I’ve also spent quite a lot of time cursing Alex. Not only did he plant this completely stupid notion in my head, but when I came home from class on Monday, there was a note propped neatly on my pillow.

Liz -- You should call. Alex.

And the phone number.

I think I could kill Alex. He knows very well that I can’t forget a phone number once I’ve seen it. It’s just this thing I have. I can’t remember a phone number I hear to save my life, but let me see it once, just one time, and it’ll be burned into my brain for the rest of my natural born life. I’m not kidding. I can recite the entire West Roswell High School Emergency Phone Tree.

I take a deep breath and pick up the phone. I hear the dial tone and hang it back up. God! I stand, frustrated with myself and pissed at Alex. I should just call him. If I’m not going to call him, then I should stop obsessing over the damn phone. But either way, I need to make a decision and act on it.

I stare at the phone. It’s mocking me.

This is fucking ridiculous. I grab my coat off the back of the chair and head outside for a smoke. Cold air and tobacco usually do wonders for me.

A blast of super-cold air hits me smack in the face as I exit my dorm, but it’s warmer in the sun and not nearly as cold as it’s been the last few days. I head over to the unofficial smoking area and as I turn the corner, I groan inwardly.

Jake Yi, the very sweet, but apparently clueless guy that I’m tutoring in Biology is standing there. Jake is a freshman majoring in Biology because that’s what his dad told him to do. Like I said, he’s a nice guy -- and on my better days, I notice that he’s not bad looking -- but he’s been trying to get me to go out with him practically since the first time he laid eyes on me. I’ve said no a thousand times, but he’s either the densest guy on the planet or the most stubborn.

I so didn’t need this right now.

His face lights up when he sees me. I stifle a sigh and smile back at him.

"Hey Liz."

"Hey." I light my cigarette and try to focus on my reason for coming out here. Maybe if I don’t say much he’ll take the hint.

"So I heard your friend’s band is playing at The Holly next Friday." No such luck.

I glance at him briefly. "Uh-huh."

"Are you gonna go?"

I shrug non-committally, wishing desperately that he would go away so I could sort out this whole calling Max issue. Triumph surges through me when Jake doesn’t say anything else right away.

He stubs out his cigarette and turns to go. I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief when he turns back. Shit, foiled again.

"Because I was wondering if we could maybe go together."

I exhale slowly, trying to make my voice and face soft. I don’t want to hurt him, I just want him to get a clue. "Look, Jake, you’re a really sweet guy, but I’m not interested, okay? It’s not you --" I cringe at the cliché that was about to escape my lips. "I just have sort of a bad history with men." Now there’s the understatement of the century.

I can see his face fall completely and my heart sinks. Liz Parker strikes again! Maybe I should go to a convent or something. I take a step towards him, but he moves away. "Jake, it’s just --"

"No. No, it’s cool. I get it. I’ll see you next week." He turns and walks away from me quickly. I sigh resignedly. What the hell is wrong with me? Do I have a sign painted on my forehead that says, "Come here so I can break your heart?"

I debate a second cigarette and decide I’ve earned it. Stomping on the heart of a defenseless freshman deserves a cigarette, doesn’t it? I haven’t even had a chance to think about Max yet. Now there’s a plus to the whole Jake fiasco: I managed to get through five whole minutes without thinking about Max. Maybe if I break enough people’s hearts, I’ll forget about him entirely.

It would be so nice to be able to just talk to Max again, to just hear his voice. I wonder what he would say about my smoking? I mean I know he would hate it, but what would he say? I’ve yet to smoke in Roswell, though I’m aware that winter break is only a few weeks away and I’m smoking more than ever. It’s not going to be as easy to give them up this time around.

Another cold wind blows through me, making me shiver. I notice that it’s getting darker out. I should go in before I freeze. I stub out my cigarette even though I’m only half finished. There, that’s a good start. I smile at my little triumph.

Before heading back upstairs, I check my schedule. I man the front desk of my dorm two nights a week. It’s not much money, but combined with weekends serving at T. G. I. Friday’s and my tutoring, I’ve managed to help my folks out with some of the expenses. The car was a joint graduation present from our parents, but Alex and I have to pay for gas and insurance. Cigarettes and raspberry mochas eat up most of the rest of my income quite nicely. Whatever’s left over usually goes to non-essentials like food and laundry.

