The car ride was quiet. It was a relief to be with James, but this awkwardness I could do without. But, I thought to myself, two awkward, silent hours with James were better than days and days without him. The brisk autumn wind whipped through my hair from the open side and top of James' Jeep. My sunglasses shielded my eyes from the harsh wind as well as the bright sun. I watched James out the side of my eyes. His head was bobbing along to some inaudible melody, his lips forming lyrics only he knew and I wondered if this was how he wrote best, on the open road. His fingers tapped a beat on the steering wheel and I desperately wanted him to sing out, stop this nonsense, and let me hear the song in his heart.

Because James was the most talented person I knew and I'd known it since I was five and he told me he was going to be famous. I smiled as I remembered asking him how, how would he be famous. And his little smug half smile as he opened his mouth and sang Amazing Grace, my favorite song. And how his tiny seven year old vocal cords carried both the notes and his heart into my ears. I had never doubted him. And my heart swelled with pride at remembering sharing each milestone with him. As we exited the highway, I wanted to cry, because I didn't know how we could ever go back to being effortless like that.

We pulled into the driveway, James put the car in park and we just sat there, realizing that we had to pretend out whole relationship wasn't completely confused and fucked up. I took a deep breath and stepped from the Jeep. As I turned back to grab my bag, a pair of arms seized me from behind, and I was being whirled around. I shrieked and grabbed onto the arms around my waist for dear life. Hearty laughter burst in my ears and I felt at ease for the first time in weeks.

"Andrew!" I squealed. "Put me down!" As my feet touched the ground, I spun around and threw my arms around his neck.

"Haybail!" he exclaimed. "I missed you." I laughed at the nickname as I held him at arm's length.

"Med school's treating you well," I said, raising an eyebrow. "You are lookin' good."

"Well," he replied, winking. "I did get all the attractive genes." He let me go and pulled James into a tight hug. Seeing James smile sent tingles down my spine, and I wanted to badly for those upturned lips to be directed towards me again. This whole being with James but actually being a million miles away thing was really starting to hurt. I could feel the dull ache in my heart and I tried to push it down, but then James' eye met mine for a fraction of a second, and I felt my chest constrict. A small, strangled gasp escaped my lips. The smile on his lips and in his eyes died and he looked away quickly. Andrew didn't seem to notice the exchange as he grabbed my back, hooked me by the arm, and pulled me inside.

I couldn't get the image of James' smile out of my mind. You never really realize how much you miss something until you get another taste of what you're missing. I made a mental note to watch him this weekend, to make sure I took a mental picture of every smile, mental audio of every laugh, because I didn't know when I'd see or hear it again.

Before I knew what was happening, I was enfolded in another pair of arms.

"Susan," called Richard, James' stepfather, releasing me. "James and Hayleigh are here!" Suddenly, James' mom's head popped into the room from the kitchen doorway.

"Hi, sweetie!" Her brown eyes sparkled as she smiled at me and disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Nice to see you, too, Mom," mumbled James, rolling his eyes. Richard chuckled.

"I've always said Hayleigh's the favorite child," he said, winking. His laugh and friendly smile that radiated across his entire round face and danced in his clear blue eyes calmed me and I was glad to be home. Richard put his arm around me and guided me into the den. Chatting about school, I found my eyes wandering to the couch where James and Andrew were catching up. James gave Andrew a playful punch in the arm, and to see him so relaxed and happy…I pushed the pangs of feelings back down. I couldn't do this. It was too much.

"Um," I interrupted Richard. "Is it okay if I go rest a little?" His mouth opened, his eyes surprised, but I didn't wait for a response. Picking up my bag, I rushed from the room, feeling three pairs of eyes on me, two that questioned, and one that seared the back of my neck. I ran to the guest room, tossed my bag on the ground and collapsed onto the familiar bed, wrapping myself tight in my arms and squeezing my eyes closed against the ensuing headache. As hard as I tried, my arms did not feel like anyone else's. And especially not like the ones I wished they were.

