"I have to tell you something," Tasha told me as we left the parking lot.

"Okay," I told her, "shoot."

I looked at her and she seemed nervous.

"Tasha, tell me, it's alright."

"Just don't get mad at me, alright? Please don't get mad…" her voice faded. I looked at her, confused.

"What are you talking about? Tell me what's wrong, Tasha."

She started crying. "I can't believe I did this, I'm so sorry, Caroline, I really am. Oh, my God…"

I raised my voice. "Tasha, just tell me."

Her voice was weak. "Up north, when you and Ryan were fighting and we were all drunk, except for you," she began slowly, "I – oh, God, I can't say it."

"Tasha, come on, you need to tell me," I said, my own voice unsteady.

"After you went to bed, I saw that Ryan had passed out by your tent, and so I walked over to him and woke him up so that he wouldn't be outside all night, and so he came back to the fire and drank even more and then everyone except for the two of us went to bed," she paused. My stomach dropped. I knew what was coming. "And then all of a sudden, I wasn't thinking and I leaned over and we started kissing and we were like that until he said 'I love you Caroline,' and I just felt so guilty… I pulled away and helped him into your tent and then went to my tent and cried." She was still crying, and her sobs were the only sound in the car.

I pulled up to her house and put my car in park. I stared at the steering wheel and waited for Tasha to get out. When she didn't, I looked up at her and raised my eyebrows. "I'm so sorry, Caroline," she whispered. When I continued to stare at her without responding, she climbed out of the car. I drove off the second she shut the trunk. I headed toward Ryan's house. It was still raining, and I was speeding. I got there in a few minutes.

I walked into Ryan's house quickly, saying hi to his parents and little sister while on my way to his room. He was in the shower when I sat on his bed. I crossed my legs and leaned back on my hands, waiting. Soon, the water turned off and I heard Ryan clear his throat. A second later, the door opened and Ryan stepped out with a towel wrapped around his waist. I instantly took in, for probably the hundredth time, how amazing his body looked, although I made sure I didn't show it. I was pissed.

"Hey Care," he said, unsurprised that there I was, sitting on his bed while he was in the shower. He walked over to his closet and started digging around.

I didn't answer.

After a moment, Ryan turned around, confused, and said, "Okay, then. What's going on with you today?"

Again, no answer. I just stared.

"Caroline, are we playing some sort of silent treatment game today or something? What's wrong with you?" Ryan finally found what he was looking for, a shirt, and pulled it on. He walked over to his dresser and opened a drawer. He dug around some more and dragged out a pair of shorts, then moved to another drawer and got a pair of boxers. "Whatever," he mumbled as he dragged his feet across the room and back into the bathroom. Ryan shut the door, although not all the way, and I heard him slip on his boxers and shorts. When he opened the door again, he was fully dressed.

I was ready to talk. "Do you remember that night when I got really mad at you up north?"

Ryan seemed surprised that I was talking to him so suddenly. He thought for a minute, trying to remember. "Yeah."

"So, you remember sitting at the fire after I went to bed?"

He thought again, and responded, "Yeah." I searched his face for signs of guilt, but all I saw was confusion. "Why are you asking me this?"

Ignoring his question, I continued, "Do you remember being alone with Tasha?" And then I saw it – it was just there for a split second, but I saw it – guilt. Before he could answer, I muttered, "I knew it," and swiftly walked out of his room.

"Caroline, wait," Ryan ran after me and put his hand on my shoulder. I turned around and tears flowed down my cheeks. Ryan pulled me back into his room and shut the door. "You know I wouldn't do something like that to you on purpose," he said as he tried to wrap his arms around me.

I pushed him away from me and stood alone, my arms locked against my chest. "But you still did it," I sobbed. "That hurts, Ryan."

He looked down and rubbed his eyes, and then he ran his fingers through his hair. "I know it does, and I'm sorry. I can't believe I did it either; I wasn't thinking." He paused. "All I want is you, Caroline, I don't want to hurt you. Ever. I know it's no excuse that I was drunk, I do. And it's not fair to you that I did this."

We sat there for a while, just thinking and staring. I had stopped crying after a while, but all I could think about was my best friend kissing my boyfriend. And I knew that they didn't sleep together and that they were both drunk and that Ryan had said my name and that he loved me, but why didn't Ryan tell me first? Or when me and Tasha were cleaning the site, why didn't she tell me then? So many things were running through my head.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" My voice sounded loud in the silence.

"I was scared." Ryan looked at me sadly. "I'm sorry. I should have."

I rubbed my aching head and closed my eyes. "I don't know what to do."

"Please give me a second chance." I opened my eyes and Ryan was walking toward me.

"It's not going to be that easy." He put his arms around me and pulled me close. He held me for a minute, then I pulled away. "I have to go." I walked out of his room, out of his house. Then I drove away. When I looked in my rearview mirror, I saw Ryan standing in his driveway, hands in his pockets.