Flat Tire

viii; will

"I'm only honest when it rains / An open book with a torn out page / And my ink's run out / I want to love you but I don't know how" - Sleeping At Last, 'Neptune'

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I can barely hear myself.

Jamie doesn't respond at first, just stares at his hands in his lap. He keeps blinking and I worry that he's going to start crying.

"I thought that it was okay. The kiss, I mean. Was it that bad?" he asks finally.

"It was great. Really. " I don't know what else to say. It's true, it really was an amazing kiss. Unlike anything I ever experienced with Bella.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know."

Jamie scoffs. He's getting frustrated and I don't blame him. I kissed him - twice - and now I'm rejecting him.

"Is it because I'm a guy? Like, what would you be doing if the same thing just happened with a girl?" he asks, voice rising.

I hesitate, then figure we're beyond hiding the truth. "Honestly, I'd probably be in the backseat of the car with her doing a little more than just making out."

I feel ashamed to say it, even though I know he won't be surprised. Jamie knew me pre-Bella. He knew me when I was happily single and he knew that didn't involve living like a monk. I hooked up with girls a lot, far more than I ever knew of him being with any other guys. Even so, I hate having to admit it.

"I'm not asking for that," Jamie says. "I just want to be here for you."

"I know." It's a pathetic excuse for a response.

"So why can't we just figure this out together?" he demands. Now he really sounds angry.

I run a hand through my hair, my annoying habit when I'm stressed. "I don't want you to be a rebound. You mean too much to me."

At this, I see him soften slightly. "So, you mean we could have a chance together, just not so soon?"

"I don't know what I'm saying," I answer. "You're my best friend and I don't know if I could ever have you as my boyfriend."

It's involuntary, but even I notice the hint of contempt in my voice on the final word. Jamie's expression is wounded and I hate myself for making him look like that.

He coughs awkwardly, then clambers off the car. "I'll go then."

I open my mouth, almost say something to stop him. Almost. But then I think about the look on his face when he told me loved me, so open and honest and desperate, and I bite my tongue. I've hurt him too much already. I watch as he walks away, back in the direction we came, shoulders heavy and hands shoved in his pockets.

It seems impossible that it was no more than half an hour ago that we were rushing down that road as we yelled along to The Killers.

I look around and notice suddenly that the sky has gone dark, now a deep shade of blue. Sighing, I get off the car and go back to the driver's seat.