the oh-shit bar with the other. Jamie is an...exuberant driver.

  "I'm not sure I did, either," I answered, unwrapping the low-fat blueberry muffin.

  "So what the hell happened?"

  I ate the muffin and thought about how much to tell Jamie.

  "Everything happened," I answered, after a few bites. "He took me backstage for a couple shows, which was awesome. We hung out a lot, which was also awesome. And then I caught him with some groupies in an alley. Which was not awesome."

  Jamie frowned at my Spark's Notes version of events. "Come on, Anna. Spill. Don't be selfish with the gossip."

  I rolled my eyes. "It's not gossip, Jay. It's my life. And it hurt."

  Jamie backhanded my shoulder. "I know. We can get to the hurt later. For now, tell me the good stuff. Is he good in bed?"

  I realized I hadn't really talked to Jamie about Chase at all since I'd met him.

  "He's...god, where do I start?" I closed my eyes and grabbed the oh-shit bar as Jamie merged onto the freeway. When we were cruising at a relatively tame eighty-five, I started talking again. "Chase is a rock star in every sense of the word. Nothing I've ever done, with anyone, can even remotely compare to Chase in bed."

  "Is he big?"

  I choked on my muffin. "I didn't exactly measure, Jay, but yes, he is. And that's all I'll say. A girl's gotta have some secrets."

  "Not from your best friend, you don't. But seriously, if he's that good, why come home?"

  "I told you, I found him porking some ch
icks in an alley."

  Jamie frowned. "Are you sure? If he's as hot as you claim, which I wouldn't know because you wouldn't introduce me, then girls would be throwing themselves at him, right? So maybe it wasn't how it looked. Did you give him a chance to explain?"

  I ignored the niggling worm of doubt in my gut. "I didn't need to. I know what I saw."

  Jamie looked at me, and it wasn't a look I liked. "So you just left? You just got on a plane and left, without listening to anything he had to say? Nothing?"

  "Whose side are you on?" I suddenly wasn't interested in the other two muffins.

  "I'm on yours, which is why I'm pissed off. You should have at least given him a chance." She narrowed her eyes at me, as if coming to a realization. "You ran because you like him. Right? It wasn't just the girls. That was an excuse. You have feelings for him."

  "Feelings" was a swear word in Jamie's dictionary. Feelings led to pain, which she'd had enough of in her life. Just like me.

  "I flew to New York on a whim to see him, Jamie. Yes, I have feelings for him."

  Jamie gave me an exasperated look. "No, dumbass. You like him, like him. Meaning, you're worried you're falling in love with him, so you bolted."

  The guardrail out my window was suddenly interesting. "No. That's not it."

  Jamie shrieked, "It is! You love him. But you're chicken."

  I rounded on her, pissed off now. "And you wouldn't be? If you found yourself falling in love with a guy way out of your league, you'd be shitting yourself, too, and you know it."

  "True. But I'd be honest about it."

  "And I'm not?"

  Jamie didn't answer right away, tongue poking out the side of her mouth as she focused on weaving around a train of slow-going semis. When I could breathe again, and she had decelerated down to ninety, she gave me a serious look.

  "No, you're not. You ran without telling him what you were feeling. Let's just say, just for argument's sake, that you're wrong about what you saw. And let's say he invited you to New York because maybe, just maybe, he has feelings for you, too. And then some girls jumped him in the alley, and you walked out and saw something incriminating, and left without so much as a how-de-do. How would he feel, do you think?"

  My stomach clenched. "Who the hell are you, and what did you do with my best friend? Because it sure as hell sounds like you're advocating a real relationship with actual feelings here."

  Jamie kept her eyes on the road, both hands clenched on the steering wheel. I'd never seen Jamie use both hands to drive. She always had one hand on the gear shifter, even though her car was automatic.

  "Listen, Anna. I know I'm like the all-time queen of humping and dumping guys. I act all 'fuck feelings' and whatever, and that's true enough. I mean, it's not an act. But, deep down, when I'm doing the walk of shame to my car at three a.m., I do wonder what it would be like to really have a guy care about me. Like, want me, and want me to stay over." She gave me long, sad look. "I find myself wondering what it would be like to have a guy want me for me, not just because I'm easy, you know?"

  "You're not easy, Jay—"

  "I am, too. I am and I like it that way. Usually. But sometimes, I wish a guy would see past the tits and ass. The problem is, I don't let them, because it keeps the ones who might feel something at bay."

  "You've really thought about this, haven't you?"

  She nodded, rubbing across her cheek with a forefinger. Almost like she was crying, which was absurd. Jamie didn't cry.

  "Yeah, of course. More than I'd ever admit to." She looked at me, let me see the diamonds glittering in her eyes. "I'm just saying, Anna, if Chase was for real, then...I don't know. Maybe you should have given him a chance."

  It was hard to breathe for a few minutes. This was the deepest Jamie had ever let me see into who she really was. I mean, best friends, yeah, but deepest, darkest, most vulnerable secrets? Not usually.

  "It was more than that, Jay." I picked at the fraying seam threads of her leather seats between my thighs. "I was confused."

  "Confused? By what?"

  "I think...I thought—"

  "Spit it out, sister."

