A/N--My apologies for taking so long with this chapter!! I was on vacation all last week and then the day after we got back I got out my wisom teeth out and I've been on pain pills ever since.  So yeah! I wrote this chapter in literally one sitting, and it took about two hours, so if it's utter crap I'm very sorry.  I somewhat like this chapter even though it's sorta depressing, so I hope you do too! Vote/comment please! :)

"I want three dogs when I get older, and I know that sounds ridiculously insane and like some form of the old cat lady who can't get laid, but I've always wanted three dogs," I explain to Ethan later on that night, after the movie's ended and the rest of the household's retreated to their own rooms and their own beds.  

The movie was slightly awkward, of course, with Darla giving us knowing side glances throughout the entire thing, making it impossible for me to even hold hands with the guy even though the room was dark and no one would have noticed. But still it was fun, my dad annoying everyone by knowing each and every line to the movie and reciting them along even after we begged him to stop. My mom even brought out the old time popcorn maker we keep in the corner of the room, usually unplugged. But for the first time in ages she plugged it in and made everyone of us our own little bowl of buttery popcorn. 

So this night can seriously be written down as fantastic in my book, especially when Ethan made me write my phone number on the inside of his wrist so that he could call me up and talk to me even though we're just across the hall from each other. At first I thought it was sort of dumb, but now that we've been talking for an hour or so, about the most random of things really, it's actually sort of fun.  

It's somewhat secretive, giving me the slightest thrill because we're able to flirt shamelessly with each other without worrying someone will know. If anyone caught us, we could just tell them we were talking with someone else. And it gives our pretty damn odd relationship-or whatever the hell it is, really-an overall sense of normalcy. Even though I'm no relationship guru, seeing as how I've never actually been in one, I know that most start out through a long series of late-night phone calls where the two talk about anything and everything. 

Even though the two of us have already admitted an attraction towards the other, I do like that he's trying to keep the flow of things as down-to-earth and normal as possible. And I do also love that I'm able to curl up underneath my covers in the darkness of my bedroom, Darko comfortably squished against my chest, and talk to him. There's not the added stress of me worrying that I don't look good or that I'm staring at him too much or something. 

"So what, do you have their names planned out and everything or something like that?" he teases, his nighttime voice warming me up even though it's just through a phone connection. 

"I do, actually," knowing that if the two of us were in person I'd probably be sticking my tongue out at him. "There's going to be Darko, of course, 'cause he's not going anywhere. And then I want a big fuzzy dog named Marco and a little fuzzy dog named Polo." 

"You're so weird," he chuckles into the phone and I can hear the rustle of something, probably bed sheets. Is it odd that I find it somewhat endearing that he's all curled into bed too, listening to me? Is he as affected my voice as I am by his? I find it hard to believe, but still...it's a nice thought. "But I do have to admit that I'd rather three dogs than three cats." 

"Oh definitely!" I agree, "Cat's and I have never gotten along. They're heinous bitches, honestly." 

"My mom used to have this cat," he starts, and I can't help but smile at how easy conversation comes to the two of us. I've never really been that great in talking to people, me either getting too bored at the topic to listen like I'm supposed to, or me not having enough interesting stories to tell. But conversation with him is pretty much effortless, it really is. 

It's about thirty minutes later, though, when the conversation comes to a topic that I really didn't want to discuss.  

I mentioned my mom and dad knowing about what is going on between us, and because of that, he asked me, "Do you really think they should know?" 

I'm honestly surprised, because out of the two of us, I figured he'd be the one more upfront and honest. I never would have pegged him as the type to want to have a secret relationship. And since I actually want to tell my parents, I thought he would want to also. I say, "Yeah, why wouldn't they?" 

He's quiet for a moment, as if he has to think about what he's going to say in response. Then he answers, "Well...I mean, Hals, I'm going to be gone on tour for almost a year. And we leave for that in just over two months." 

"So?" I ask him, feeling my chest start to turn cold in dread. This conversation is not exactly going where I want it to.  

He says, "Don't take this the wrong way, but..." 

I can't help but cut him off and interrupt with, "Well this sounds promising." 

He sighs, and I know by the sound of it that this is somewhat hard to him, having to say this. But it's his own damn fault. He's making it so complicated; it really doesn't have to be. He asks me slowly, "Do you honestly want this to turn into something, only to know it's going to end in two months?" 