There was a soft knock at the door. I sat up, sniffed, and patted my cheeks with the wristbands of my sweatshirt. I hadn't even realized I had been crying.

"Come in," I said in an unconvincingly cheerful voice. James' mother slipped in and closed the door.

She glided over to the bed and held me in her arms. She always did have a certain grace, and I thought in the back of my mind that that's where James must have gotten it. But my head was pounding and the tears were flowing and I just couldn't deal with any of it anymore. The pretending, the lying, to myself and to James, it was way too much stress. She didn't ask me to explain. She just held me. And that's why I loved her like my own mother, because she'd been there almost as long, and she knew me almost as well as James did.

"You need to talk to him," she whispered, when my sobs had waned to whimpers. I sniffed. "I don't know what's going on, but I can tell he's hurting, too." I looked up at her, eyes huge. She stood, smiling softly down at me. "Dinner is at 7," she said as she walked towards the door. "And remember what I said: he's always been a little in love with you."

The door shut quietly but it went off like a bomb in my brain. My mind was racing. How did she know? And how the fuck was I going to fix this? It exhausted me just thinking about it and it already seemed impossible to come out of this in one piece. But by the time dinner rolled around, I had resolved to talk to him after.

So dinner came and went and we watched some campy family comedy in the den after pumpkin pie. James left for bed halfway through, but I knew better. He was going to write out whatever he had been singing in the car that afternoon. I held the mug of mulled cider between my chilly hands and sipped until the credits rolled. The hot liquid burned its way down my throat but the pain stabilized me, reminded me that I was, indeed, human, and I could tolerate at least a certain amount. I shared a look with Susan, and then headed for James' room. I wasn't sure how much pain my heart could take.

I turned the knob slowly and peeked my head around the door. As predicted, James was at his keyboard, headphones in, his fingers racing across the keys, humming a melody, singing out some syllables softly, and I almost didn't want to disturb him. Because this is when he was really happy. I could tell by the way his shoulders and back were straight, how his eyelashes brushed gently against his cheekbones as he rolled his head back and played what he'd written so far. And I could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he whisper-sang some lyrics, and this was James at his most elemental. And I couldn't hold my feelings down anymore. I couldn't pretend. I pushed into the room, rushed over to him, and took his face in my hands. His skin was smooth beneath my palms as I kissed him. And, God, why had I fought this? Why? Why couldn't I let myself have this? Have him? Forever.

His hands came up and hooked on my wrist, pulling my hands from his cheeks and he pulled off my lips roughly, breathing hard, tears in his eyes as he pushed back away from me.

"Why would you do that?" He asked, his eyes wet and shining wildly. His voice was husky, hoarse with anger and confusion. I reeled backwards. Oh, God.

"I-I…I don't know. I just…" I couldn't put thoughts together. I couldn't tell him why because I didn't really know myself. And just as I regained myself and was about to tell him everything, he spoke.

"Hayleigh, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm really sick of it." I searched my mind for a way to tell him that this wasn't a game. This wasn't a game at all. This was my feelings, this was my life, and I didn't know what was happening. I didn't have time to figure out what had just happened, so I just blurted the first thing that came to my mind.

"I want to be friends."

James stood, tearing the headphones from around his neck and throwing them with a clatter on the floor. I backed away. I had never seen James like this.

"No, Hayleigh. What about what I want? Huh?" He was right up in my face and I wished I couldn't smell him, feel his heat, see his lips. "You've always been the one to lead. I've let you be in control all our lives, but this time I'm not letting you. I love you, Hayleigh, and it's all or nothing, because I can't continue pretending that I don't think of you every goddamn second of the day." He paused, took a deep breath and stood back from me a bit. His hands were in fists, his veins popping in his tense muscles and I couldn't stop the tears. "I don't know if you're scared, or confused, or what, but I wish I could love you and make you believe it, because as hard as this is on you, it's harder on me."

We stood there, inches apart for what seemed like years. Neither of us moved, neither of us spoke. The only sounds were his heavy breathing and my sobs stifled by my hands. And then I ran, out of the room and to my bed and let everything loose and cried until I fell off into a fitful sleep.