A/N

Thanks so much to all the amazing reviews I've had for this story! Anyone who's ever written knows (and those of you who have not can probably imagine) it is really what keeps an author going! Much appreciation my friends!

~Take it easy and happy reading~

"It's that one. The white one, on the left," I signaled to Gavin.

He was driving my car. Usually something I was very, very opposed to letting anyone do. But there was no way in hell I was going to leave it parked outside some random bar in West Hollywood. And I knew I was too drunk to drive. We pulled up in the driveway, the spot where Dom's car usually sat. Why was that my first thought? I tried to wipe that idea out of my brain.

After our fourth, maybe fifth shot, the bar decided it had to close. Tyler and Gavin hadn't wanted the night to end. Mia agreed. I tried to act casual. After the fun the four of us had, of course the night should keep going. That was what my head was saying.

"Nice place you have here," Tyler said, as he and Gavin followed Mia and I in the house.

"Thanks," Mia said, leading the way.

She opened the door and the three of us trailed in behind her. The house was clean. It still had the lingering scent of Mia's delicious dinner. The guys sat on the couch.

"Want a beer?" I asked the group as Mia made her way to the couch also. She sat beside Tyler. He placed his arm around her as she flipped on the television.

"Yeah," the three spoke in unison.

"Okay," I said. I went into the kitchen. As I reached for the refrigerator door I noticed it. But before I could make the connection with the handle my eyes were locked. For the second time tonight I saw it. Pictures. But these weren't in my mind. They were directly in front of my eyes. On the fridge, one foot away from my face, multiple photographs littered the otherwise white appliance. Pictures of the team. Pictures of Mr. Toretto from his stock car circuit days. Pictures of me and Dom. My eyes focused on one in particular. We looked so amazingly happy. It was at his birthday.

I couldn't take it. Without warning, tears began to well up in my eyes. And I was overcome with sadness. And anger. I was fucking mad!

And heartbroken.

I slid the picture from its magnet and turned it, face down, on the counter. I just could not look at this right now. At me, beaming. At him, gorgeous. At us, together.

I opened the fridge and grabbed four beers. I walked back into the den to find a rerun of Saturday Night Live on the television. I handed Mia and Tyler their beers before settling in the armchair beside the couch. I gave Gavin his beer and he looked at me funny.

"What?" I asked, wishing my voice hadn't come out so harsh.

"You don't wanna sit with me?"

"Not enough room," I said, signaling towards Mia and Tyler.

Gavin stood up and walked over to my chair. He sat on the arm of the chair, putting his arm around me. I felt uncomfortable. So, I took a long, long, long sip of my beer.

"I'm going to go change real quick. I'll be right back," I stood up quickly. I didn't even wait to gauge anyone's reaction. It was probably weird. But then, I was feeling weird right now.

I dashed up the steps, taking two at a time. I entered my bedroom and closed the door behind me. I just leaned against the door, trying to figure out exactly what I was doing.

I stood up, leveled myself, and just looked. Pictures, all over the room, of Dom and me. I couldn't do this with his eyes staring at me. In less than a second I was making my way to the bulletin board and each picture frame. I gathered up all the photos. All the pictures where Dom looked cute, and I looked happy. I stacked them up and stuffed them in a drawer. I closed the drawer with determination. He was not going to invade me like this. Maybe I couldn't erase him from my thoughts, but I could erase his face from consuming every corner of the room.

Somehow, looking around, it was a little bit easier. I could breathe better. Memories still hung heavily in the room. But that was to be expected. Hiding him away in a drawer was making the night somewhat more bearable. I made my way back over towards the door before I remembered that I had said I was going to change. Quickly, I slipped off the outfit I had worn out and pulled on a pair of old cotton shorts. I opened the dresser to get out a shirt. The first one I pulled out, I slipped over my head. Glancing at the mirror before exiting I realized it was one of Dom's old work shirts. It even had his name on it. I couldn't wear this.

Damn! Why was he everywhere? I couldn't escape him. Even if I wanted to. And I was almost sure that I wanted to.

I threw the shirt to the furthest corner and the room and scrounged through the drawer. It was nearly impossible to find a shirt that wasn't his, or that he hadn't given me. Finally, at the very bottom, was an old UCLA shirt. I had no idea where it came from. It was perfect. I pulled it on and made my way back downstairs. The steps were harder to take than they had been coming up. Something about this whole night just didn't feel right. And that irritating pain in the pit of my stomach that had been consuming me for a while now, had returned. I went to take the next step, but had to stop. I ran back upstairs, the nausea overtaking me. I knew this night had been emotionally difficult, but I had no idea until right now how great the physiological toll had been.

