Friends, Lovers, or Nothing

I think if anyone had told me that, upon seeing me for the first time in months, Josh would give me a brief smile and brush by me without any confrontation at all, I would have never believed them. In fact, I would have laughed in their face, because quite frankly that just was not Josh and I. We didn’t smile at each other.

That realization alone was enough to make my heart hurt, but it was the truth.

That’s exactly what he did though; as soon as Josh took in my presence in his new place of residency for the time being, he gave me a smile and then just walked by me. He didn’t say a word, and granted, it was a minuscule smile. But it was still a smile, and it still made my heart twist and turn like a little girl with a school yard crush.

When he was gone, everyone just stared at me. I guess they were as shocked by his behavior as I was. Instead of giving them a real answer though, I rolled my eyes and shrugged. “I have no fucking clue,” I said before I waved a final goodbye and confirmed Danielle and I would see them later.

***

Maybe I should have known that the smile was just a fluke. An accident maybe. Perhaps he didn’t realize it was me, or better yet, maybe he wasn’t even looking at me. Maybe Josh had resorted to completely ignoring I even existed and he was actually smiling at Danielle.

Needless to say, dinner was not going as great as it should have been.

We decided on a steakhouse close to our hotel. It was easy to get to, and we knew we would all enjoy it, so that was that. The decision was made, and at seven o’clock, we were all piling into the building and asking for a table to seat 7.

The restaurant was surprisingly not very busy, so we got seated very quick. Once we all ordered our drinks, we relaxed and poured over the menu.

I had decided on the chicken fingers and fries because steak wasn’t my thing and I wasn’t that hungry, while all of the boys ordered huge steaks. Even Danielle was feeling adventurous and ordered herself a T-bone, as if she was a regular carnivore. But it didn’t matter, because we all were happy and things seemed well.

Until they weren’t.

Everything was okay at first. I was sitting at the opposite end of the table from Josh, with Danielle across from me, Dan to my right, and Matt to my left at the “head of the table”. Max was next to Danielle, and Josh was next to Max, while Chris sat besides Dan. Everything was good. We were all carrying on in our own conversations and having a merry old time. The guys talked about the record more, which took up most of the time, and Danielle and I talked about jobs and our futures which occupied very little of the time, but it all worked.

But then Max brought up Danielle’s grandfather and asked how he was doing, and it was like the four of us involved in that little rendezvous -- Max, Danielle, Josh, and myself -- were transferred back to that night in Boston, the last time we had seen the guys. And that was when things started to go downhill.

I could feel Josh’s eyes burning into me while Danielle talked about her grandfather. I knew he was glaring at me, but I wasn’t going to acknowledge it. We had all received our food, so I only had to suffer through a little while with Josh glaring at me. I could get through that, couldn’t I?

When I was mostly finished with my meal, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. I checked it quick and saw it was my mother. “I’ll be right back,” I excused myself, flashing the phone to the table before heading out of the restaurant.

“Hi ma,” I smiled into the phone as I walked towards the side of the building. I leaned against the restaurants brick wall as I listened to her speak.

“Hi sweetie! How’s LA? How’s your hotel? How was the flight?”

I laughed at all of her questions, but dutifully answered every one. I told her LA was crazy, our hotel was nice, and the flight was good, but long. “We’re having dinner with the guys right now,” I informed her, hoping she’d catch my hint that I had to go without me having to actually say so.

“How’s that going?” she barreled, not at all fazed.

“It’s... awkward,” I replied honestly. “I mean, no big blow outs, but its awkward, y’know? I don’t know, maybe we just need to get back into the swing of things or something.”

I heard her sigh. “You haven’t talked to Josh yet?”

“When would I have ma? I mean we just got here.”

She sighed again, but stayed quiet. “Okay, well I should get back,” I said finally, annoyed that she was pulling the silent act on me. As if I was doing something wrong.

“Let me know how the interview goes, please!”

I nodded. “I will. Love you ma.”

“Love you too sweetie,” she spoke before we both hung up.

I smiled at my phone and shook my head before turning on my heel to go into the restaurant, but I was stopped by a body standing right in front of me. Josh’s body, to be more specific.

I almost ran right into him, but stopped myself. “How long have you been standing there?”

He shrugged. “Only a minute or two.”

I nodded, but wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Did I go back into the restaurant? Did I try and talk to him? What was I supposed to do in this situation?

“You know Peyt,” he started, interrupting my internal debate, “I read it.”

That caught my attention. I tore my gaze from phone to see him scratching his neck, an awkward expression on his face. “What?” I practically whispered.

“I read the letter,” he repeated.

For some reason that awakened something inside of me. It was like that sentence, that simple string of words together woke me up and made me realize what conversation I was having and with who.

There was so much that needed to be said, and while I didn’t really feel like hashing it out in front of the restaurant, if this was where it was going to happen then that was it.

“And?” I prompted him finally, once I had processed all of my feelings. Or tried to at least.

“And?” he repeated, sounding baffled. “What do you mean ‘and’?”

My mouth dropped. “You have nothing to say in response? Not a damn thing?”

“Well what do you want me to say Peyton? I mean, what were you expecting to accomplish with that letter of yours?” His tone was bitter. It just added fuel to the fire.

