After 4 months, finally an update of this. I apologize for the long wait. Part of it was from getting ready for this nursing program I start in a few weeks, part was because other story ideas came more easily to me, and part was because I have seriously struggled with this chapter. It still doesn't really feel like how I imagine it in my head, but I think this is as good as it's going to get.

This chapter is brought to you by Paula Cole's "Throwing Stones".

You know you really fucked up when it feels like your apartment is judging you. I can't quite explain it, but it just felt like it didn't want me inside of it. Sorry Lana, this apartment is only for smart, strong women. Not some weak dummy who can't last two minutes alone in a room with her ex without taking her pants off.

As much as I hated him, I hated myself so much more. I dropped my bag on the floor as I shuffled into my bedroom. I felt so dead inside. Worthless. Disgusting. A failure. I wondered if this is how a recovering addict feels after a relapse. I undressed and was about to hop into bed when I noticed that I reeked of sex.

Ugh.

I walked like a zombie into the bathroom. I stopped in front of the mirror and stared at myself. I looked horrid and felt worse. Who had I become? I loathed the woman staring back at me. Sighing, I got in the shower and turned the water up to the hottest temperature I could stand. Whatever it took to scald off the skin that touched him. It seemed like the only way I'd feel clean.

I stayed in the shower after I'd finished washing myself. It was calming and the white noise of the water hitting the shower floor gave me something to focus on, instead of my own thoughts. Finally the water ran cold and I forced myself to get out. Only about forty minutes had passed since I got back upstairs. I threw on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, then crawled into bed.

I was afraid that I'd be unable to sleep, stuck replaying the night's events over and over again in my head. Lucky for me, sleep came quickly. Unlucky for me, I was awoken not an hour later by some racket outside. It sounded like some trash cans were getting knocked around. Maybe an animal was rummaging through them looking for food.

"LAAANANAAA!"

Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me...

"LAAANAAAAA! You fuckin' bitch...COME OUT TO PLAAAAAY!"

I heard more clatter, but now I knew exactly what kind of feral animal was scurrying about down there. I headed over to the bedroom window and threw it open.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I yelled, leaning out the window.

I saw Jon staggering around like he was doing a drunken dance. He wildly kicked at the ground and managed to send a few rocks flying down the street. He stopped suddenly and looked up at my window. My apartment was on the third floor. It was close enough so that we could see each other easily in the well-lit street, but far enough away that using an inside voice wasn't going to cut it. I don't think either of us would've used inside voices anyway.

"Y'stupid bitch," he slurred. "Why ya gotta…why…you do these things?"

"I'm a bitch? For what?! What are these 'things' I'm doing?"

"Breakin' up wi' me, then seducin' me inna fuckin' bathroom. Make up your fuckin' mind, woman!"

"Excuse me? I seduced you? You walked into the bathroom on me and you were just as responsible for us fucking as I am. And the break-up? You slept with some fucking slut without letting me know ahead of time when we had an agreement that you could fuck anyone you goddamn wanted to as long as you told me! I may hate myself, but not enough to stay in a bullshit situation like that. And you have the fucking nerve to call me a stupid bitch and blame it all on me?"

"You're's much of a slut as that chick was. Or was it some other slut bartender I banged here last year? I remember she was aching for it 'cause no one wanted t' fuckin' touch her 'n months."

It felt as if steam was coming off of my body, I was so fucking pissed. Like I didn't already feel shitty enough about banging him earlier, but now he was going to rub salt in the wound. I felt confused, too. Why was he going out of his way to yell at me outside my building? Did he get some sick pleasure out of shaming the women he sleeps with? If that was the case, he sure did play a long game with me. Maybe because he knew it would hurt me more.

The thought made me even more furious.

"Fine, I'm a slut. I'll admit it. Does that make you fucking happy?"

"Yeah, sluts 're the best," he interrupted.

"But if I'm a slut for giving in after my pussy was aching to be touched by someone else," I continued, "then what are you? You stick your fucking dick into anything that moves!"

"I'm fuckin' awesome! And if it piss't you off that much that I fucked other chicks, you wouldn't've waited this long t'make it a big deal!"

He shook his fist at his side and paced around in a circle before he stopped, dropped his hands, and stared up at me. I felt a shiver run down my back from the look in his eyes.

"Or would y'have?" he asked. "Would ya have kept that anger 'nside? Never tellin' me that it pissed ya off cause you were 'fraid of bein' 'lone again?"

"I was alone for months before you showed up and I was perfectly happy!"

"Bullshit! You stayed a' home and watched TV when ya weren't at the bar workin'. You never went out'n fuckin' lived life!" His arms flailed around in the air as he yelled.

