The ride back to school later was quiet. Carlos had offered but he looked like hell, and, besides, I was pretty sure he was still partially drunk from last night. He had given me a very sweet goodbye kiss, though. I wasn't really sure what he thought we were. But I was definitely okay with being fuck buddies.

So we sat quietly in James' Jeep, my hand tapping against my thigh awkwardly to break the silence. And this, this was weird. I'd never had a prolonged silence with James. Ever. And we'd known each other our entire lives. So. This….was so weird. I'd never not been able to talk to James. And I couldn't put my finger on what stopped me now. It was so awkward. Maybe it was because I'd always been able to read him, to somehow sense his mood, his feelings, and now all of a sudden I had no idea, not even an inkling what he was thinking. Angry? Upset? Surprised? All of these? None of these? This was like some terribly constructed multiple choice test that I didn't want to take. And what was that hungry look he'd given me in the kitchen when our eyes had battled and he'd won? I hated when he won, and he very rarely did, not when I was involved.

As we approached my building, instead of pulling up and dropping me off, James pulled into the parking lot and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

"Uh, James?" He was walking around to open my door. I stayed in my seat and eyed him up. "What are you doing?"

He wouldn't look at me, but grabbed my arm.

"I'm going to walk you up." I was surprised by the hardness in his voice.

"But—" I began to protest, but his eyes met mine with a fierce glint that struck out at me like a viper that told me not to fuck with him. And I was kind of scared. And what the hell, I'd never been afraid of James in my life.

"I don't want them to think you're some kind of slut."

I couldn't help myself. I laughed in his face, and his narrowed eyes hardened as he set his jaw.

"James," I said, waiting until he relaxed his grip on my arm. "I'm wearing borrowed men's clothes and carrying my clothes from last night. Pretty sure that ship's already sailed." His expression didn't change and he pulled me roughly out of the car. I was really confused. This was bullshit. James was acting completely weird. I wanted the old James back. I want the James that was fun, the James that never made me feel bad, the James that wasn't moody and confusing, the James that cared about me and didn't make me wonder what the fuck his problem was.

And, okay, the way he took my elbow and guided me gently into the building was kind of adorable. But I was still fucking confused. When had best friend James turned into man James in my mind? When had the line become blurred? Because I'd never really thought of James as someone I could be attracted to. Or who could be attracted to me. But the way he was acting….I didn't know. This was stupid. He was my best friend.

When we reached my floor, James led me off the elevator and towards my room, colliding head-on with Amber.

"Sorry," mumbled James, looking miserable. And I was even more confused. Since when did James not hit on attractive girls he had literally just run into?

"Um, hey," she said, looking between James and me in Carlos' clothes.

"Hey, Amber," I replied, trying to give her a smile, but silently screaming fuck my life in my head. Before I could do anything else, James pulled me along and to my room. Once we were inside, I stood by the end of my bed, staring over at him awkwardly. He was silent. His eyebrows were furrowed. And he was looking around the room, anywhere but at me. He stared at my bulletin board which held pictures of friends and family. My favorite was a picture of James and I on Halloween when we were six. The fake blood that dripped from his mouth had gotten on my ballerina costume and I was glaring at him, hands on my hips. He was grinning up at the camera, his plastic vampire teeth shiny and lopsided in his mouth, his arm around my shoulder.

He reached out and his fingertips grazed the picture. His eyes met mine, squinting, as if trying to see six year old me standing in my college dorm room instead of morning after nineteen year old me. I stared back, unable to understand this, him, or anything. The intensity knocked the air from my chest and I let out a soft gasp.

"I love that picture," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I didn't understand what I was feeling, what this energy, this undeniable tension was in the room, what his expression meant. I was grasping at straws in my mind. I hated this. I hated not being in control of my own life, my own fate, and I hated that it was James that held the power. Because I wasn't used to being the follower, dependent on another's movements.

And I stood there stupidly, unable to move or speak and then he closed the distance between us in two long strides and he was pulling my waist against his with one hand, while the other came up to cradle my cheek with a feather light touch, his hand shaking slightly, and no, now I couldn't breathe. And before I could register anything that was happening, his gaze slammed into mine with want, desperation, confusion, love…maybe? And then our lips connected gently. He moved slowly at first, hesitant, and then hungrily, his tongue pushing its way passed my paralyzed lips and filling my mouth with the most delicious friction. My shoes and dress fell to the floor as I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck, and oh my God, what was this?

He pulled back slowly, his eyelashes resting gently on his cheekbones and his brow furrowed a bit, as if he was locking the memory away for future reference, and then he opened his eyes, looked at me, and the calm was shattered. The look of panic on his face did nothing to clarify what had just happened. He released me and backed up, his eyes wide, his mouth agape.

"Fuck," he murmured. "Shit, Hayleigh, I'm so sorry."

And then he was gone, wrenching open my door and running down the hall.

Amber peeked her head in my door, raising an eyebrow and giggling.

"Looks like you had a great time with your non-boyfriend last night."