  I took a deep breath and said what I'd been worried about for days. "I have feelings for Jeff, too."

  "Shit on a shingle."

  "Exactly." I pulled my hair out of the ponytail and ran my fingers through it. "I think they both have feelings for me, too. Or...did. After leaving Jeff like I did, I'm not sure where that stands. I really made a mess of things."

  Jamie took my hand and squeezed it. "When you said no one could compare to Chase in bed..."

  I shook my head. "They're completely different. I don't know how to think about them at the same time, you know? It's like trying to compare apples and cheese."

  "Apples and cheese go great together..." Jamie winked at me.

  "Oh, hell no."

  "It's never even crossed your mind?"

  "Both of them at the same time?" I looked at her with horror. "You should know me better than that. I would never, could never, with anyone. Much less two men I care for. I don't know how you could do that and then look at either guy the same way again."

  "You'd be surprised," Jamie said.

  "You mean, you—?"

  "ANYWAY," Jamie said, a little too loudly, "if they're so different, then it should make it easier to decide, right? Just pick the one you like sleeping with more."

  "I wish it was that simple," I said. "I don't know how to explain it. Chase is wild. We do crazy things. Like...whoa. But Jeff? Jeff is just slow and sweet and...."

  Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Keep going. Tell me about wild and crazy."

  "Like, in the bathroom of a bar. And in a changing room. Tied up. Blindfolded."

  "No fucking way. Blindfolded?" Jamie grinned at me, incredulous. "I've done it in public places before, no problem. Fun and risky, but whatever. Old news, and gets uncomfortable, just like in cars. But, seriously? Blindfolded? Tied up? Tell me about it! What's it like?"

  "Intense. Tied up requires serious trust. Even if you have a safeword, you have to trust him to listen if you use it. But god, is it hot. You have no idea what he's going to do next. You can't do anything back to him, you just have to lie there and let him do whatever he wants. He can make you wait for hours, if he has the patience. Blindfolded is different. Without sight, everything else is more vivid. Smell, hearing, touch..."

  Jamie moaned and slid down low in her seat. "Okay, enough. You're making me horny and jealous. I don't have anyone I trust enough to do that with. Sounds incredible."

  "It is."

  "Soooo....what's the problem?"

  "I didn't say there was a problem. I had no idea it could be like that. Just no clue."

  "So, then, what about Jeff?"

  I didn't answer for a long time. "With Jeff it's not as...exciting. Like, not as wild and unpredictable. But he's amazing, in his own way. It doesn't need to be crazy to be just completely satisfying, on a soul-deep level. He takes me places, emotionally and physically, where I didn't know two people could go together. It's just a totally different experience. I'm not sure I can describe it."

  Jamie was silent for awhile. "So you have two amazing guys. Both have feelings for you, and you have feelings for both of them, but they're totally different."

  "Basically. And I've messed it up with both of them. I mean, I'm not sold on Chase being innocent. But if he is...?"

  "All you can do is make the best choice you can and try to fix things with whichever one you pick."

  "It's a shitty choice. Whatever I do, someone gets hurt. And with Jeff, I'm not sure there's any picking left. I ran to New York to fuck Chase less than forty-eight hours after sleeping with Jeff. How does that not make me some kind of slut?"

  "Beating yourself up won't help. And it wasn't like that."

  "No? How was it then? I get a letter with a plane ticket. All the letter said was, 'I need to see you.' And I just went. Left Jeff just when things were getting interesting.


  "By which you mean an emotional connection was starting?" Jamie said.

  "Yeah, basically. I mean, with Jeff, I think there always was. I've known him for so long, and we know each other on a completely different level, you know? Jeff was my business partner, and besides you, my best and only other friend. Sleeping with him didn't change our friendship, really. It just...deepened it. At least, until I left. I don't know if there's anything left to go back to. He did send me an email saying he'd still be my friend, but I don't know how far that goes. I really hurt him."

  Jamie bit her lip. "He said that? In an email?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. He sent it just after I left Detroit. I didn't see it until just now, though. I never really used my phone in New York."

  "If he said that, that he's still your friend, then I'm willing to bet he's still in love with you. He'd give you a chance. I know Jeff well enough to know he'd probably forgive you."

  "I'm not sure. And should he?"

  "Of course he should. People do shitty things. You forgive them and move on."

  "Is that why we never let anyone in? Because we forgive and move on?"

  Jamie laughed. "Well, people that aren't us. We're messed up."

  We rode in companionable silence for a while. We were nearly back to our apartment when Jamie spoke up again.

  "So what are you going to do?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't."

  "Well, don't wait too long. The longer you put it off, the harder it'll get."

  "Yeah, you're right." I agreed with her out loud, but inside, I was wondering if maybe I should just pretend nothing had happened. Get a job somewhere else, stop DJ-ing so I didn't have to see Jeff, and move on with my life, without either man.

  It was the coward's way out, but it would be easier than dealing with Jeff's hurt eyes and hard silence.

  * * *

  I hid in my room for two days, then took some independent DJ-ing jobs. I drank too much with Jamie. I ignored the waning amount of texts from Chase.

  Basically, I tried to pretend nothing had happened, or would happen. I don't know if Jeff even knew I was back in Detroit.