If I ever did anything wrong to Aphrodite, she should have told me. She should have told me, and I would have cut off my own hand—or sold my cello, since the pain would be equivalent in terms of losing dexterity—to please her. Greek gods, from what I learned in sophomore year, were sadistic, cruel, and unnecessarily so. She should have at least made me crush on the biggest jerk in the school, Castiel, or the most uptight guy in the student body, Nathaniel. Or even the quiet, mysterious, I'll-leave-you-hanging-because-I'm-enigmatic-like-that Lysander, whom I have known for quite a long time.

Not Lysander's brother.

Who, as I might add, is extremely handsome and also happens to be dating one of my greatest—and only, mark you—friends, Rosalya.

Everything messes up at a stage where girls have raging hormones.

I may be speaking with bravado now, but that's honestly beside the point—when it came to love, I was reduced to a stuttering mess.

I gazed at the store window from the bus stop, fingers curled tightly into fists as I vacillated between what to do. Go inside or stay outside?

Before I could turn away and run like the coward I was, a familiar figure approached the door and opened it. The bells jingled teasingly in the wind of the clear sky. A smile appeared on his lips as he brushed aside black hair. And then, his lips moved, and I could hear him from across the road as cars whizzed by.

"Are you just going to stand outside all day, Silje?" Leigh called to me.

What a silly thought. Just his voice saying my name could send a tingle down my spine. I shook my head and yelled across the road, "Of course I am!"

A smile twinkled in his eyes. "But I have something of yours! You might want it back!"

I froze, and my fingers slackened. "What?" Leigh wasn't the type to lie just to get me to come over. No. He was telling the truth. His dark eyes said it all. I have something of yours. Won't you get it back from me? And I might have been imagining the teasingly provocative look in his eyes. The way my mind said it itself was challenging my utmost friendship to Rosalya enough.

Won't you get it back from me?

Quiet, brain—he didn't even say it like that.

With a reluctant sigh, I hurried across the street—roads like these had no crosswalks, so I dodged cars racing back and forth—and finally stepped onto the pavement, safe. Relieved, I leaned against the streetlight, trying to regain my breath. Then, I looked up with a grin.

"So what is it that you have of mine?" I asked.

"Your folder," he replied, but he didn't hand it to me. Where was it? "The very important one that you can't really afford to leave just anywhere." He looked faintly amused at my confused when-did-I-do-that? look. To alleviate the confusion, he added, "You left it here last time when you were here with Rosalya."

The mention of Rosalya sunk my stomach. Acid churned, along with guilt, inside. I forced myself out of my inner turmoil, ignoring the way my throat closed up. After all, it didn't matter about me. It didn't. As long as I didn't say anything…everything would be all right.

When I refocused, hoping that I hadn't drawn the worry of Leigh, I found a hand moving up and down before my face. Blinking, I stepped back—or at least attempted to, because my back hit the streetlight again. Amusement twinkled in Leigh's eyes again, but I really had to search for that emotion in his eyes. It was hard sometimes to tell what he was thinking, or how he felt, but I could find it. I could always find it in his eyes, because we knew each other well.

But I hoped he didn't know me too well.

"Stop zoning out," he said, and this time, real amusement crept into his voice as well. "Are you going to get your folder?"

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep my mind from wandering again. "Why else did I cross the street? Where is my folder, anyway?"

Leigh gestured with his hand for me to follow him inside the store. My heart started pounding, and I chided myself. Stop that, heart, stop that. A weak smile unconsciously made its way onto my face. If I continued on like this, I wouldn't know the outcome of my own actions. One day, I could slip…and—

"Silje, don't walk into the pillar!"

"What?" In the next moment, I felt a sharp pain on my shoulder and my arm—then, my balance lost, I was crashing to the floor and landed on my back, swearing. "Ow! What was that?" I exclaimed.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Leigh reach towards me, but I rolled over on my side, getting the pressure off of back. Ow, ow, ow, ow… That really hurt.

I felt hands touching my back experimentally, to see the pain. The look on my face was apparently enough, because the tips of the fingers stopped prodding me. But they moved to the back of my head, feeling for any sort of bruise, though it seemed more like combing my hair through.

"Leigh," I broke in, interrupting his perusal of the back of my head. "I didn't hit my head."

"You didn't?" His voice was faintly sarcastic, if not entertained at the same time.

Sometimes, I wished I couldn't read into him that well. That faint, sarcastic side of him brought heat to my cheeks. I pulled away, opening my eyes, and groaned when I moved my shoulder. "No, I hit my shoulder," I informed him promptly, collapsing back onto the ground. "And my arm," I added, when I landed on it.

