Chapter 1: I'm holding on your rope

I opened the door a crack, and almost slammed it back in his face.

He stuck his foot between the door and the threshold, and looked at me straight in the eyes.

"Lauren, don't do this."

"What do you want?"

"To talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Fine, I'll talk and you'll listen."

"No."

I kicked his foot, and shut the door, locking it.

He knocked again, and rang the bell.

I stuck my headphones back into my ears, and went back upstairs.

The playlist on my iPod was almost over, and I would have to make another one soon.

I ignored the doorbell by turning up the volume.

Eventually it stopped, and he left.

I sat at my desk, and drew my legs up into the chair with me. I stared out the window, and watched him walk down the street. Slowly. He kept looking back, every couple of times into my window.

He finally turned the corner, leaving me alone once again.

I turned on my cell phone, to find three voice messages from him, and five texts. He wouldn't give up. I had literally gotten in the habit of leaving my cell phone off, just so I wouldn't have to deal with him. But I needed it for other things, so I had to bear his persistence.

I checked the calendar that hung on the wall next to my desk. Today was my best friend's birthday. She was having a party at her house this afternoon through tonight, a pool party. Did I actually want to go? He would be there. I knew it. I didn't want to have to spend the night avoiding him. That would be stupid and annoying.

But of course I had to go. All of my friends would be there. All of our friends. They would all know. They would all notice how I try to avoid him, despite his persistence.

My clock read twelve forty five. Her party started at five, and continued on until whatever time she wanted it to.

I had to go. I had no choice. Shut up, of course you have a choice, I told myself as I decided to go. I stepped under the hot water of the shower. You just want to go to prove you're over him ... or that he won't affect your friendship with them ... or to find a different guy, and show him you don't give a damn...

I felt like screaming. Why was this so hard? God this sucked.

After my shower, I called Rachel to wish her happy birthday. She asked me to come by early to help her set up. I consented, hoping that it would give me something to do besides think about him all the time. I was also sleeping over at her house that night. That meant I also had to pack my overnight bag.

"I should wear a bathing suit, right?"

"Yeah. Maybe like skirt and bikini top or something."

"What are you wearing?"

"An Alice & Olivia jean mini and my brown Shoshana." It was her favorite, a brown Shoshana bathing suit with pink hearts.

"Okay ... so I'll be there at like four thirty."

"Sounds great, see you then."

"Happy birthday!"

"Thanks! I'll see you later."

"Bye."

I hung up. I hated faking happiness. And she knew that I was.

I dug around through my drawers. What to wear? You would think that living in Beverly Hills would cause you to have tons of bathing suits. I actually couldn't find one. So I threw a bunch into the wash, and went back to making a new playlist.

At exactly four thirty, I arrived at her house.

I wore my favorite new Calvin Klein bikini, with a Theory jean skirt. I had my bag packed: a towel, toiletries, make up, jewelry, and clothes galore. My iPod and its charger were stashed in a pocket on the side. I carried her gift. I had made her two CDs, consisting of "our songs." I also wrote her a five page note. It was a pretty good gift, I thought. For the CDs, I had even made covers and all that using one of those makers you can buy at the Apple store.

I headed upstairs, where I dropped off my bag, and said hello to her parents. They were going to be out at dinner together during the party. They were actually willing to leave her with her party. Her parents were like mine, pretty laid back, because they knew we were good kids.

I went out back to find her bringing things out of the kitchen. She had a beautiful set up in her backyard. There was a huge area that extended from the kitchen, and then you went down like two stairs into the pool area. Combined with the deck area (from the kitchen), it was a huge area that was perfect for a party. And her house was really nice too, so it didn't look weird. We both lived in houses that were a mix between the one in Jumangi and those on the O.C.

She was bringing out cups and a couple of bottles of sodas. I followed her back in, and we poured the chips and stuff into bowls. We knew that people would be bringing alcohol and what not, but we didn't drink, so her parents had nothing to worry about. And they knew that they had nothing to worry about, that we could handle everything.