Despite Jacob's placid face staring at me, my mind continued to meander through my lone night at Rigby, as though it were attempting to dissuade me from being hypnotized by the presence before me.

My head had been whirling at Jess' assertion that Joey was in love with me as I settled onto the couch while the boys played video games. I shifted through my memories of Matt and Joey. Matt and I had dated; Joey and I had always been strictly friends, barely that at first.

Matt and I met on the first day of pre-school. Having already been ditched by my parents at daycare for years, I wasn't experiencing the separation anxiety that attacked the other children around me. Instead, I was inspecting the toy selection, quickly ascertaining that the block's corner was the place to be. I was just about to build when I noticed one boy among the mass of crying, clinging children. Still, to this day, I don't know what it was about Matt Mackenzie that struck my interest, but as he stood desperately clasping his mother's leg and blinking back tears from his emerald eyes, I couldn't help but approach him. He was putting in a lot of effort to not turn into a blubbering mess like so many around him, and I respected it. I meandered over in that curious four-year-old way and introduced myself absurdly precociously. I took him by the hand and led him to the blocks where the well of tears eased amongst the conversations of skyscrapers and castles.

That green-eyed boy with shaggy brown hair grew into a tall, gangly teen as I grew into my father's worse nightmare; a blond-haired, blue-eyed, well-endowed teen. At family reunions, I'd endure endless questions about why I wasn't a cheerleader. I knew the assumption that I was a cheerleader wasn't because of my infectiously bubbly personality.

In most respects, I was the exact antithesis of what my appearance would dictate. I almost always wore jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. I never understood the compulsion to leave my warm, comfortable bed any earlier than needed to slather make-up and fret over which pink blouse was least likely to make me look fat. As for hair styling, my expertise extended only to a ponytail. If there were any lingering questions about my cheerleader qualities, my unfailingly sarcastic mouth quickly swept them away.

It was junior high when things got confusing between Matt and me. Even with my brutal honesty, my looks made me popular with the boys and, therefore, popular with the girls that wanted to be noticed by the boys. Matt, on the other hand, was the definition of awkward. His personality had the distinct air of dork, which I found adorably charming, but others just saw him as a dork. He struggled to move from the dreaded friend zone with girls.

My blooming relationship with Bobby Mahon only made things worse for Matt. Bobby was two years older than me, equally sarcastic, and, best of all, played the drums in a crazy, erratic mix of funk and chaos. My time with Matt decreased, but I'd still try to see him at least once a week outside school. We always quickly fell back into our friendship. We could talk about anything as we ate endless Red Vines while keeping Coca-Cola in business. Week after week, we'd primarily discuss whether any girls liked Matt and how he could get more girls to like him. Unfortunately, his wasn't a name thrown out in the girl's locker room very often.

On the other hand, I'd discuss my budding interest in music, drugs, and booze. My first hit of pot and first beer were both in the safety of Matt's basement. The pot was love at first puff; the beer, we decided, was a gained taste we were determined to get.

I broke up with Bobby in the summer before our freshman year. It was a fight about music that caused our demise. I believe the exact problem was when he called Paul McCartney a has-been. That coupled with the fact that, after eighteen months, I found him boring, stupid, and generally off-putting. No one was more excited than Matt, but when we slipped into our daily routine, I noticed we were no longer a duo but a trio.

Joey Campbell had moved to our tiny Portland suburb at the beginning of the summer. I had met him a few times through Matt, but was never overly impressed. He was good-looking with a filled-out body that was neither bulky nor scrawny. He had deep brown eyes framed by thick eyelashes and a mop-top mane of chocolate brown hair. Sometimes he would seem lost in thought, only to snap to focus to disagree with me, always to disagree with me. Some would've seen him as quiet and reflective, but my stubborn mind only saw him as irritating and creepy. He had a perfectionist part of his personality that would war with his diplomatic middle-class upbringing. Frustration would slip into his voice and eyes, but his vocabulary and tone always stay tame. He'd first try to get his point across by reason and his shy boyish looks. If the dissatisfaction continued, his chocolate eyes would fill with even more irritation, and his voice would become edgy with agitation. Yet still, his words would remain calm and reasonable. Eventually, he'd spit out, "let's look at things my way," cutting like a searing insult that ended any debate.

