A/N: Huge thank you to KBelle1 and TheEagerScribbler for beta reading this chapter.

May 16th, 2010

Having Rachel across from me at the Forks diner felt surreal. I wasn't sure why. She had been making trips home with increasing frequency since she had moved away. These days, she was coming back every other weekend.

"It feels so much easier being here when I'm not living here," she told me as she dabbed a French fry around in some ketchup.

I hummed in agreement, although I had never been able to understand. I'd wanted to escape La Push, sure. I'd desperately wanted to escape for years, but Rachel's feelings felt foreign to me, possibly because she'd managed it and I hadn't. I couldn't understand what it was like to come back when you'd managed to escape.

"Less oppressive," Rachel continued. "When you know you can get away from a place, I guess it's always easier to be there. Like how visiting someone in prison would never feel like being in prison."

I raised an eyebrow as she compared La Push to a prison, but I didn't say anything. The comparison wasn't a new one for me, even if I hadn't stopped to think of it that way in a long time. Probably around the time I started getting away every day to go to Port Angeles, if I stopped to think about it.

"Paul's an incentive too, right?" I asked, putting what was left of my hamburger back on my plate as I picked up my drink to take a sip. "That has to make coming back enjoyable."

Rachel nodded, twirling a fry around in her hand absentmindedly.

"It is," she agreed. "I miss him all the time when I'm in Seattle and he's in La Push."

Paul being in La Push felt like the only reason she came back to see me, but I was never going to accuse her of it. Whether or not she would bother to visit once she had Paul living with her again was an open question, and one I was not going to have an answer to until we were already living it.

"He only phased that one time on accident."

Rachel nodded, but I could tell that my words had brought up something that bothered her. I hadn't been able to see her reaction to Paul's 'accident' as it was being called among the wolves, but I'd seen how she reacted to talking about it in the couple of months since: awkwardly and changing the subject as soon as possible.

"I know," she said, false cheer in her voice. "And he's gotten back on track really well. We don't have another wolf to compare him too, but I think it's impressive, right? How he quit cold turkey and has managed so well."

I grinned and offered her a nod. "It is."

It was the answer she needed, but it was also a truthful one. Paul was doing better than any of us had expected he would. The idea that he was proving us wrong also seemed to be a huge motivator for him, only dwarfed by the knowledge that he would be letting Rachel down if he screwed up.

When he had phased on accident, I hadn't been able to see into his thoughts, but I had heard about the moment secondhand. Jared and Ethan had both told me stories about how horrible it had been to experience Paul's sense of failure. Jared had described it as one of the worst emotions he'd ever felt from another wolf.

I wasn't sure that Rachel had heard the same stories, but she had to have a sense of Paul's guilt. When she spoke about it, she always tried to appear like it didn't bother her, and I got the sense that such a blasé attitude was for Paul at least as much as it was for her.

"So," Rachel continued, picking up her fork and using it to cut off a bite of the veggie burger that she had ordered on lettuce instead of a bun, "how's work going?"

"Great," I told her with a small smile. She looked up at me and grinned too. I'd noticed that Rachel was pleased that I had come to enjoy my job the way I had. "It's the same old, same old. Nothing to talk about, but I enjoy it well enough. It's less stressful than school was."

"And you're still cool with everyone?"

I nodded. "Yeah, everyone's cool."

I knew that was a rough spot for Rachel. After freelancing and working alone for so long, Rachel's first few months back in an office hadn't gone as smoothly as they could have on the coworker side of things.

"You still dealing with that annoying dude?"

Rachel groaned and rolled her eyes.

"I will be for a long time," she complained. "It's not like he's going to quit anytime soon, and as he likes to remind me, he's been there for five years. The fact that I was just hired means I have no idea what's going on. Ignore that I was doing the same work for years at home.

"He's not even that good. Out of everyone in the office, his work is the most mediocre, but he's the one convinced that he's a master."

"Isn't that always how it goes?" I asked. "The worst ones are convinced they're the best. It might be a way of compensating."

"He should direct some of that energy into learning. The other day, he had to bring me a handwritten note because something was wrong with his email, and he couldn't figure out how to fix it." She stabbed at her burger with her fork. "He's a computer engineer!"

