It had been almost five years since they had started traveling together, but he still could not keep his eyes off of her. Hair still damp from the shower, her slender figure clothed in Teddiursa-print pajamas, May was cuter than usual. Of course, Drew gave her no more than a cool glance before resuming reading, but it was enough to burn the image into his mind for another night.

Oblivious, May smiled at him cheerfully. "What are you reading?" she asked brightly.

"Some teenage romance novel that has fangirls raving. Don't ask. It's been getting progressively sappier and trashier."

"You sure are positive as usual," remarked his roommate, hanging up her towel to dry. The instant her back turned, his eyes flickered over her curves. "Well, at least you gave it a chance."

"Only because Harley talked me into it," Drew sighed. "He probably just enjoys seeing me writhe in pain."

"Did you just buy it?"

"Yeah, at the Center's bookshop."

"Oh. I was thinking of browsing there."

"It's pretty new, but they have some good titles. We can get coffee there too, before checking out."

"Sounds good."

And how about a date after that? he almost added, but he stopped himself in time. What was he afraid of? Rejection? Awkwardness? The destruction of a friendship he couldn't live without?

Dusk was descending, soft and slow, outside the window. As each page of his book fell into deeper darkness, Drew reached for the lamp cord, but stopped himself. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as May brushed out her hair, each stroke an invitation, each pause a tease. The harsh glare of a fluorescent lamp wouldn't do her justice, ran his mind. But then she looked up and saw him staring, and the spell was broken.

"Why don't you turn on the light?" she asked quietly.

"Oh. Sure."

The lamp came alive with a buzz, and in his mind Drew sighed. What did he want, anyway? What did he think could happen? The childish rose-throwing had fizzled out years ago, but he was somehow still smitten. And through all of the fights, the competition, the insults and silent treatments, after five years they were still traveling together.

Without noticing, he had leaned his head back to gaze out the window, into the distance where, perhaps, his idle thoughts might become reality. Maybe, if I stop being a wuss, he thought sleepily, and closed his eyes.

May awoke with a start. Sunlight was already streaming through the window, blindingly white as it struck the desk - and Drew's sleeping form. Lips slightly parted, he leaned back in an pose of enchanted slumber, the lines of his face in striking contrast to the smooth waves of his hair. For a long moment, May held her breath. The desire to kiss him on those tantalizingly vulnerable lips suddenly gripped her, and she felt her stomach clench tight. But no, she couldn't do that; he was "just a friend," a friend who had challenged her, rivaled her, traveled alongside her. He was just a very good friend, that was all.

A friend you can't help being attracted to, whispered an insidious voice in the back of her mind.

Bringing herself under control, she let out a breath and looked away. Then she moved forward and gave him a shake.

"Time to wake up," she called.

Drew blinked awake. "What time is it?" he asked blearily.

"Seven. If we want to get to Slateport in time for the festival registration, we have to leave by eight."

"We have time," he sighed, and closed his eyes again. "Wake me up at nine-thirty."

"When did you sleep?"

"Around the time you went to sleep."

"You left the lamp on all night," May suddenly realized, and switched it off quickly.

"Sorry, my bad."

She sighed. Then she allowed herself a small liberty and ruffled his hair-which produced an effect she wouldn't have dreamed of. Drew's eyes opened, slowly, to look at her, the perfect shade of envy green, a greedy, selfish, desiring green. And in that first moment, his gaze filled with her, only her, and reached out to possess her-

And then he closed his eyes and looked away. He sat up, sighed, and stretched. Nothing had happened; only something in a figment of May's imagination. Where were the taunts, the teases, the jokes he used to make? Now she got long, contemplative silences punctuated by furtive looks that she caught from him ever so often.

"Fine," he said. "I'll get up."

"Okay."

They went through their daily routine: May would take the bathroom first while Drew changed, and Drew took the bathroom while May changed. As she waited, her head wrapped in a towel, she thought about that look in his eyes she had seen. Had she seen it or had she imagined it? Somehow it had rendered her insides to mush. Embarrassed, she put a hand to her face, feeling herself blush. What was she, a thirteen-year-old? She had dated guys before. Well, two: Brenden, the son of one of her father's friends, and Gary Oak, Ash's old rival. Neither had lasted very long. But what was the point of even thinking about this? Drew was just a friend. Aside from those roses and the unusual interest he had in her when they were twelve, he had never shown any sign of wanting to be... romantic... with her. And in a way, that was good. The tabloids and celebrity magazines would explode at any hint of a romance, just as it did a few years ago, when someone found they were traveling together. Both of them had handled it carefully, speaking clearly in interviews, never leaving space for people to say that the two of them admitted to being a couple. Certain words were chosen after much debate, certain strategies were implemented. In the end, the coverage died down, though many were still suspicious. Whenever she returned home to Petalburg, she always found hate letters from irate fangirls.

"Maybe we should just stop traveling together, if it's going to cause so much trouble," she had suggested one day, after an especially grueling interview. Her heart had felt heavy when she said it, but it was the obvious course of action. It might make them seem guilty at first, but at least it would die out eventually Then Drew had done something that had made her heart leap.

"No," he had said firmly. "I'm not leaving you. I can't imagine not being like this."

Her face had reddened, just as it did now, and she wasn't sure, but he had seemed embarrassed as well. Then she had smiled and hugged him quickly and let go quickly. And that had been the end of it.

But now, for some reason-

Drew walked out of the bathroom, hair still damp, clothed in a button-up shirt and well-fitting jeans. Their eyes met.

Of course she had to say something. "I've finished packing my stuff; have you?"

It was a question with an obvious answer, since the room looked immaculate.

