Lucas gets to the book store an hour and a half after I do, strolling in through the front door with his hands shoved into his front pockets, his hair just a bit damp from the shower I know he took after practice.  

I make sure not to stare though, choosing instead to busy myself with counting the cash in the register that I know I've already counted about three times today. It gives me something to do, makes me look like a good worker, and is so mindless that it calms me down.  

Counting the money only gets me so far, though, because it takes just two seconds for Lucas to talk up to the front counter and lean on his elbows, much like Zara did earlier. I don't look at him, I pretend that I can't even see him, because I'd rather go naked through a blizzard than discuss the events of Saturday night or this morning by my locker. 

Lucas, unfortunately, doesn't seem to have the same outlook on things because he breaks through the silence and says, "You said we'd talk later, Naomi. It's later." 

"I meant, like, end of the world later," I murmur absentmindedly to myself. He has to know that I was just trying to get him to go away. The boy is not stupid. He's one of the smartest people I know.  

At first I think I've spoken so quietly that he can't hear me, but he of course, does hear me and sighs in response. He says, "Come on. We can't just act like Saturday didn't happen." 

"What if we can?" I ask vividly, finally looking up from the stack of money and into his eyes. I have to fight so that the clear blue of his eyes don't completely melt me inside, but I somehow or another manage to and look unwavering while doing so. "I've done it so far and I feel fine." 

"Well I don't," he argues back strongly. When I give him a death glare he realizes that he isn't exactly going along my route of forgiveness with talking loudly like that to me, so he clears his throat and then starts again. This time when he speaks, he makes sure to talk softly because he knows I'll leave if he doesn't. "Look, Nay," he starts while I mentally curse him for bringing back my old nick name, "I'm sorry for bringing your dad into things Saturday. I didn't say it to hurt you." 

"Oh really?" I ask disbelievingly, "Then why else would you say it?" 

"It slipped out, alright? I know it hurt you and I'm really sorry." He looks sincere as he says this, so trusting and truthful, but I honestly can't even think about forgiving him for anything right now. Forgiveness is just one step closer to me liking him and I'm not willing to go through that kind of hurt again. 

So instead of giving him my forgiveness, I just look him straight in the eye and say, "Okay." 

He narrows his eyes a bit at my vague answer. To clarify it for himself he asks me, "Okay you forgive me or okay you heard me?" 

Even though I know this is just going to start something else, I say, "Okay I heard you." I'm not going to lie and say I forgive him because he might try to start being my friend again. I don't know if I'll be able to handle that. 

His tone going tighter than I'd like, he asks, "So you don't forgive me then?" 

I sigh. This conversation is already doomed; it's not going to take us anywhere other than to yet another tear fest. There is honestly no point in continuing on with it. So with one last shred of hope, I ask him, "Can we just...talk about something else right now?" 

"Fine," he says all too quickly. I don't even get the chance to be happy that we're not going to discuss our relationship, though, because he asks me a split-second later, "What's going on with you and Drew?" 

"We're just..." I start, but it's when I look into his eyes that I realize that he's basically demanding information from me like he deserves to hear it. It's almost like he feels he has the right to hear it from me. Well, honey, you lost that right years ago. My tone hitching up a pitch in anger, I demand, "Why does it matter to you? We're not friends anymore, Lucas." 

Looking as if he's been slapped across the face, he says, "Naomi..." 

But I cut him off. I feel like this is all we've been doing lately. He's been trying to edge his way back into being friends with me-I think, I'm really not all that sure of what he's trying to do-while I have been emotionally exploding on him. It's about time that this whole sick cycle is over. I have to finish it. 

And in order to that, I have to pretend that I actually have a backbone when it comes to him. 

"You made that choice, okay? Don't act like you didn't. I finally have my life back; I'm finally realizing that I can have friends without you handing them to me. I don't need you anymore, Lucas, and I really don't want to fall back into that kind of life again. So please, please, stop messing with my head. It's giving me headaches." I want to add on that this is hurting my heart too, that seeing his face fall even further with every word I say is slowly killing me on the inside, but I don't. If I do then he'll realize that I still have that same traitorous soft spot for him. 

He looks on at me for moments after my speech is done, his strong jaw completely slacked and his bright blue eyes completely overshadowed by hurt. I know that I've damaged his feelings, I know that he doesn't like that I've basically just said I don't want to be around him anymore, but it's not like there was any other choice. I had to do that. I had to say that. All of these fights and all of these breakdowns are just not healthy for me. I can't do this anymore. 

I just can't. 

