I let my forehead fall onto the keyboard. I had tried to start writing my base for the story. It wasn't working. I'd been staring at my work for about 30 minutes. It sounded wrong. It didn't sound like it should. Usually this would be easy for me.

Usually.

I just can't focus. Maybe I had too much coffee.

Yeah, too much coffee, that's it. Even though you had none this morning.

Totally.

I lift my head and look at the jumble of letters on the screen. I'd nearly bitten someone's head off this morning for making a joke about how I discovered all the good stories, meaning Kennedy being taken away. I was in a foul mood and wanted nothing more than to be in bed.

Preferably next to Maddox?

You shut up.

Maybe Kaitlyn was right, I was too involved in this. Who was I kidding? I wasn't too involved with the story, or what happened for those 10 years. I was too involved with Maddox. I wanted to protect him. I wanted no one to touch him.

Except you? You want him to be yours?

I would not admit anything to that. This kid had stripped away some of my most upheld rules.

1) Don't care too much about anyone outside of family and even then, be reserved.

2) Never fall in love.

3) Don't think about Ally

4) Avoid feelings as much as possible.

I'd abided by those rules almost religiously since the incident. And now I found myself caring, about him, of all people. Numbly, I deleted the document and started a new one.

I wrote about how I stole one of Kaitlyn's lollipops, how I shoved a handful in my pocket when she wasn't looking as revenge. I wrote about the creepy girl on the train. I wrote about Alexis and Dr. Kennedy whom I affectionately called Dr. Evil.

But when it came to writing about Maddox, I just couldn't. It felt like I was giving away something precious.

Because I was.

I was giving away his biggest secret. What kind of asshole would learn of someone's biggest, most well kept secret, and then publish it in the newspaper for all to read?

I tried to write about the festival but I realized that all I was writing sounded a lot like a first date.

Why would you even think that? It was nothing like a first date.

Are you sure?

Talking with him came so easily for me. It had just been a front but then I relented. Why was I talking about everything except him? I should start out with pieces of what he'd told me. So why wasn't I? I could start out with what his perspective could have been walking into his house that night.

I continued with my story. My story, of how I met Maddox and the entire crazy rollercoaster I'd been on since I met him.

It was hard writing just that. I wasn't made to write this kind of story and I wasn't made to give away my friend's secrets. I wished I could include my thoughts, every one I had on the entire adventure. It felt like I was giving him away, and I didn't want to do that. My possessiveness wasn't cooperating with me.

I was still writing my base. I had time. Maybe if I just wrote out everything now I could get it out of the way. All these unpleasant...feelings would be gone. So I deleted the last piece and started with a fresh screen.

I don't think I even thought while I was writing. I was struck brain-dead and some other force was controlling me. Perhaps it was my pesky conscious who never shut up. It was one of the few times I just wrote.

My father once uncomfortably tried to get me to talk about my feelings. My mother laughed and said I didn't talk out my feelings, I wrote them out. Only one person ever made me feel comfortable enough to even think about telling someone how I felt at times, and I was supposed to give away his secrets.

I stared at the screen when I finally stopped. I had never read such ugly truths. I hated sounding poetic yet here it was. Whatever I had tried to do, I think it worked. Everything I hated was on a computer screen. I had spent 2 hours writing it. It took up about 20 pages. I wrote it, now it was time to get rid of it.

I stared at it. I didn't throw it away. I didn't delete it. I simply opened a new tab to cover it up. I read the last paragraph again, then put up the other than to hide it. I pushed away from my desk and went to go get a cup of desperately needed coffee.

Since I met Maddox, he's changed me. I didn't argue obnoxiously for hours, I apologized for being a jerk. I enjoyed talking to someone and spending time with them for hours. I didn't mind someone crying and I didn't think they were weak. He brought me to tears. His pain made me want to see him sooner. He hugged me and eventually I hugged him back. It's been years since I hugged someone. He makes me do things I would never do ordinarily. He makes me happy and I like when I'm the one who can protect him from every evil in the world. I enjoy the little light in his eyes when he's enthusiastic about something. I like thinking I'm the only one who understands him. It's stupid. I know it's so fucking stupid. I was the biggest jerk to him and he still didn't send me away. He has done so much good for me and at the same time, by my own hand, I have made myself a worse person because of him. I have ruined myself. The history books will call it the biggest fail in history. The biggest flop, fail, fall, mistake, whatever. People will laugh and see how stupid humans are. Because, for so many reasons, I have fallen in love with him.