"That was by choice, asshole! And you have no right to say that I live a sad life when yours consists of living in constant pain and then playing STD roulette after work. How is that any better than what I choose to do?"

"My life's by choice too 'cause I love what I do. As much as you wanna say that you were happy on yer own, you were fuckin' mis'rable the night I met you n'you can't deny that."

I pulled away from the window and paced around the bedroom. I didn't need this right now. Maybe if I ignored him, he'd go back into the bar and leave me the fuck alone.

"Come ooooon…don' fuckin' hide in your room, Lana! Come out'n plaaaaay! I know ya can't resist me, I proved that in the bathroom t'night."

My hands immediately clenched into fists. The son of a bitch was just digging his fingers into the still fresh wound. He was treating it like it was a game. I couldn't just let this be. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt my arms begin to shake. I tried to stay calm, but it wasn't working. I quickly scanned the room and went straight for an empty bottle of wine that I hadn't recycled yet. I marched up to the window and hurled it down at him as hard as I could.

"FUCKIN' CUNT!" he hollered when he looked up to see the bottle flying toward him. He was able to jump back so that it didn't hit him, but he stumbled and fell on his ass. He put his hands up to guard his face from the chunks of glass.

"You're NEVER fucking MY cunt again, so I hope you enjoyed your last time!" I yelled out the window, not caring who heard me.

"Like I give a shit!" He pushed himself off the ground and dusted off the seat of his pants. "I have my choice of young, tight pussy wherever I go! Oh, an' your ass ISN'T THAT NICE!"

I opened up my mouth to spit out a comeback, but I was interrupted by a woman's voice loudly calling out to Jon.

"Heeeyy...Dean where did ya go? I thought you were just coming out here for a smoke?"

I leaned out the window to look down at the bar entrance. The girl who'd been sitting on his lap earlier came out and ran up to him. At least it looked like that was what she was trying to do, but after a few drinks and in those heels, it was more like a stumble. She draped her arms around his neck like a scarf and it looked like a smile crossed his face.

"Yeah darlin, tha's what I was gonna do, but I got d'stracted by the sound of a bitch 'n heat." He glanced up at me at the end of the sentence, just to make sure I knew he was talking about me.

"Well its owner shoulda fixed it then, like the Price is Right guy use'ta say. Deeeaaan, come back iinsiiide. Or better yet, let's get outta here."

She went up on her toes as much as she could and buried her face in his neck. I could only see her mumbling something into his skin. Based on his facial reaction, I was pretty sure I knew what the subject was.

I pushed away from the window and began to pace around my bedroom again. I didn't have another empty bottle to throw. Dammit. I wanted to deck the two of them in the face with something. Something hard, something sharp, something heavy, it didn't matter. I just wanted to see blood and pain. I kicked the wall as hard as I could, then leaned against it face first. Hopefully if I just stayed away from the window, his nightly fuck would lead him away so I could live out my life in peace.

That's when I suddenly got the urge to cry. I didn't want to just live out my life in peace. I wanted to live it with him. To share things with him. To laugh with him. To...I don't know...maybe grow old with him, if he wanted to. I was definitely still in love and it hurt like a motherfucker. I was about to just let myself cry and get it over with when I was interrupted by more commotion outside. This time, however, it wasn't Jon's drunken rambling. Instead it was the sound of loud female moaning.

That dried up my tear ducts real fucking fast.

My lips pursed real tight and my eyes widened in fury. I slowly walked to the window and looked down at the street. The woman's shirt was pulled up to her neck and her breasts were only covered by the large hands of one Asshole. His fingers were roughly pinching and pulling at her nipples, which she clearly got off on. Despite the fact that she was making noises that would make most straight men weep, Jon's attention was not on her.

It was clearly fixed on me. His eyes had been on my window before I had ever got to it. His face lit up in sick enjoyment when he saw me watching. He stuck his tongue out and lowered his mouth to her face, slowly licking up her cheek while never breaking eye contact with me.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I screamed. "You're a fucking child!"

"Nope...nope nope, I'm a grown ass man, bitch! And I'll show you what a real chick's ass is s'posed to look like!"

I scoffed and watched as he grabbed the bottom of the woman's skirt and hoisted it around her waist. He yanked her panties down around her thighs. He spun her around and leaned over to smack her ass. It was hard and loud enough that I could hear the sound echo against the buildings.

"Hear that? Tight'n firm! You c'n bounce a fuckin' quarter off this shit!"

"Dean, are you still out he-? Oh for the love of..." I heard Seth's voice coming from the door of the bar, but I didn't bother to look at him. "Goddammit...Roman! I need your help..." His voice trailed off back into the bar.