There was laughter in his eyes. "Right, well, you should probably stand if you want to stop adding onto the pain…"

I nodded, mumbling something about stupid pillars.

"I did warn you…" Leigh pulled me up, fingers gently curled around my wrist. This was a moment. This was a moment. I didn't what I wanted now. I didn't know. I stared at Leigh, nervous and wide-eyed though I didn't know why, and he cracked a smile.

Someone, please walk in. Please, I beseeched the pedestrians that I couldn't see. Get me away… Interrupt… Stop this…

I didn't know what I wanted now.

Keep this quiet, Silje… Keep your secrets.

To answer my hopeless pleading, the doorbell rang, twinkling in the wind, and I almost sighed in relief.

"Your folder's over on the counter," Leigh said softly, and went over to the customer.

Shoulders slumping in respite, I sauntered over to the counter and searched for my folder in the messy…disarray of papers. Underneath a pile of orders, I found it, a folder with the front of it plastered in music notes, bar lines, and measures. It was silly, how I actually got it. I bought it online, thinking it was sheet music, and it arrived in the form of a wallet for papers. It was useful somewhat, since I kept all of my sheet music (read: cello solos, since I was the only cello in the orchestra at our school) and embarrassing poems.

Oh. No.

My brain backtracked.

Embarrassing poems.

Embarrassing poems.

The ones that I wrote about Leigh.

In hindsight, it hadn't been such a brilliant idea to put those in this folder. I stared at it, dazed. What if he had read them? What if he figured out I was writing about him? What if he… What if he…

I couldn't finish the thought. Swallowing the regret, I shouldered my doubts and picked up the folder, trying hard not to disturb the pile of dead trees. My fingers shook. I didn't want to think about the consequences if he did...

Glancing at the store clock, I saw it was 3:50. My aunt usually called me around 4:00, so I would have to hurry home. It took approximately seven minutes for me to reach the house if I ran, including dodging cars and saying apologies to people I bumped into. Before I could dash off though, Leigh came back, and the customer stood there for a moment—a female, and I wasn't surprised—staring at his retreating figure. The look in her eyes… I hope I didn't look like that.

She walked off as she saw me scrutinizing her, a slight blush on her face.

"I had to explain to her that I already had a girlfriend," Leigh elaborated, seeing the questioning look on my face. "It wasn't easy."

"Letting her down easy?" I asked. "It never is. But as long as you always love Rosalya, it won't feel so bad."

The words escaped my mouth before I could clamp it shut. It was like a backhanded reassurance. Maybe it made Leigh feel better, but it only twisted the knife in my gut even further. Leigh's eyes widened a fraction, and I felt the ground beneath me shake slightly.

We stood there for what seemed like hours, locking gazes with each other.

But Leigh broke the silence with a nod. "I suppose it doesn't…" He trailed off, but his eyes said otherwise.

"I should probably go," I mumbled, gripping the folder tightly.

And I was about to, when the phone suddenly rang, startling us both. Leigh strode over to the counter and picked it up, holding it to his ear. I simply sighed in relief when I heard my aunt's voice. But then suspicion replaced it. Why was she calling the store?

"May I speak to Silje?"

Leigh turned to me, questioning in his eyes. He mouthed, 'Why would she call me?'

As if to answer his unspoken question, my aunt added, "I knew she would be here since she always is…"

"Silje," Leigh said aloud, beckoning me over.

I took the phone from him, our fingers brushing, and I ignored the little shock that trailed up my spine like spiders up a web. "Yes, Auntie?"

"How are your studies coming along?"

I grumbled. "Do we really have to have this talk in a public store? You already know the answer: I'm doing horrible."

I heard laughter from the other end of the phone and rolled my eyes. "If it's really making you uncomfortable, then I suppose I'll wait until you get to your apartment…"

"Why didn't you do that before?"

"Because I predicted that you would be spending time with Leigh…"

The way she said it… I hated that my brain liked it. "I just stopped by because I forgot my music folder," I protested.

"Right… Well, I only called to check up on you… I guess there's no need to call you later. Have a nice day! Oh, and I'll be visiting in a week."

"You'll be what?" I exclaimed incredulously into the phone. When there was no response, I realized she had hung up on me. Quite forcefully too. Annoyed, I dropped the phone back into its holder and turned around, huffing. Then, I informed Leigh, "My aunt is visiting me. In a week. Why me?"

"You're her only niece," he deadpanned.

I mumbled something about 'cheeky-salesclerk-dark-haired-guys' and punched him in the shoulder.