Dichotomy.

“She’s fucking torturing me, Spence,” I growl through gritted teeth.

“By “torturing” do you mean “ignoring?” he asks disinterestedly.

I ignore him and continue on with my rant.

“I mean, did you see what she was wearing when we went out last night?!”

He thinks I don’t see the roll of his eyes as I take a gulp of my drink.

“Clothes?” he asks sardonically. “A dress? How the fuck do I know, Bren?”

I only stare back at him blankly.

He’s taking the fire out of my argumentative complaints.

“I’m just saying-”

“Well, let me ‘just say something,’” he interrupts in annoyance. “Ever since we met Tina, you’ve been acting like…like a-” he pauses, thinking, as if he can’t even think of an all-encompassing word to sum up my antics for the past few months. “I don’t even know. First you hate her, then you want her, then you don’t care, but you still complain. So what’s the fucking problem?”

“Her. She’s the problem. She knows it, and she’s doing it on purpose,” I answer childishly.

He laughs at me.

“Yeah? Well, you were a dick to Kellie, so this is what you get. That’s called karma, you asshole.”

And I never believed in it until now.

I scowl at him.

“Look, you’re both adults. I really don’t care what you do. You know you haven’t shut up about her for the longest time? Get together or don’t- just stop whining about it, alright? I really don’t find all the sexual tension as cute as Haley does.”

I scowl at him sourly before paying my tab.

I gotta go,” I lie, waiting until he’s just ordered another drink so that he won’t offer to share a cab home with me.

“Hey, Bren?” he asks, before I can leave.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you do…” He scratches the back of his neck. “Just remember we all work together? We have tour coming up. Tina’s great, and you can say whatever you want about her, but you know it’s true. If you do anything stupid, it’s your responsibility to find a replacement. Just try not to fuck anything up. We have a good thing going here,” he finishes.

I don’t make any promises.

I quickly find a taxi and give an address I’m not too sure of.

I’m not even drunk when I knock on her door.

“Brendon?” she frowns. Confusion’s plastered all over her face.

On the way over I’ve half-convinced myself I came over here to tell her how it’s not possible for anything to ever happen between us, but now that I’m here, I’m not so sure what I want to say.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” I blurt out stupidly. She just raises an eyebrow. “First Eric, now Tom…just forget it, T.” She looks at me like I’m stupid. “You were right. It’s not- what?” I demand, somewhat in annoyance at her. She’s started laughing at me.

“Tom?” she demands incredulously. “You thought I was with sleeping with Tom?!” She can hardly collect herself enough to say it. My fingers are clenched into fists at my sides in frustration and I feel my lips gathering into a pout. “Bren, didn’t you know?” she asks, when her laughing fit is done. “Tom is gay.”

“…oh.”

The truth is, I’m an idiot.

Her laughing slows down at my genuine confusion.

“Besides, where is this even coming from?” she asks, that eyebrow teasing me and driving me insane. “When did you ever say you wanted anything from me?” she challenges, raising an eyebrow. She leans against the doorpost. “We’re not friends. We’re bandmates, that’s all. We’re nothing. I don’t even like you,” she states candidly, crossing her arms and waiting expectantly.

And all I see is an invitation.

“I don’t like you either,” I agree. I swallow; my throat’s suddenly dry. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I hate you.”

“Well, then,” she says with a smirk, but doesn’t finish.

So I start.