Even though I had written Maggie a letter a month ago, telling her to move on, it didn't mean that I had moved on. I couldn't stomach the thought of being with anyone but her. No one else mattered. I had a feeling that Maria was starting to like me as more than a friend. And even though I hadn't done anything to encourage it, I felt like I was going to have to say something to her soon.

No way was I going to hurt another girl I cared about.

Tyler got on his computer and started typing out emails. I pulled up my desk chair and straddled it backwards, leaning my arms on the back. Maria leaned over and picked up the framed picture on my bedside table.

“She's really pretty,” Maria commented with a twinge of something in her voice that I wasn't able to identify. Maria had picked up the only picture I had in the room. It was a picture of Maggie and me from the Fall Formal. We were sitting beside each other at Red Lobster and we both made faces at the camera. I didn't need to look at the picture to remember how things used to be between us. It was all I could think about. Every second of every day. All I did was think. About the good times. And the bad times. And all the messed up stuff in between.

Maria gave a small sigh and placed the frame back in its spot. “Do you ever talk to her?” she asked me. I always felt strange talking about Maggie. Even though things had gotten ugly between us, my love for her was the one pure thing in my life. I wanted to keep it all to myself and not share it with anyone. She was the last thing I thought about before I went to sleep and the first thing my mind went to when I woke up.

I constantly wondered what she was doing, if she was happy, if she had started dating anyone. That thought hurt. A lot. Because I really did want her to live her life, even if that meant moving on from me. But that didn't mean I had to like it. “No. I don't think that would do either of us any good,” I admitted, repositioning the picture frame so that I could see it.

Maria frowned. “Why? If you love her so much, don't you think talking to her would be a good thing?” I gritted my teeth. Explaining anything regarding my relationship with Maggie made me defensive. But I forced myself to calm down; using those breathing techniques the counselors had been drilling into our brains for months.

“Because Maria, the fact that I love her is the reason I can't go turning her life upside down anymore. I won't f**k with her like that again. She's been through enough because of me.” I sounded so pathetic. Maggie's hold on me was as unyielding as ever.

Maria's face softened, her eyes getting that dewy look that girls get when a guy says something sweet (Maggie used to get that same look every time I told her I loved her). “She's lucky to have your love, Clay. I hope she realizes that.”

I swallowed, getting a little uncomfortable talking about this with Maria, particularly with Tyler five feet away. Maria reached out and squeezed my arm, her fingers, I noticed, lingering on my skin. “Just keep doing what you're doing and maybe one day you'll feel like you can call her.”

I smiled. Yeah. Maybe...one day.

Chapter Two

-Maggie-

This job was going to kill me. I wrapped a wet paper towel around the scald on my wrist and winced. Hot coffee and Maggie May Young clearly didn't mix.

Let me rephrase. Hot coffee being carried on a precariously balanced tray and Maggie May Young were bad news. I removed the towel and glared at the huge red splotch on my skin. That would definitely blister.

“What the heck did you do?” a voice asked from behind me. I rolled my eyes at Jake Fitzsimmons, who put down the pastries he was loading into the display case and came over to check out my war wound.

“I was on the wrong end of a Mocha Latte,” I deadpanned, pulling my sleeve down to cover my angry skin. I gave my co-worker and friend a painful grimace. Jake frowned with concern and held out his hand.

“Let me see, Maggie,” he told me firmly. I rolled my eyes again but held my arm out for him to inspect. I looked around the bustling café and knew I needed to get back to work. The place was slammed.

I had been working at Java Madness for two weeks. I had just been taken off of probation three days ago and here I was, nursing a nasty burn and ready to throw my apron on the floor and stomp out. For some reason, I was really struggling with coffee making and waiting tables. You wouldn't think it would be akin to brain surgery, but I had dropped more trays, broken more mugs and gotten more orders wrong in the last two weeks than seemed acceptable.

The manager, Jacob, looked ready to can me last night when I had a table complain about how I screwed up their sandwich order, not once, but twice. I was trying. Honestly. But as with everything in my life anymore...it was just a struggle. Nothing was easy and normal anymore and it was difficult putting all the pieces together into a picture that made sense.

Jake Fitzsimmons had been working at Java Madness for a year and was trying to help me keep my job. I gave him a wan smile as he ran his fingers over the burn lightly. I tried not to rip my hand away from him, not liking him touching me in any way. But it wasn't like he was trying to cop a feel. He was just being concerned.

After a few more seconds, I couldn't help it; I wriggled my arm from his grasp. “I'll live,” I muttered, turning back to the espresso machine that had already maimed me once. I glared at the shiny, silver contraption. “Play nice,” I directed its way under my breath.

Jake laughed as I started to fiddle with the nobs. He reached from behind me and put two mugs under the spigots and turned it on. “Thanks,” I said; giving him what I hoped was a sincere smile. I would seriously be lost in this place if he didn't continuously rescue me from coffee related mishaps.