Miranda

"But you weren't. Yes, you told me over and over again. You still want to be my friend that you want to hang out with me and still critique my writing. We've been over this already."

"I thought...I thought you were OK with everything," she whispered and wiped another tear away before it could fall onto the floor and join the other two.

"You only thought that becauseyou were OK with everything," I answered. "I honestly wondered how long it would take you to figure it out. The reason I agreed to remain friends with you was because I foolishly hoped you might change your mind. It was a stupid hope as a few of my friends told me, but when you started holding my hand in public and cuddling with me during movies I thought maybe they were wrong. I guess now I know."

She looked into my eyes and could tell what was happening. "We can still be friends can't we?"

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "You don't get it do you? No, we can't be friends. At least not as long as I love you like I do. It's too much for me to take. I'm sorry, but unless you can return the same love I feel for you..." I paused. "It's over."

"Well then, I guess I should go," she said in a hoarse voice.

"Yes, you should." I knew I was being overly harsh, but at the time I was running on pure anger and could only register my emotions.

She turned around and headed for my door. She looked back at me once and said "Good-bye."

I could tell she was waiting for me to stop her, to tell her I was sorry, but it wasn't going to happen. "Good-bye," I said.

She turned away and shut the door behind her. I picked up my wine glass and threw it against the wall in anger. I threw the still uncooked chicken and vegetables in the fridge and retreated to my bathroom.

I turned on the shower, making sure it was very hot and stood under the steady stream of water for a good five minutes before the tears finally came. I sobbed loudly and for a long time. I leaned against the wall for support and even banged my fist against it before sliding down and sitting on the floor of the shower stall. My body shook violently with each breath as I continued to sob.

Once the tears had subsided for a moment or two, I washed my hair and rinsed it. I turned off the shower and toweled myself off. I got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and decided that before another crying spell hit me that I would go to my favorite bar.

It didn't matter who she was. I just needed a warm body next to me that night. If I couldn't have Melissa, I was going to have someone.

It was after a couple of shots of vodka that I met Jenny. She was a gorgeous redhead, and had I been interested in something other than a one-night stand, I might have actually abstained from taking her to my bed that night. We never made love for the two months I kept her around. It was merely fucking to me, and sometimes I was pretty rough with her. Maybe I was taking my anger at Melissa out on her, but she didn't seem to care as long as I made her breakfast in the morning.

By the time my second book came out, I was pretty much over Melissa. At least, I thought so. I realized that it still hurt to think about her when I fan asked me at a book signing if I based my characters on people I knew.

Hearing that question forced me to remember that day at my apartment. I was even tempted to try to contact Melissa, but I decided against it. Maybe she'll contact me one day or maybe she's already forgotten about me. I don't really think about it too much.

At least Miranda is still making me money.