He grabbed both of her cheeks and squeezed them, before smacking them again. And again. And again. Each slap made me twitch. Even after all of this, I still felt torn between wanting to hurt him…and wanting him to hurt me.

The bar door swung open violently enough for me to actually break my gaze. I watched as Roman came running out the door and I thought he was going to spear Jon for a moment. I was disappointed when he didn't.

"What the fuck are you doing, man?" he asked, pushing on Jon's shoulder.

"Livin' life! It's too fuckin' short t' not have fun. This chick wants t' get the WWE VIP experience, if y'know what I mean, so I'm trying to make her wish come true!"

"In the middle of the goddamn street? Are you out of your mind? What the fuck is with you tonight?"

Roman stared at Jon and followed his eyes up to my window. I quickly retreated into the room. I didn't want to be involved any longer. His friends would take him back to the hotel and I could finally get some sleep and try to forget this night ever happened.

I had about thirty seconds of solitude before the loud female moaning started up again.

I didn't bother to go to the window. I decided instead to head into my kitchen. I walked up to the toaster, picked it up, and yanked the cord from the wall. I returned to my bedroom window and without saying anything, hurled it toward the group outside. My aim wasn't as good as with the bottle and it landed a few feet in front of them. It looked like Seth and Roman had managed to pull Jon away from the woman and had been trying to get her clothes back in order. The sound of the toaster smashing on the asphalt startled them and they all looked up at me.

"I hope you get herpes, motherfucker!" I yelled down.

I saw Roman gesture toward Seth and then disappear back into the bar. Seth held on to Dean's shoulders and tried speaking to him calmly. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but it seemed to be working. I was glad to have this bomb diffused, although I was so riled up at this point that I basically said goodbye to the idea of getting any sleep tonight.

I peeked out of the window quickly and saw that Seth had subdued Dean enough so that he was standing in place on his own, even if he was fidgeting. Now Seth was speaking with the young woman and it looked like he was trying to find a way for her to get back home safely. Good. Get them both the fuck out of here.

Sighing, I returned to my kitchen and poured myself a glass of scotch. It was clearly that kind of night. I'd just taken a sip when I heard a knock at the door.

"Go the fuck away, asshole!" I yelled at the door.

"Hey Lana, it's Roman. Can we talk?"

My nose scrunched. Not the worst person to be behind that door, but I still didn't want to deal with him.

"GO. AWAY." I threw back the rest of my drink, making a face as it burned my throat.

"GODDAMMIT DEAN!" I heard Seth holler.

I looked toward my bedroom, horror etched on my face. My grip on the glass tightened.

"GET DOWN FROM...GET BACK HERE!"

I had a feeling I knew what was happening and I wasn't having it. I looked at the glass in my hand and gritted my teeth. I'd made a decision. It's a shame. I really liked that glass.

"I'M GOING TO BREAK YOUR FUCKING FACE!" I hollered, my voice cracking into a higher octave.

I stormed through the living room, heading toward the open window in my room. My body felt like it was submerged in water. Sounds were muffled and it felt like I was moving in slow motion. I heard the clanging of the fire escape. I heard the doorknob rattle behind me. I heard my footsteps stomping against the floor. The poor people who lived under me.

I stepped inside my room and saw that ruffled mop of dark blonde hair rising up over the sill. I stood still, frozen in place. I turned the glass in my hand as his finger grabbed the sides of the window and he stuck his head in.

"Who d'ya love?" he laughed.

Last fucking straw.

I lunged forward and pulled back my fist, ready to smash the glass into his nose. Sure, he'd been cut up and mangled before in his early days and was probably used to it, but I didn't care. This was now and if he showed up to work with a scabbed over face, it'd be a much bigger deal. I wanted to see his pretty face covered in blood and glass, and then I wanted to push him off the fucking fire escape.

I hadn't taken two steps before I felt a pair of large hands grab my wrists and pull me back against a warm body.

"NO!" I screamed.

"Girl, get a grip!" Roman said from behind me. That's what I get for not always remembering to lock my door. His friend should feel damn lucky.

"ROMAN, LET ME GO!" I pleaded in vain. I refocused my attention to my target, who found this all very amusing. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD! YOU RUINED MY LIFE!"

"Oops, my bad," he smiled and shrugged.

I finally saw Seth appear from behind him. He put his hand on Jon's shoulder and muttered, "Let's go back to the hotel, man."

"Nah, I wanna go in here."