She took a bite of the burger, taking the time to chew before she continued. "And if you brought it up to him today, he'd go on and on about how that area isn't his specialty. Of course he didn't know how to fix it, he says. Well, guess what, I went over there—couldn't pass up an opportunity to show him up. I figured that, whatever it was, I could figure out a way to fix it and make him shut up. And, Leah, he'd made a typo in my email address. That was the only thing wrong. I couldn't believe…

"God, I can't stand that man. I'm so close to going off on him whether it gets me fired or not. But I won't do it. I really do love this job in every way except him. I can't afford to lose it because of my temper.

"It's not like I don't understand honest mistakes," Rachel continued, in her element and far from stopping, "but he had been going on like there was a huge problem because his email wasn't sending when it was a typo that he couldn't catch despite how much he said he tried to figure out the problem. Fucking ridiculous."

"Sounds like someone I would hate," I said, sympathizing with Rachel's plight. The guy did sound like a douchebag from her stories, and I doubted they were that far from the truth. Rachel wasn't the type to exaggerate these things. She would have brushed it off until she couldn't deal with him anymore. "I hope something manages to shut him up."

"Doubt it," Rachel said with a frown. "Not sure what would achieve that when nothing has for five years. Most people in the office hate him. It's only the people who could fire him who seem to have anything nice to say. I'm not sure how he managed that when he seems oblivious to his shittiness towards the rest of us."

"He's not oblivious. He just doesn't care." I could be sure of that much without meeting the guy. "It sounds like he's a poster child for egocentrism. He only cares about other people when it's beneficial to him."

Rachel nodded, looking pensive as she chewed on a fry. "That sounds about right."

"But other than that you say everything is good," I reminded her, not wanting to delve any further into the negative aspects of what had been such a huge life change for her.

A smile appeared on her face as she thought about the memories that my comment brought into the forefront of her mind. "It is," she agreed. "I enjoy the job, and the other people in the office are easier to deal with. Plus, I'm in Seattle, and there's so much to do. You know how much I love the atmosphere of that city, and it's nice to see my college friends who haven't left."

I swallowed the last of my fries, humming in agreement. The few times I had gotten to see Joselyn recently had been precious. I knew that Rachel had a group of friends that she felt similarly about, and she had talked to me on the phone more than once about how much she was enjoying spending time with them since being back in Seattle.

Rachel continued cutting off pieces of her burger and chewing them at a slower pace than I was used to with the people I ate around. It wasn't helped by the way she continued to talk.

There was one other question I had that Rachel had hardly skimmed over. One that I always wanted to hear more about when I talked to Rachel these days.

"How are you and Paul doing? Like, relationship wise…"

It wasn't the first time I'd asked the question, although it always felt as awkward to ask as it had the first time. Rachel had been the one to break the ice by bringing up the subject herself the first several times we had discussed it after the move. After all, she couldn't discuss everything about her werewolf boyfriend with her college friends. I was her only outlet.

Rachel grinned at me through another bite of her burger.

"We're good," she assured me, and I could tell that it was the truth. Just as it had been every other time we'd talked about it. While I'd wanted to hold onto hope that Rachel and Paul's relationship would make it through this unscathed, I had been worried it was a useless hope. Each time Rachel told me differently, I breathed an inward sigh of relief.

"That's good."

Rachel nodded, stuffing her last bite into her mouth and struggling to chew it so that she could answer.

"It still sucks only getting to see Paul once a week, but I shouldn't complain about that. I'm lucky I have a boyfriend who can run the distance between La Push and Seattle. Otherwise, I might never get to see him."

Before I could respond, Rachel reached for her check that the waitress had left on our table earlier. We each got up, me grabbing my own check and the money I had pulled out of my wallet while waiting for Rachel to finish eating. I followed Rachel to the counter to pay, waiting impatiently for a chance to say what I thought without blurting it out in front of the clueless staff at the diner.

Rachel was humming some happy-sounding tune as she climbed into the driver's seat of her car. I followed her into the passenger side, opening my mouth to speak as soon as our doors were both closed, separating us from the outside world.

"Do you think it's the imprint?" I asked, fidgeting as I waited for Rachel to act offended. "The fact that you and Paul are okay, I mean."

"Do I think we only managed it because of some magical force?" she asked, perhaps putting the question into more accurate words than the ones I'd chosen. She sounded disbelieving, like she couldn't believe I'd dared asked the question.

I nodded, but I also couldn't keep my eyes on her, instead turning to look out the window as the trees sped by.

There was a long moment of silence before Rachel sighed.

