A/N Hey guys. No I haven't died, just slowed down. Anyways, new chapter's up now. Sorry it took so long. I'll try to be quicker this time :o)

nebulae Hey thanks! Look I changed the title :o)

Jill Chase-in-a-can. Lol.

schizoidmastermindMwhahaha. Yes, Christian v. Becka, round two. It's all coming. I can't wait to write it.

MariloloHurray, I am better from the cold. And speaking of updating… please update your story? please, please, pretty please:o) (I'm shameless, I know)

Love you all, hope you like the chapter! Next chapter they will all head out for Thanksgiving. What fun! Enjoy and review, review, review! You all know I'm a review addict.

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Chapter 21

Jeremy Says One Last Thing

Now I've got this horrible news about Amy and Elton weighing down upon me, but somehow I manage to struggle through the rest of the day. When I finally get back to the apartment, I throw myself face-down onto the couch and scream into the cushion. And I don't move until Jeremy comes home.

(Well. Actually I do move. I eat a pint of ice cream, wander around the apartment, check my email, stare at my phone and will Christian to call (he doesn't), wander around the apartment some more, and study chemistry for a grand total of two minutes. But when it hits eight o'clock and Jeremy's going to be home from work any minute, I walk over to the stereo, pop in The Killers, and begin blaring "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine" at top volume. Then I spread myself back out on the couch.)

I hear the door open and Jeremy come inside, and I'd like to look up and see his face, but that would ruin the dramatic air I've adopted. He turns down The Killers and comes and sits down on the couch next to my head.

"My life is over," I groan into the cushion.

"You're drooling on the couch, aren't you?" Jeremy asks. As usual very droll and as usual paying no mind to my theatrics. I glance up from the couch just long enough to give him the death-scowl. Then the head goes back down.

Jeremy sighs. Pauses. Finally asks, "Why is your life over Becka?" He says that like a kid at school reciting the correct answer. But I ignore his tone and take the question at face value.

I roll into a sitting position, cross-legged and sitting sideways on the couch so that I'm facing him. "I knew you'd be interested," I say cheerfully.

"I'm not," Jeremy says. "But I figured you'd tell me either way, so, you know, I might as well feign interest."

I nod my head as if impressed by his wisdom. "That is a very valid point," I say. And without any further invitation, I launch into the whole terrible story. With just a little bit of exaggeration. Just a little bit.

"Remember those awesome Thanksgiving break plans I told you about? West, Taylor, Christian and I driving off into the Texas sunset in perfect harmony? Reminiscing over our years of friendship and saying, 'What ho, good times'?"

"You guys sound like a cross between a bad western and a Dickens novel," Jeremy interrupts.

"Well, whatever we sound like, our wonderfully tranquil plans are, alas, no more."

"Oh, oh, let me guess. Chase is along for the ride," Jeremy says, smug with his ability to predict my problems. But my problems are so predictable, I hardly think he deserves credit for that.

"Yes. First major blow to my tranquility," I concede. "But we decided to invite Jen along, which would've made the trip somewhat salvageable. Chase and Jen, you know."

"Becka," Jeremy says in that tone of voice that he and Christian both use with me from time to time. The voice that means a lecture is coming next. Well, not today, buddy. "No I don't know," he says. "Chase and Jen what?"

"Chase and Jen nothing." I say. "Just Chase and Jen. Chase and Jen." Jeremy opens his mouth to interrupt again, to scold me probably, but I don't give him the chance. I breeze past him. "And don't even start with me, Jeremy, because I've talked to Jen about it this, so I'm not making it up. And I did no talking her into it this time either. None whatsoever"

"Still," Jeremy says. "Chase and Jen. I just can't see it."

For all of his anti-dating theories, Jeremy sure does think he's an authority on the subject.

"Well I can," I say importantly. Because I'm the really the authority here. Jeremy just shrugs. It's not really a concession. He's really just patronizing me. But I so don't want to get into a Chase-Jen argument right now. I just want to complain about them. About Chase and Jen and Amy and Elton and how they are all ruining my Thanksgiving. And my birthday too, for that matter. Did I mention my birthday is that Saturday? Is this injustice or what?

"Anyways," I continue, moving on with the story of my day, "now by some by some freak and dreadful act of fate, Amy and Elton are coming too." I look at Jeremy after I divulge that particularly bit of information. He's trying to keep a straight face, but he's having a hard time with it. I can tell he wants to burst out laughing. I can't really blame him.

"Why is God punishing me!" I moan, throwing myself face-down on the couch again.

"I can think of a few reasons," Jeremy says, sounding very amused with his own wit. I sit back up and glare at him.

"This is going to be the worst break ever. It's a complete mess," I say, seriously. Not complaining anymore. Just stating a fact.

"It is," Jeremy agrees. Not trying to comfort me. Because really, what can he say? This break is going to be a mess. That's just it.

Then Jeremy leans forward and looks at me seriously and asks me seriously, "But honestly Becka, which is worse? That Amy and Elton are coming? Or that Chase is coming?"

I know what the answer to that is, deep down. But I'm not sure I want to say it. I just look at him for a while and then I finally admit, "Honestly? Chase. Chase is worse."

Jeremy nods. "I thought so."

"It's just," I say, getting ready to defend myself. I pause to collect my thoughts. With that done, I plow into my explanation.

"It's just things get so messy when it's me and Chase and Christian. The three of us just don't work as a group. It throws the dynamics all off. Because they both, you know, demand pretty much my complete attention. So then somebody ends up left out. And it's usually Christian. And then I just end up feeling horrible."

I sink back into the couch with a sigh. And I look at Jeremy, and for once, I ask for his advice. "What's a girl to do?" I say. And it's not a rhetorical question.

"For starters," Jeremy says, "tell Christian you aren't dating slash going to date Chase."

So he's back on that track again. "But I can't do that," I say miserably.

"Yes you can. And you should."

"Why does it matter anyway?" I ask. I know it does matter somehow, but I don't want it to. So I want to know why it matters.

"Because he—" Jeremy begins, and stops as if he's catching himself. He starts again. "Because you aren't being honest with anyone, and if you're going to start being honest, I think you should start with Christian."

"Why?" I'm being obtuse, I know. But for some reason I just want Jeremy to spell it all out for me.

"Because the whole Chase thing screwed up your relationship with him the most."

Dammit. Jeremy is always so logical. He's right of course. I felt all along I should be telling Christian, at least, the truth about Chase. But I don't really want to. It's almost embarrassing—how all of the obsession and excitement and everything else I felt about Chase at the beginning was all for nothing.

"I can't promise I'll do that," I tell Jeremy.

"Then I can't say I think things will go well for you," Jeremy says. He's not sugar-coating things for me here.

"Well. I guess I figured things wouldn't go well for me anyway."

Jeremy shrugs, apparently giving me up as a lost cause. I'm going to do what I want. "Do what you want," he says. He opens one of his textbooks then, signifying that the conversation is over. Case closed.

I just sit there staring at the wall for a few minutes. Jeremy startles me out of this daze.

"Can I just say one last thing?" he asks.

I nod.

"If you had to pick between them, Chase and Christian, who would you pick, and why would you pick them?" He turns back to his textbook. I'm not supposed to answer that question out loud. I'm just supposed to think about it.

I don't know who I'd pick and I don't know why I'd pick them. And I definitely don't want to think about it. Because I don't really want to figure it out.

From the stereo, The Killers are singing, "Everything will be alright, everything will be alright." I cross the room and turn them off. They don't know what they're talking about.