A/N: Hey all. Yes, yes, I know. I'm supposed to be working on chapter five of my other story. But I ran into some difficulty. Then this story popped into my head and well, I decided not to put it on hold like some of my other story ideas because it comes before the one I've working on. Hope that made sense.

Anyway, yes, it's a little angsty. Sorry. But I hope you like it.

Alexandri

"Jane! Hey, Jane!" Adam called. "Wait up."

Joan kept walking. She hoped he'd take the hint and leave her alone, but she didn't think he would. Adam wasn't really good with hints. Sure enough, his footsteps kept coming closer. "Jane, didn't you hear me?"

"Yeah, I heard you," she said without turning around or stopping. Her next class was in thirty minutes. Just enough time to walk across campus and make it.

"Is something wrong?" Adam asked. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for a week now."

With a sigh, Joan stopped. "Leave me alone, Adam. I can't talk right now."

He came around to stand in front of her instead. Seeing the puzzled, concerned expression on his face both angered and calmed her. She mentally scoffed; only Adam and God made her feel such contradictory emotions. "I think maybe we should talk now," he said quietly.

"I don't want to talk to you."

"I got that." There was the slightest hint of attitude in his voice. Just enough to get her indignation up. She was the injured party here. Who was he to be upset? "What I don't know is why."

Joan opened her mouth to answer, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. She sighed; she really didn't want to get into this now. She just wanted to get away from him and go to class. With a sad little shake of her head, she stepped around him. "I have to go."

"You need to tell me what's going on with you," he countered as he followed her.

Suddenly, Joan felt exhausted. Why couldn't they deal with this later? "Just leave it, please?"

"No," he declared. Anger and worry deepened his voice. "Talk to me, Jane," he demanded as he grasped her elbow.

"Fine." She reeled toward him, ready to yell at him for hurting her. But the memory of his betrayal played before her mind's eye and her anger crumbled in the face of her pain. "How could you?" she whispered.

"How could I what? I haven't done anything."

She sniffled. "I saw you."

"Saw me do what?" he asked, exasperated.

Joan closed her eyes against the memory. It didn't help. "I saw you kiss her."

"What . . . kiss . . ." he stammered. "Oh."

Biting her lips to keep from crying, Joan turned around again. She needed to get away from him. Even though she'd witnessed the kiss, she had hoped that he'd deny it, give her an alibi, any reason at all to believe that he hadn't cheated on her.

"Jane."

"I don't want to hear it, Adam."

"So you're not even going to let me explain?"

"There's nothing to explain," she said as she rounded on him. "You kissed some other girl and I saw you. You didn't even deny it."

"Because there's nothing to deny." He rested his hands on Joan's shoulders. "She kissed me."

"And that makes it okay?" she asked, shrugging his hands off.

Adam sighed. He looked as tired as Joan felt. "I didn't kiss her back."

"Yeah, well, you didn't exactly stop her either."

"I'm sorry. She caught me off-guard."

Joan's jaw dropped, incredulous. "She was flirting with you."

"What? When?"

"At the coffee shop."

Now, Adam was incredulous. "At the . . . are you spying on me now?"

"No. I was on my way to class the other day and I passed the coffee shop and there you were with her. She was flirting with you and you weren't discouraging it."

"Because she wasn't flirting with me."

"Whatever, Adam. I saw you and I didn't say anything because I figured you were just having a friendly cup of coffee with a classmate and I had nothing to worry about . . ."

"You don't."

"Yes," she sneered. "The other night was a stellar example of that."

"What did you want me to do, Jane? Shove her away?"

"Yes!" How could he be so dense? "Yes, that is exactly what I wanted you to do."

"I wasn't expecting her to kiss me, okay? It took me a second to realize what was happening. When I did, I ended the kiss and told her I had a girlfriend."

"She didn't already know?"

"What? Jane, no. She didn't know. I don't go around telling everybody I meet that I have a girlfriend," he said. "Why are you being so difficult?"

"You're off spending time with some beautiful, blonde . . . girl, and you want to know why I'm being difficult?"

Adam crossed his arms over his chest, resentment radiating from every pore. "Yes, I do. Because you should know better. We've been together forever. I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that. Don't you trust me?"

"I used to," she flung at him. "Now, I don't know if I should anymore."

Adam didn't answer, just stood there staring at her like he didn't know her. Finally, he asked quietly, "What's this about, Jane? It's not about Tara."

"Oh, she has a name," Joan said flatly.

"You stopped jumping to conclusions with me a long time ago," he continued, ignoring her interruption. "You stopped jumping to conclusions with most people a long time ago. So what's this about? What's changed, Jane?"

She didn't answer. She wrapped her arms across her stomach and looked blindly away.

"What's changed, Jane?" he asked again, his voice insistent.

