A/N--Hey guys! Sorry about the wait on this one, I've just moved back to school so things have gotten a bit hectic.  But I'm all settled now so hopefully the next one won't take long!  Pic on the side is Hallie, I loved the dress so I had to show it.  Anyways...hope you all enjoy :)

I see Fred the second I walk into the ice cream shop. He's standing at the counter, already ordering a huge cone topped with enough mint chocolate chip ice cream that it looks like it may fall over. I have to smile at his appearance, though, seeing as how he's wearing a silly beanie hat that I know isn't a fashion statement. He's wearing it to look stupid. 

That's Fred for you. 

He looks over when he hears the sound of the door opening, and when he sees that it's me, his eyes literally light up. Well, so much for me thinking that he's just here for an apology. He's looking at me like Ethan looks at me, and that makes me feel super uncomfortable. He tells the cashier to hold his cone for a second and then strides over to me, wrapping his arms around me in a hug that's a bit too tight for just friends. 

Maybe Ethan was on to something when he was nervous for me to come here.  

"Hey Hal," he greets sweetly, gripping me tight for a moment or two too long before pulling away. "Thanks for coming." 

"Yeah yeah," I wave off, feeling pretty damn awkward at how he's acting. He's acting like he doesn't have Jeanie in his life, like he doesn't have a girlfriend he's been with for years. And he's acting like me and him have a thing, which we most definitely don't.  

Now I don't even want an apology. Now I just want to go home and hug Ethan and have him make all of this awkwardness go away. I hate it. 

He grabs his cone from the cashier and then plants his ass down in the corner of the room, at a table pretty far away from all of the others. While he makes himself comfortable, I go ahead and splurge, ordering a big double scoop of their regular ole' chocolate ice cream. After paying, I head on over to the table that Fred's picked out, making sure to sit on the chair across from him and not right next to him. 

As I push my spoon down into the ice cream, I say, "So...what did you want to talk about?" I'm already ready for this conversation to be over so I can just go home. This is not going to be fun, I'm already aware, so I just want it to be done. 

He says, "The other night. I was a total dick." 

"Got that right," I tell him bluntly, not wanting to spare his feelings. He said some really awful things to me Friday night, and even though I know it could have been the alcohol talking, it still hurt.  

He groans, not at all looking happy that I'm not already accepting his not-yet-given apology, but I truthfully don't care right about now. He says, "I was just looking out for you, though, you know? We're close...I don't want you to get hurt." 

The two of us really aren't that close, so I'm not all that sure of why he's said that. Sure he's the one I have the most fun with when we go out, always dancing super crazy together and always being on the same beer pong team, but it's not like he knows all about me. I doubt he even knows that I feel out of a tree when I was fourteen and had to have back surgery, or that I didn't get my first kiss until seventeen.  

"But you don't even know Ethan," I point out. "You can't tell me he's a bad guy without even knowing him." 

"I just know, though!" he exclaims, as if he's some kind of awesome people reader. "I met him at your house that one time...he just has this look." 

"Honestly, Fred," I say, a bit exasperated at this conversation. "Ethan's a great guy, he really is. He calls my dad sir for fuck's sake. He's different from you and Jesse so you automatically think he's bad. You're just being judgmental." 

"Come on Hallie," he says, "How can you even like him? He's not your type." 

"And how would you know my type?" I ask him, completely bewildered. "I've never brought a guy around." 

He says, "But you've been with guys at parties and stuff. They were nothing like Ethan." 

"And did they stick around?" I ask him in a "duh" tone. "No, they didn't. They were interested in one thing. Ethan's not. So maybe you should have freaked out on me about those guys, but not Ethan. He's a really good guy." 

"So you've said," he says, sounding a bit rude if I'm not mistaken. "But do you like him? Do y'all have chemistry? Have y'all fucked yet?" 

"Really?!" I exclaim, a bit pissed that he thinks that he can ask me all of these things. "We've been together for two weeks. Of course we haven't slept together. And that's none of your damn business either." 

"Jeanie and I had sex before we even got together," he points out, taking an obnoxious lick from his cone. 

Yeah, well I have morals, I want to say, but somehow or another refrain from doing so. Instead, though, in an effort to sway the conversation, I ask him, "Speaking of which, where is Jeanie? Does she know you're giving me a police interview right now?" 

