Two.

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The bell jingles, I hate that people have the key to get in, I know who has the keys, and I know who hasn’t given me the key back.

Ryan knows better than to come to the studio now. I have to finish a painting that needs to be done by the end of the week, and a project like this, this large, usually takes me at least three weeks.

I should probably change the lock, make it set to a different key, so no one can continue to walk in here whenever they feel like it.

Not that they're going to steal anything, there’s really nothing to steal besides expensive paintings and expensive materials. Okay, someone can come here and steal something, but the people who have keys aren’t here for that.

They're here to talk to me, and I hate that. I hate that they can’t wait until I'm done working to talk to me. I hate that they think I'm not really working because I'm only painting.

God forbid someone walks in on the guys when they're writing new songs.

But, let’s face it, my art isn't like theirs, it’s not as time consuming and important as theirs.

There’s only one person who would walk into the studio without saying a word, because he thinks his entrance doesn’t even need words, like I should just know he’s coming in.

He thinks we’re friends. I'm not his friend. I barely tolerate him. The only reason why I do is because we share the same group of friends.

I don’t want to see him, especially after last night. I'm barely keeping my eyes open and I've taken about four Tylenols to try to alleviate my headache.

“What was with you last night?” His voice still, I don’t know, I don’t get chills anymore, like I used to, but I know it so well, there’s no way that I can mistake him for anyone else.

Groaning, I bite down on my lower lip, placing the paintbrush on the paper towel on the table in front of me, spinning around on the stool. “What are you talking about?”

It’s unfortunate, that all of a sudden he knows me so well. Without the relationship, there’s no stress for him, at all, and I think that makes it easier in his mind.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans against the frame of the door separating the studio from the gallery, tilting his head to the side. “Oh, please, you looked so depressed last night. I know you, Logan, as much as you hate that I do, I know that something was bothering you last night.”

It’s so refreshing to know that now that we’re not together, he finally cares about what’s bothering me.

“Alex, when have I looked happy being in that club?” Knitting my eyebrows together, I tuck a strand of hair behind my head.

He can’t argue with that. It’s the truth. I hate that place, everything about it: the people there, the atmosphere, the smell, the bathrooms, it’s all gross.

Sleeping with Jack, knowing that I slept with him, and having to live with the fact that he left, it’s hard facing Alex.

I slept with my ex-boyfriend’s best friend and I don’t think I was completely sober. If I was, I'm a terrible person, and if he was sober, well, then, I don’t know, he shouldn’t have left.

Out of all the people I'm friends with, who know me, Jack knows me the best, even better than Alex does, because Alex stopped caring before Jack did.

Granted, Jack and I mended our friendship easily, he cut off contact with me for a while, when Alex did, but I believed him when he told me he didn’t know how to face me when his best friend was cheating on his other best friend.

It sounded better when he explained it.

He left. Jack left. He left me after we slept together. In the morning. Before I woke up. And I woke up fairly early. He just took off.

And that hurts; I'm not even good enough for my best friend.

“Logan, come on. I get that we’re not together anymore and I don’t deserve your trust, but I'm not stupid. What’s bothering you?”

Alex, I slept with Jack. Okay, I slept with your best friend on his birthday. I ruined his birthday celebration. He left in the morning and I woke up naked and alone.

Sighing, I roll my eyes, lolling my head backwards. “Alex, that whole part about not trusting you, yeah, hold on to that and leave.” I'm nasty, I know that, but he doesn’t, he just doesn’t get it.

We’re not friends. We were together and he cheated and he was a horrible boyfriend and he made me feel so guilty for nothing. I owe him nothing.

But, I still shouldn’t have slept with his best friend.

I slept with my best friend.

My relationship with Jack, my best-friendship with Jack is ruined.

“Really, we can’t even try to be friends? Listen, Logan, I know that I messed up. I know that I had the best thing in the world and I destroyed every chance I had with the closest thing I know to perfection. But, there’s no way we’re never going to see each other again.” I've heard this so many times, from him, from the guys, even from Ryan.

In all honesty, I don’t know what they want from me. One minute they want me to hate Alex and the next they want us to be friends.

Ryan thinks that I deserve whatever makes me happy. And that’s Jack. Even in high school, there were times when I would rather be with Jack than Alex.

I just wanted to paint today. That’s all I wanted to do. To come to the studio and paint. I didn’t want other things to distract me – my thoughts, Alex, all of this.

There’s no way to escape any of this. Alex is always around now. Jack is our best friend. The guys never leave my apartment because Ryan lives there, too.

It, there’s no escape.

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