“The guys need to come up with a plan of action and soon. They’ve worked too hard to let it fall apart now. Maysie’s trying to get them to figure it out but I don’t know how much they’ve actually talked about it,” Vivian continued.

Maysie Ardin was one of our best friends and also happened to be on the road with Generation Rejects. She wasn’t a fan of life on the road, but she wouldn’t be anywhere else. She put her entire life on hold to support her fiancé, the Rejects’ drummer, Jordan Levitt.

It was safe to say that my entire circle of friends revolved around the band.

Maysie, Vivian, and I had all been in the same sorority at Rinard College. Then Mays hooked up with Jordan, who, at the time, happened to be the boyfriend of Olivia, our sorority president. Maysie had been black balled from Chi Delta and Viv and me, being the awesome friends that we are, had quit soon afterwards in a show of solidarity for our friend. The three of us, along with Maysie’s roommate, Riley Walker, had formed an unlikely, but strong friendship.

And at the end of all the drama and bitch fighting, Maysie and Jordan had found their happily ever after.

But Maysie and Jordan getting together had been just the beginning.

There must have been something in the water, because soon afterwards Riley hooked up with Garrett, and Vivian had started her tumultuous relationship with Cole.

Riley and Garrett, like Jordan and Maysie, were the poster children for healthy relationships. But they too had a rough start. A lot of drama and miscommunication that unfortunately had a lot do with me.

I couldn’t look back on that time without cringing.

That had been at the height of my self-destruction. I had shamelessly thrown myself at Garrett, even though my friend was obviously in love with him. I had made a complete ass of myself on numerous occasions. There had been lots of sex with random guys. Lots of dancing in my underwear. Lots of angry screaming and inconsolable tears over nothing and everything. And it always came after drinking enough alcohol to put an elephant in a coma. Because around this time I had decided that having a functioning liver was highly overrated.

Thus the downfall of Gracie Cook.

If it hadn’t been for Mitch, god knows what would have happened to me.

I cleared my throat and wiped at my eyes that were suddenly wet. I must have gotten something in them.

“It doesn’t make any sense. They’re first album did so well,” I remarked.

Vivian sighed, picking up her phone again. “Yeah, but I guess that just happens sometimes. There are no guarantees in the entertainment industry. That’s why there are so many one-hit wonders out there. I hate it for the guys. They’ve worked so hard to get there. Mitch and Jordan were saying last weekend that they were about at the end of their rope with the whole thing. That it’s not really fun anymore. They started playing together because they loved it. Now, not so much.”

“Oh, you hung out with Mitch last weekend?” I squeaked. Vivian glanced at me questioningly. “I just meant I thought he would be hanging out with…Sophie.”

I had to force the girl’s name from my mouth. It stuck in my throat and I didn’t want to say it.

Which is ridiculous.

I didn’t have any right to be upset or irritated by the fact that he was dating someone else.

I had lost any claim to him the day I had forced him away.

Even if he totally did hook up with her only two weeks after us sleeping together. It seemed a pretty quick turn around, if you ask me.

Okay, so it hurt like a bitch. I could admit it.

But Sophie was Mitch’s… girlfriend.

There it was. The bile rising in the back of my throat at the thought.

Gah! Why was that so hard to say, even in my head?

Sophie Lanier was Mitch Abram’s girlfriend.

Mitch.

My Mitch.

No!

He wasn’t my Mitch.

Not anymore.

Well, he never really had been. I had made sure of that. I had kept him firmly in the friend zone. Even if, looking back on things now, we had never been just friends. I’d pull him in enough to keep him hanging, but then push him away once it got too intense or too real. The poor guy had been my own personal yo-yo for years. All because I was a scared idiot.

Because I had convinced myself that I didn’t love Mitch. Not like that.

I went months believing that it had just been sex. That’s what I told him. Those were the lies I fed both of us.

I had myself convinced that my heart hadn’t crumpled to pieces when Mitch had looked into my eyes and told me that he loved me.

I strongly believed I had made the right choice by shutting him down and turning away.

That what had happened didn’t matter.

Except it did.

Because by getting naked with Mitch, I had lost one of the most important people in my life.

And months later as I sat deeply entrenched in my hundredth round of therapy; I made a startling and gut wrenching realization.

I loved Mitch Abrams back.

The deep in your soul, never get over it kind of love.

And I had stomped all over it.

Now the object of my affection was in love with someone else. Happy. Blissful. And far away from me and my psychosis.

I had had my chance and I had screwed it up.

Mitch deserved better than an airhead alcoholic with an eating disorder.

He deserved better than me.

But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t work on making sure I became the best possible version of myself I could be. I may have ruined things with Mitch but I’d be damned if I’d ruin the rest of me.