Chapter 2

ANNA

I've known John forever. At least it seems like forever. We grew up together, same neighborhood, same schools, same friends. We've played together since we were 5. All the standard kids stuff: hide-and-seek, exploring the creek behind the school, playing HORSE during recess. He's sort of the big brother I never had. I'm the youngest of three sisters, and he was the one that always looked out for me. I've tried to do the same for him. In school we were as mismatched as they come. He was ... well, he was a fat kid and I've always been tiny. Even at 25, I still get carded for R-Rated movies. We both got teased a lot when we were young, but for John, that stopped in high school. He grew, like, four inches over one summer, and suddenly he wasn't fat, but just big. He wrestled for a bit, but gave it up when he decided that guys on the team were assholes. But he's still strong, even with a desk job. I don't know how he does it, but I swear he could pick me up and twirl me like a baton if he wanted to. He never would though, because he's a gentle giant. I call him a big teddy bear, which always makes him blush and give me a long suffering look. He's my best guy friend, and he made life in high school bearable for me. Hormones, and a complete lack of physical development on my part, made high school a romantic nightmare. I looked like everybody's kid sister so I got NO dates. John on the other hand, once he filled out, got noticed. The girls practiced all their tricks on him, but he seemed completely oblivious to it all. I mean, he dated and had girlfriends, but he never seemed to really believe that those girls would find him attractive. I think there was still the fat kid living in his head. He would tell me everything, including how he lost his virginity, which was pretty funny. His girlfriends would always befriend me too. It would have been impossible not to, considering how close we were. And they would tell me all the same things from their perspective. Being without a boyfriend, or any hints of one, made a lot of those conversations bittersweet for me. I mean, when you're wound up and horny, with no chance of release without resorting to your toy collection, hearing about your best friend's sexual prowess and amazing stamina got to be pretty maddening.

John never realized how much some of those girls cared about him. It was like he could never believe that someone would really truly love him. He built walls around his heart. It was sad in a way, and it ended up poisoning ever relationship he had. Jenny was just the latest in a decade long string of girls who finally got fed up with being stuck outside the walls of John's castle.

That morning Jenny had called me, apparently right after she broke up with him, to let me know so I could comfort him, or whatever. I called him that afternoon to see how he was doing. He seemed quieter than normal, which basically means he didn't say a word after "We broke up, I guess." I suggested swinging by, so we could watch bad movies and eat popcorn. It is something that went back to our high-school days. Whenever he'd had a bad day or some girl had moved on, we discovered the therapeutic effects of loud explosions, stupid plots and a giant bucket of popcorn. So when I showed up that night with some take-out, and 3 DVDs of last summer's super-hero movies, John let me in and pointed to the bowl of popcorn that completely engulfed the top of his coffee table.

"Hey Anna, oh thanks," he said taking the bags from my hands. "I kinda forgot to eat today."

"Want to talk about it?" I asked lightly, figuring John would talk when he was ready and not before, but I wanted him to know that I'm always ready to listen.

"Yeah, but after some food and first movie. I'm trying to figure some stuff out."

Classic John. He's wicked smart, but he's not a fast thinker. Actually that's not right, he's just a very complete thinker. I don't think I've ever heard him say anything without thinking about it for a long time. A lot of people, even a lot of our friends, think he's a bit of a cold fish. But I guess since I grew up with him, I've always been able to read him. With his beard, he's a got a great poker face, except his eyes. His eyes telegraph everything he's feeling, and there is nothing cold about him. It's just well hidden. It's like the volume knob on his emotional display is turned way down. Maybe it was the years of taunting, maybe it's just the way his family is (both his parents are scientists and next to John, are the least outwardly emotional people I know), but John's emotions run deep and I've seen both the hurt and triumph in his life.

So we ate our takeout. Sitting on the couch, passing boxes of hot spicy Chinese food back and forth. We didn't talk, didn't really need to. We've done this enough times over the years that our non-verbal communication was more than enough to signal my need for another helping of szechuan beef and his need for a napkin to clean the sauce off his beard. It was comfortable.

Finally, after the Chinese food, and the first third of the movie, John asked "What happened to Robert?"

"We broke up." I said with a smirk. Whenever I can, I try to turn John's economy of speech back on him. He always rises to the bait.

"And why did you break up, little Sparrow?" He said with long-suffering exasperation in his voice. But his eyes were dancing, clearly aware I was trying to get a rise out of him.

"Because he wasn't The One. You know?" I said a little glibly. It's a line I've used about every ex since college. To be honest, I'm not sure what 'The One' is supposed to be like, but it wasn't Robert. Robert was nice, pretty, and charming. But that's about as far as it went. That and his roving eye.

I've finally realized that nice, pretty charming boys know they are nice, pretty and charming. That makes them romantic opportunists, always looking for the next catch. Frankly, with my assets, I can't rate against the competition. Barely 5'1" and about 95 pounds, I never really 'flowered' as my mom used to call it. In sweatshirts and jeans I was often mistaken for a 11 year old boy, until I let my hair grow out, and learned to love skirts (even if they are from the juniors section... ).

Anyway, Robert, charming as he was, didn't rate any long-term commitment on my side, he was too ... A friend once described him as a Golden Retriever. Beautiful, friendly, but easily distracted and not a lot of depth. I have to admit once I heard that, I never thought of him the same way again. Still, we parted as friends of a sort. And while it's been a few weeks since I got laid, it hasn't been long enough for me that the lust for a bed partner can beat the hideous dance of 10 lousy dates to find the next halfway decent guy. So I'd been laying low, working and hanging out at home.