"No," she said, voice neutral. I felt brave enough to glance back at her, and I found her frowning but less harshly than before. "I don't. Like I've said before, Leah, I'm not giving up credit for mine and Paul's relationship to some mystical force. We deserve it for ourselves."

I nodded. "I know, I know. I don't want to take it away from you either. I just...I just wanted to hear what you thought."

"I've told you before," she said, voice rising in annoyance.

"I know," I repeated. "I remember, but I think I needed to hear it again?"

Her posture and facial expression softened as she heard the question in my answer.

"I understand." It was the least confrontational she'd been since we'd gotten in the car and I had first opened my mouth. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," I whispered, causing her to sigh.

She reached out with one hand to shove my shoulder as if she were trying to break up any of the stronger emotions the two of us were feeling. I offered her a grin before her eyes turned back onto the road.

"Someday you're going to have to stop asking me this sort of thing," Rachel continued in a softer voice. "Someday you're going to have to accept that you can be with Embry without imprinting coming in and destroying everything, and you're going to have to trust that you two can make it work without imprinting's support. Because you can, Leah. Take it from an imprint."

I nodded as I tried to swallow away the tightness in my throat. "I know we can. Sometimes it's just hard to convince myself not to worry when I keep thinking that the second I let my guard down could be the second that something goes wrong. I don't even know what that something would be."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought that knowing that 'something' you're worried about would be easy. Embry imprinting, right? That's what you're scared of before anything else?"

I shrugged, looking away from her again. My words were opening myself up to judgment and to Rachel's analysis of my relationship issues. I didn't like it, but at this point I didn't think I could have stopped myself from talking if I'd tried.

"I am. I'm terrified of that when I let myself dwell on it, but there's also this other overwhelming sense of dread. One that feels larger than my fears about Embry imprinting. You know that I've always hated imprinting, and that never changed. But in the beginning, I insisted that it couldn't mean soulmates or that, if it did, soulmates were overrated. Over time, I think I came to associate it with what's needed to make a relationship work though. It's made me worried that no imprint means that Embry and I don't have what it takes to make it work whether or not Embry imprints on someone else.

"And I think the idea that Embry and I might fail because of our own failings as people scares me more than the thought that he's meant to be with someone else."

"Why?"

I shrugged at Rachel's question. "Who knows? I don't. I can't figure it out. I guess I'm more scared about me screwing everything up than anything else. Like, if Embry dumps me when there's no imprint, then he's breaking up with me because I wasn't enough, not because he's meant to be with someone else. When I think about it, I think that it should be at least close to the same thing, but it doesn't feel like it is."

I rubbed at my eyes, feeling tired. "I sound stupid," I complained more to myself than to Rachel, but she still heard it.

She sighed, reaching over again but patting my arm this time instead of shoving me. I glanced over to see a small, encouraging smile on her lips. "It doesn't sound stupid," she assured me. "I get it. Really, I do. Of course you'd be more worried about being dumped because of you than because of someone else. I get it."

"Really?"

"Really," she assured me. "But I don't think you have anything to worry about. Embry's been in love with you for a long time. Longer than you knew-"

"I wouldn't call it love," I was quick to interject. "More like infatuation."

Rachel shot me a quick glare as we passed the boundary into La Push. "Embry's been in love with you for a long time," she repeated, unperturbed. "And I don't think that's going to change unless some mystical force tries to change it. Even then, I'm not sure that it would work to change his mind about you."

"Everyone always says shit like that," I said, throat continuing to tighten. I blinked in an attempt to clear away the tears threatening to spill over. "And it's not like I don't believe you mean it. It's not like I don't believe that Embry means it when he says it. I do."

"You think we're optimistic morons who are going to be proven wrong in the end." There had been no question in Rachel's words. She knew that was exactly what I was thinking. There was no use pretending otherwise. "Leah," Rachel continued, "I'm the person least likely to be described as an optimist."

"I think I've beaten you there."

Rachel snorted. "Yeah, probably," she said, giving in. "But I get second place then. In any group that doesn't include you, Leah Clearwater, I would be the person least likely to be described as an optimist."

"That's why I don't get why you're convinced that Embry and I are going to be fine."