Wow, I'm not even in a relationship with the guy and he already wants to end things with me. Guess I'm even more undesirable than I thought. Awesome. Feeling extremely hurt and dejected, almost to the point where I just want to hang up the phone and forget all about this guy and his amazing kisses, or his sweet smile, or that hot-as-sin accent of his, I ask harshly, "So what? Do we just stop now? Is that what you want?" 

"No!" he argues quickly, as if I'm crazy for even thinking he'd want to do something like that. "Of course not. I just think we should take it easy, you know? Nothing too serious." 

So really he just wants a fling, I gather to myself. He wants what every other guy who has ever been interested in me wants. No one wants to get serious with me, to actually be in a healthy, all-giving relationship. I honestly don't know what's wrong with me, why there's not one measly thing about me that would keep a guy around, but I do know that it sucks. 

I hate that I'm not enough for a guy to keep around for more than a few quick hookups. And even that, but when they realize that I'm not going to give up my virginity for someone who doesn't want to be serious, they flee. So really, all guys want from me is someone to sleep with. Because I'm not good enough for anything else. 

"Hals?" he asks cautiously, as if he's not sure that I'm still on the line. He's lucky, though, lucky that I actually really like him. If I didn't think he was such a decent guy except for this one thing, I'd have hung up on him and been done. But I can't just throw away whatever this is so easily, not when I have this gut feeling that it's going to be different. 

Still, though, I can't help but feel like he's just told me that he doesn't think I'm good enough to start a relationship with, that he knows I won't be worth staying with when he's on the road. And that hurts. It hurts a lot. 

"I'm here," I murmur, hating how easy it is to hear the hurt in my voice. If we're going to do this non serious thing, I don't want to be the one person to get hurt. Or, well, I don't want him to know that I'm hurt. I don't want to be remembered as the clingy one. So if I'm going to do this, I need to be just as nonchalant about it as he is. 

It's going to be really hard, though, to act like I don't like him as more than just a fling. Because honestly, I really do.  

He asks, "You don't hate me now, do you?" 

"Of course not," I answer, my tone sounding obvious. All I hate about this is that I'm obviously not enough to keep a guy around. Suddenly feeling tired and like I should just escape into dream land for a few days, I say, "But look, I'm really tired, alright? I'll talk to you tomorrow." 

It takes him a moment or two to respond. "Okay. Sweet dreams, Hal." 

I don't even bother wishing him the same, too dejected feeling to even think about it. So I just bring the phone away from my ear and press the off button on screen, dropping the phone onto my sheets with a dull thud. 

XXXXXXX 

"So I have this top that would look fucking hot on you," Jeanie says a few days later, as the two of us are sitting on Fred's bed, talking about what our outfits are going to be for the party that night. My parents and Ethan left earlier on in the day, the three of them flying to New York for some music thing, while Darla fled to her best friend Hannah's house. Darla's not supposed to be back until Sunday, while the group in New York isn't supposed to be back until Tuesday, giving me at the least the entire weekend to do whatever I want. 

I know that I'm supposed to be respecting their trust in me, that I'm expected to stay home all weekend like the good and grounded girl that I am, but ever since that late-night phone conversation between Ethan and I, I haven't been able to stop thinking about going out and drinking away all of my depression over it.  

He's been so sweet to me after that conversation, holding my hand whenever he can and always managing to sneak a quick goodnight kiss in. But still, my feelings can't help but be bruised about the whole thing. The guy I really have a thing for doesn't have the same thing for me. It sucks. So I want to go out looking hot, drinking and dancing my night away.  

"Really?" I ask her, looking up from my phone where I've been scanning through hair ideas on Pintrest. All of the ideas on the app are so gorgeous, but I need something easy. I suck at doing my own hair.  

"Yeah," she says, placing her magazine down and then hopping off of the bed and disappearing into their shared closet. She comes out just a second or two later, a sheer black tank top with the tags still attached hanging off of a Forever 21 hanger. She tosses it to me, me catching it surprisingly effortlessly, and then says, "Tuck some of that into some cut off shorts...you'll look like a regular ole' hottie." 

"Thanks," I say sincerely, brushing my fingers against the fabric. I've seen a few pictures of girls dressed in similar outfits, but I never exactly thought I could pull it off. But the fact that Jeanie, a girl who's never been an expert at handing out compliments, is telling me I'll look good in it makes me feel a bit better. "Do you have one of those bandeau tops to wear underneath? That'll look better than a tank top." 

