Closing the door, you return to your desk and your feet on its edge, balancing your laptop on your knees.

You tap the eraser end of your pencil to the screen, idly wondering why you have a writing utensil at all when you're really not doing anything with it. Frustrated at this useless insight, you chuck it at your desk - groan swallowed by an eye-widening snap when a small black dot lunges back at you.

Leaning back into your swiveling chair, the armrests you enjoyed so much more in the past feel confining now. Ironic, since the last time you really thought about a very similar chair in your bedroom, you were handcuffed to it.

You stand now, wheeling the furniture away with your foot, disappointed at your utter inability to concentrate on anything long enough to forget how much you miss her; you wonder if she thinks of you. And if she does thinks about you, if she's thinking the same things - or if she's regretting something. Or regretting everything.

That night the two of you decided to ultimately go on different paths… hell even now you can't decide whose heart was breaking harder then.

But what could you say? You got a full ride to NYU and you promised your grandmother you'd go to a good college and get an education. You can't just break a promise to the dead.

Why couldn't you two just stay away from each other? She just had to push your buttons and you just had to give it as good as it got. Never did you imagine it'd come to this.

She just had to stay broken up with Beck. You just had to confide in her about your curiosities. Together, the both of you just had to fall into place together. Why in the world couldn't one of you keep it together for another year - where you wouldn't be separated by three-thousand miles of mostly-boring land.

But seriously, it's her fault.

Why couldn't she just apply to university like a normal high schooler?

You laugh even as you finish the question: Jade West is a lot of things - straight-A student, sexy, perfectionist, beautiful, scary, hot, overachiever, great in bed, great out of bed, great in bed… - you shake your head. Right, she's a lot of things: but normal would never be one of them.

Here it's been hell without her for three months and you selfishly wish she would've come with you. Sighing, you berate yourself again. She has her own dreams that are admittedly best fulfilled in Hollywood.

Leaving the compromised sanctity of your room, you lay on the beat-up couch your sister snagged for you from the students who were moving out across from her apartment complex.

You tried to tell Trina it would have been easier to just get a new (used) couch on the east coast than for her to ship it over from Chico, but she insisted and got all offended when you tried to say no. Now you have an ugly couch; at least it smells clean.

Time flows away from you, a disorienting additive to your cocktail of self-deprecation. André tried to warn you because he knew Jade wasn't going to leave Hollywood when school ended. Hell, everyone knew that. But you were stubborn and wouldn't listen (but best friend knows best) and pursued your relationship with the darker girl.

Your phone buzzes and you silently pray: if it's her, I'll answer it this time. She wasn't going to be happy whenever she finally got through (you break down) and take the calls and messages you've been ducking, but that she keeps trying is a bittersweet reminder. You wonder if it's worth it.

Snatching your blue PearPhone off the desk, you see it's just a reminder to submit the rough draft of your paper to the TA for critiquing before a graded version.

Hah the paper, you think bitterly, as if I fucking got anything done. You're gonna fail your philosophy class and it's all her fault. The phone is thrown away from you in aggravation; between the crippling writer's block and the commotion along the hall, you're not submitting anything tonight.

You should've known it wasn't her calling though. She's calls every Wednesday night - even adjusting for the time difference - at 8:30, just like she did when you were dating in Hollywood, after you joined that crazy late-afternoon yoga class, and you were too tired to hang out without falling asleep. Also she never leaves a message after the beep.

Jade is consistent that way.

Today being Friday, she wouldn't be calling. Most Fridays have been exciting enough to take your mind off home: moving in, the pumping music through the walls enough to draw you into the public sphere. This week midterms are around the corner, the noise is negligible - what would've been 7 parties was only 3. At least on this floor.

Determined to break the hold on your creativity, you come up with a better outlet for your wonderings and missings (Is that a word?).

You, groaning in exertion, retrieve the previously-banished pencil; you rip out a sheet of notebook paper. Half-heartedly wishing you'd practiced cursive more intensively, you slowly scrawl Dear Jade across the top.

Pausing the graphite mid-comma, you realize you have no idea where you're going with this. If you had the words, you'd write her an essay how much you miss her. Le sigh.

Jade West had a way with words that could suck the wind from your sails just as readily as suck the air from your lungs.

Then again, if you had the words, you'd be writing your actual essay instead of being stuck on a lady whose voice you haven't heard in a quarter of a year (not counting old SplashFace videos).

Better yet, if you had the words, you'd get off your stupid, awkward ass and answer every time she called and you let it go to voicemail. Maybe then you might not miss her and her voice so damn much.

You wonder, as you've found yourself doing quite often, what she's doing right now. If she's getting everything she wanted. If perhaps she's throwing a tantrum over not getting something. You giggle, knowing she totally would.

Then you remember she hates giggling and you miss her all over again (not that you stopped even for a moment).

Is she happy? Was it worth it for her to stay behind?

Are you happy? Do you regret blurring the line beyond friendship, especially after working so hard to reach that status? Because missing her wouldn't hurt as much if you didn't let yourself get so damned close.

Yes, you know in your heart you don't honestly regret it, but you haven't let yourself hear from her since you left. The same heart constricts every time she tries and you let the phone ring, unable to switch it to silent.

Drawn from your position by another knock, you're getting really tired of this chiz. It's official: you are not in the mood to socialize.