I barely was able to lift the lid up from the toilet before I vomited. There went all those drinks. I guess that was probably a good thing. I rested my elbows on the seat, and tied back my hair before it could reach the never-ending stream of liquid that was pouring out from my mouth. The taste was bitter and hot. Tequila coming up was not nearly as appealing as it was going down.

When I was certain that there wasn't anything left to come up, I flushed the toilet and stood up. I looked in the mirror. I almost didn't even recognize the person looking back at me. My face was flushed, and thinner than I had remembered. Dark circles traced the area underneath my eyes, despite the fact I had slept so much. I tried to ignore this, and washed out my mouth. Surely I could make it down the stairs now.

As I entered back into the den, Mia, Gavin, and Tyler were mid-conversation.

I just slipped back in. I sat in the chair, but tried to scoot to the side furthest from Gavin.

"So he had the garage. But my dad's true passion was racing cars. He was a guy of limited interests I guess," Mia said. Why were they talking about Mr. Toretto?

"Yeah I know what you mean," Tyler responded to her. "My dad was a truck driver. So, a little bit different. But hey, driving is driving, right?"

"Um…" I hesitated. I just looked him as if he had nine heads or something.

No! That was all I could think. Or maybe, Hell No! How could he compare being a truck driver to racing? That was a completely different vehicle, technique. I could not even begin to name the number ways of how these two things were exponentially different.

"In fact, it was crazy. But right after I moved here all I saw on the news was some story about how this group of thugs was seizing eighteen-wheelers. They were jumping on them and stealing the cargo after dumping the drivers. Did you hear about that?" Tyler continued.

Holy shit, he was talking about us.

"No," Mia and I said simultaneously. We looked at each other.

"Oh, well I don't know if they caught them or what. But I haven't heard anything about it lately."

"Oh," was all I could think to utter. "I don't know."

"I hope they did though. That's a pretty shitty thing to do."

"What makes you say that?" I tried to hide the condescension, but it was impossible.

"Well they could just go out and get real jobs like normal people do," he said, his voice getting somewhat heated as well.

"You ain't got no idea what you're talking about! They probably did have jobs. They probably had family and friends, mortgages and responsibilities like these normal people you're referring to. But just because people work hard at their jobs doesn't mean that they can make ends meet. Doesn't mean they know how they can afford to get from one month to the next without something having to give!"

"Damn girl, you ain't gotta go psycho crazy," he said.

"What the hell did you just say to me?" I asked. I was about to punch this guy in his fucking face. I knew that this wasn't exactly the best to response to aid in our cover. The more pissed off I got, the more likely it was for them to wonder why a bystander would so adamantly defend these so called 'thugs'.

"I said chill, yo. Ain't gotta go bipolar on me!"

"Ha, those are funny last words," I said, standing up getting ready to show this insane dickwad exactly how 'psycho' I could be.

"Tyler, don't say that kind of crap about Letty. And, Letty, please let's not have any bloodshed. Can we maybe just talk about something else," Mia interrupted. I was glad she did. Inevitably I was just going to get really, really pissed off.

I grabbed my beer and emptied the contents. I got up, choosing not to address anyone, and went to get another one. Again, alone in the kitchen, I grabbed another beer and just leaned up against the counter. I didn't want to go back in there. I didn't want to go to bed. I wasn't tired. But at the same time I was exhausted. And I definitely didn't want to talk to Tyler. I didn't know what I wanted right now. About anything.

As I topped off the second Corona, I noticed Gavin entering into the kitchen.

"I was wondering where you'd snuck off to," he said, smiling and approaching me.

I tried to smile at him. I don't think it worked, though.

"Look, I'm sorry about Tyler. He's had a lot to drink. And he's being an asshole. He wants to apologize to you," Gavin said, extending his hand in an attempt to lead me back into the den.

I just shook my head. Going back in there was probably not the best idea for anybody.

"Please don't be mad. We were having so much fun," he approached me. I noticed another button on his shirt was unbuttoned. But I couldn't imagine how that would have happened. He had a really pronounced collarbone. Which I guess should not have been a surprise, Gavin was a slender guy. "But I must say, damn you look sexy when you're pissed off."

I sat down the empty bottle. I didn't know what to make of this statement. Dom had said this to me too. I looked up at him. His smile was pretty hot. I just bit my lower lip.

He walked up to me, facing me directly, his body only inches from my own. With his right hand, he cupped my jaw and lifted my eyes up to meet his. He smiled wider before leaning in.

Shit, here we go again.

It wasn't that he wasn't a good kisser. He was. I tried to focus on that.

"Do you wanna go upstairs," he asked, as his hand began to snake up my shirt.

It was sink or swim time. If I really wanted to move on from Dom, this was my chance.

TBC

AJ

Don't get mad guys. I've already written the next chapter, just doing a little editing. It will be up very soon.

R&R