The real perk of the desk job, however, is that the building supervisor lets me and Alex get away with murder. She casually overlooks the fact that Alex has a key to my room and that there is a bunk bed where there should be a single.

When I get to the room, I glance at the pile of books and papers on my desk. I know I should get some work done before I fall hopelessly behind, but I’m not going to able to concentrate. Why even bother trying? I slip Bush’s "The Science of Things" into the CD player and flop onto my bed.

Alex calls this my angry music. Am I angry? I think about it for a minute and decide I am. I want to be mad at Alex but I know it’s not his fault. I brought this on myself because I wasn’t strong enough.

I know you’re trying to figure out how breaking up with Max is any different from having to let him go later. Believe me, I’ve spent countless hours wondering exactly the same thing. You want to know what conclusion I finally came to? There isn’t any difference. I was scared and confused so I did something I thought was good and right and rational. And it turned out to be the single biggest mistake of my life.

But it’s too late to take it back now.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply, letting the smooth but raspy tones of Gavin Rossdale’s voice wash over me as the chords pound into my brain. The songs blend together, my mind picking out only the lyrics it wants to hear.

Tread slowly for I know There’s a thousand miles to go Without blinking

What can I say What can I do I can’t help myself I let the monster through

Yes, that lovely monster called fear. Somehow my fear -- of what I’ve never been able to fully figure out -- was so great that it overcame even my tremendous love for Max. I remember when it seemed nothing could ever do that. My love for Max and his love for me filled me so completely that sometimes I thought I would explode with happiness at the mere thought of him. It seeped into every pore of my being, coloring everything I saw and everything I did.

Every time he tried to pull away from me -- to protect me, he said -- I would always tell him that we were safer, stronger, together. And I really believed that too. There was nothing we couldn’t beat if we stuck together.

I guess I wasn’t looking inside my own heart when I said that.

I want you to remember A love so full it could send us all ways I want you to surrender All my feelings rose today And I want you to remain

I need to lose to make it right I’ll confront the stars tonight I will babble, I will bite You’ll never know how much you shine

And it’s not even like I can say I never got a second chance. Because I did -- that morning after we made love for the last time. I could have just stayed in bed. I could have hugged him to me and never let go.

But I did get up. Even then, it wasn’t too late. When he woke up and smiled at me, I could have just smiled back, told him I loved him. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. No matter how much I wanted it, I honestly believed that I was doing the right thing for him.

Do you know what I used to tell Max whenever he tried to do things in my best interest without my permission? "That’s not your decision to make." Guess I should have taken my own advice, huh?

You in the dark, you in the pain, you on the run Living a hell, living your ghost, living your end Never seem to get in the place that I belong Don’t want to lose the time, lose the time to come

Whatever you say it’s alright Whatever you do it’s all good Whatever you say it’s alright Silence is not the way We need to talk about it If heaven is on the way

Alright, Parker, that is just about enough moping for one week. Get off your ass. I swing my feet onto the floor and stab the stop button on the CD player. I’m just going to fucking call him and get it over with.

I take a deep breath, wishing desperately for a cigarette, and pick up the phone. One. Five-one-zero. I can do this. I’ve dialed a phone before. I punch in the three digit exchange and pause, closing my eyes, willing myself to continue.

When I open my eyes again, I realize my hand is shaking. Get a grip, Parker! I dial the last four numbers and bring the phone to my ear slowly. Maybe it will be busy.

Ring.

Guess not. I try to breathe normally, but with each ring that task grows increasingly more difficult. I’m about to hang up after the fifth ring when I hear it connect. I inhale sharply.

"Hey. This is Max and I’m not here right now. Leave a message after the beep."

My heart swells at the sound of his voice, low and warm just like in my dreams. I used to think it was a shame that he was so quiet because he has a such a wonderful… Oh God! The realization that the machine beeped several seconds ago and I’ve just been sitting here hits me suddenly. Somehow in my preoccupation on whether to call or not, I completely neglected to consider what I would actually say. The words fly out of my mouth with absolutely no thought attached whatsoever.

"Hi, um, Max. This is Liz… Parker. And I was just calling to… Well, I don’t know exactly why I called, exactly. But Alex sort of mentioned that I might want to call you, you know, because I’d kind of been… Well, I’ve sort of missed you and I… Well, okay, so I hope everything is going good for you and everything. You can call me, you know, if you want. Okay. Bye."