He rolls his eyes at me, "She's at home; she's not feeling good. And no, she doesn't actually. She's still pissed at you, so she'd be pissed at me for talking to you." 

"But you still came to see me?" I ask him, wondering why he'd go behind his girlfriend's back to see me. Does he even love her like she loves him? Jeanie's absolutely crazy for Fred, loves him to tears even though he drives her crazy. But does he feel that way for her too? 

He nods, "I miss you. And besides, she's going to forgive you eventually." 

"I didn't do anything wrong," I tell him, pissed that he's making it sound like I did. "Y'all just blew up over nothing." 

"Maybe we did," he says, shrugging his shoulders as if it's no big deal. "But still...I missed you. So that's why I'm here." 

"We've gone longer than a week without talking," I point out, not very keen on how keeps making it a point to mention he's missed me.  

He looks hurt at that, he really does. It's like he wants me to say that I've missed him too which isn't exactly the case. How can I miss someone who yells at me when they should be happy for me? Who might like me when they have a longtime girlfriend who's my best friend? Or was, anyways. 

Sounding more downcast than he did when he first came in, he asks me, "Do you really like this guy?" 

"Yes," I say immediately, wholeheartedly, "I really do." 

He diverts his eyes and becomes really focused on his ice cream, eating just about the whole thing before he eats again. And then he looks back up again, his eyes softening as he looks at me. He's looking at me like Ethan does again, but it doesn't melt my insides when he does it. No, instead it churns my stomach and makes me want to flee like he's on fire or something. 

"Hallie...I..." 

And for some reason, I just know what he's going to say. I know that he's going to say he likes me, that he's finally going to confess. Even though I know it's coming, even though I've somewhat mentally prepared, I just can't bear to hear him say it. I just can't do it. So that's why I say quickly, "I need to get going...my parents need me to watch Darla tonight and I just...I'm late already, so..." 

"Alright then," he says, sounding much tenser than he did a second ago. "Let's go." 

With that he stands up from the table, not even looking at me, acting like I don't exist, and then walk towards the exit door. He throws away his empty cone while I toss my still mainly full cup. I just couldn't eat it, not when my stomach is just in knots.  

Fred not even bothering to open the door for me, we walk out into the humid summer air, Fred's posture noticeably tight. He's not happy...not happy at all. When we reach our cars, conveniently parked next to each other, he turns to face me and says hurriedly, "I don't love her." 

Feeling quite taken aback at how boldly he's said this, I stammer when I respond, "What... Jeanie?" 

He nods sheepishly, taking his silly beanie off and running his fingers through his tousled ashy hair. He says, "I just...she lives with me, you know? I can't exactly end things. She needs me." 

Not really knowing how to respond, I say, "Fred...I don't..." 

"You really just don't see it, do you?" he asks me incredulously.  

I really do feel bad for having to reject him like this. If he truly does like me and I'm acting like this towards him, then I know it's hurting him. But still, it's not like I can erase my feelings for Ethan and build new ones for him. I can't like him, and that's not something I can be blamed for. Right?  

Just wanting to get out of here, wanting to flee, I say, "Fred I really do need to go." 

Looking quite defeated, he bows his head and nods, looking completely lost for words. He shoves his beanie into the big pockets of his khaki shorts, and then after muttering a quick "bye", he hops into his car. He doesn't even wave bye when he pulls out of the parking lot. 

And it's then that I start to feel really guilty. Judging by how he acted tonight, Fred really likes me. That's the thing I was so scared for, him truly having feelings for me. I don't want to hurt him, I really don't. Other than Friday night, he's been a good friend to me. He is really nice and fun to be around. But I don't like him that way.  

Biting down on my bottom lip to keep from wanting to cry, I open the door to my car and then hop in, having to rest my head on the steering wheel. After collecting my thoughts and myself, I turn the car on and then head home, just wanting to hug Ethan and have him make me feel better. 

When I get home ten minutes later, I immediately head down the hallway and towards my dad's office. I don't care if I'm going to have to break up their meeting or whatever. It's been going on for like two hours now, it needs to finish anyways. Instead of the door being closed, though, it's wide open and I just see my dad sitting in there, typing away at the keyboard. "Dad?" I say, leaning against the doorpost. 

"Yeah, hun?" he asks, looking away from the computer screen and instead at me. Apparently seeing the distress on my face, he asks me, "You okay?" 