Where Joey and I faltered, Matt and he became fast friends. Joey was a musician, even at fifteen. When I met him, he was already well versed in the guitar, drums, and piano. Matt had never touched an instrument until that summer, but as Joey taught him more and more cords, Matt became obsessed. Often, I found myself marginalized to an observer while the two of them strummed away. Looking back, Joey was an extraordinarily patient teacher.

Beyond Joey's musical ability, Matt was also in awe of Joey's sexual experience. Joey wasn't a virgin. His childhood girlfriend, Laura, had been so distraught by the news of his impending move shattering her expectations of experiencing all their firsts together, they had shared that one major milestone. Matt was obsessed and frequently tried to squeeze details out of Joey, who always remained respectfully tight-lipped. One day, after a constant lack of answers from Joey, I announced he was still a virgin.

"Okay." Joey simply shrugged in a non-combative tone.

"Is she right?" Matt pressed with a note of disappointment.

"No," Joey mumbled.

"Then why won't you answer any of his questions?" I charged.

"She was my childhood sweetheart. We had sex, I moved three states away, and now I'm alone." Joey met my gaze as he spoke. His face remained stoic, but Matt and I received the message loud and clear. No matter how much pestering, Joey was determined to be a gentleman.

"I'm sorry, man; I'll stop asking," Matt regretfully said.

For once, even I felt terrible about my crassness.

From then on, Joey and I had a truce. I wouldn't say that we fell into a fast friendship, but we tolerated each other for Matt's sake, and by the end of the summer, we were officially a trio. Joey and I even planned Matt's fifteenth birthday together at the end of the summer.

It wasn't until our senior prom I realized somewhere along the way that I had fallen for Matt's geek-chic charm, as I affectionately called it. My boyfriend and I had broken up a month prior, so Matt offered to be my date.

"It's fitting," Matt casually said. "You're the closest thing I have to a high school sweetheart," he added with a smile.

We, of course, all went together. Shelly, Joey's date, had been after him for months when he finally relented, thinking it would be a quick flash in the Prom pan.

As the Prom night wore on, Matt and I both became nostalgic, reminiscing about our friendship's sweetness and ease. I found myself on his lap with his lips moving up and down my neck. I turned to meet his gaze. His green eyes clouded with warring emotions. I pushed his fine hair out of his eyes and leaned into his chest as I placed my arms around his neck. I hoped he knew what I was doing and wouldn't freak out. He smiled as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tighter to him and bowing his head; he understood. As he leaned in to kiss me, I was expecting awkwardness, but as his lips met mine, a sensation of comfort and warmth spread through me. Our lips parted and closed in tune with each other. After a few moments, I felt his tongue glide across mine and followed his lead. At that moment, I learned Matt was an unbelievable kisser.

Nervous thoughts swirled. How had I missed the developing crush for so long? Did he like me? I doubted it; I was just Riley to him. We were just caught up in the wave of prom.

"Are you okay? You're like bright red." Shelly cocked her head at me as she spoke.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just hot in here," I blurted. "My stomach is a bit upset, too," I added.

"It's the nachos; nothing natural is that color," she absently said. "Who thought pre-prom we should go bowling?"

"The guys like to bowl." I shrugged. "Can we just head to the after-party?"

In our Portland suburb, pit parties were a time-honored tradition. In a town surrounded by sandpits, we'd select one, start a bonfire, and party all night. The custom, of course, extended to the post-prom party.

"Riley, are you okay? Do you regret it, the kiss?" Matt's voice filled with concern as we slumped together in the back of Joey's car.

I lifted my head to meet his gaze and found his face an inch from mine. His eyes filled with worry. My mind slipped to the little boy clinging to his mother's leg on the first day of pre-school. Something came over me; it clicked. I pushed forward and met his lips again. Our lips quickly fell into a perfectly balanced dance, causing surges of warmth to flow through my body as our tongues innocently explored each other. His hand moved up and cupped my face. Moments later, he pulled away and gazed down at me as his forehead rested on mine.

"What was that for?" He quietly asked.

"Us." My tone was hushed by the moment.

We rode in silence the rest of the way. Matt safely tucked me beneath his arm in the backseat's darkness with the tingles of our kiss lingering on my lips. When we arrived at the party, the bonfire was roaring, and tents popped up around us.

"Come on, let's get these tents up before we get too drunk to stand," Joey said to Matt.

"Sounds good," Matt agreed.

Matt and Shelly walked ahead, casually chatting, as Joey hung back with me.

"So, are you going to tell him?" Joey murmured beside me.