I hang up the phone quickly and my body becomes completely immobilized by embarrassment. Did I really just say all that? Please someone tell me that this is some terrible nightmare and I didn’t really just babble incoherently into Max Evans’ answering machine.

My hand is shaking again as I finally remove it from the phone. I try to lay down on the bed but I can’t sit still. My heart is beating a million miles a minute and it feels like every cell in my body is racing around as if there’s no tomorrow.

I jump up and start to pace, replaying the message in my head. How bad could it really have been? I’m probably just exaggerating because I’m so nervous from having heard Max’s voice.

This is Liz… Parker.

No, it really was that bad. What the hell was I thinking? An image of Max, Michael, and Isabel sitting around Max’s answering machine laughing hysterically fills my mind and I realize I can never go home again. I collapse into the chair, dropping my head onto the desk with a thud. When Max hears that message, he’s going to think I’m a complete bumbling moron.

The knowledge that I am in fact a complete bumbling moron is somehow not very comforting right now.

I look up when I hear Alex’s key in the door, but I return my head to the desk before he comes in. He’s going to ask me what happened and I don’t particularly relish the idea of telling him. It’s all just too humiliating.

"Hey." I hear him drop his bag and sit on my bed.

"Hey," I mumble, not moving. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes and I’m hoping maybe he’s too tired to bother.

"You gonna tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to tickle it out of you?"

"It’s too embarrassing." He hooks his feet on the chair and pulls it toward the bed. Then he spins me around to face him. The look on his face is almost smug.

"Liz, I’ve seen all the home movies, okay? So just spill it already. Nothing can be more embarrassing than that."

I smile at him gratefully and thank my lucky stars once again for his presence in my life. Unable to look him in the eye, I drop my head onto his chest. "I called him."

"Who -- Oh, Max?"

I nod into Alex’s chest. I’m not crying, I’m just too embarrassed to speak.

"What did he say?"

I still can’t bring myself to look at Alex. How do I even begin to explain what a complete and total idiot I’ve made of myself? But I have to tell him. I need Alex to tell me it’s not as bad as I think it is. The story tumbles out of me in a rush of words. When I’m finished, I look up at him and anger floods through me. He’s trying to hold back a grin and not doing a very good job. His eyes go wide as I glare at him. I jerk away from him, hitting my head on the bunk bed as I stand.

"Oh, Liz, I’m sorry. It’s just… You have to admit it’s a little funny."

"It is not!" He’s smiling uncontrollably now and my glare only intensifies. He comes over to me and I try to fight him, but he’s bigger than I am. He wraps me up in a bear hug, his chin resting on the top of my head. I finally give in and sag against him.

"I’m never going to be able to show my face in Roswell again."

I can almost hear the smile on his face. "It’s not as bad as all that. The stigma will pass in a year or two."

I pinch him below his ribs, where I know he’s the most ticklish. He moves his body away from me, his eyes playfully menacing.

"Don’t start something you know you can’t win, Parker."

I cock my head, hands on hips. "Don’t be so confident, Whitman." He lunges for me but I jerk away, scrambling past him to the chair. I use it to vault myself onto the top bunk with the intention of crawling off the other side, but he corners me. He immediately goes for the horribly ticklish place behind my knee. I try to distract him by attacking his ribs again, but he pins my arms above my head. It’s not fair that he’s so tall!

"Okay, okay!" I choke out, not wanting to give in but needing to catch my breath. He stops tickling me but his body is still pining mine to the bed.

"So you admit I’m the champion?" I glare at him defiantly.

"Yes, you Alex Whitman, are the champion ticklemaster." My voice is a complete monotone and he attacks my knee again.

"Say it like you mean it," he warns.

"You win!" I scream as he twists my body under his, trying to go for both knees at once. "You’re… the… champion… ticklemaster," I finally manage to get out in between gasps of laughter. He releases my wrists and collapses back next to me, both of us breathing heavily. I turn to watch him. His eyes are closed but there’s a smile on his face.

I’ve never had any romantic feelings toward Alex and as far as I know, he’s never had any for me. He was always just Alex -- sweet, lovable, goofy, male friend guy. It’s why we’ve always been able to sleep in the same bed with no problems.

