A/N: New story! It's kinda sad. Please R&R.

Disclaimer: I'm not Lisi Harrison but I do own the plot.

New York City, NY

Friday, June 22, 2012

The Hotz Apartment

8:33 P.M.

He kissed me hard, running his hands up my sides, trying to slide off the paper thin navy cotton T-shirt I was wearing. He broke the kiss, pushing me back onto the bed, a wicked smile playing on his lips. His breathing was rough. I knew what he wanted and I wanted it, too. I looked up at him, staring into the dark brown eyes of the man I loved so much as he pulled his gray v-neck off, exposing the abs that usually made me melt. A glint of metal caught my eye and I smiled at the two week old ring he wore on the ring finger of his left hand.

And then she flashed into my mind and it was all over. I was done. He was trying to kiss me again but my eyes flooded with tears as I turned my head away from him.

In that instant, I could tell he knew. Knew I wasn't all there. Knew he wasn't getting anywhere.

His eyes flickered with anger, before quickly transcending into pain. He rolled off the bed, stomping out of the bedroom and down the hall towards the kitchen.

"Josh!" I called out into the apartment, tears slipping down my cheeks, mixing with the mascara I had so carefully applied that morning. "Josh, please!"

I heard the fridge slam shut, meaning Josh was resorting to Guinness he kept stocked. I heard footsteps coming back towards the bedroom and I got hopeful. He wanted to talk; he wanted to make things better. But the sounds passed the mahogany door of our room, going instead into the guest bedroom next door.

"Fuck you, Josh!" I yelled at the wall separating the two rooms. "Fuck you!" I slid off the queen bed, grabbing a tissue from the night stand before putting my T-shirt back on. I stepped into the bathroom, staring at my pathetic reflection in the mirror after turning on the sink. My hair was mussed up and not in a sexy bed head kind of way. It was more like a "I'm about to have a mental breakdown and I look like I am, too" way. My make up was a mess and staring into my dead amber-colored eyes just made more tears come. I wiped them away with tissue crumpled up in my hand before grabbing a make up removal cloth, running it under the faucet.

I quickly scrubbed my face, washed away the soap and pat my face dry with a fluffy blue towel. I brushed my long brown hair before tying it up in a pony tail. The bathroom door opened then. I looked into the mirror, not wanting to turn around and face whoever it was.

Surprisingly, it was Josh. He was still shirtless and carrying a beer bottle. He had on his "I may have been crying but there's no way in hell I'm going to tell you if I have" face. After being together six years I knew all of his faces.

And I knew he had been crying. Not big whiny baby crying, like me, but crying nonetheless. He was hurting and I was hurting.

"Massie?" He said softly, taking a few small steps towards me. "Baby, I'm so sorry." His tender voice brought up a whole new round of tears. I looked up at the ceiling, trying to avoid them from falling down my face, but it was a fruitless venture. They still dripped down slowly, falling off my chin. Josh came closer, grabbing my left hand, trying to turn me around. I let him, staring at him with what I am sure was a "I'm dying and I need help" kind of face. He pulled me close, wrapping his muscular arms around me and holding me tight. I pressed my cheek against his chest, sobs wracking my frame. Josh kissed the top of my head, saying nothing. There wasn't anything he could say, really, to make me feel better.

How could you make someone feel better when they were the reason their best friend was dead?

A/N: It's be an extremely long time since I've written for Fanfiction. I outgrew it and the Clique, but I couldn't get this out of my head. I'm making no promises on updating. I'm a senior this year and school is about to start, and I also play tennis, so I'll be busy. But please review and alert if you enjoyed it. Thanks! -M