"Yeah, everything except what's in the bathroom. You look like you're done too."

"I am. So," she said brightly, "ready to go?"

"Sure, if you are." He grinned at her, and the oppressive mood she had felt since yesterday suddenly lifted.

It was mid-January, but since they were far enough south that the weather promised to be mild and warm by afternoon. May and Drew were heading to Slateport from Mauville, taking the walking route along the large grassy area below the bike path. Trainers abounded in this area, so May anticipated a few challengers on the way. There was a steady breeze coming in from the water that surrounded the patch of land , and in its caprice it blew a little stronger than usual. May worried her bandanna might be blown off.

Pulling out a Pokenav, she checked their position and determined that it would take them another six hours to reach Slateport. From the north end of Slateport they needed only a few more minutes to reach the Contest Hall. It was a familiar route that she had taken several times in the past few years, but she still felt the need to check the Pokenav every so often.

"You seem worried," remarked Drew. Playfully, his hand reached over and snatched the Pokenav from her hands. "You know you don't need this."

"Drew!" she laughed. This was what she loved about him- his teasing, which had such a childish feeling to it yet always had a purpose. "It's okay. I'm not worrying or anything."

He raised an eyebrow at her but handed it back with a smile. He just wanted me to lighten up, she realized, and smiled as well.

But there was something missing. Where was his usual comeback, his tease and counter-tease and that infuriatingly triumphant look he always had in his eyes? Now she saw a longing, an uncertainty, behind the playfulness, and it unsettled her. It couldn't be what she wanted it to be, could it? It couldn't be the stirrings of love, because no boy had that kind of self-control. Knowledge of her friends' exploits and her personal experiences dictated that it wasn't possible. If Gary or Brendan had traveled with her for five years they could not have kept their words or actions from betraying their desire. Drew could not be any different, despite how mature he might seem. It must be something else.

The path to Slateport had little shade, abounding mostly with tall grasses. Each footstep they took made a swishing noise followed by a soft thud as their feet hit the ground. For a while they continued in silence, as they usually did. About half an hour after they had begun, though, they happened upon a small area framed by trees. The morning sun had not yet reached its apex, but already its rays had begun to burn. May was glad to stop and rest beside one of the trees, though its cover was scarce. Mesmerized, she watched as Drew took a swig from his water bottle and a drop of liquid trickled out from the corner of his mouth. She caught herself staring just a second before he finished, and looked away.

Though he didn't catch her stare, Drew saw her shoulders sag as she turned away but interpreted it as relief. "Tired?"

"Not even close," she returned, a challenge in her voice. In answer, her companion cocked his head at her and grinned.

"Don't worry, May; I'm not questioning your strength, though how you could possibly keep up with me is a wonder."

"When I've beaten you at everything already? Come on, Drew, I know you can come up with something wittier than that."

Scoffing, Drew flicked his hair to the side with an arrogant gesture. "You haven't beaten me in everything, May. Don't think so highly of yourself."

"Name one thing," she taunted.

And here he paused, which surprised her. When Drew was in his favorite element-snarking-he never missed a beat. But now he was taking a whole twenty seconds to pause.

"Love," he finally said.

Now it was May's turn to hesitate. "What do you mean by 'love'?"

"Romance. Dating. Attracting the opposite gender. The usual."

She spluttered. "When did-okay, if I say so myself, I think I'm pretty attractive to the opposite gender."

"With those tacky bandannas you wear? And your overgrown bangs and your skinny, curveless figure?"

"I like my bandannas! And my bangs! And for your infornation, some guys prefer skinny girls over fat, disgustingly curvy ones." May huffed, her ears reddening from the insult. Of all things to say, he had gone for the worst imaginable. He seemed to realize this and backed off. "Sorry, I didn't think it would offend you so much."

"Too late. And if you want my opinion, I'd say that you-with your cocky, arrogant, egotistical attitude and your girly hair flipping and tight jeans-could pass for gay. You call that attractive? No wonder Harley hits on you all the time."

"Well, I was going to compare the two of us in terms of how many significant others we've had but clearly you're going by personal opinion now," Drew said in a disgruntled voice.

"Not just any personal opinion; my personal opinion, because from this point on yours doesn't matter."

A small pause grew into a long pause before Drew spoke again.

"I'm sorry."

"Sure," May said bitingly.

Drew sighed as May fell silent. He had hit a sore spot, he knew, because there had been an awkward time before she had dated Brendan when she had been afraid of being completely unattractive. Back then he had even comforted her and said some cheesy lines about how looks didn't matter, though in the real world, they did. She had looked at him with shining eyes and he had thought that, perhaps, he could be the one person who truly didn't care about how she looked. And that perhaps she would realize it and she would feel the same about him.

But three years later, she had been with Brendan and Gary and he was hurting her and it didn't matter anymore. What was he still clinging to? That despite everything that had happened-or hadn't happened-she might have some feeling for him? What a hopeless loser he was, not knowing when to give up.

The silence grew longer and deeper, accentuated by the stillness of the field. Even the rustlings of wild Pokemon in the undergrowth ceased. Even when they left the gangly trees and their sparse shade, neither of them uttered a word. Nowadays, silences like this happened more and more often. Drew's right hand formed a fist in frustration. Why was it like this? Something had grown up between them, ugly and awkward, that constricted each word and action he made toward her. What was it? The remnants of his infatuation, twisting his heart so that he couldn't look at her as just a friend? And so his bitterness was forcing itself out in scathing words, condescending words. It was like he was becoming his cocky eleven-year-old self all over again, and every cell of his body loathed it.

I'll make it up to her. I'll say sorry somehow.