A/N: Alright. Sorry about the wait. I was struggling with what I really wanted to put in this chapter, but it didn't want to come out. Not just yet. So I give you some Ryan time. I know I know I promised smut to a few select ladies, but it's coming.

Kelly-welly-felly! This chapter is for you, love. I still feel horrible for forgetting you the last few times. NEVER AGAIN, THOUGH. NEVAH. I love you. I love your drunken IMs even more.

To all my bitches over at twilighted. I love you all something fierce. I've never met a group of friendlier women in my life. Thank you for being awesome. Also, thank you for all the continued support. You gals are relentless.

Disclaimer: DON'T OWN

Ryan

Sadness and jealousy danced in a nauseating tango of emotions as I stumbled out of my room towards the elevator. Every inch of my body was numb, and I only wanted more of the blank feeling threatening to douse my being as the elevator dinged open, and I felt myself being dragged towards the front lobby doors leading out into the streets of L.A by wobbly legs.

I blinked a few times, trying to help my eyes adjust to the bright lights and spotted a small bar just across the street from me.

I think I heard angels singing.

I disregarded any traffic as I made my way across the street, still obliviously numb to everything. All I could focus on was the subtle pangs my heart was feeling, reminding me that I was still alive. I was honked at least five times, but I waved the pests away, swatting at the air in front of me.

They didn't understand what I was feeling. Hell, even I didn't.

I finally approached the heavy steel door of the bar I was trekking towards, and with a grunt, I pulled the door open and was immediately assaulted with the smells of stale beer and musty cigarettes. I smiled slightly and allowed my lungs to drink in the invigorating smells swirling around my head, making me dizzy.

I was home. This was it. This was my happiness. This was my escape.

After exhaling my large breath, I opened my eyes and took in the bar's inner workings. Typical bar. Nothing fancy like most of the clubs found here. It was small and had tiny tables situated through-out the room; a pool table was in the far back corner. I noticed the walls had original paintings and artwork covering them, most of them having a comic book styling. I nodded my head in approval and made my way towards the bar.

I plopped down on an available stool and looked at the drink options before me.

Hmm…I could always go with the classic Wild Turkey…

I chuckled at the thought, but stopped, shaking my head. No. No Bella.

Captain? No, not strong enough…Smirnoff is just embarrassing…Jim Bean it is.

I looked at the full bottle and considered the damage I could do. I assessed that it wouldn't be too much. I may lose a few hundred brain cells, but what was being smart worth?

It didn't gain you love.

I tapped the bar top in front of me three times and felt a jolt of happiness which quickly turned to a plummeting feeling in my stomach.

Bella would do that playfully when I worked at a local bar in New York City two years ago. She would smile and act like she was smoking a cigar.

She could make me laugh. She could always make me laugh.

I remembered how excited I would be to have Bella there to help swat away any perky customers that were leaning a little too far over the bar. I caught a few nip slips in my time, but I always had Bella there to deflect it, acting like my girlfriend.

That's when I realized my feelings for Bella were quickly changing from friendship to something more meaningful and deep.

I realized I loved Bella Swan as I watched her choke on a double shot of Tequila.

I, of course, played the best friend card and decided that my friendship with her was worth too much to be lost on unrequited love. I didn't want to make things awkward for us, so I just pushed my feelings down inside of me and locked it in a heart--shaped box and pocketed the key.

The bartender walked over to me with a small cat-like smile playing on her lips.

"What can I get you?" she purred. I grimaced as I saw her pores glistening through her caked--on makeup.

"A bottle of Jim Bean, please," I answered gruffly and hunched my shoulders into a position I hoped looked unwelcoming.

No dice.

"Oh, someone's ready to party." The bartender's attempt at flirting was almost sickening. She leaned forward as she reached under the bar to grab a shot glass so I could see her breasts spill out even more from her tight black tank top.

"Yeah, party," I answered, averting my eyes from her D cups, and pulled the glass towards me. She set the bottle down next to me and, with a final swish of her hips, left me to my demise.

I poured the amber liquid into the glass slowly, anticipating the delicious burning feeling that would soon be encompassing my throat. After pouring a satisfactory amount, I grabbed the double shot into my hand, tilted my head slightly to the guy next to me, and raised my glass in a cheers motion. A split second later, I was relishing the feeling of warm oblivion slipping down my parched throat.

I shook my head to rid it of the giddiness my first shot always seemed to bring me and poured another. I decided to sip on the next one and reevaluate the past few days.

I had encouraged Edward to go after Bella. It was all me. Him being here was because of me. I had wanted to set up Bella with Edward because I knew those two had been pining for each other since the day a subtle "fuck you" flew from Bella lips.

It was painfully obvious how much they liked each other. How neither of them found out was astounding.

But what I couldn't seem to grasp was why I had become so damn protective all of a sudden. I thought I had a handle on those feelings I had buried so deep inside of me.

I shook my head slightly and fingered the wooden paneling on top of the bar.

When I saw him look the way he did at Bella, something snapped. I knew that much.

Something deep within me broke, and I couldn't control the flood of anger and blinding jealousy anymore. Not after today.

Not after knowing I had no fighting chance.

I thought I did when I helped Bella stumble back and forth from the bed to the toilet the previous night after Edward had swiftly pummeled her heart, but I seemed to have miscalculated.

Singing. Fucking singing.

I felt my shoulders shake in an unenthusiastic laugh.

Who rents guitars?

I tilted my head back as I took in the rest of the shot I was sipping.

"Aaaaaah," I sighed through gritted teeth.

I love that feeling.

My head felt clearer. It was funny that Jim Bean was the only drink that helped me see things clearly in murky situations. Other drinks usually had the opposite effect.

So maybe I needed to back off. Maybe I needed to be the bigger man and leave the two of them to a happy ever after. I guess they deserved one together. They seemed to be a well- balanced equation of sarcasm and wit.

But what about mine?

Where was my princess to save? Where was my escape from everything threatening? Where was my comforting hand on a shitty day?

Bella was that hand. I just deluded myself into believing it was a friendly one.

I stared at the mirror behind the bar absently, watching the groups of people moving around and talking. Journey began to play in the background, which caused the bar to erupt in loud whoops.

Another though thit me as the first notes of "Don't Stop Believing" resonated throughout the tiny space.

Did Bella even look at me that way?

She must not if I remembered her reaction to my saying I loved her correctly. Bella was innocently oblivious to how much those three words held, how much they impacted me. I wished the odds were in my favor, but they weren't.

They never were.

I knew she only had eyes for Edward Cullen. I was just the best friend. Always would be.

Even though this realization was not a new one, it still hit me like a wall of bricks. I felt my stomach churn sickeningly, and my feet hung limply from the stool. Tears, stupid tears, threatened to over flow. My glasses were fogging from the heat permeating from my eyes.

I sniffed loudly, hoping that the tears would dry as I took another quick shot I had poured while the crushing of my heart took place. I allowed the liquid to singe my feelings into a- synthetic feeling of happiness.

I pulled my left arm up to my face and tried to focus in on the tiny hands moving on my watch.

Midnight. Hah. Happy birthday, Ryan. Another year of loneliness. Another year of being the side job.

Drop me a line!