Joan swallowed. "You know what's changed," she whispered.

"I see." Joan suspected he did.

"You said you didn't want to wait anymore," he said. "You said you were ready, that you wanted . . ."

"I know what I said."

"Then why are you taking your regret out on me?" he demanded, his voice whipping at her like a lash.

"Adam, I . . ."

"I told I'd wait 'til you were ready," he said softly. "That I wasn't going anywhere. But you pushed it."

"I know."

"You said you believed me. You said you were ready. You lied to me."

"No, Adam, I didn't."

"Yes. Yes, you did. When you said you trust me, you did. You lied. When did you stop trusting me?"

The hurt in his eyes ravaged the last of Joan's anger. She felt small and petty and afraid. But she didn't answer his question. She didn't need to.

"Right," he said with a humorless laugh. "You know, I've loved you since the moment I saw you. I've never wanted anyone else, not even Iris. You're the one. That feeling, that knowledge, has never faded or dimmed the tiniest bit in all these years. But right now, I'm having a really hard time remembering what that feels like."

Joan covered her mouth and closed her eyes. Nothing Adam had ever said to her hurt as much as what he'd just said. But what hurt more was knowing she deserved it. Taking a shaky breath, she raised her eyes to his. "I . . . I have to get to class." Then she turned and ran for the bus.

"Heads up."

Joan looked up just in time to see Grace toss her a roll of toilet paper from her doorway. She caught it and tore some off. After she'd blown her nose, she raised her sad eyes to her friend. "You heard?"

"You were sobbing, Girardi," Grace said. "It was hard not to hear."

"Sorry," she whispered. "I know you have a test to study for."

Rolling her eyes, Grace came into the room and sat at Joan's desk. "Talk."

Joan tore off another square of tissue and began to shred it. "Adam and I had a fight."

"I know."

"How do you know?" she asked, looking up sharply.

Grace's expression was a cross between amused and sympathetic. "It was a very public argument, Girardi. Word got around."

"Oh."

"Did you really think Rove would treat you like that?" Grace shook her head in amazement. "The guy practically worships you. He'd never cheat you."

"Geez, how do you . . ."

"Again, very. Public. Argument." Grace smiled. "And, from what I heard, very loud."

Sighing, Joan dropped her face in her hands.

"So what happened?"

"You don't know already?"

"I know that you saw some girl kiss him but didn't talk to him about it like you should have."

"I couldn't." Joan lifted her head and met her friend's eyes. "It hurt too much."

Grace nodded. "So you avoided him instead."

"Look, I get it. I was stupid. Can we move on?"

"I can see freaking out because you saw your boyfriend in a lip lock with some girl. I can even see not wanting to talk about it with the guy. But, Girardi, we're talking about Rove."

"I know who were talking about."

"Why didn't you trust him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt?"

"Ah," Joan said. "You didn't get that part of the fight, did you?"

When Joan didn't elaborate, Grace prompted, "Well?"

Joan flailed her hands a bit before deciding how to answer. "My relationship with Adam has changed recently."

"You guys didn't break up, did you?"

"No. No, I meant before the kissing incident, our relationship had changed. Proceeded to a new level, so to speak."

"Oh." Then as comprehension dawned, "Oh. Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Well, I thought I was ready. I was ready."

"So, what went wrong?"

Joan shrugged. "I saw the kiss and freaked out."

Grace narrowed her eyes, clearly lost. "Why? You two have been together forever and Rove hasn't so much as peeked at another girl. Why would you freak out about some random kiss?"

"You just said it: we've been together forever. We're high school sweethearts."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"High school sweethearts don't have a reputation for long-lasting relationships."

"So?"

"What if Adam and I . . . what if our relationship fizzles out now that we've done it. What if he gets curious about other girls? Girls he has more in common with?"

Grace scoffed at Joan. "You just look for things to mess up your life, don't you?"

"No. I just got scared." Joan began to tear a new piece of tissue. "We begin this really beautiful, exciting new phase of our relationship and suddenly I see him chatting up some girl in a coffee shop. Then I see him again with the same girl, kissing. I felt insecure."

"I can see that. Doesn't mean you're not stupid, though."

"Thank you, Grace. That makes me feel better."

"I'm not trying to make you feel better," Grace said. "But, if that's what you're going for, you're going to have to talk to Rove and fix this."

"I know."

"So why aren't you moving?"

Joan flopped back on the bed. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to talk to me."

"You've always let that stop you."

"Sarcasm isn't necessary."

"Girardi, it's me. Sarcasm is as necessary as water and oxygen." Joan glanced up at Grace and chuckled. Her best friend got up and move toward the hallway before saying over her shoulder, "Fix it, Girardi."

Hesitating for only a moment, Joan forced herself to knock on Adam's apartment door. A minute later, his roommate Mike answered. "He's not here, Joan."

