PART THREE

I urged myself to stay calm.  Look cool.  I pretended I didn't see her tongue sneak into his mouth.  I acted as if I hadn't caught sight of his hand slipping down between her legs.

I told myself that it was just a kiss.  He was drunk.  They both were.

At the motel, he had been completely sober when he kissed me.  This thought comforted me while Nick and Hannah continued to kiss.  When Nick stood up and helped Hannah out of the tub, my heart was deflated.

I stayed with the guys in the living room while Nick led Hannah down the hall towards a bedroom.  I think I was in shock.  What was I supposed to do?

I lay down on the couch and pretended to doze off.  Mike reminded me that there were plenty of beds in Dean's house, but I told him I was comfortable where I was.  On the outside I was calm, but in my mind I was convincing myself that I should be glad that I had done nothing more than kiss Nick if it was Hannah that he'd wanted all along. 

I couldn't help but think he wanted me though.  Whenever he called to go out, he called my cell phone--he never called Hannah's.  He kissed me first.  He didn't smile at Hannah the way he smiled at me.  Did he?

I did go to sleep on the couch.  When I woke up, I found Mike sprawled out on his back, sleeping on the floor.  Hannah was standing in the doorway, saying my name.

"Are you okay to drive home?" she said, "I'm still kinda buzzed."

I sat up and rubbed my eyes.  I wasn't completely sober, but I was desperate to get out over there.

Hannah and I left Dean's house just before 4am.  I got in the driver's seat while Nick and Hannah swapped spit at the front door.  I felt like I had a fever as I watched them paw at each other.

"I think I'm in love," she gushed as we drove away.  "He is amazing... just...amazing."

All I could think was that I saw him first.  I kissed him first.  Hannah wasn't supposed to kiss him too.  Hannah wasn't supposed to sleep with him.  And now Hannah thought he was amazing. As I drove, I felt like I was about to choke on the lump in my throat.

I shared none of my thoughts aloud, and was grateful when Hannah fell asleep during the drive.  I was surprised how angry I felt.  I realized I had no reason to feel hurt.  Maybe if I'd confessed to Hannah that Nick had been consuming my every thought for weeks, the night would have turned out differently.  Until then, I didn't even know that Nick kissing someone else would make me feel like my heart was being strangled.  So how could Hannah know what I was thinking?  How could she know that she wasn't allowed to kiss Nick?

Nick touched my arm and I shook off the raw memories.  I blinked and realized that we were still in the mall, and Nick's pretty eyes were focused on me once again.

Hannah was still inside the café, and it was just me and Nick. 

I noticed nothing going on around me.  Someone could have been robbing a bank right beside me, but all I could concentrate on was Nick's expressionless face.  I didn't understand what he was trying to accomplish, and his face gave nothing away.  Did he want another shot with me?  While he was still with Hannah?  That wouldn't surprise me.

"What do you want Nick?"  He did want Hannah, I knew that much.  And Hannah wanted Nick.  Why would he want to bring me back into the picture?  It wasn't fair.

Things could never go back to the way they were before.  If Hannah broke up with Nick, then I would talk to her, but until then, I was not willing to relive that situation.  Sure, it would make Nick feel better if Hannah and I would talk again, but I wasn't about to put myself through that just to ease his conscience.  Or play into whatever cheating fantasy he had going on.

I wasn't convinced him chasing me in the mall was due to his conscience.  I suspected that he enjoyed creating friction between us.  He wanted to play us off each other.  Wanted us to fight for him.

But I wasn't going to fight.  I hadn't fought that last disastrous night, and now after reflecting on the whole situation for months, I was convinced more than ever that staying quiet and letting Nick walk away was the best thing I could have done. 

For months I played the supportive, happy best friend to Hannah.  She had no idea that I had feelings for her boyfriend.  As weeks went by, he stayed over at our house more and more and I would have to suffer breakfast with Nick and Hannah basking in the afterglow.  I don't know how I did it, but I kept my thoughts to myself.  I told them they were making me sick and they thought I was joking. 

