Songs for this chapter are: 

My Eyes- The Lumineers

Use Somebody- Kings Of Leon

DNA- Little Mix

....

It's been two weeks since I've heard from Dakota. She hasn't reached out to me once since she slipped out of my bed in the middle of the night, nor has she answered either of my calls or the two texts I've sent. Maybe I've overdone it, bothering her too much when she obviously doesn't want to talk, but I want to make sure she's okay. No matter how many times I try to remind myself that that's not my job anymore, my head just won't listen. Or maybe it's my heart, possibly both. I know Dakota well enough to know that when she needs her space, she will take it and no one can change that.

The unfamiliar part is that I'm not used to being the one she needs space from.

Since we decided to be friends I've seen Nora twice, but only spoke to her once. Friends without kissing. Friends don't kiss and friends definitely don't think about kissing.

I'm still working on that part. She hasn't started to come around less; she's just leaving earlier and I'm coming home later than I used to. I've been staying a little later at work to help Posey close. She's been picking up so many of Jane's shifts lately that I have a feeling she could use the help. She seems overwhelmed lately. I don't want to be too pushy and probe too much into her life, but I've always been pretty good at reading people. We have become something close to friends during our long shifts together, and she's been sharing more and more of her life with me while we scrub dishes and clean coffee grounds from every nook and cranny of Grind.

I'm enjoying the extra hours and her company. I'm lonely and soaking our conversations in like a sponge, like the details of her life somehow make me feel more involved in the wider world. She was born and raised here—a thoroughbred New Yorker, something millions of people in this city strive to imitate. Her family used to live in Queens, and when she was thirteen, her mom passed away and Lila and Posey moved to Brooklyn to live with their grandma.

It's nice having someone to talk to about random stuff. It's nice to hear about someone else's life and opinions and thoughts when I don't want to think about my own.

I don't want to think about Dakota, and I don't want to miss Nora. Am I a bad person for liking two people?

Really though, I don't know if I like Nora or if I'm just attracted to her. I don't know enough about her to compare to my feelings for Nora . . .

I mean, Dakota.

Shit, I'm a mess.

Am I being too hard on myself by keeping my distance from both of them? I've loved Dakota for years; I know her inside and out. She's my family. In my heart of hearts she owns half the real estate.

Nora is another story, she's wishy-washy and back and forth, and undeniably sexy and flirtatious. I'm half attracted, half curious about her and I keep having to remind myself that we killed our potential relationship before it ever had a chance to bloom into anything anyway, so I can't sit around moping over losing something that wasn't mine to begin with.

So it's been two weeks of avoidance of the women in question: picking up later shifts at work, joining more study group, or staying home and watching cooking shows with Tessa. She's obsessed with them lately and they are good background noise to do my schoolwork over. I can pay just a little bit of attention to it, but I don't care enough to have to give my full attention to it and I'm not convinced that she does either.

One night during Cupcake Wars my phone buzzes on the leather couch and Hardin's name lights on my screen. Tessa's eyes follow the noise and flash at the sight of his name. Her eyes dart back to the screen and she pulls her pouty bottom lip between her teeth.

She's freaking miserable and I hate it. Hardin's miserable, and he deserves it, but I still hate it. I don't know what kind of if he had to , a whole row of them with her face carved into them, before he would live his life without her.

That sort of desperation, that kind of burning, throbbing, love--I haven't known it.

I have loved slow and deep with Dakota, it was--still is--a steady kind of love. We had our share of complications and fights, but nine times out of ten, it was her and I fighting against the world. It was me, sword drawn, cannon loaded, ready to charge at any enemy who crossed a line. Mostly the foe was her dad, the biggest, nastiest troll of all. I spent many a rescuing my princess from the yellow stained walls and worn Cinderella printed curtains tacked over the windows of her house. I climbed the dirty, sun damaged siding and opened the dust covered window, and pulled her to the safety of warm chocolate chip cookies and the soft voice of my mother.

Times were rough at her house, and when Carter was gone even the best cookies, the softest voices, and the tightest hugs couldn't comfort Dakota. We shared pain and pleasure, but the more I think about it and the more I compare it to the relationships around me and in my books, I realize that while we were family, we were also but kids.