"Leah, have you met Embry Call?" Rachel asked with a roll of her eyes. "That boy is a committer. I don't know if he could do the casual dating thing. It doesn't sound like him. Once he has feelings for you, they're not going away. He will move mountains to keep your relationship healthy. The guy could imprint on anyone in the world, and he'd still be with you because he's already committed to you. It's a done deal for him. Nothing will change it. If you want to get rid of him, you'll have to break up with him yourself. It's the only way it will ever happen."

"How do you know him so well?" I grumbled.

"I'm not saying anything that isn't common knowledge to all of La Push. You know it too. You're choosing to ignore it because your fear has taken over your rationality. Honest to God, Leah…

"Let me tell you a story. Becca and I were babysitting Jake, Embry, and Quil one day, and the three of them decided that they wanted to put together this toy racetrack that Jake had. Turns out that thing was difficult to build by four-year-old standards. Jake and Quil gave up after five minutes. Embry kept at it until he'd built the whole thing. Struggled with it for ages. Ever since then, I've thought of that as quintessentially Embry."

It was. Rachel was right when she said that I knew that, even if I hadn't known of that particular story. I could picture it in my mind. Embry hunched over the track, trying piece after piece until two of them snapped together. His satisfaction once he'd built the entire thing.

It was the same way Embry approached everything.

"Okay," I allowed. "I get it. I do. It's not like I don't know that I worry too much about everything."

Rachel's expression took on a new seriousness. "That's understandable," she said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. She was pulling up to my house now. There was a pause as she pulled up to the curb and put the car in park. "After everything, it makes sense that you would worry. Especially when you throw the existence of imprinting on top of what was already a crappy situation. I get it. No one should blame you for feeling like you do."

I twiddled with my fingers, feeling embarrassed. While I considered myself over the past, it was uncomfortable for it to be brought up as the reason for my current insecurities. I didn't like thinking about things that way.

"I don't want to feel like that's still controlling my life," I admitted. "It's fucked up, not being able to trust Embry when I know I should. I know he's not going to betray me. If I believed that about one person in the entire world, it would be him, yet I still doubt him so often."

I growled in frustration, causing Rachel to reach out and pat my arm.

"I understand," she said, and really, it was the only thing she could have said at that moment that would have been close to adequate. "I'm always there to talk when you need to," she reminded me.

I nodded, offering her a small smile that wasn't convincing. The two of us were talking frequently despite Rachel being in Seattle. It was a noticeable change from the last time she had left. When she'd gone to college, I'd known that Rachel wanted to cut off as many ties to La Push as possible.

When we'd grown distant with each other, I hadn't blamed her. In fact, I'd felt proud of her for escaping, even if our friendship was a casualty in the process. As it turned out, we'd somehow formed a friendship that had managed to bounce back from that when she came back. The thought put a genuine smile on my face.

"Thanks, Rachel."

I reached out for the door handle. Rachel nodded in acknowledgment.

"Don't mention it," she said. "I meant it."

I nodded one last time and pushed the door open.

As I walked up the front walk to the house, I realized that I did feel better. Not the expected outcome when I had first asked Rachel about her and Paul. Come to think of it, I couldn't figure out how we had gotten where we had, but I was thankful for it.

May 30th, 2010

I rolled around on the bed again, trying to find a new position that was comfortable. I was running out of them. What had started off as a comfortable bed had morphed into one that might as well have been made of granite.

Feeling impatient, I clicked a button on my phone, causing the screen to light up. Only a minute had passed since the last time I'd looked.

It was difficult to maintain a friendship when finding the time to call each other was this difficult. I had gotten off work several hours ago, but Joselyn had been on her way to meet with her writing group, something she was still doing.

Laying the phone back down on my stomach, I tapped my fingers against the screen.

She would call me as soon as she finished with them. That's what she had told me, and I knew that sitting around like that call would come at any second was a guarantee that the call would never come. But there was nothing else to do. Embry was running patrol, which was why I had wanted to talk to Joselyn so badly.

My phone began to vibrate a second before my ringtone sounded through the room. I picked the phone up out of instinct, accepting the call and pressing it to my ear.

"Hello?" I responded like I didn't know that it would be Joselyn on the other end of the line.

"Leah, hi," she greeted in her usual bubbly tone.

I smiled as I heard her voice. It had been two weeks since we'd been able to talk. Since then, we'd only been texting back and forth. We did that on a near daily basis, but it wasn't the same. Today, in particular, I was missing my best friend. The best friend that I didn't make out with, that was.

"Hi, Joselyn," I returned. "How was the writing group?"