He started to try to climb in my window. I leaned over and bit hard into Roman's hand. He let go of me for a second, giving me the chance to charge forward. Seth wrapped his arms around Jon's waist, holding him back before he could step inside. His whole torso, however, was inside my bedroom. Roman hooked his arms under my own, causing my legs to slip out from under me. I struggled, trying to wiggle free from his hold. I was only about a foot from Jon's face. He was still smiling, finding my hysterical rage amusing.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER! I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

"Seth, get him the fuck out of here! I'll meet you guys later at the hotel," Roman ordered.

Seth nodded and pulled Jon from the window. I was surprised when he didn't fight back. Roman hoisted me up enough for him to get close to the window and shut it. I continued to move around, kicking my heels into his knees and shins.

"Jesus Christ, Lana!"

He tossed me onto my bed and roughly turned me over onto my back when I tried to get up. I tried to claw at his face, but he grabbed my wrists and pushed them above my head. Roman loomed above me, his weight focused on pinning me down. If it had been under different circumstances, I probably would've found it very arousing, but there was nothing sexy about this. His hair fell away from his hair and lightly brushed my face. I found it strangely soothing.

"Are you going to calm the fuck down now?" he asked. His voice was low and very serious.

The sound of our breathing was the only thing in the room. It was heavy and quick, slowly coming down from the earlier aggression. We stared at each other. He was searching for some sign that could tell him it was safe to let me go. I was searching for some answer in his eyes, some answer to why his friend had acted the way he did.

After a few minutes of this, I nodded slowly. He made a low noise, sort of like a growl, to show that he wouldn't hesitate to hold me down again if I were to lash out.

He finally sat up and slid off the bed. I rolled my wrists to try to get the blood moving again while he paced back and forth, rubbing his forehead. I pushed myself up and sat on the edge of my bed, watching his feet as he walked back and forth.

"So...can you tell me what the fuck has been going on between you two?" he asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" I said, my voice monotone.

"No, or I wouldn't waste my time asking." He sighed and leaned against the wall. "All I've been able to see is two people lose their minds in one night."

"I am quite sane, Roman. My mind has never been clearer."

"Bullshit. I may not know you extremely well, but I know that you don't normally act this way. So again, what the fuck has been going on?"

"Why don't you ask 'your boy' what's going on?" I scoffed.

"You know that Dean is a private dude. Sure, he tells me a lot of stuff that he doesn't tell others, but he's been a goddamn clam about you since last month. I've tried asking how you were a few times and he just stared off out the window. I knew that something was up, but I don't know any specifics. So, please, I insist."

I sighed and stared at my feet. "So you remember when you saw me at the hotel last month? I said I had something important to tell him."

"Yeah, I vaguely remember that."

"The important thing I was going to say was that I loved him. When I got to his room, though, he was with another woman, and there was no text on my phone about it. I asked him how many women he'd been with that he didn't text me about, he said he couldn't remember. So I was done. Said I was tired of all of this and left. I thought it was over and I wouldn't have to see him ever again and I could get over him.

"Then this happens. Just as I'm starting to be happy again, you guys show up, he acts like a dick, then intrudes on me in the bathroom. We fuck, he leaves proud, I leave ashamed. I try to go home and sleep, but he wakes me up while drunkenly yelling my name.

"So there it is. I told you my side. I have no fucking clue what is going on in his wormy brain, but I'm tired of this fucking game already."

I felt my eyes well up and soon my face was wet. I could see the look of pity on Roman's face. He came over and sat down next to me, rubbing his large hand on my back.

"It's okay to cry. You don't have to hold it back."

"I'm not crying, Roman."

He dropped his hand and cocked his head, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm not crying. If I was crying, it'd mean I was wasting more time and more bodily fluids on a man who gets off on fucking with people. It's not like he didn't warn me. It's not like Mercedes didn't warn me. But I didn't listen. I never fucking listen. I can't blame him, though. I guess I'm just unlovable, plain and simple. First the man I thought was the love of my life left me, and as soon as I felt capable of loving someone again, of being able to let myself be vulnerable with another person, I was tossed away like a spoiled piece of meat. I was past my 'best banged by' date and he wanted something fresher. That man is not worth the time and agony. So no, Roman. I'm not crying. In fact, I'm ecstatic! I should actually send him a thank you card!" I smiled weakly. "Laced with anthrax," I mumbled. My face fell again and I let the tears continue silently.

We were both quiet for a long time. I didn't want him to speak, but I also didn't want to ask him to go. Eventually he stood up and started to leave. He stopped at my bedroom door, not turning around to face me.

"I won't pry any more, but for the record, you are lovable and very deserving of love. He might be my best friend..." He paused and sighed. "…but he can also be a fucking idiot. Goodnight, Lana." He flicked off the bedroom light and left.