"Tell who what?" I absently spoke as I watched Matt walk ahead of us.

"Tell Matt you like him," Joey whispered.

I turned to look at him, trying to twist my face into shock. I immediately failed and gave up. "I don't want to mess up our friendship."

"You have to tell him. If he finds out you had a thing for him and didn't tell him, he'll be pissed."

"Pissed? Why?"

"Because he's in love with you."

Joey's words rushed through me like ice water. I couldn't have missed that Matt thought of me as anything other than his friend. "What?"

"Oh, come on; it's not like he even pretends to hide it. He follows you around like a puppy."

"He walks beside me like a friend." My annoyance flared in my tone at Joey's description of Matt as a puppy. I ended the conversation by charging ahead to catch up with Matt and Shelly.

Even though Matt had a sizable head start, Joey still had his tent up first. Moments later, he had Matt's up correctly as well.

"So, where do I put my shit?" Shelly asked, eyeing Joey.

"Why don't we share?" Joey casually shrugged.

"Sound good to you, cupcake?" Matt cooed in a sickly sweet voice as he slid an arm around my waist.

"Yes, dear," I said in a monotone voice. My nervousness kicked in as we crawled into our tent and unfolded our sleeping bags. "So," I started with no direction.

With a sigh, Matt slumped down next to me and peered through the thick darkness at me. "Is this where you remind me we're best friends and nothing more?"

"You are my best friend."

"It's fine. I've heard the 'we make better friends' excuse, but you better mean it!" Dejection filled his voice.

"Um," I nervously mumbled as I tried to stall while figuring out what to say. "I like you," I stammered.

"Riley, it's dark in here, and I can't see your face. Are you fucking with me?" I could hear Matt shifting around for the flashlight.

"No," I mumbled, hoping he wouldn't laugh at me.

"You mean..." He stopped short. "What exactly do you mean?"

"I want to be your girlfriend if you'll have me." I felt foolish even saying it.

"If I'll have you?" He let out a laugh. "Yeah, I think I can suffer through somehow, Riley. I've only been in love with you since pre-school.

"Really?"

"Yeah, and if this is when you found this out, you're literally the last one to know."

He laid back as I nestled into him but paused when he let out a sigh. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"I wish I could see you," he mumbled.

"Oh, I can fix that," I said as I fished around my things for my flashlight. "Always be prepared. I think Kennedy said that."

"Boy Scouts, Riley; that's the Boy Scout motto," Matt laughed.

"Same thing." I shrugged as I clicked on my flashlight and propped it on my bag, filling the tent with light. "Better?"

"Much better." A smile spread across his face as he gazed at me. "So, you really like me?"

"Well, I'm beginning to like you less." I pushed him back and snuggled into his arms before looking up to meet his green eyes. "You've been in love with me since pre-school? How did I miss this for so long?"

"Better late than never." Matt smiled down at me. He leaned in slowly and kissed me.

Matt and I stayed together for two years. It was comfortable, as both of us, along with Joey, all went to college in Boston. Just before our junior year, we realized we had slipped from being a couple back to being friends at some point. We broke up on unbelievably good terms for two people in their early twenties. There were no fights, anger, or tears.

Joey and Shelly weren't so lucky. They stayed together for a year before she dumped him via text message. Joey handled it in his typically quiet, stoic way.

"I'm sorry, Joey," I offered that night as we sipped beers in his dorm room.

He just shrugged.

"You deserve better; you don't deserve to be lonely."

"I'm not lonely," he murmured. "I didn't even like her."

"Joey, you guys were together for a year," Matt said in disbelief.

"Yeah, it was just easy. I don't know if you noticed, but she's kind of annoying. It's not like what you guys have."

Matt and I remained quiet from the awkward comparison, sharing a twitch of sorrow for being happy when Joey was sad.

"Sorry," Joey offered, sensing the mood of the room.

"No, you're right. Matt and I have something good," I agreed. "I think it's because we're such good friends."

That conversation was the beginning of the end for Matt and me. It was the tipping point when we began to realize that we were slipping back to friends, but it'd take another year for us to acknowledge it.

Jacob cleared his throat to pull me back from the distraction of my memories and to his presence at the record store. Immediately, his proximity caused my pulse to quicken.

"The boys have been by a few times. They've developed quite a band with Michael and Jess."

I had known they had continued to visit Rigby. It made sense. Jacob didn't cause the fraying of the mind for them that he did for me.