Author's Note: This chapter might have been my favourite to write. I couldn't stop laughing/crying.

My head was buzzing; my mouth was dry and Mike's face was swimming in front of me. To try and correct this problem, I took another sip of my drink, only to frown as I found it was empty.

"Another," I said.

"I think that's enough," Mike said firmly, but I waved him away. I felt good right now, better than I had in weeks, and I had no intention of letting that go away.

"Hey Mike," I said, "remember that time we built a fort in our hotel room? That was fun. Remember how Josh crawled under there and refused to come out, so we had to order room service? And then Ian spilled a bottle of ketchup on the floor and we couldn't get it out so we told the maid the next day that it was blood..."

"Yeah, I remember that," Mike said, smiling fondly. The bartender slammed a fresh glass of beer in front of me, and I took a sip.

"She believed us, too, even when I told her we had captured a squirrel and sacrificed it in the middle of the hotel room."

"Yeah, she wasn't the brightest thing, that one."

"No," I agreed fervently. "But she did take down the fort before we even had a chance to appreciate it fully." I scowled.

"Maybe we can build another fort sometime," Mike suggested, the hint of a laugh in his voice.

"Yeah. In the studio, when Josh is better. You do think he'll get better, right?"

"I'm sure he will," Mike said reassuringly.

"I hope so. Did you know Josh and I built a fort once? Years and years ago, when we were still in high school. We built it out in the woods, with old pieces of wood and stuff, and we'd go there to escape all the stupid jerks at school. People didn't really like us in school, 'cause we were in choir. They thought we were lame and made fun of us, but it wasn't so bad because we knew that we'd get somewhere someday. And we did."

"You did," Mike agreed amiably.

"We showed them," I muttered.

"Absolutely," Mike said.

"You know, sometimes I miss that," I reflected. "Things were easier back then. I mean, they weren't easy, but they were less..." I struggled to find a word, "complicated. You know what I mean? Shit happened, but at least your friends were always there. There wasn't any of this fighting, or secrets..."

Mike was silent, and I found myself thinking about Amanda. I had been doing that a lot lately, but this time it was without guilt. "I remember when I met Amanda," I said. We had been eighteen, and our band at the time had been putting on a shitty show. "I thought she was pretty, but she only saw Josh. He's the only one any of them see. But he's a douche, and soon enough they all see it. He's a fucking douche. Did you see the way he treated us? The way he treated Amanda?"

I paused.

"She doesn't deserve that," I said quietly.

"No," Mike sighed, "but you have to understand that Josh is sick right now, he's not himself—"

"It's my fault," I whispered, all of my fears and the sources of my guilt rushing out of me in a flood. "I was there when he was sixteen, and I didn't even notice something was wrong. And then afterwards I promised that if it ever happened again I'd be there, and he promised that it wouldn't happen again, and I guess we both broke our promises." I noticed rather suddenly that I was crying, and Mike was watching me sympathetically.

"And this time the signs were there for me to see, but I ignored them, because I was selfish and too busy fooling around with the girl he loved and being pissed off at him to care. I'm supposed to be his best friend, and I made a promise. And so did he."

"Matt, it's not your fault," Mike said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I shook it off and instead drained what remained of my drink. It seemed the only way to get rid of the guilt that was consuming me; instead the alcohol only seemed to fuel it.

"And I know it was wrong to go with Amanda behind Jess's back," I continued miserably, "but I couldn't help it. Part of it was her fault, she pushed it, but I went along, and even though I felt guilty I ignored it. And it felt wrong, but it also felt right, and I couldn't decide which feeling was stronger. And she was just so beautiful..." I looked up at Mike expectantly. "Do you think she's beautiful?"

I continued to stare at him until he gave me an answer. "I suppose she's quite pretty," he said reluctantly, but I didn't hear him. A realization had just dawned on me, the only clear thought in my fuzzy brain. I contemplated it for a moment, turning it around and around, before I let it slip from my lips.

"I think I love her," I said.

Mike gaped at me. "Okay, I think it's time to go." He grabbed my arm and made to pull me away, but I resisted.

"No," I insisted, "I have to tell her." This was becoming increasingly obvious to me; I had to tell her immediately, before it was too late. Mike gave an exasperated sigh as I pulled out my phone and scrolled through until I found Amanda's number.

"Matt, don't—" Mike started.

"Shh," I told him, listening intently to the ringing on the other end. After a moment, Amanda picked up.

"Hello?" she asked, a little uncertainly.

"Hey, babe," I said, my tongue suddenly thick and ungainly in my mouth.

"Matt? Are you okay?"

"Yes," I said quickly. "Fine, perfect. I just wanted to tell you something." I fell silent, suddenly fearful.

"What is it?" Amanda asked after a moment.

"I uh..." I stopped, freezing up completely. What if she didn't love me back? I licked my lips nervously.

"Matt?"

The words came out of me in a rush. "Ithinkiloveyou. I mean, ithinkiminlovewithyou. I mean..."

"What?" Amanda said, I couldn't tell if she hadn't understood me or wished she hadn't. Either way, I didn't have the courage to tell her again. I quickly hit end on the phone call.

"Okay, buddy, I think it's time to get you home," Mike said, pulling me off my stool. I stumbled a bit as my feet hit the ground.

"'Kay," I said dully, allowing Mike to pull me out of the bar and lead me to my car. "Do you think she loves me back?"

"I don't know," Mike sighed, sliding into the driver's seat. I noticed he still had my keys.

"What do I do if she doesn't love me back?"

Mike didn't answer, only heaved another sigh.

"Hey, my house is that way," I said as we started driving south, pointing.

"I don't think your parents would appreciate your current condition," Mike said. "You're coming to my house."

"Like a sleepover?" I asked, a little nonplussed. "We haven't done that in a long time."

Mike only laughed.

It didn't take us long to reach his house, but by the time he pulled into the driveway my eyelids were drooping. "This way," he said, pushing me through the door. I heard him say something to Leilani, but couldn't make out the words; the world was spinning around me.

"Take the couch," Mike directed, and after that I didn't remember much of anything at all.