I don't really remember when I started lying on such an extreme level. It probably started with little things in college like being too tired to make it to class or procrastinating so long that I missed an assignment. What would one little white lie hurt? Apparently a lot. Lies seem to have this snowball effect that makes it so you can't just tell one. Which is why I was such an honest person growing up. I didn't want to trap myself or my lies to come back at me and end up hurting someone. I guess its been a while since I've cared about it. So where did that go? Since when do I not care? Has lying turned me into this cold, uncaring person? I don't know. But I can't stop now.

I'm not sure what turned me into such a slacker either. Growing up, I was always hands on, assertive, and very much a go-getter. School assignments were always complete and turned in on time. When I was sixteen I got a job that I was never late to and always gave my all. For the four years we ran a variety show on the web, I worked unbelievably hard at coming up with great ideas and making the show interesting.

I guess all of my changes for the worst stem from losing Sam. After I let her walk out of my life is when I started these bad habits. Staying up so late every night so there was no way I could catch up on sleep. Having sex with half the guys I met just to block her out. Lying about everything I could just because I couldn't face the truth.

I was in love with Sam. I guess that's what it really came down to when I started therapy last year and the nice, wrinkly, old man asked me what I felt the root of my behaviors was. I was in love with Sam and I was so angry with her for making me realize it. It hadn't just been a kiss, but an awakening.

My therapist told me I needed to meet with her again so I could get this out of my system and move on with my life. The scary part is he told me that two days before she emailed me and told me she was moving back to Seattle. So, naturally, I jumped at that. Only I took it one step further: I offered to let her move in. It was just so trippy, how could I not want her back in my life to maybe get rid of these feelings?

Being excited to see her wasn't a lie. It was probably the only truth I told her when she showed up last week. I hadn't mentioned the agitation and the slight neurotic twitch that always comes with running into my past.

"I think I want to quit my job."

My therapist's name is Sebastian Bell. His face sags in places where it was never held up by muscle and his eyes are watery blue. He dressed in stiff brown suits and ugly ties. I liked him from the moment we met. I could talk to him without the chance of giving my heart away, unlike with Sam.

"Why's that?" He responded in that delicate but forceful tone that makes you feel stupid.

I shrugged. "I'm just bored of it. I feel like each day drags by so slowly that the earth has stopped spinning."

"What would you do instead?" He peered at me over the spotted brown line of his reading glasses.

I smiled sarcastically at him. "Sit in a chair and let people bitch and complain at me all day."

He returned my grin. "That wouldn't be boring to you?"

I laughed, short and fake. "Maybe I could write. You know, everyone I meet seems to want to write a book, but I think maybe I could actually do it. I know how to write for an audience and I can actually be funny if I don't write about me."

"Why can't you be funny about you?"

"I don't know. I had a sense of humor when I was growing up. That's what my book could be about!"

"You want to write a book about losing your sense of humor?"

"Yeah, that probably wouldn't be such a good book. Maybe quitting my job isn't such a good idea. I just need to pick up a side job. Like sculpting!" I exclaimed, almost serious.

"Sculpting?"

"Or maybe I'll raise an ant farm. And snakes! No, never mind. I'm scared of snakes. Always have been." I confided.

"Your desire to quit your job stems from hating snakes?"

"Are you going to just ask questions the whole time?" I demanded of him.

"Well, only while you continue to insist on talking about things you don't really care about and avoid talking about Ms. Puckett." His grin widened slightly, making his jowls quiver.

My jaw dropped open a little. "I'm… I'm not avoiding talking about Sam. There's just nothing to say."

"The love of your life moves back to Seattle and in with you and there's nothing to say?" His eyes squinted in his doubt.

"She's not the love of my life." I protested.

More squinted eyes.

"Well, not anymore. I haven't seen her in eight years."

"She lives with you."

"Yeah, but she isn't the same Sam I grew up with. She's changed. I don't know why, but she has." I fell back into my crunchy chair and sighed. "She's not obnoxious or very forward. She doesn't eat all the food and she avoids bacon. She started work on Monday and she doesn't complain about it or anything. She's polite and non-evasive." I bit out like it was poison.

"Those are all bad qualities that you miss. And good qualities that you are upset about?" His confusion was evident even through the haze of fallen skin.

"Its not about them being good or bad! Its about them making Sam who she is. My Sam was fun and exciting and really tried to give life her all. She had her rough patches, but I loved everything about her. Now she's kind of dull. Its like she's scared of something or lost all of her passion for life. Instead of taking over when she walks into a room, she just blends in and drifts around like she's a ghost or something. And she's gotten so skinny it scares me." I licked my lips. "How do I get Sam back?"

Dr. Bell frowned sadly at me. "You've changed to, haven't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, duh. Why else would I be in therapy? I don't really hate snakes either, by the way."

"So Sam isn't the only one." He ignored my snake comment. "And yet you expected her to be the same seventeen year old that you fell in love with. Is that really fair?"

"I guess not."

Sam was napping on the couch when I got home. Her arms arched across the floor, her legs spread over the back of the couch. One shoe on, one shoe off. Her blonde hair flowed out in curls around her head. When I closed the door delicately behind me, she rolled onto her side and moaned.

I'm an idiot. I've been realizing this more and more. And I lied to my therapist. I am just as much in love with her as I was when we were eight and she tried to steal my sandwich. Yeah, thinking back, I think I've been in love with her since the very beginning.

