"Wh.. what?" My breath gets caught in my throat the first time I try to speak.

I turn my head to look at Clay, but his back is facing me. This has to be a joke, right? People don't do things like that, nobody's that cruel. Why would anyone even think of such a thing? How messed up do you need to be?

George is silent. Even though I'm desperate to catch his attention, he doesn't dare to look at me.

"Why?" I take a step towards him, still in disbelief. I refuse to accept any of what I just heard.

"We had no other choice," he shakes his head, "Nick and I thought-"

"Nick?" My voice is on the verge of breaking, "Nick knew?"

When George nods, another wave of excruciating pain hits my heart. I get even closer to him, still trying to get him to look at me. Still, nothing.

"Why would you do that to me?" With a voice close to a whisper, I'm fighting back the tears that are choking me, "Look at me, George."

George takes in a heavy breath, pressing his lips together as his eyes that stay focused on the horizon become glassy.

"Cause you meant nothing to me back then," his voice is low, "and I thought it would stay that way."

"Shut the fuck up- just shut up!" There's power in my voice that is coming from pain, and it makes him look down at the ground, "Nothing's changed, I'm still the same nothing to you."

"You're not," his voice is small, "I'm sorry, Ana. It got out of control, I'm so fucking sorry."

"Out of fucking control!?" My voice quavers, "What was your perfect scenario if this is out of control? Me not finding out about it and falling in love with you? Is that what you call control, George!?"

"They told me to stop it before it was too late but you were so fucking sweet and amazing that I couldn't get myself to find the words to say it," I see his bottom lashes stick to each other as they soak up the tears, "I thought if I could keep doing this I'd catch feelings for you too and nobody would get hurt-"

The power with which I slap him burns my palm - the feeling in sync with the tears that burn my cheeks. George turns around and I feel Clay's hand on the side of my arm gently pulling me back.

"You think that's how it works!? You thought you'd magically fall in love if you kept kissing me? What is wrong with you!?"

I start sobbing hysterically, trying to get away from Clay's grip, and losing it even more when I realize that it's impossible to escape. My words were a shock to Clay too, cause apparently he had no idea that George and I even kissed, but even through that, he never loosens his hold on me.

There's a hand print on George's face when he turns around. And a small cut right at the top of his cheek, which was probably a deep scratch my nail left. The scene makes me sob even harder. Even after he hurt me, it hurts me to hurt him back.

"Go pack our things," I hear Clay's words directed to George. The ringing and buzzing in my ears from crying make it sound like a nightmare. And all I want is for it to be a nightmare.

George gives him a small nod, lacking the strength to speak. And when he finally looks at me, I see his eyes glisten again, "I'm sorry."

I take in a sharp breath, exhaling and watching the fog my hot breath created take away the image of George with it. Everything starts replaying in my head from the very beginning, especially the parts where I ignored every single warning that left Clay's mouth.

I don't blame myself. My whole life the only thing that kept me going was my habit of trying to see the best in everything, think the best of everyone, be my best to everyone.

I tried my best. I didn't let them live in my house because I liked George. I did it because they had nowhere to go and I was the only person who could help them. It's not my fault. I really tried my best.

Yet even though my brain is full of thoughts and emotions, it's still unable to process what just happened. I'm completely detached from reality, I cannot even wrap my head around the fact that this is reality.

My back brushes against Clay's chest and his envelop my body. I close my eyes, trying to calm my breathing. I take a moment to take in the feeling of the numbness around my face, the tingling of my lips, and the buzzing in my head and ears. I hope all of it comes from crying, cause if not, I don't know what else to blame.

"I'm sorry." He rests his cheek on top of my head.

I wait for my sniffles and shaky breaths to die down before I speak, "You don't have to."

"Should've told you," Clay sighs, "I'm so sorry."

I don't think he imagines how accurately I can imagine the thought process and emotional roller-coaster he went through. At first, even though he hated me, he still was trying to warn me. Then he started giving obvious hints even though he valued his and George's friendship more than whatever there was between us. After a while, he finally tried to tell me but George called and interrupted. I don't know what else he could do.

I understand him better than I understand myself. And I don't think he should apologize.

"I'm just really dumb," my illogical reaction of laughing through tears comes through again, "probably wouldn't believe you even if you told me. Still can't believe it."

I thought it was from crying that I've been shivering from the cold for the past quarter of an hour. It gets worse when Clay lets go of me and the freezing air hits my back. Ideally, I would go home, but I don't think I want to see George and Nick right now.

"Are you cold?" Clay's having trouble identifying the reason behind my shivers as well.

"I think," right as I admit it, my eyes widen seeing him hook his fingers around his sweater, "nononono, no, stop it."

"I have a long-sleeved shirt underneath, I'll be fine," he ignores my words and takes it off. And it's so warm that I get goosebumps and my eyes almost roll to the back of my head when I put it on. My soul left my body for a second.

"Do you wanna walk? Till they finish packing?" My face drops from Clay's words.

I couldn't react when he told George to go pack, but, "I'm the one who needs to pack."

The confusion on his face is understandable. Well, the house is officially theirs in 40 days and I refuse to stay there all alone for the said amount of time. Even thinking about it drives me insane.

"Don't even think about it," Clay sounds offended, "the house is yours for the rest of the year."

"No, it's not," and I don't want it to be, "there's nothing keeping me here.. I hate my job, I hate that house, I hate the weather and I hate the loneliness. I'd rather go back to Florida, at least I have someone there."

"You're not lonely, first of all. You have someone here as well."

"I am pretty much lonely," I chuckle through the pain.

"What am I then?"

The corners of my mouth droop, "Something."

"Besides, Nick's just a big idiot but he really really loves you and cares about you. And you don't have to forgive George, but I'm sure he'll go above and beyond if you ever need anything or anyone," he speaks, "so you have three somethings that are always there for you."

I wipe my tears, still unsure of how I feel. My brain needs time to process things cause as of now I keep forgetting what just happened and crying is the only thing I'm capable of doing.

"Go home, it's cold," I sniffle, looking at him and seeing how underdressed he is for the weather, "I'll walk for a bit."

"My ex kept saying that a hoe never gets cold," at least he can laugh about it now, "I just realized that it didn't age well-- all I'm saying is I'm not cold."

He manages to make me laugh again and I can't help but wonder how is he so good at dealing with crying people.