With the travel and time-zone difference, jet lag owns me. I brushed my teeth on the plane, and called for a car the moment I got off of it, grateful the driver is the quiet type.

Johan said he’d ship my things. I’ve got the leather bag I left the theater with, and that’s it.

If this driver was rattling away it would sap what’s left of my energy. How the fuck am I going to talk my best friend out of the relationship she’s in?

It’s probably not appropriate, but I’m ready to fight the guy if I need to. I’m going to proclaim my love for her right in his living room if that’s what it takes.

I texted her to say that we landed, asked where I can find her.

Rubbing my temple, with my elbow rested on the window frame, I close my eyes. There’s no way that Samantha would hurt this guy by leaving him for me right in front of his face, in his own home. I know her better than that.

What the fuck am I doing?

This will be a disaster.

I can’t go through with it.

Do I have a death wish?

Have I forgotten how painful it was the last time she shot me down? No. I still remember. It’s the underlying fuel to all of my choices for more than two years.

A text comes through from her:

I’m at my parents house.

I reply:

Is it too late to come by?

Within seconds I receive the answer:

No, I’ve been waiting for you.

Another text bubble appears:

Just like you asked me to.

My foot starts tapping as I tell my driver their familiar address. He nods and turns the wheel for the next exit off 75.

Virginia Highlands, here I come.

It feels funky to revisit this place after I’ve been gone for so long, bouncing around city to city in countries where English was their second language. Or third, fourth, fifth. My passport was stamped to where I needed a replacement.

Yet here I am driving up Ponce and there’s Krispy Kreme doughnuts where it’s always has been, on my right. The Library Bar, on my left. And not five minutes from here is my beautiful best friend waiting to hear me out just because I asked her to.

I’m risking that friendship.

There’s no getting around it.

One of us is going to be left standing at the end of this.

Steven…or me.

I’m tapping the floor with my fingers strumming on the armrest the rest of the way.

“That’s it, right here!”

He glances over his shoulder. “Little excited?”

“I yelled that.”

He doesn’t argue. I pay through the app, and hop out before he’s fully parked, and race up their driveway.

The curtains are swaying.

She must’ve looked outside to see if it was me.

I haven’t seen her since that barbecue night. She texted me some photos sometimes, but that was few and far between. I didn’t ask for more. Too painful. And knowing her, she didn’t want to tease me by sending them to a guy who said he was in love with her. Her ego doesn’t need that kind of stroking. She would put me first, and my feelings, which is one of the many things I love about her.

If I lose her tonight I will regret it.

Forever.

The door opens before I knock on it. She’s more beautiful than I remember. Her eyes are more mature, less innocent, less soft. Her blonde hair is a little shorter, hanging just above her breasts which seem larger since she’s not training as hard. She’s in a short-sleeved, orange sweater over white jeans. I glance down because I can’t help myself, and see that her feet are bare, toenails painted orange, too.

“I can’t believe…” My mouth tightens.

She frowns, “Come in,” and steps back.

Scanning, I take note of the dim lights and house quiet around us.

“Are they asleep?”

“Yes.”

I face her.

My throat is dry.

Gut twisted.

“Did you want to meet me here because it’s neutral territory?”

Those almond-brown eyes I missed so much are tracing every angle and groove of my face. “I can’t believe you’re standing in front of me right now. What is it you wanted to say?”

“Don’t move in with him, Sam. I love you. I still love you.”

Her lips part, eyes wide with what…confusion? I can’t tell.

She whispers, “Logan…”

I reach out to hold her arms, so I can steady myself and keep her attention. “I got the lead in the production. And Guilford said that it was time for me to stop being the best friend, and to step into the role I was meant for. I heard those words, but they made me think of only one thing—you. You’ve always thought of me as your best friend, and I know it was weird when I told you I wanted more. But we have something here. Don’t you feel it?” I search her. “Sam, your voice is the one I look forward to hearing. He gave me the dream, handed it to me, but when I had it I realized it wouldn’t matter to me if you weren’t there with me. I don’t need the applause of thousands. I just want the applause of one. You. I know you don’t want to leave your family, that you’re a homebody and that’s all you want in order to be happy. I get it. I’ve been everywhere. And it taught me one thing. All I want to be is with you.” Sam whispers my name as her eyes become liquid. “You’re my best friend, Samantha, but I want more. I want everything! Every milestone you have, I want to have it with you. I want to teach kids how to dance with you. I want to have kids of our own. Sam, I couldn’t let you move in with that guy before I said it aloud. I might be committing friendship suicide, but without you I’m already dead inside. I want you. I need you. I still love you.”

The tears spill and she covers her face. I know what’s coming. And oh God, the pain is so deep.

“It’s probably too late. I’m risking everything here. I had to do this. I love you.”

She drops her hands and looks up at me, soft lips parting to speak…