"Fuck yeah I do," she smiles, plopping herself back down onto the bed, making my body move in repercussions. She says wickedly, "A red lace one actually. You're gonna get yourself some booty tonight." 

I want to tell her that there's no way I'd do anything with a guy tonight because of Ethan, because even though he probably wouldn't do the same for me, I just can't do that to him, but I don't. Ethan apparently doesn't want a single soul to know that he's wasting his time with me, so I'll respect his wishes and keep it a secret. So I just shyly smile and say, "Hope so." 

Three hours later the two of us have been joined by Fred and Jesse, who have so graciously brought with them a chilled bottle of patron to shoot and some vodka to mix drinks with. Since the party tonight is at a frat house on campus, alcohol is a bit harder to find than at a house party. You can really only get drinks at a frat house if you know a member of the fraternity, and, well, we don't exactly mix with that crowd. So we just get drunk before we go and then walk on over. Fred luckily lives only five minutes away from Greek row, so we can all get drunk without worrying about appointing a designated driver.  

"You just want your usual?" Fred asks me from where he's standing at his dresser, also known as his makeshift bar. He has a bottle of Sunny Delight, two Gatorades, and a bottle of sprite, all of which to mix the vodka with. Add to that a tall tower of red solo cups and a shorter tower of shot glasses, and you have our usual Friday night on campus.  

Feeling my phone buzz from beneath my stomach, I call out a quick "yeah" to Fred and then pull out my glossy iPhone. I see that I have a new message from Ethan, and, feeling a quick jolt of happiness mixed in with rejection and guilt, I open it. 

I miss you already :/ Xx 

I smile softly to myself, and then quickly type back: Miss you too. What are you doing? Xx 

"Dude, we're going to get so fucked up tonight," Jesse laughs from where he's sitting next to me, his thigh casually pressed against mine. Three weeks ago I would've been crawling in excitement at the contact, but now it barely even registers in my head. The only boy I'd want the contact with is states away and probably scouting for girls that he actually wants a relationship with.  

As Fred hands me my drink, a cup filled equally with Sunny Delight and vodka, he says, "We sure as hell better. These frat parties are usually dumb as shit." 

"Hallie!" I hear Jeanie call from where she's stationed in the bathroom, probably making herself look even more gorgeous.  

"That's my cue," I murmur to myself, shoving my phone into the pocket of my cutoff blue jean shorts, and then standing up from the bed and heading into the bathroom. Jeanie's standing in front of the mirror, one hand holding the tips of her hair high above her head, the other tightly grasped onto a teasing brush. From the lines of frustration eased onto her face, I can only guess that it's not going too well. "Need some help?" 

"Please," she says, her voice tight. "I can usually do this no problem, but I don't know. I've just been so off lately." 

Ignoring the buzzing of my phone in my pocket, I calmly place a hand on her shoulder and then remove the thin brush from her hand. After brushing out the knots she's made, I quickly get to work. I ask her, "Is there a reason? Something going on?" 

"Hell if I know," she sighs, smudging her dark lip gloss with her finger so that it's not so saturated. "I just...Fred's been weird lately." 

"Weird, how?" I ask, Ethan's earlier idea of Fred having a thing for me ringing a bell in the back of my head.  

She seems reluctant to say anything, actually, her falling to her own silence and messing with her big and black eyelashes in the mirror. I choose not to bring it up again, the whole situation being slightly awkward and unnerving, and instead just concentrate on getting her hair just right. It only takes me ten minutes to get the teased hair how she likes it, and when I'm done; she turns around and threads her arms around me in a surprising hug. 

She murmurs into my shoulder, "Thanks boo. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you." 

"You're welcome," I say, pulling away from her and giving her a comforting smile. Even though I can't exactly feel her pain, seeing as how no guy obviously wants to put any effort into dating me, I do know how much of her life she's invested into Fred and how utterly devastated she'd be if they ever broke up. She'd have no idea what to do with herself. "And you look gorgeous." 

"So do you," she grins, bringing her finger up and wiping off what I guess to be a fleck of mascara off my cheek. "And look, I'm sorry. I know I can be a shit friend sometimes, but I really do love you." 

"Love you too boo," I smile, my mood suddenly lifted just a smidge. "Now let's go get wasted." 

"Fuck yes!" she yells happily, threading her arm through mine and then pulling me into the bedroom. 

Time to do what I do best.