I continued to stare out into nothingness as I heard the apartment door click shut. I honestly wouldn't be able to tell you how long I sat there. I'd lost track of time. All I know is that I eventually found myself curled up in the fetal position on top of my covers when I woke up around eight, still exhausted and with a splitting headache.

The next week of work was awkward. That was my new ritual, apparently. If I'd thought it was nerve-racking to face Dave after I'd shown up crying at his door and then tried to molest him while drunk, this felt even worse. The last time, even though it was horrifyingly embarrassing, he kind of understood my actions. This time, I knew he was ashamed of me.

I was ashamed of myself, too. I wasn't really sure what I'd say to him if he asked me why I'd done what I did after being hurt so badly. If I was truly honest, it was that I still loved him, despite everything. It's difficult to get over someone that quickly, even if they hurt you. As pathetic as it may sound, it was the truth. I just hoped he'd understand.

Dave didn't speak to me that whole week, other than necessary things, like what someone ordered or what tasks still needed to be done. We still closed together that week, which was the most uncomfortable of it all. I so badly wanted to talk to him, to explain myself, but I was afraid to try to start an actual conversation with him. We just worked in this awkward silence, both knowing that the subject of the bathroom incident was hanging in the air.

Finally though, at the end of the week, when we were getting our stuff to leave, he said goodnight to me. It felt like I'd been able to let go of a breath I'd been holding. He still didn't smile at me or crack jokes, but it was a start. I just had to give him time.

The next week was much better. He'd ask me how my morning was. He lean over and comment on certain customers to make me laugh. I still didn't dare try to bring up the forbidden subject, but things felt more like normal with him. It was almost like nothing had ever happened.

By the end of the third week, it felt as though everything had smoothed over, so I tried to finally apologize, officially, that Saturday night. We were putting away the clean glasses and chatting as we usually did when we closed down the bar together.

"So then she said, 'gin and tonic? After this, I'm gonna have to call it a gin and panic'!" David laughed after he delivered the punchline to his story about one of the women from his apartment.

"That's not that funny, man," I confessed, smiling, but looking at him like he was crazy.

"Ahh, she tells it better. I guess you had to be there," he said, wiping his eyes.

"That's okay. Humor is subjective." I paused for a moment, trying to figure out the right words. "So, uh… I need to apologize for the, uh…incident…a couple weeks ago."

Dave sighed and put his hands on the bar, his shoulders hunched over. "Yeah, I figured it was coming. Don't worry about it, El," he muttered.

"No, seriously, I feel like shit about the whole thing. I've been stressing over how to talk to you about it and how to explain what I was thinking and feeling at the time and I-"

Dave put his hand up to stop me from speaking. "I don't want to hear it, El."

"No, please, Dave, it's really important to me to fix this between us, so please…"

He turned his head to look at me, a small smile peeking over his shoulder. "I don't want to hear it right now, that's all."

He stood up straight and walked up to me, pulling me into a hug. It caught me off-guard.

"It's late and I'm kinda tired. This just seems like it'd end up being a long conversation that I don't really want to deal with tonight." He sighed and pulled away from me, but kept his hands on my arms. "I feel like we haven't hung out in a while. Like really hung out, not just have sex."

We both smiled sheepishly.

"How about this?" he continued. "Let's go get some brunch in the morning, like around 10 or so, and you can get out everything you've been keeping locked inside that lovely head of yours. Deal?"

I nodded. "Okay, deal. Any particular place you want to go?"

"Hell yeah, we're going to Betsy's. It's the only place where I can get a muffin that's the size of both of my fists put together with a side of gravy fries." His face was blissed out, like he was already imagining that bizarre combination in his stomach.

"You are so weird," I laughed. "So should I meet you there or do you want to come over and we'll walk together since it's closer to me?"

"I'll grab you upstairs and we can walk. I hear the weather's going to be nice tomorrow."

It was 9:41 in the morning and I was rushing around to get ready. I'm so used to sleeping till noon on Sundays that I kept hitting snooze on my alarm and had finally just gotten up. I pulled some sweatpants and a baggy tee from the drawer and tossed it on my bed. We were going to brunch at the local greasy spoon, not one of those fancy places uptown. It's not like I had anyone I wanted to try to impress anyway, so I didn't care.

I showered as quickly as I could and I was hooking my bra when there was a knock at the door. 9:52. Of course Dave would be running early when I'm running late.

"Give me a sec!" I called out.

I yanked the shirt over my head and went to deal with the locks. I've been trying to be better about actually using them lately.

"Sorry Dave, I'm running a bit behind," I said as I unlocked each one, before opening the door with a smile.

It wasn't Dave.