I'm not sure why, but Nick loved our house.  Hannah rarely stayed over at his place, though I wished they would go someplace other than where I was.  I was happy that Hannah was happy.  In all the time I'd known her, she'd never had a boyfriend.  She deserved to be happy, and if Nick was the one that made her happy, then I just had to deal with it.

I was jealous of Hannah, but I couldn't be angry with her.  It was my own fault that I had missed my opportunity...if it was even an opportunity in the first place.  I also comforted myself with the knowledge that they probably wouldn't last long.  As horrible as the thought was, Nick was going to break Hannah's heart, regardless of me.  He had the attention span of a five year old, and I could see that it wouldn't take long for him to take interest in a new toy. 

But still, Hannah held Nick's attention for a lot longer than I had.  At night I would stay up and wait for them to get home after dinner or whatever.  Each time I thought Hannah might come through the door teary eyed and broken hearted, but she never did.  She was always exuberant and smitten, and normally attached to Nick.  They would snuggle on the couch together, with no idea that their affectionate kisses were making me miserable.

Sometimes I wondered what Nick was thinking.  He knew I wanted him that night back at the motel.  The only way I could rationalize him moving on to Hannah, was that he had been waiting for me to call him after that night.  Waiting for me to make a move and when I didn't speak up, he obviously got the wrong impression, and it hurt like hell.  When he got together with Hannah, I made every effort to make sure he continued to be ignorant of my feelings for him.  I was just the happy-go-lucky friend.

It was Nick's idea for us to have a party at our house.  "Nothing big," he had said.  "Just the regulars and a few other friends."

Hannah and I were pretty excited about the party at our house.  It meant that we weren't just guests, but we were apart of it.  We were the party.  We were proud of our house.  Sure, we didn't actually own it, and it wasn't as big or as glamorous as Nick's or any of his friend's, but it was ours, and we loved it. 

There were photos on the wall, one of us in France looking ecstatic in front of the Eiffel Tower.  There was one of us at graduation, looking serious, but so pleased with ourselves. Next to it, a black and white one of us standing on the porch of our house, Hannah was triumphantly holding the key in the air.

When Hannah moved out, she left all those photos behind and now they remained on the wall to remind me of what was lost.

The night everything was ruined was supposed to be fun.  In the months that we had known Nick, we were always going to his house or his friend's houses for parties, or just chilling by the pool.  Now the party was coming to us and we were going to make sure the night was a hit.

At this point, Nick and Hannah had been dating for about two months, and while they spent a lot of time alone, we still all hung out as a group.  I was beginning to hate it when we all got together.  When Nick came over to our house by himself, with a closed door and headphones, it was easy to ignore him.  When we were all in a group though, I couldn't avoid the little smooches, or sometimes the completely unnecessary and repulsive slurping noises as their mouths took on a life of their own.

It was torture.

Even more torturous was that Nick continued to look at me like he wanted me back in his lap and ravishing his mouth.  At least, that was how I interpreted his look.  It wasn't friendly.  It was inviting.

And it was ridiculous.  Whenever he looked at me like that, I averted my gaze.  It made me nervous, and even more frustrated.

The night before the party, Nick stayed over.  He wanted to come with us to pick up the drinks.  He said he'd pay, because he was probably going to drink most of it anyway.

When Hannah was in the shower that morning, and I was cooking bacon and eggs, Nick came up behind me, put his hands on my waist and bit my ear.

"Ow!" I exclaimed.  "What did you do that for?"

He kept his head near mine then put his lips to my ear lobe, giving it three tiny little kisses.  "Better?"

"What are you doing?" I asked.  I flipped over the eggs and felt him move away.

"Hope you cooked some for me."

I blinked.  "I'll cook more," I said. 

Nick sat down at the table and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.  I wasn't sure if he was texting somebody or playing a game. 

I shook my head and turned my attention back to the frying pan.  We didn't talk after that, and when Hannah finished in the shower, the two of them disappeared back into the bedroom.