I can't see Willow anymore. I know that now. Peter's reaction...the fact that Willow didn't tell him about the assault.

I have to put myself in Peter's shoes. How would I feel if my girlfriend went to another man to console her? Not good at all. And if that man was my friend, I'd feel betrayed.

I know that Willow wants nothing more than to have us both in her life, but that's not how this works. Not when I have feelings for her and when...she doesn't know how she's supposed to act in a relationship. I'll be the martyr and save them both by just walking away, not because I want to but because it's the right thing to do.

I decide to avoid Willow like the plague. That's easier said than done when she's all chummy with me, though. She beats on my door every night, it seems. I peer at her through the peephole and then walk away. But I can't elude her forever.

A few days later, she catches me as I'm coming off of the elevator. I scowl as she blocks the door to my apartment, placing her hands on her hips.

“What's your problem? You haven't been answering my texts.”

I haven't, and it's been killing me. Especially when she asks me if I'm mad at her or if she did something wrong.

“I can't hang out with you anymore,” I tell her plainly before trying to get around her.

She presses her back against the door lock to stop me. “We're going to talk about this whether you like it or not. Is this about your girlfriend? Is she being a cunty bitch again?”

My jaw falls open at her boldness for saying something like that. “You don't even know anything about her.”

“Well, I know that if she's threatening to break up with you over us hanging out then she's no good for you.” Willow folds her arms over her chest.

“How is that not good for me? That's natural, Willow. It's fucking natural for people in a relationship not to want to share their partner with someone of the opposite sex, even as friends. You've been taking up too much of my time,” I keep my tone as cold as possible.

Willow sinks back, but she doesn't step away from the door. “I'm sorry. I thought it was a mutual thing. I mean, I can't hang out with Peter either when I'm with you, but I'm willing to make that sacrifice for the sake of our friendship.”

“Well, I'm not. My girlfriend doesn't like you. She doesn't want me hanging out with you anymore, and I'm going to respect her wishes.” I stand firm.

Willow snarls up at me. “Fuck your girlfriend.”

“Yeah. I probably will later if you'll get away from my fucking door.” I glare at her.

Her mouth drops and she huffs. I see a trace of pain behind her expression, but her voice remains calm. “Is this really what you want, Caleb?”

“Yes. It's really what I want.” I can't even look at her as I speak. “If having her in my life means that I can't have you in my life anymore, then that's what I want.”

The hallway is so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Willow's eyes go glassy. It's the same look she had after the assault. It's like something inside of her has died or gone dormant. She's not even looking at me anymore but through me. She lets out a shaky breath before finally stepping out of the way and returning to her apartment. She doesn't even turn back to me before going inside.

The tension of the moment fades, and I feel physically ill from the horrible thing I just said to her. I made it seem like she means nothing to me. But I did what I did because I want her to be happy—because I want Peter to be happy. I did what I did because they're both my friends and I care about them greatly.

I nudge Max aside with my shoe as I enter my apartment. Then I go straight to the sofa to lie down. I would fucking kill for my imaginary girlfriend to be real right now—to not have to live this lie. But more than that, to have some type of comfort.

I'm alone with my regrets. Max licks at my hand, but it does little to make me feel better. All I keep thinking is that I shouldn't have said that. I stew over my actions for what feels like a full hour before my guilt gets the better of me and I decide to go next door to apologize. I don't know what I'm going to say, but I have to make things right.

Fuck my life. I need to move or something so that I can get out of this fucked up situation. Living next door to the girl I've fallen in love with while she dates my best friend—it's torture. At least, if I move away, I'll have an excuse not to see her anymore. There won't be so much tension.

I sigh deeply as I bang on the door to Willow's apartment, expecting her to rush to open it. I stand there for several minutes. There are no footsteps. No sign that she's inside.

I lean against the door, wondering what the fuck I'm going to do—what in the fuck I'm doing. I need to stick to my resolve. I did the right thing. It's better that she thinks I'm serious about us not hanging out anymore.

The soft sound of sobbing grabs my attention. I know it's Willow. I've heard her cry before.

I follow the sound to the balcony, knowing that I'm going to charge down the stairs, take her into my arms, and do whatever it takes to fix this. Damn the consequences. Damn logic. I need to make this better.

My heart races as I take long strides to the stairs. But when I look over the balcony, what I see below stops me dead in my tracks. Willow is in the parking lot. Peter is holding her. She's sobbing uncontrollably into his arms.

It feels like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and tossed three stories below to explode on the pavement. Because I know that this is the way things need to be. I can't be a part of their world anymore. Willow needs to forget about me.