Fall from Love

rejection of my life, but then, the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. If, for some reason, we did become more than friends and it didn’t work out between us, it would be hard to go back to the way we are now.
    I can’t lose him as a friend, he means too much to me.
    I’m lying in a twin size bed and Jenna’s lying on another one next to me. The only thing between us is a small nightstand. We’ve been staying in her childhood bedroom and I don’t think her parents have changed a thing since she’s been away at college.
    She’s been on the phone with Josh for the last hour. They’re telling each other how much they miss one another—the same conversation they’ve had every night this week before they hang up with each other—and, like I’ve wanted to do every other night, I almost get up to leave the room so they can talk privately, but I don’t. There’s really nowhere else to go. Every time I go downstairs, Mrs. Brown tries to feed me leftovers, Jenna’s little brother follows me around like a puppy dog, and Mr. Brown invites me to watch anything sports related with him. I shouldn’t complain, though. The Brown family has been nothing but nice to me by opening up their home and sharing their holiday. I just can’t help wishing that I could be in my own bed, in my own apartment.
    Finally, Jenna sets the phone down and sighs. “God, I miss that guy. I can’t wait until tomorrow.”
    “He’s going back tomorrow, too?” I ask, feeling a little hopeful that I may get to see Carter.
    “Yeah, he and Carter are leaving first thing in the morning.”
    My heart squeezes at the sound of his name. “Oh, I didn’t know they drove together.” I knew that they are both from the Denver area and that they still have family there, but I didn’t know anything past that.
    She turns to give me a strange look. “Yeah, they grew up like two houses down from each other. You didn’t know that?”
    I shake my head. “No, I didn’t. Carter doesn’t talk a lot about his family or where he grew up.”
    Jenna swallows hard and a sad look crosses her face. “Yeah, they’ve been friends since they were like two. Their families are really close, too.” She turns on her side to face me and props herself up, leaning on her elbow. “Have you talked to Carter lately?”
    She already knows the answer to that question. We’ve been attached at the hip since we’ve been here. “No, I haven’t talked to him all week.”
    “Have you tried to call him?” she asks, playing with a piece of thread that’s come loose from the comforter, avoiding looking me in the eyes.
    I shake my head again. “No.”
    “Maybe you should, you know, make the first move.” She pauses for a moment. “Have you thought about what you want?”
    Geez, she is relentless. “A little,” I lie.
    Up until a couple days ago, Jenna has been bugging me every day about what I’ll decide to do; carry on the friendship I have with Carter or take it to the next level. I finally had to ask her to stop asking me about it and she had, until right now that is. What she doesn’t know and what I will never tell her is that I think about him every minute of every day since our kiss. I replay the kiss over and over in my head, wanting to kiss him again, wanting to feel him again, wanting more... much more.
    “And what do you think?” she urges and I blink away my thoughts of him.
    “When we get back home and I see him, I’ll hopefully have my answer.” It isn’t the best plan ever, but it’s all I have. In my mind, I hope that when I see Carter again, the decision will hit me and I won’t have any second thoughts like I am now.
    She falls on her back and sighs loudly. “You have no idea what you want, do you? Or you do know, but you’re too scared to admit it.”
    I swallow hard. “I’m not sure, alright. The second I think I’ve made up my mind, I change it the very next second.” Losing Carter as a friend scares me to the core and I’m not sure it’s something I can risk, regardless of my other feelings for him.
    “Hey,” she says, propping herself up again. “Maybe if you call him, it will help you figure it out.” I watch as she swings her legs off the bed and scoots to the edge of it. “Or maybe you should call him to see how his Thanksgiving is going?”
    I glance over at her, wondering what she’s up to. “One, it’s Thanksgiving,” I say. “People eat and then they pass out or watch football. Two, I’m