Joe and I left that morning, arriving in Boston by the afternoon.  Joe held my hand all the way up the stairs.  Why'd we make that goddamn pact to be friends?

        The guys were getting stoned in the living room; Steven was pacing back and forth holding a bottle of whiskey.  He didn't notice Joe and me.  "Guys, c'mon!  Tom, get your bass... We need some more tracks!" he exclaimed.

        None of the boys answered, but they looked in the general direction of where Joe and I stood awkwardly in the doorway.  "Annie's back!" Joey shouted excitedly.

        Steven whirled around to look at me, his eyes instantly dropping to my hand in Joe's.  "Joe," Steven said curtly, "Annie."  Steven had a bit of trouble masking any emotion in his voice when he said my name.  Why is he so upset over this?  He's the one that cheated!

        I chew on my lip, a hard rock in my stomach.  Why'd I agree to come?

      Joe doesn't leave my side for the duration of the day.  Literally, he's always touching me.  The scary part of it (at least for me) is that I don't mind it.  Steven seems to, though.  He's always calling for Joe's attention, trying to pull him away.  Anywhere Joe goes, though, he takes me with him.  Steven doesn't like that one bit.  Especially when it's time to go to bed.  I had fallen asleep curled against Joe on the couch, oblivious to Steven's glances.  When I drifted into unconsciousness, Joe was smoking a blunt and all I could think about was how peaceful things were, despite the recent events... But then again, maybe Joe was just blowing the smoke too close to my face.

The boys recorded today.  I didn't want to go to the studio, but I did anyway.  It's not fun sitting in the booth with the record producers always hitting on you or picking out every little bad detail in a song or predicting which tracks will be a hit.  But Joe (again) did not want me to leave his side, so I went.

        They only got through three songs.  I'm not sure how many takes they'll keep, but it all sounded good to me.  But I also wasn't really listening.  It's otherworldly to watch Joe play.  You get so engrossed in the way he lives the music that you forget about life and you feel like you're a part of his guitar.  (Also the record producers smoke funny, expensive stuff in the tiny sound room).  The way a cigarette or joint hangs from his lips while he plays, like playing comes as second nature to him.  Add his mysterious attitude to all that with the tight pants and the unbuttoned shirt and the hair in his face and it's kind of, well... Strangely captivatingly charming, quite tantalizingly enthralling, and rather enchantingly seductive.

        What the fuck did I just say?

        Long story short, I could not tear my eyes off of Joe and it's really pissing me off that I'm thinking what I'm thinking.  Do you know what I'm thinking?  Of course not... I haven't told you!  I don't particularly want to tell you though.  Some of you will understand...some of you have been in my position (I'm sure we can agree that it sucks)...most, however, will think I'm ridiculous.  Annie, you just found out he was cheating a few days ago!  You loved him with all your heart; your heart has barely had time to mend and now you're thinking this?!  How dare you?

        I don't know.  I don't know how I can think this... I've been trying to not think it for quite a long time but I can't help that he is insanely mind-bogglingly attractive.  I can't help that I'm telling myself to forget the friendship pact and just go out with him already––

        Shit I said it out loud––well, thought, actually...but whatever.  There's no going back now.  I'll never get this off my mind until I either make myself deny it (which seems more than impossible) or tell him and make it happen.  There's no way I can tell him though... I'd never be able to get through that without him laughing at me.  We've been friends for as long as I can remember; Joe laughs at anything ridiculous that I say.  Believe me... This sounds pretty ridiculous.

        But then again, there's nothing holding me back this time.  I'm no longer with Steven so it's not like Joe is off-limits.  I wonder if he feels the same way...

     "Annie!"  I jump, not expecting the sudden break in my reverie.  Joe smirks at my deer-in-headlights look.  My cheeks turn a fiery red––I can feel them burning.  "We're done for the day."

        I snap out of it with a cough.  "Oh, right, yeah," I say, trying to nonchalantly clear my head.

        Apparently Joey didn't know they were done.  He was still at his drums, but looked up when he heard Joe's voice picked up by a microphone in the booth.  "We're done?" he says excitedly.  "Great, I'm starved!"

        Even though we just wasted a few hundred hard-to-get dollars on a sound booth, we go to dinner.  I mean, it's not like any one of us is going to cook, right?

No one actually ate. They just drank a lot because they wanted to go to the local bar.  Joe and Steven didn't talk much at the bar.  Steven had kept ranting on Joe about how his tempo was off and how his guitar was much too loud and he couldn't hear himself sing.

        Joe seemed to need me around constantly...which was okay.  It was even more okay when we were joined by a guest:

        "Stevie, baby!" a girl squealed.  Steven whirled around just in time to catch a girl with a mass of red hair running at him.  She jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and throwing her arms around his neck.  Steven didn't get to say much, seeing as their mouths were already entangled.  That sounds disgusting––entangled mouths––and God, it was.  I cringed but couldn't look away.  I vaguely felt an arm around me, pulling me away to face the other direction.  I found myself staring directly into Joe's dark eyes.  Again, I felt my face grow hot, but the throbbing hole in my chest didn't throb so much, it was as though Joe were holding it together.  I realized I felt near-whole again a lot lately, and it wasn't because I was 'over' Steven.  Believe me, I'm not.  It's like Joe is my own personal tape; my personal rainbow in the dark (hey, that be a cool name for a song...) that I needed.  Maybe Joe wasn't keeping me around because he needed me, maybe he was keeping me around because I needed him.

--

Steven and whatserface (Jayme, Janie, Jackie?) spent the rest of the time at the bar kissing, and I wasn't sure how much more of it I could take.  Tom and Joey were even getting bored of watching them.  Joe finally decided to pull me away from the bar and lead me outside (I wasn't able to do it myself; I was frozen in place).

