Author's Note: I've recently been inspired to fix my old stories. I didn't think I would do much to this one, but I ended up writing in some extra scenes. It was actually a lot of fun. I only hope that Sam doesn't now seem out of character. Please let me know if she still sounds like herself in a review. As always, characters belong to Mr. Hartman. The idea is mine.

Rated "T" for language.


Eight Years Later

I stand here, watching him from across the room. He's leaning against a table, talking to Valerie. Suddenly, he looks up. His eyes meet mine and he holds my gaze for half a second. Then, he returns to his conversation with the ghost hunter, a faint smile on his lips.

I feel an odd combination of anger and sadness take me over. Anger for seeing him like this. For him talking to other girls and succeeding in making me jealous. Sadness because I long to be the one he's talking to. To feel his breath tickle my cheek and hear his sweet voice say my name.

What a bastard.

I walk over and grudgingly sit on an empty chair near a table. Tucker spots me and walks over, bringing me a shot of tequila.

"What's up?" he asks in a caring voice, obviously noting my distressed demeanor.

I don't have to reply. All it takes is scathing look in Danny's direction and Tucker seems to understand.

"Oh, don't worry about him. You know how he is. He's changed a lot. He's not the boy we once knew in high school."

Tucker sits across the table from me. He raises his glass and downs his shot in a gulp before leaning back on his chair. I copy him, tipping the cold shot glass to my lips. The alcohol burns my throat and makes my eyes water, but I ignore it. I blink back the prickling sensation forming behind my eyes and look at Tucker as he continues.

"He's different, you know?" he winks at a passing bartender and she blushes. I roll my eyes as he returns his gaze to me. "Not just him, but us too. It wasn't like we were going to be fourteen forever."

Wait, what? "Seriously?" I ask, scraping the chair back as I get up. Tucker seems surprised. His chair falls back to the ground and he gives me a confused look. That pisses me off. Doesn't he understand how complicated this is? Doesn't he see that the man I love doesn't love me back? How dense can a person get? I plant my palms flat on the table and give Tucker a disbelieving look. "You think I'm upset because we're not all fourteen anymore?"

"Well, no. I think you're upset because he changed. . ."

You've gotta be joking me. Maybe it's the anger that's been brewing in me for the past 8 years, or maybe it's the alcohol that's made me snap. I'm no lightweight, but after 5 shots, my blood's starting to boil. I suppose it could be a mixture of both. Either way, I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of being sad and angry and hurt, all at the same time. But more than anything, I'm tired of being in love.

"I'm not upset because he changed, I'm upset at what he changed into," my voice starts out softly. "Do you honestly think this is him, Tucker? I fell in love with someone who cared about me, and respected me. With someone who was sweet, clumsy, and flawed. Yes, he wasn't perfect but I loved his flaws!"

I'm feeling the alcohol in my veins now, and my body is tingling. Near the end of my short, passionate speech, my voice seemed to have subconsciously raised into a shout. The bar has gone silent. I seem to have caught the attention of everyone at the bar. Especially of one ghost-human hybrid.

Damn. I wasn't trying to make a scene. Looks like I'll be proclaiming my feelings to a live audience. Might as well make it worth their time.

"That's not Danny! Can't you see that?" I point an accusing finger at Danny. Tucker glances at the male before returning his gaze to me. "The Danny I know is gone. The Danny I love—" I hiccup slightly as the word love tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it. Shit. "—is gone. He's been gone for 8 years."

"I. . . miss him, you know? I miss his cute, crooked smile, the sincerity behind his eyes, the massive heart he had and how he always wanted to protect the ones he loved—" There it is again. That word. Love. Tossed out amidst my confession. Is this really happening? Am I seriously confessing my love to Danny at a bar with half the town as witnesses? Holy shit. "—as well as stand up for what he believed in." I glance at Danny then. My cheeks are bruised with color and I can feel heat across my face. He's looking at me strangely, eyes filled with an emotion I can't name. It's the same look you give to a silly child that is constantly making the same mistakes. What is that? Oh, pity. Wait a second. Pity? That doesn't fly with me, and my eyes harden.

"But that guy is long gone. Do you get it now, Tuck? That may look like Danny, but really it's just a low-life, greedy, self-caring piece of scum whose only goal in life is to get into the pants of as many women as possible!"

Danny seems hurt by this statement. Or maybe it's anger. His eyes flash a deadly green, warning me that I'm crossing the line. But I don't care. The alcohol is giving me the liquid courage I need to say what I've kept bottled for so long. My body feels like it's on fire. The alcohol reaches a peak in my bloodstream and I kick it up a notch.

"He's a fucking pervert! So don't even try and start telling me we all changed and he might still change for the better, because frankly, the only change he'll ever make is going into his grave."

Oh.

Shit.

For a moment, I stand there, panting. My finger trembles in the air, still pointed in his direction. And suddenly, I think I'm going to be sick. The adrenaline that pulsed through my bloodstream mere moments ago is fading. The bar is stunned. People are staring at me with concern. People are staring at Danny with curiosity. Tucker is staring at me with pity.

I stumble back and slam my back against the wall. I slide down it and bury my head in my knees. I have two options. The first is to stop talking for the remainder of my natural life and hope one day I get over the embarrassment I just caused for myself. The second is to finish this scene and be so embarrassed I will likely never be embarrassed again. Oh, and by default, have people remember me as the Girl with Unrequited Love. Both options are hellish. So, I pick the less hellish of the two.

"Why me? Why me?" I sob into my knees. I've never been a good actor. Which is why it's a good thing I'm not acting. I really do feel terrible. I really do feel like I've been singled out and made to suffer the wrath of love. I've wanted to cry for such a long time now. Just not in front of anyone. Unfortunately, I have an audience that refuses to look away right now, so I guess I'll have to exaggerate my movements a little. "Why did I have to fall for him? He's such a horrible person. I should have gotten over him by now. We'll never be together, so why bother dreaming? Of all the men on the planet, why did it have to be him I gave my heart to?" I hiccup again as the tears flow down my cheeks. I'm not holding back or hiding my sobs anymore. My body is trembling and my sniffles are loud. In a way, it feels good. I can feel all the hateful and painful emotions pouring out of me, finally free. It's the release I never knew I needed.

A sudden rush of blood pounds feebly in my ears. Time to wrap it up. This blows. I wish I could be invisible. I'm showing signs of weakness, and I know it. Danny knows it. Damn. I'm going to need another drink. Fast.

"There, there, Sam. It's okay." Tucker has finally gotten off his chair and has placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. It feels nice. But in front of an audience, it's a hot brand that symbolizes my weakness. I take in his soft and gentle touch, but only for a moment. In that moment, I try and transfer some of Tucker's strength and comfort to myself. Then I rudely shake his hand off.

"No, get off," I growl menacingly. Tucker seems hurt, but he retreats.

I raise my head up and stare straight into the eyes of Danny. My vision is cloudy, my mascara running down my face. But Danny. . . I could pick him out amongst a sea of men. His eyes are hard, hurt and anger clouded behind those beautiful baby blues. I study his face, his features, and think of how much pain he has caused me. How many sleepless nights and troubled days I had, always plastering a cheery smile on my face whenever he walked by. I look into his face and can't help but feel some hatred for him.

Then that hatred fades. My silly heart, ever the wishful thinker, latches on to his beauty. I am defeated. A single look into those eyes and I know I'll never be able to let him go. I realize then that time is relative. It doesn't matter if it's 8 years or 30 years. I will always love Danny.