So because I'm an absolute wiener and cannot bear to keep on looking at Lucas' crestfallen face, I move away from the front counter and go towards the back of the store. I can feel Lucas' eyes on me as I walk away, but I ignore it, praying that these tears of mine are just going to go away. I have to stop crying over him. I have to make my body not feel anything for him any longer. 

I spot Zara leaning against the wall in her office, a book of poetry resting on her knees as their folded closer to her face. When she hears me she looks up and, immediately noting the look of sadness on my face, she gently places her book onto the floor and then walks over to me. She asks me, "Naomi? What's..." 

"This is going to sound really weird," I tell her, hating how pathetic I sound when I sniffle through my nose, "But I really need someone to hug me right now." 

She gives me a warm, almost maternal smile before she leans in and wraps her arms around me. 

OoOoO 

"Hey Drew," I greet him as he walks over to me the next morning at school. This has almost become a daily tradition, him walking up to my locker after he's been to his and then walking me to class.  

Very slowly I've warmed up to him and I'm not going to lie, seeing his face almost excites me now. At first I hated all of the attention because it just wasn't normal for me; I had become too used to being alone. But now, now I kind of like the attention. Conversation is easy for me now and his hugs really do make me feel a lot better. So that's why when he gives me his normal smile and then wraps his strong arms around me, I melt against him and rest my head against his sturdy chest. 

It sounds so weird, but he can comfort me even though he has no earthly idea of what's going on between Lucas and I. He hasn't a clue about how every time I see his face or hear his apologies that I just want to go break down and cry. But still, somehow or another, he can make me feel so much better just by giving me a hug. 

He pulls away from me, taking his amazing scent with him, and then leans in and presses a kiss against my cheek. He says, "Morning gorgeous. You sleep good?" 

My cheeks flushing at his bold signs of affection, I avert my eyes from his and say, "Mhm. You?"  

Smiling brightly because I'm finally letting him touch me without backing away, he says, "Perfectly. So are you ready for tomorrow night?" 

Our date is still on for tomorrow night and while he hasn't told me exactly what we'll be doing, I'm still somewhat excited. Though the nervous butterflies I have are totally overpowering the excitement, it's still there and I'm happy about it. It's very rare that I'm excited about something. Since the Lucas fiasco, I honestly haven't been excited about anything. 

Feeling a little bit shy about talking so openly about our date-it's still weird to think I have a date with Drew Price-I nod and say, "Yeah." 

He leans in close and teases, "Don't sound too excited, now." 

"Oh hush," I say, pushing against his shoulder, "You know I'm excited. What are we doing, by the way? You still haven't told me." 

He grins, flashing his bright white teeth at me, "It's a surprise. Just wear tennis shoes, alright? Not that I need to tell you that anyways," he teases, looking down at my battered old black Converse that I've had since I was thirteen. They're my favorite shoes, even though there is a hole the size of a quarter on the inside. 

"I love these shoes," I protest. They're obviously durable because they've been with me for five years now and haven't snapped yet. These shoes are pretty much a part of me. 

He chuckles and goes to say something but is cut off short by the sound of school bell ringing. Students all shut their locker doors, making a cool echoing sound that always amuses me, and then start dispersing and making their way to their classes. Drew says, "Alright, let's go before you make me tardy," before taking my things out of my hands and then shutting my locker door with his elbow. 

Although I have been warming up to Drew over this past week, the fact that he still treats me like I cannot do anything for myself still bothers me. He's constantly opening doors for me, carrying me things. It's gone past being gentlemanly and headed straight towards being annoying. But I know that it'll hurt his feelings if I call him out on it and it's not like I want him to stop being helpful. I just wish he wasn't quite so helpful. 

"Open it yourself doofus," Lucas' voice rings inside of my head, making me stop dead in my tracks in the hallway. What the hell? Why did this pop up in my head? Lucas always said that to me when I berated him for not being gentlemanly and opening a door for me. He would always say the same thing to me, and I would always reply by kicking him in the shin and then giggling as he cursed at me. 

Why am I thinking about this while I'm with Drew? Sure I'd like it if Drew wouldn't do things for me constantly, but it's not like I want him to treat me like a guy like Lucas did, right? Why am I comparing the two of them? Lucas and I never acted like Drew and I do now. Sure we were physical and hugged every once in a while, cuddled all of the time, but there was never any more-than-platonic feeling on Lucas's side of it. Drew and I are totally different than how Lucas and I used to be. 

I should like Drew better than I like Lucas. 

I should like how Drew does things more than how Lucas used to do them. 

Right? 

"Naomi?" Drew's voice asks curiously, caringly. "You alright?" 

Snapping away from any thoughts that bind the two friends together, I give Drew an easy smile and tell him reassuringly, "I'm fine."