Even since we had sex, we haven’t had any problems.

It was the end of June, about three weeks after graduation. I’d been apart from Max for three months and Alex was in the process of breaking up with Isabel. They both knew it had to end but somehow that didn’t make it any easier. They’d been through a lot together and I think both of them were scared of losing someone they’d come to depend on so much.

I was sitting on the balcony writing in my journal. More accurately, I should say that I was trying to write in my journal. Max had been in to the Crashdown that night. He didn’t say anything, just watched me for the whole shift. He didn’t move until the last customer was gone. Then he came up to pay. In the weeks we’d been apart, I’d gotten better at dealing, but when I looked at him that night, my heart skipped a beat. His face was blank, but his eyes were burning. My hand brushed his when I gave him his change.

The connection was instantaneous. I felt every ounce of his love and passion for me. And every drop of pain. Pain that I had caused him. For just that instant, my whole world stopped.

It started up again just as suddenly and for a moment, I thought I had imagined the whole thing. But Max turned to look at me as he was leaving and his eyes locked on mine. You can not begin to imagine the depths of the sadness that I saw there.

I finished closing the Café and dragged myself upstairs. I didn’t even have the energy to change out of my uniform. I felt drained. It was taking everything I had in me to stay away from Max and that little episode had sapped the last of my strength. I was too tired to be surprised when Alex’s head appeared over the ledge of the balcony. I knew something was wrong right away, because Alex always came in through the house.

He looked about as bad as I felt. I immediately put my journal down and he curled up in my lap and started to cry. He didn’t need to say anything, I knew he and Isabel had had a fight. We stayed that way for a long time, just holding each other. After a while, I told him he should just stay at my place. I didn’t really want to be alone and I didn’t think he did either. He nodded meekly and we climbed in the window to my room.

I went into the bathroom to wash my face and change. When I came back, Alex was already asleep on the bed. He was laying on his side and I remember thinking he looked so young and innocent at that moment. The way he used to look before some idiot pulled out a gun and Max saved me and all of our lives got turned upside down.

I laid down next to him, not wanting to wake him but needing to be near him, to drink in a little of the peace I felt from him. He stirred slightly, reaching an arm across my body and pulling me closer.

I’ve never understood exactly why I kissed Alex that night, but I did, touching my lips to his softly. Maybe it was because I was lonely and depressed. Maybe it was because my life had been nothing but emptiness and coldness without Max and I wanted to feel warm again. Or maybe it was just because I didn’t have the energy to care about the consequences.

When I pulled away, he was looking at me. Our eyes locked together, both of us searching the other. I think he was looking for permission and I must have given it to him because he kissed me then, long and hard.

Maria and I were in sixth grade when we first overheard some of the older girls talking about french kissing boys and "how far" to let your boyfriend go on the first date. Most of the conversation was over our heads, but we both immediately knew that we needed to practice this kissing thing. We wanted to be experienced because we both had a crush on Brad Anders, a seventh grader. We rushed over to Alex’s house and immediately forced him to let us practice on him.

This kiss was nothing like that. It was full of passion and longing and loneliness. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth and I let him because I just didn’t care anymore. He rolled on top of me and we started to tear at our clothes. It didn’t matter that I was thinking about Max as Alex made love to me because I knew he was thinking of Isabel.

After it was over, he realized what we’d just done. It hit him hard. He got up and started fumbling for his clothes and his words. He was trying to apologize. I sat up and looked at him.

"Alex, come back to bed." He stared at me, total confusion on his face.

"But, Liz, I -- "

"Just come back to bed. I asked you to stay because I didn’t want to be alone and I still don’t." I sighed and looked down at my hands for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. He hadn’t moved a muscle when I looked back up at him. "It just happened, Alex. You were lonely and so was I and… it just happened. We’re still friends in love with other people and it won’t happen again." I searched his eyes for the second time that night, this time finding understanding. He came back to bed and we held each other, both of us feeling just a little less cold than we had earlier.

As he turns to look at me now, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth, I wonder what it would be like if I felt differently about him. I wouldn’t change anything about my relationship with Alex -- not even that night -- but sometimes I wonder anyway…

And it hasn’t happened again, in case you were wondering. Not that there haven’t been opportunities. Especially since our friend Casey introduced Alex to the lovely concept of semi-casual sex and he discovered his inner-sex-fiend. Somehow, it’s just never felt right to me. But I don’t begrudge Alex his freedom. He spent a long time pining over Isabel, so I figure he’s just making up for lost time.