For some idiotic reason beyond my comprehension, I walked into my house and smiled at the sight of her instead of cursing her for making me relive what I went through so many years ago. I smiled at the fact she's still capable of sleeping in those weird positions. Smiling kind of makes me feel like crying though, because I wouldn't have even thought about that if she were still Sam.

I'm still in love with her. I can feel it pounding through my veins, which doctors would tell you is blood, but they are wrong. My body wouldn't have stayed so cold for so long, even in the summer, and warmed up as soon as I opened my front door to her nervous expression if it were blood. My heart wouldn't be pulsing it to the tips of my fingers and the ends of my toes if it were only blood.

I tiptoed across the room like some kind of cat burglar so as not to wake her. The light from the foyer filtered into the living room and threw shadows in every direction. It darkened her eyelashes and made her lips look so delectable, I was kneeled on the floor next to her head before my mind could kick back into gear. I had no right to touch her, not anymore. Actually, not ever. Here I was though, on my hands and knees, brushing her hair out of her face and praying to every god ever worshipped by mankind that she wouldn't wake up. She didn't. No matter how rough my hands were splayed across her cheek or the tingle of my fingernail gliding down her cheek and down the expanse of her neck, her eyes stayed shut.

Dare I?

I dragged my thumb across her bottom lip. She had tasted like chocolate that Valentine's Day. How would she taste now? Maybe this time I would actually get the taste of Sam without the additives of food or drink. No Peppy Cola. No ham. Just Sam. Then again, stealing a kiss from someone I have spent eight years trying to shove out of my head seems just a tad counterproductive.

Screw it.

I crouched down and pressed my lips as softly as I could manage into hers. Her lips were warm and supple under mine. I let my tongue dart out just for a second to taste just inside her parted lips. My heart skipped a beat as the pure taste of Sam filled my head. I put a little more pressure into my kiss, hoping for tender, but not so much to wake her. It wasn't all that tender though because my wrist decided to give on me at that moment and I kind of fell forward into it so hard our teeth clashed.

I yanked myself back so hard I tripped over a lamp and collided with the bookshelf. Sam moaned from her position on the couch, rolling her body forward so her feet met ground and she righted herself. She rubbed at her eyes for a few moments in a childlike manner before taking notice of me.

"Carly! Oh my god! What happened?" She was crouched by my side before I could think of an excuse or even get my thoughts collected. She plopped back onto the floor, her hand rising to her mouth. "Holy shit! I feel like I was punched in the mouth."

I blushed, hoping she couldn't tell in the dim lighting. Its not like I wasn't in an awkward enough position. I had just kissed the girl who had drove me into trashing my own life eight years ago, ended up head-butting her more than kissing her, and then threw myself into the bookshelf. I almost wanted to laugh.

"What happened?" She asked me with the most innocent of expressions.

I shrugged and chuckled lightly. "Honestly? I have no idea." For some reason, I like to say honestly when I'm going to lie to people.

She laughed too, luckily. "I can't believe I fell asleep like that on the couch. I must have jarred my teeth together. But you, why did you attack the bookcase?"

I laughed too. "I didn't attack it! I'd like to believe we went after each other."

She grinned at me and I saw a hint of the Sam I had grown up with. It made my stomach clench. Her eyes lit up with humor and a passion I hadn't seen in years. She offered me her hand and hopped to her feet all by herself.

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

I let her take me to my bedroom and couldn't fight the smile that slipped onto my face when she blushed and turned around so I could dress.

"Why were you sleeping on the couch like that?" I asked as I pulled an old t-shirt over my head.

She bobbed her shoulders, still not looking at me. "Your note said you'd be home around ten so I laid down to wait for you. I guess I didn't realize just how tired I was."

"Are you not sleeping well? Is it the bed?" I dragged sweatpants up my legs and tapped her shoulder so she would turn around.

She shook her head. "The bed's fine. I just had a rough night, I guess."

"Night terrors?"

"Your sarcasm isn't appreciated." She lowered her brow at me but her lips turned up at the corner. "Night terrors are a very serious thing."

"Sure, I know."

I climbed into bed and pressed the covers down delicately with my hands. "Well then. I guess I'll go to sleep now."

"You want me to stay with you?" She offered.

"No, I think I'll be okay."

She hugged me and I held on for dear life. She smelled like shampoo and rain, which immediately became my favorite scent. Her body just fit so perfectly with mine. Could she feel my heart racing? I don't think so because she pulled back after a moment and smiled at me.

"I can't believe I just tucked you in." She giggled and I grinned at her.

"You probably shouldn't have. Now I'm going to be expecting star treatment from you every night." I winked at her.

She walked backward to the door and the light switch. "Hey, I'm here for you."

"Goodnight, Sam."

She flicked off the light but remained leaning in the doorway. Although the light was on her back and flickered heavy shadows on her face, I could tell she was still smiling. To be honest, that kind of worried me like in the olden days. A smile like that usually meant she had done something that would seriously piss off someone else or get her in a lot of trouble.

"Carly?" She said after a minute or two.

"Yeah Sam?" I let my eyes close, wanting the picture of her face to remain in my head during sleep. It is, after all, such a pretty face.

"Instead of damaging both of us in teeth and bookcase collisions, the next time you want to kiss me just wake me up and I'll adjust into a less awkward position."