Are we even supposed to spend our whole life with the one who helps us grow? Or are they simply a stop on the way to who we will become, their role ending when we learn what we need to to make it to the next stop? I once felt like Dakota was my entire journey and my destination, but I'm starting to feel like I was a stop for her.

Do I, Landon Gibson, Amateur Relationship Participant, even know what the hell I'm talking about?

I grab my phone as it goes to voicemail. I call Hardin right back and he answers on the first ring.

"Hey," I say, looking at Tessa as she pulls the blanket up to her neck like it's protecting her from something.

"I'm about to book my flight. It's next month," he says loudly. And with every word from Hardin's mouth, Tessa visibly shudders.

She stands up and walks to her room without a word.

I whisper so she doesn't hear me, "I don't know if it's a good--"

"Why?" he interrupts. "What's going on, where's Tess?"

"She just went into her room after shaking like someone was screaming at her the moment she overheard your voice." It's harsh to say it like that, I know, but it's honest.

Hardin makes a noise that pains me, "If she would just speak to me . . . I fucking hate this shit."

I sigh. I know he does. So does she. So do I.. But he did this to himself, to her, and it's not fair of me to push her toward him if she doesn't want to be.

"Try to give her the phone," he demands.

"You know I can't do that."

"Fuck, man."

I can picture him running his fingers through his hair.

He hangs up the phone, and I don't call him back.

I wait a few minutes and knock on Tessa's door. She opens almost immediately and I take a step back into the hallway. I glance at the tabby cat picture and I still don't understand how I never paid attention to these weird little pictures before.

"You okay?" I ask my friend.

She looks down at her feet then back up at me. "Yeah."

"You're a terrible liar," I say.

She steps back into her room and leaves the door open, gesturing for me to come inside. She sits on the edge of her bed and I look around her room. It's spotless as usual and she's done a little more decorating since I've been in here last. Her TV is no longer on the dresser; in it's place are stacks of books, organized by author. Three worn copies of Pride and Prejudice catch my eye.

." Tessa lays back on her bed and stares up at the ceiling. "I really am okay with him coming to visit. He's your family and I won't keep him from you."

"You're my family too," I remind her. I sit on the opposite edge of her bed, near the blue upholstered headboard. The color matches her curtains and I can't see a single dust bunny in her windowsill.

"I'm just waiting and waiting, and I don't know how to stop . . . " Her voice is flat, detached.

"Waiting for what?"

"For him to stop being able to hurt me. Even hearing him..."

I pause to let her catch her breath again, then say, "It will take a while I assume."

I wish I hated him too so I could tell her how terrible he is for her, that she's better off without him, but I can't. I can't and won't pretend that they are both better when they are together.

"Can I ask you something?" Tessa's voice is soft.

"Of course." I prop my feet up on her bed and hope she doesn't notice how dirty my socks are on her white comforter.

"How did you get over Dakota? It makes me feel like shit that you were feeling this way and I barely comforted you; I was so consumed by my own problems that I never thought about you feeling the way I feel now. I'm sorry I'm such a shitty friend."

I laugh softly. "You aren't a shitty friend. My situation was a lot different than yours."

"That's so Landon. I knew you would tell me I'm not a shitty friend," She smiles and I can't remember the last time she . "But really, how did you get over her? Does it still eat at you when you see her?"

That's a good question. How did I get over her?

I don't even know how to answer that question. I don't want to admit it, but I don't think I ever felt as low as Tessa does now. It hurt when Dakota broke up with me, especially the way she did it, but I didn't drown in my own misery. I held my head up and tried to stay as supportive of her as I could and kept going on with my life.

"It was so different for me. Dakota and I had barely seen one another in the last two years, so I wasn't always around her the way you were with Hardin. We never lived together, and I think I was used to feeling alone anyway."

Tessa rolls over and rests her chin on her elbow. "You felt alone when you were dating?"

I nod. "She lived across the country remember?"

Tessa nods. "Yes, but you still shouldn't have felt alone."

I don't know what to say. I did feel alone, even when we talked everyday. I don't know what that says about me, or our relationship.

"Do you feel alone now?" Tessa asks me, her gray eyes focused on me.

"Yeah," I answer honestly.

She rolls back over and looks up at the ceiling again. "Me too."