“For you to feel something, Josh!” I exploded. “I just wanted you to fucking feel something, Josh. I mean, Jesus! Here I am, pouring my heart and soul out to you for the second time and you don’t do a damn thing about it! But I guess what else should I have expected? That’s what you do,” I hissed.“I just wanted you to fucking feel something, Josh. I mean, Jesus! Here I am, pouring my heart and soul out to you for the second time and you don’t do a damn thing about it! But I guess what else should I have expected? That’s what you do,” I hissed.

“That’s what I do?” he scoffed. “That’s brilliant, Peyton. ‘That’s what you do,’” he mimicked my voice. “You don’t think I felt something when I read that letter?”

I shook my head, because no, I did not.

He shook his head to emphasize his disbelief as he started to dig around in the pocket of his jeans. “You want me to feel something Peyton?” he growled, pulling out a crumpled up piece of paper from his pocket. He took a few steps so he was closer to me and handed it over. “Here.”

I took it, because now I was intrigued, and unfolded it. It looked like it had been folded and unfolded a million times It was tearing in certain creases, and it was worn. Taken care of, but worn. I slowly unfolded it, careful not to rip it and realized what it was.

It was my letter.

“What is this?” I asked dumbly as I let my eyes slowly scan the words I practically knew by heart.

When I finally looked up, Josh was even closer to me. “It’s your bloody letter, Peyton. I can’t get rid of it, and believe me I have tried.”

“Why do you have it still?”

“Because I read it every damn morning when I wake up, and I carry it with me wherever I go, and then I read it again before I go to bed. I feel like its all I have left,” he said, his voice taking on a desperate tone.

“Why now?” I all but cried. “I mean, why are you saying this now Josh? You had months to contact me, tell me what you were thinking, even to just let me know you read the damn thing!” I wiped a few stray tears away. “Why now?”

He didn’t respond, but dug into his pocket once again. He pulled his wallet out this time and searched through it before pulling out yet another folded up piece of paper and handing it over. I gave him a curious glance before I unfolded the paper. “What is this?” I questioned quietly.

He shrugged. “Just read it.”

So I did.

Peyton,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you and for making you think you had to write that letter and for thinking you were the bad guy. I thought you were the bad guy for awhile too, but you weren’t. This was all me, Peyt. And I’m sorry for that.

I’m sorry for being so bitter. I’m sorry for not believing you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

I never wanted to break you. I never wanted you to think I wasn’t falling head over heels for you because I was. Maybe that’s why I pushed you away? Maybe I was scared. I still don’t know, and maybe I never will.

I guess the thing I’m sorry for most is not believing you, and for not realizing something was wrong. In the back of my mind, I knew. I knew you were keeping from me, but I was too daft to stop and try and figure it out. That was my biggest mistake, and maybe that’s why we are where we are. But I know now. I know about Amanda, and I know why you were so closed off, and I’m sorry Peyton. I’m so, so sorry.

I never meant to take a piece of you, if I did, but if it makes you feel any better you had some of me too.

I don’t think I can apologize enough, but once more for good measure won’t hurt.

I’m sorry Peyton.

Love (because I too am certain that’s what I felt, and maybe I still do), Josh

When I finally finished the letter I looked at Josh with tears in my eyes. I should have been ecstatic. I should have been over the moon. I shouldn’t have known what to do with myself because I was so happy. I mean, he wrote me a letter for Christ’s sake! He was practically saying he was still in love with me! He forgave me for all of the shit! Shouldn’t I be over the moon with joy?

I should have, yes. But I was not.

I was furious.

“You have the audacity to stand here in front of me and basically say you still care for me, only after admitting you know my secret now?” I spoke slowly with venom dripping off of my tongue.

I watched as his hopeful look quickly changed to confused. “What?”

“You know what Josh? Fuck you. Fuck you and every single thing this letter says. Fuck your pretty words and your stupid apologies. FUCK YOU!” I yelled, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Maybe he thought I was delirious. Hell, maybe he thought I was joking. Maybe he didn’t realize just how upset I was, despite me yelling at him, or maybe his stupid boy brain just didn’t process normal human emotions the same way.

I don’t know the reason. All I know, is one moment I was screaming a big, hearty fuck you at Joshua Franceschi, and the next I was kissing him.

And stupid me, I accepted. Because no matter what, I did care for Josh and even though I was furious, I wasn’t going to pass up kissing him. Not once I was swept up into it at least.

He backed me up against the wall I had been leaning against when I was on the phone. His hands instinctively went to my hips and gripped them while my own went to his hair. We had a routine with this type of thing. We knew what the other liked, and there was no denying that.

Our lips didn’t leave one another for several minutes, until we knew we had to come up for air. While Josh’s lips travelled down, gently kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin on my collarbone, my neck, and on the sweet spot right under my ear, I let a moan escape from my lips while I wrapped my legs around his waist and he held me up against the wall.

It was only when Josh nipped at my neck a little too hard that I dragged myself out of the bubble of sexual tension that we always put ourselves in. I brought my feet back to the ground and pushed him away before running my finger through my hair in frustration.

When I felt like I could speak again, I pointed at him and said, “No.” It was simple, but my voice was firm and frightening (or so I liked to think) and I figured it got my point across.

Without another word, despite Josh’s protests and overall confusion, I headed back into the restaurant.

I had to get out of there and fast.