        Since the bar was just down the block from the apartment, Joe and I walked home.  I shivered in the chilly air––it was actually rather warm for February––and he slipped his arm around my shoulders, causing a greater shiver to run down my spine.

        Goddammit, Annie!  Stop it!

I was feeling rather weak now that I was unfrozen so I curled up on the couch next to Joe under a blanket that was sweet with the scent of smoke.  I thought that I could handle it.  I thought I'd be able to be strong.  I mean, I went to school with Billy, I saw him with Karrie––or was in Karen?––everyday!  Sure, it hurt a bit, but Joe mad some lame joke about it and I laughed it off.  Why can't Joe make jokes now?  Why can't Joe go back to being Anthony because for some reason––even though he says they're the same person––I feel like Joe and Anthony are not the same person.

        What about that night at the hotel so long ago in December?  When I got oh-so drunk and ended up not using my own hotel room?  Did we decide to pretend that didn't happen?  Honestly, I was––and am––so fucked up that I don't remember.  Also, this isn't exactly a conversation that I want to have with Joe.  Maybe he'll be more like Anthony and laugh at me.  Maybe he won't, though.  Maybe he'll agree with me.  But what about Elyssa?  Are they a thing?  I haven't really seen her since that morning in December...

        Oh, fuck it.  What do I have to lose anyway?  I've already kind of lost everything.  I glance up at Joe's face, tilted back on the couch with his eyes closed.  I cough lightly.  "Joe?"

        He opens an eye, peeking down at me.  "Hmm?"

        "Um... I was..."  Would you shut the fuck up before you say something you know you'll totally regret and kick yourself for?  Who asks that kind of question to their best-fuckin'-friend?!  "Uh, nevermind," I say hastily.

        Joe frowns, clearly confused.  "You sure?" he mutters.  I nod, not so sure myself.  After a very long moment of silence except for the low hum of the radiator (wow, it's actually running), Joe sighed.  "So, uh," he began awkwardly, "we haven't really gotten a chance to hang out since, um... Since December."

        "Yeah," I agree slowly, not entirely sure of where he's going with this.  I have my suspicions and part of me hopes they're wrong.  But a bigger part––which scares me––hopes they're correct.

        "And, well, I was simply wondering..." he continues, trailing off, not wanting to continue.  "I'm not entirely sure how to word this," he says to himself, fixing his gaze on a point just above the door-frame.  "But... Where are we?"

        Okay, so I was wrong.  "What?" I ask in confusion.  "We're in Boston; at home!" I exclaim with a chuckle at his ridiculous question.

        "That's not..." he begins.  Oh, right.  Where are we?  He obviously didn't mean this literally.  Joe shakes his head, then mutters (I don't think he meant to actually say it out loud), "Why can't we go back to a simpler time... Like high-school?"

        I laugh.  I actually laugh.  "Wow, I never thought I'd hear that phrase leave your mouth," I say in amusement.

        Joe smirks, too.  "Yeah, right."

        Way to change the subject, Annie.  Way.  To.  Go.  Ugh, Joe's right!  Why can't we go back to simpler times?  When Steven wasn't a part of the question, before Janet gave us that stupid dare, when Anthony and I were just best friends.  I wonder what life would've been like if Joe stayed in Vermont and I joined him up in Boston when the time came.  I wonder what would've happened if Joe (well, Anthony) and I had chosen to leave that night during spring break...

"Annie," Joe breaks me out of my reverie.  "I never thought I'd say this to you, but... I like you."  He smiles.  "A lot.  You're a fantastically amazing person that is so loving and caring no matter what.  You're the perfect best-friend anyone could hope to have, and you're beautiful and gorgeous and I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you."

        Joe's eyes get really big and he snaps his mouth closed into a hard white line, putting his hand over his mouth in shock, as though he couldn't believe he just said that.  It all came out rather quickly.  He looks rather panicked and his hand only partially hides the furious blush staining his cheeks, ears, and nose.  I blush too, the color of a deep, deep red, darker than the blanket that we're covered with.  The blanket is a very dark red, my friends.  A hysterical giggle escapes my lips.  Joe still looks panicked.  Jesus, what is this?  The fifth grade?!  I say the only thing that came to my mind; I said it very slowly, very seriously, but a smile played on my lips: "Well, that's a lot of adjectives..."

        The corners of Joe's mouth twitch.

        I whisper, "And you should know... I feel the same way."

        Joe grins.  "So... You think I'm gorgeous and beautiful?"  With his hands, he poofs up his hair, miming a model or very vain girl checking out and trying to fix her bushy-bushy-blond-hairdo.

        "Yes," I say with complete seriousness written all over my face.  "Yes I do."  Joe starts to laugh quite hard, probably relieved that I didn't like freak out or something.  I laugh too, but we both have to stop because our laughing (and the near-constant smoking) brought on a harsh coughing fit.  The fact that we were coughing made us laugh even harder.  Finally, we calmed down, wiped the tears from our eyes, and ended up staring directly into each other's.

        I don't know what made me do it, but for some reason, I set my arms around his neck, our faces inches apart now.  Both Joe and I were still grinning, and because it was there, in the moment, and I wanted so badly to, I kissed him.  And he kissed me back.

        I had to stop kissing him though, because it's hard to kiss while you're smiling like the Cheshire Cat.  So, our foreheads leaned against each other until Joe softly kissed my nose, then that area above my lips, and finally, my lips.  After that, Joe stared at the water stain on the wall just above the TV (though I was sure he was looking way beyond it) with a dazed little smile tracing his lips.

I had the stupid little smile too.