"I got a great critique on the third chapter of my novel," she started, and I could tell that this was gearing up to be a long speech. Few things got Joselyn rambling as much as her own writing did. It was easy to tolerate because she didn't build herself up. Instead, she would go on and on about the things she needed to improve, always in a tone of voice that told you that she knew she'd work it out to be perfect in the end. I was fascinated by her continual need to rework things. It hinted at a drive that I didn't possess.

"Joanna pointed out that it drags because I introduced a character at the wrong point in the story, so we talked about how I should move things around and some other changes. I'm going to go over it in the next couple of days. Work out the changes we discussed. It'll be better when I'm done with that. It's a relief when you have a breakthrough like this."

"Sounds good," I responded. Whenever Joselyn launched into these rants, I never had anything of worth to add. What did I know about writing and the revision process? Only what I had heard Joselyn repeat to me time and time again. She would let me read her writing at times, even humor me by asking for an opinion, but neither one of us expected me to contribute anything of worth.

My thoughts while reading were more along the lines of "oh, that's interesting" or "I got kind of bored here, but I don't know what to tell you to do about it." That was all I had.

Joselyn hummed in agreement. She was quiet for a moment, and I knew she was transitioning out of writer mode like she did every time she remembered that that wouldn't get much of anything out of me.

"How's work been?" she asked.

I'd known from the time I accepted the job that this question would take over my life. Sure enough, it was what people asked me before anything else, whether I was talking to Joselyn or Embry or my mom or Emily. It was what everyone wanted to know, the natural start to every conversation.

When adults didn't know how else to start a conversation, they asked about work. Even as a kid I had known that. It was odd to be on the receiving end of the question even a year since I had been hired.

"It's been good," I said. My standard response even to my best friend who I knew I could always share the truth with.

The answer wasn't a lie in any sense of the word. Work was good. It was also the same every day. If I were working in Seattle, like Rachel, I imagined that I would have more anecdotes to share. New things would happen a regular basis.

As it was, I was working in Forks where everything was dictated by routine. The last time anything had changed in that town was when it had become the home of one of the few half vampires in existence, and so few knew about that particular claim to fame. They went about their daily lives quite content with the knowledge that nothing of note had happened to them.

I was content with that too for the most part, but then Joselyn would ask me questions about life, and I would start to feel embarrassed that I had become a boring adult. One who had nothing new to share other than that work was just fine.

"That's good." Joselyn's response had also become our standard. It was how she responded every time I gave her my answer. It was another aspect of my new routine, and it was possibly my least favorite one.

It felt like the two of us had fallen into a rut. Our conversations were the same these days. We followed the same script and discussed, or maybe didn't discuss, the same things. Nothing changed.

At first, I had liked that because I thought it meant that our friendship was safe. It wasn't going anywhere because it was staying the same.

Now I was starting to worry. It had become too familiar, and it felt like we were going through the motions instead of sharing anything genuine with one another. What did that mean? If I couldn't be genuine with my best friend, then how much of a best friend was I being? Thinking about it was often too difficult, but it was becoming harder to ignore.

I debated for a second what to say next. It would have been easy to stick to the script. I'd been doing so for nearly a year. What was one more day?

But I couldn't. Not today. It weighed too heavily on my mind, and I needed to discuss it with Joselyn. Because, if I couldn't, then I wasn't sure what our relationship was worth, and that terrified the shit out of me.

"It's fine, but I'm not sure if I like that," I admitted, placing the blame more on my job than the other aspects of life that had me feeling disillusioned. I didn't know how to bring up my fears that were directed at Joselyn without sounding like an asshole.

There was a pause before Joselyn said, "What do you mean?"

I could tell that she was confused by my comment. I didn't know where to go next. It didn't matter because Joselyn beat me to speaking.

"Are you unhappy there?" she asked. "I know it wasn't your ideal job when you started, but I thought you'd grown to like it."

"I did," I said. "I do. I do like it. That's not what I'm saying. I think it's more this whole being an adult thing. It feels weird, you know? Like, it hits me sometimes that I'm an adult with a job. Even if I'm still living with my mom. Let's not go there. Sometimes I feel like I've settled into life too early or something. I feel like an imposter trying to be an adult."

Another pause, and then Joselyn said quietly, "Leah."

There was too much sympathy in her voice. I didn't like it. Joselyn was typically good about not sounding sympathetic when I didn't want her to.