"I just...do you know where Ethan is? I need to talk to him." 

He narrows his eyes at me, "Did he do something?" 

"No!" I exclaim immediately, not wanting my dad to think that he's done something that he needs to kick him out for. That's the last thing I need right now. "I just want to see him." 

"Oh," he says, already looking calmer. "Last I heard he was going take a shower, so he's probably upstairs." 

"Okay, thanks Dad," I say, starting to move away from the door. 

Before I can get too far, I hear him call back for me. I slowly walk backwards to his office doorway once again, and see that he's practically boring a laser through my head with his eyes. "And by telling you he's in the shower does not mean I'm telling you to get in the shower with him." 

My cheeks turn a bright pink when he says this. "No duh dad!" I yell, completely embarrassed that he'd even bring that up.  

He laughs, obviously pleased by my humiliated reaction, and says, "Just making a point." 

"Yeah, well...point taken," I say shaking my head, my cheeks still burning. And with that, I finally turn away from his office door and hurry on up the stairs, hoping that Ethan's not in the shower so I don't have to wait for him. I really just want to throw myself at him right now, but not in the pervy way. I really just need one of his hugs right now. 

I knock on the door of his bedroom, and he immediately responds for me to come in. Letting out a relieved breath because I won't have to wait on him, I push open the door and see him sitting on the floor, his back against the bed. He's got his guitar lying across his lap and his notebook resting on top of it. It's apparent that I've interrupted one of his little writing times, and, even though I really could use a nice cuddle session with him, I know that he has a tour to prepare for and I already take up enough of his time. 

"Hey," he greets warmly, looking over at me with a light smile touching his pink lips. "How'd ice cream go?" 

Knowing that if I tell him I'll have to spiel the whole story, I ignore his question and say, "Ethan, if you need to write please tell me. I'll leave if you need me to." 

"Oh shut up," he teases, pushing the guitar and notebook off of his lap and motioning for me to take their place. I, all-too-willing, rush on over and comply, feeling immensely better when he wraps his arms around my waist and I rest my cheek on his shoulder.  

My God the boy's comfortable. 

"So...I'll ask again. How was ice cream?" 

I sigh against him, not even caring that the door's open per my dad's wishes and I'm practically straddling my boyfriend. I tell him, "It was horrible. I feel really bad." 

"Why?" he asks me, his fingers combing through my hair. "You didn't do anything wrong." 

"And I know that," I say truthfully. I've never led him on, never done anything to insinuate that I returned his feelings. But still, Fred was a good friend of mine and I've hurt him. I never wanted to do that. "I just...he was almost there. Almost told me. And then I freaked and lied and told him I had to get home to watch Darla. And I think he knew, because he looked really hurt when I said it, but I didn't care because I just wanted to get away from it and come here and hug you and..." 

"Hals," he chuckles, tugging lightly at my hair so I'll remove my face from his shoulder and look at him instead. I do as he wants, looking at his pretty blue eyes, and watch him as he says, "What Fred's doing is wrong, so there's no need for you to feel bad, okay? He knows you've got a boyfriend, and he's been with your best friend for what, a year or so?" 

"I know," I say sadly, "He just looked so...so sad. And Fred's never sad." 

"Well he knows he's missing out on a great girl," Ethan says cheekily, reaching up and tweaking my nose with his fingers. I roll my eyes at him, knowing he's just trying to make me feel better, but then can't help but smile when he presses a sweet kiss against my forehead.  

"I really don't deserve you," I whisper when he pulls away. He's just so, so good. He always says the right thing, always treats me how a boyfriend should, he's so gorgeous it hurts, he's funny, he puts up with my potty mouth. He's just amazing, and I don't know how I got him.  

This time it's he who rolls his eyes at me, pushing my hair behind my ears. He says, "You say that, but really...it's the other way around. You don't know the half of it." 

Feeling a pang in my chest because he's right, because I really know nothing about his past, I say longingly, "Well tell me then." 

"What do you want to know?" he asks, looking a bit less relaxed than just a second ago. What? Is he not comfortable with telling me his past? The thought hurts, but I guess I get it. We haven't been together long and he doesn't know everything about me. Why should I know everything about him? But still...I really like this guy, I really do, and I want to know everything about him. 

So that's why I run my fingers against his jaw bone and say, "Everything."