"Goddammit!" You scream, long (read: since leaving your parents' house) having lost the inhibition around cursing out loud. "I told you I didn't order any pee-!" There's not enough breath to finish at the same volume. Gasp out, "-tza," filling your lungs in vain as no amount of oxygen could circulate your system to clear the lightness of your head. Maybe you've had too much oxygen. "Jade…"

"Hey what d'ya know, you're not blind." You scrub your eyes with the back of your hand to test her hypothesis since you're obviously dreaming anyway. Again to no avail, when you open them, the fair girl is pushing past your shoulder and into your single-room apartment. "Also, remind me to never bring food to your door since you're always complaining about it."

"What are you doing here?" You can't decide if it came out as a demand or a plea. You hope it was the first one.

She's surveying the room, not deigning to look at you but her voice bounces back anyway. "Can't live at home anymore."

"How'd you get here?" It's not the brightest question to ask considering the sarcasm you know is to come, but you can't help yourself. Your head is still spinning that Jade friggin' West is in your house. Apartment-thing. Whatever.

Suspected as much: "Well, opened the door and walked up the stairs until I got to th-"

"Really Jade?" While it's heart-squeezingly great to see her, it's heart-squeezing. Breathe Tori.

She turns to you now and her eyes flare open, not quite 'innocent' and not quite 'well duh'. "I did. But I suppose the answer you want is that I drove."

"Oh. You drove to New York from California?" The dim light from above catches the stud in her eyebrow. You shake your head to clear it, closing the mouth you didn't realize had dropped open.

"Sure, you only need two or so highways and like, 2 days if you're serious." Your eyebrow raises on its own, "Fine, it took me 3 days: somewhere between 12 and 15 hours a night."

"Oh…" Her logic isn't necessarily bad, per se. "You have your car in NYC? Are you crazy?"

She gives a bitch-please! look, eyes rolling, "I learned to drive in SoCal, the only difference is New Yorkers are horn-happy. More so."

"Oh…" cursing your limited vocabulary, "how long are you here for?" Your heart is pounding into your throat at her reply ("Depends.") and you're pretty sure the best way to talk to your ex doesn't include a chapter on throwing up on them, but you can't help how sick this game is making you. "Oh?"

Jade ignores you, trekking forward to assess the bathroom. "Cat tells me you live alone."

"What does that have to do with anything!?" You're trying your damnedest not to get irritated, but the now-adult Jade has always been able to push your buttons.

She laughs. You scold yourself for finding it beautiful. "If you're this wazzed off already," she starts before moving to your failed-sanctuary-slash-bedroom. "I guess I won't ask to stay with you."

You squeal a high-note of surprise. "Jade, tell me what you're talking about!" you yell, chasing her in.

"Only if I can stay with you." She twirls gracefully on a heel and your assault is cut short to avoid collision. "I'll put up rent if you're worried about that."

She's button mashing and pulling your tail and pulling a joke on you, at this point. The last reserves of patience fizzle out, "Fine! Just tell me already."

She sits in the chair you had kicked away. "Broadway. I'm headlining in the newest show." Her lip curls in a smirkish smile.

Your jaw drops. You'd always known Jade was talented enough to sing and act, but this threw you for a loop. "Yeah, you're welcome to stay…" Your mind: blown. Broadway shows could last a long time, will she leave when it's over?

"Don't sound so thrilled about it. What's the matter Tori, don't you miss me?" Her voice is a teasing saccharine and you're about to reply to the woman spinning in your chair when her boot stops her momentum to face you. "You'll never get me to admit it if you try to tell anyone, but I missed you."

You're surprised yet again, and you just can't understand how Jade keeps doing that.

Still, you want to be certain she isn't just yanking your collar. "Did you really?"

"The lack of you is more irritating than the have of you."

Deadpan: "How sweet."

"It's been different without you. I didn't miss you much at first - hey lemme finish." You sit on your bed and flap your hand at her to keep going. "Okay, I didn't miss you much 'cause I was still stuck thinking you'd come back soon." She hesitates in a very un-West-like manner. "Plus… after you told me you were leaving, I started auditions. I didn't want to tell you and disappoint us both if it didn't work out."

"So we broke up because you don't have confidence in yourself?" Your brows furrow in disbelief and confusion.

"No, we broke up because you apparently didn't miss me." The tone is clipped and cold to anyone who didn't know better; you, on the other hand, could hear the bruised pride behind the words.

"Sure I did…" You falter in a very Tori fashion, unsure if you should proceed. Your eyes look away from hers now. "I was writing you a letter just now."

Her head cocks to the side, following your line of sight to the lined sheet on your desk. Making a move to snatch it, she's closer and pounces too quickly. "Let's see it." The two of you plop back down onto your bed and you're mortified that she's reading it aloud.

"'If I had the words, I'd write you an essay how much I miss you.'" She dons her trademark smirk,"Cute Vega."

"Well it's true." You stand defensively, then touch her wrist, pushing up her sleeve to trail fingertips up. She keeps a straight face, still you smirk in return when you feel goosebumps spread over her forearm.

"Is that so?" She twists her wrist around to catch yours. In a fluid movement she pulls you down over her and uses the force to flip on top. Straddling your waist, she purrs, "Then let me show you you don't need words to communicate."

"Jade, I have a paper to write…" Biting back the moan clawing up your throat, you continue your (weak) protest, "I need words for that."

"Then I'll help you," the assertive woman offers. Nipping your neck, you know she means to pick up where you'd left off in summer. "But first you can help me with something else.

"And you sure as hell don't need words to show me how much you missed me."

~~~FTW~~~

AN:

My first real foray into 2nd person! One-shot I've been working on this for a while and I skipped a few classes to write this, so you should review.