I maneuvered around on my bed for no other reason than to distract myself from the perceived judgment that I could feel through the phone. Now that that comment was out there, I felt self-conscious. I no longer wanted to have this conversation if I had ever wanted to have it in the first place.

"Please don't get like that," I pleaded, although I tried to make myself sound confident. Like I wasn't as embarrassed as I was. Even as I tried, I knew that Joselyn saw through my facade. "I'm not telling you that so you can feel sorry for me. I don't feel sorry for me. It's a natural transition. What do they call it? A quarter life crisis? I guess I'm having one of those. The term kind of fits I guess."

Joselyn was silent through the phone. I could imagine her expression though, and it was one of sympathy. So I kept talking as if I could make it go away if I said a bit more.

"The only reason I'm bringing it up," I continued, taking a deep breath as I prepared myself to get into it, "is because college both feels like it was years ago and feels like it was only yesterday. It's this weird thing. Like I'm living in the past, and I don't know how to reconcile current me with past, college me."

"What does that mean?" Joselyn asked, interrupting me.

"How the hell do I know?" I said. "I don't understand it. At this point, it's like my life is a series of crises. I'm never going to figure shit out."

"Don't say that," Joselyn chastised.

"Why not? It's true." I was gaining traction. "I never have my shit together."

"You're a twenty-something. What twenty-something has their shit together?"

I thought of Emily and Sam, already married and with two kids even if one of them had been thrust on them unexpectedly. I thought of Jared and Kim, already married and who would probably have kids soon. I thought of Rachel and Paul, not married and who were living apart yet still managed to seem like they had shit much better figured out than I did.

"Everyone," I responded.

I couldn't get into it with Joselyn. While I always told her as much as I could, there were limits to what she could know. She knew everyone's names. She knew who was married and about Sam and Emily's kids, but she would never understand the significance of their relationships. I couldn't tell her that.

"They do not." I could imagine Joselyn rolling her eyes. "Maybe they look like they do on the outside. No one shares all their fears with the world."

"I'm pretty sure everyone knows that I'm flailing along with no idea what I'm doing."

"You might be surprised." At least Joselyn's voice didn't sound as serious anymore. There was amusement mixed into her words. "Whatever it is you're worried about, they don't notice it. Well, except Embry, but he notices everything."

I scoffed, knowing it was true. Never in my life would I be able to hide something from Embry. Even though I hadn't voiced these thoughts to him in the exact words I was using with Joselyn, I knew that he was already aware of it. That didn't bother me anymore.

"Maybe they don't. I don't know, but none of that is the point." This was going in a different direction than what I had intended. We still hadn't broached the one topic that I wanted to talk about.

"And what is the point?"

I took a deep breath, preparing myself.

"It's about our friendship," I admitted. "About everything I just said and our friendship."

My heart felt like it would beat out of my chest as I waited for Joselyn's response. It didn't come for a long time, and I could hear her moving around as if she were pacing on the other end of the line.

"What about our friendship?" she asked, and I could hear a note of fear in her voice.

That wasn't what I had wanted, but I also wasn't surprised it was there. Not with how terribly I'd managed to get those words out.

"Not anything bad," I said in a rush. "I hope not at least."

"Leah, what the hell are you talking about? Is something wrong? Between us? Because if something is wrong between the two of us then I have no idea what the hell it is. As far as I can tell, everything's fine."

It was the closest to angry I had heard her get when said anger was directed at me, and that was what I had been expecting. That didn't mean I was handling it well. My hands shook, and I thought I might drop the phone before I had a chance to respond. Despite my reputation among the pack for being a ruthless bitch, I didn't handle possible rejection from the few people I trusted well.

"I'm not angry if that's what you think," I assured her. I took a deep breath. "Just give me a moment to explain without interruptions, okay? Because this is terrifying, and I think I need room to work it out for myself."

I struggled to control my breathing as I felt like I was listening to Joselyn think through the phone. Just asking for that much had felt emotionally draining, but I hoped that Joselyn, as my best friend, would allow me to have my request.

"Okay," she said. Relief surged through my body even though I could hear the hesitance in her voice. She wasn't sure she wanted me to tell her what I had been thinking.

"Everything's changing for better or worse," I began. I'd been struggling for days to try and figure out what I was going to say to her. That was about as far as I had gotten in my rehearsed speeches. It had never sounded right, so I'd reworded that sentence over and over again. It still didn't sound right, but it was all I had.