He sits up, jumping off the bed to the floor. Then he turns to lift me down. "Come on," he says. "I’ll buy you dinner."

I look at him skeptically as I collect my jacket. He holds up his meal card triumphantly. "I heard it’s taco night." He drapes his arm over my shoulders as we leave the room. I turn to lock the door and he leans against the doorframe casually.

"And don’t worry, if you get too flustered from the sound of the dining hall guy’s voice, I’ll order for you." He’s halfway down the hall before the last words leave his mouth, with me in hot pursuit.

********

I’m home for winter break now, sitting in the Café after close, writing in my journal. Somehow I got talked into covering a shift tonight despite the fact that I haven’t worked here since I started college. Perks of being the owners’ daughter, I guess.

It’s been five weeks since that disastrous phone call and I’m down to thinking about it only every other day. Alex says this is a huge improvement. Half the time I wish Max had been there. The other half of the time, I’m glad he wasn’t. I always wish he didn’t have an answering machine.

I hear the door open and silently chide myself for forgetting to lock it. Some things never change. "We’re closed," I say, without looking up.

"Even for a really good customer?" I freeze at the sound of Max’s voice, my pen in midair. My mouth drops open and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Slowly, I raise my eyes to meet his, all the while hoping it was just my imagination. No such luck.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," I choke out. I swear he looks exactly the same as the night I broke both our hearts. Same hair, same jacket, same incredibly soulful eyes.

He smiles at me -- that warm, wonderful smile that I was sure I’d never see aimed in my direction ever again -- and I think I can feel my heart breaking all over again. "You cut your hair."

What? My hair? Cut it? Oh yes, yes I did. I remember now. I chopped it off to my shoulders in October. I nod dully, still staring at him. What is it about him that makes me unable to speak in his presence? Oh yes, I’d almost forgotten. I’m madly, desperately, completely, totally in love with him. That must be it.

"It looks nice." He smiles at me again, more hesitantly this time. I can tell he’s wondering if he stepped over some invisible line.

I want to run over and wrap my arms around him and tell him I love him and that I didn’t know what I was talking about when I said we couldn’t be together. I want to kiss him and never let go. "Thanks," I say instead.

His smile fades and he looks down at the floor, then back up at me. His expression is unreadable and I brace myself for whatever’s coming. Whatever it is, I’m sure I deserve it. His words catch me completely off guard, however. "I, um… I got your message."

Every blood cell in my entire body rushes into my face at once. Oh, God, the message! How could I have possibly forgotten about that horrendous message? He heard it. I have got to get out of here! "Oh," I say, gathering my things. "Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. Why don’t you forget I ever called? I, ah, I have to go." I turn to run into the back, praying with everything I am that I’ll make it to my bedroom before I either explode with embarrassment or burst into tears.

"Liz, wait."

I stop dead in my tracks. Damnit, I almost got away! I don’t turn around because I can’t bear to look at him.

"It’s just I… I’ve missed you too. I was hoping… Could we be friends?"

The sudden need to burst out laughing hits me as I recall the last time he asked me that. My hand flies to my mouth and I try desperately to suppress the giggle that’s bubbling up inside of me. But when I notice where I’m standing, I can’t control it anymore. I turn around, wanting to explain that I’m not laughing at him. But then I see that he’s smiling too and I realize he must have been thinking about the same thing.

"I promise not to give you make-out induced visions this time," he says.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with the sullen, brooding Max Evans I used to know?"

"Oh, that. Well, see, they offer this class at Berkeley called ‘How to have a sense of humor and stop being such a control freak.’ It’s a good class. I learned a lot." I can’t help myself, I laugh harder. He’s laughing too. It feels good to laugh with Max again. Really good.

After a few more minutes of levity, we both sigh. The awkwardness should be returning but for some reason, it’s not. He looks at me intently, but his eyes are still bright.

"So what do you think? Friends?" I think about it for a minute, wanting desperately to say yes but wondering if it’s a good idea. Could Max and I actually be just friends? I think of Isabel and Alex and Michael and Maria. They all seem to have done it.