"He's not here or he doesn't want to talk to me?"

Mike's eyes didn't waver. "He's not here."

"Right," Joan said. She didn't believe him. "Can I wait for him?"

He sighed. "Joan."

"If he's not here, what harm will it do?" she asked as she slipped past him.

"It's just not a good idea."

Joan stopped on the stairs leading to the bedrooms. "I'll be sure and tell him you said so." Then she turned and went to Adam's room.

"I'm all right, Mike," he said when she knocked. "I just want to be alone right now."

"Sorry," she said as she opened the door. "I can't let you do that."

He lay on his bed in the dark, arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "Go away, Joan."

She cringed as she shut the door behind her. "Okay, I deserve that."

"How gracious of you to admit it."

Joan sighed. So it was going to be the hard way. She hadn't really thought it would be easy; she'd just hoped it would be. "We need to talk, Adam."

"Now you want to talk," he scoffed.

"Actually, I don't," she confessed. She hated to hear the bitterness in his voice. "But I need to fix this if I can."

"You can't."

"Hopefully, that's not true."

Finally, he looked at her. She couldn't see his face but she could feel his anger. "What do you want from me, Joan?"

"I just want you to listen. If, after I've said what I have to say, you still want to me to go, I will. No harm, no foul."

"Will you stay away?"

Smiling through the pain, she said, "I can't promise that. But I can promise that I'll give you some space and time."

"Fine." He turned on his lamp and went back to staring at the ceiling. "Say what you have to say."

She sat in his desk chair and tried to gauge the best way to start the conversation. "I don't know where to start."

"That happens when you have a lot to answer for."

"Stop being an ass, Adam," Joan said before she could stop herself. "I'm sorry, okay. I'm . . . sorry."

"Thanks," he said tonelessly and propped himself up on his elbows. "I appreciate that. Especially the part where you called me an ass."

"It doesn't have to be this hard."

"Yes, it does." Adam sat up and glared at her. "Do you know how hard it was for me to hear you accuse me of cheating on you? Do you know how hard it was to realize you don't trust me?"

"Adam . . ."

"It has to be hard."

Blinking back her tears, Joan nodded. "Okay. It has to be hard. I . . ."

"Why couldn't you trust me?"

"Because I'm afraid of losing you."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "Why? What have I done to make you think you're losing me?"

"Nothing. I'm always afraid of losing you, Adam." She looked at her hands instead of at him. "This isn't a new development."

"Why?"

She laughed ruefully. "You love me so much."

"Huh?"

"You . . . the way you love me, Adam, it's so intense. It's so deep. It seems endless, but . . . God, Adam, we're so young. Sometimes I worry that your love for me will burn out like a star that shined too bright for too long." She smiled at him. He gaped at her. "I don't want it to. I want to be the one for you, the only one."

He screwed his face up like he couldn't fully grasp what she was telling him. "So what does our sleeping together have to do with all this?"

"That's me being stupid."

"You're going to have to explain."

"It's been you and me for five years now. After Spring Break, you know, spending the week with you here," she paused. A deep blush spread over her face at the memory of that week. "It was so perfect, so natural being with you. I didn't lie when I said I was ready, Adam. I swear I didn't. I don't regret a minute of it. You have to know that."

"But you said that that was when you stopped trusting me."

"Not long after we start having sex, I see you with a beautiful girl, laughing and talking like old friends. A girl and a conversation you don't tell me about."

"She's just a girl from my art class."

"I figured that out the other night. The two of you coming out of the art building, that kiss."

"It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything to me."

Joan leaned forward, holding his gaze with her own. "Adam, think about how it looked to me. What if the situation were reversed? How would you feel?"

She watched him consider her question, saw the moment he understood what she'd felt. "Jane."

"It's okay, Adam. You didn't know. I should have talked to you instead of keeping it in. I was just afraid and jealous and hurt. I didn't want you to see that part of me."

Slowly, Adam sat on the edge of his bed and held his hands out to her. She rolled the chair closer to him and put her hands in his. "You can't hide your feelings from me, Jane, if we're going to work."

"I know."

"I should have told you about Tara. It just didn't seem important."

Shrugging, she said, "Yeah, well, you never know."

"And, for the record, I get jealous and scared sometimes, too." At her quizzical look, he smiled and said, "I see the way guys look at you. Not that I blame them."

"You're the only one I want."

"Good."

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. I love you, too."

"So."

"So," he replied.

"Do you want me to go?"

"No."

"Do you want to talk?"

He shook his head.

"What do you want to do?"

After a moment's thought, he said, "I want to capture this moment."

She smirked at him. "That's another way of saying you want to draw, isn't it?"

Adam gave her a brilliant smile and Joan's heart skipped a beat. "You know me well."