"It's strange knowing I'm an adult with a job," I continued. "And you and Embry are still in Port Angeles at school. It's not like anything has changed how I feel about you guys, but it's different. We don't talk in person every day. Hell, we don't even get to see each other that often anymore. And I guess I'm scared that that means that things will change. Not just change but that they'll fall apart. I'm scared our friendship will fall apart because he hardly get to see each other."

"Oh, Leah."

And just like that the sympathy had returned. I felt my face flush as I waited for Joselyn to say something else, to respond with more words to what I had admitted to. It had been bothering me for weeks, if not months, but I didn't feel any of the relief that I might have expected upon the admission. I felt embarrassed. If I could, I would have taken it back in that moment.

"That's not going to happen," Joselyn said. I could tell that her answer was genuine.

"I'm not saying you're going to up and abandon me, Joselyn. I mean that our lives are different enough that it would be easy for us to grow apart. We don't talk for a week. Then it's a month. Next thing you know it's been years, and we can't consider ourselves friends anymore. It wouldn't be anyone's fault. It would just be what it is."

"It would be both of our faults," Joselyn said, a slight edge to her voice. "But that's why we don't let it happen. That's why we keep talking to each other, keep showing interest in each other's lives. It's why we keep caring about each other."

"That's what I want," I whispered, like saying it any louder would be too much. "But I don't know if I can believe that we'll be able to manage it."

"Just like you can't believe that Embry will stay with you forever?" This time I knew I wasn't making up the anger that could be heard in her voice.

"What are you talking about Joselyn? Where is that coming from?"

"Leah, don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. You think I haven't noticed that you've avoided talking about him for months? Everytime I bring him up, ask how things are going with the two of you, you get vague. The only real information I get about your relationship is from Embry. He'll still talk to me about you."

"I talk to you about it as much as I always did."

"We talk the same amount yeah, but not about Embry. Never about Embry."

I didn't agree with her, but I wasn't going to argue. Neither one of us could pull out qualitative data on how much we had or hadn't discussed Embry.

"Maybe there's less to say," I said instead. "I mean, we're together, and we're happy. Nothing has changed, so maybe I have less to tell you and that's it."

Joselyn sighed through the phone, and from the volume of it, I knew that it had to have been for my benefit.

"That's such bullshit. There's more going on than that," she said bluntly.

"Joselyn, I don't understand what you think is going on because everything is fine. Everything is so fine that I can't come up with a reason why you're thinking like this."

"Then we have a similar problem because I don't get it either. On a shallow level, yeah, you and Embry seem fine. The two of you should be fine. You're perfect for each other. The two of you should be this amazing power couple who everyone's jealous of and who's going to be together forever. Maybe even do the house with two point five kids thing. I don't know. Just all that disgustingly perfect stuff.

"But instead you've started being weird, and I don't know what to make of that. You talk about Embry less, try to change the topic when I mention him. The only conclusion I can come to is that you're scared, but I'm confused about why. Because this is Embry Call we're talking about. The dude is in love with you. You're in love with him. I can't figure out what could be the root cause of this fear that you're exuding, Leah."

"Maybe because I'm not exuding any fear, Joselyn."

"Right, Leah, and I'm the Pope."

"Well, you are asexual."

"Save it, Leah. That's not even right. He's celibate, not asexual, and you fucking know there's a difference. I'll listen when you're ready for some serious introspection. I'd hoped you'd gotten past this when you got over your fears and admitted your feelings to Embry. But apparently you're not there yet. Maybe that's why you're concerned about not really being an adult. Maybe you won't be one until you sit down and figure your shit out.

"I'll talk to you later."

The line went dead, and I took the phone away from my ear to stare at it in shock.

It was so unlike her that I almost felt like I'd dreamt the entire conversation. Joselyn wasn't capable of being rude. That, perhaps, had been one of the things that drew me to her. I put off a lot of people because of my tendency to be a bitch, and the fact that Joselyn was one of the few people willing to put up with me in spite of that had, admittedly, been one of the reasons we became close.

Mine and Joselyn's lives were too different now. We lived too far away. Our friendship was always doomed to have an expiration date once we were on different paths, and now that expiration date felt sooner than ever.

A/N: This chapter has been edited a bit since it was originally posted, but it wasn't anything that affects the story itself.