The chemicals are restless in my head...

Ten minutes passed and Jared hadn’t returned to the living room. Curiosity taking over, I moved through the house trying to find him. As I climbed the stairs, I heard his voice coming through the half open door to our bedroom at the end of the hall. I couldn’t make out anything he was saying, not that I was trying. I had just wondered where he was.

I took a few steps forward towards the door, then stopped mid-step and changed course, heading back towards the staircase. But I stopped again at the top of the steps, unable to make up my mind. I wanted to shower and get dressed, get ready to start the day, whatever the day entailed. But I didn’t want to walk in while he was on the phone. I wanted to respect his privacy. I didn’t know what the call was about, if it was business or not, and I didn’t know whether it would be alright for me to overhear. I usually stayed away when his blackberry rang.

Deciding I was being ridiculous, I turned around a final time and walked the full length of the hall into the bedroom. Jared was sitting on the bed, the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, and he was picking at the chipped black nail polish on his fingers while apparently listening to whoever was on the other end. His head jerked up to look at me when I entered, his brow furrowed. I smiled at him and ducked into the closet to shed my pajamas and pull on a robe before jumping into the shower. But when I emerged from the closet, Jared was gone. I walked to the bedroom door in time to see his head disappearing down the stairs. He was still on the phone. I frowned and suddenly felt awful, wondering if I had done the wrong thing by coming in. But I tried to shake it off and told myself I’d apologize to him when he was done.

I showered quickly, dressed, and made my way back to the living room where Jared was now sitting, still in his boxers, his laptop open in his lap. "Hey," I said curling up next to him in the corner of the couch.

"Hey," he replied smiling.

"Sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have come in while you were talking," I apologized sheepishly, motioning towards the bedroom above our heads.

Puzzled, he studied my face for a few moments before closing his laptop and setting it on the ottoman in front of him beside my new camera. He turned to face me on the couch. "There’s nothing to be sorry about," he said slowly.

"Are you sure?" My voice was small, and I felt like I had done something wrong and was now awaiting punishment from an angry parent. A terrified puppy with her tail between her legs. But Jared wasn’t angry and I fortunately was not about to get bopped on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.

"Of course I’m sure," he said softly, leaning forward to punctuate his words. "It was just business, and the only reason I went downstairs when you came in was to get some coffee," he continued, pointing to the mug on the ottoman.

"Okay…I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to eavesdrop or something. Because I would never do that." I silently cursed myself as I was seemingly unable to make myself stop talking.

"I know." He was being patient while I was being ridiculously paranoid and insecure, and I didn’t know why. "You’re overreacting a little bit…" he said pointedly.

"I know, I can’t help it," I said, smiling and trying to shake it off. Apparently, I had freaked out about nothing. We had been together for nine months, but I still worried about overstepping boundaries every now and then despite repeatedly being told, like I was right now, that there weren’t any boundaries.

He reached out and pulled me into a tight hug before whispering in my ear, "Let me go jump in the shower and get dressed, then I’ll give you your present." He was letting the subject go, meaning I was fine and should let it go as well.

I gave a nod and a small sigh of relief before answering. "No, you won’t. But I’ll give you your gift."

He started laughing, amused by my determination to ignore the fact that he had gotten me something else. "Sounds like a plan."

I grinned and kissed him lightly before he rose from the couch and headed down the hall to the stairs. I waited a few moments before following him up, but instead of entering our bedroom, I ducked into the guestroom on the right. I walked around the bed to the small closet. Digging past dusty brown cardboard boxes whose contents I didn’t know, I found the envelope and small red box I had hidden there a few weeks prior. My nerves kicked up a notch as my fingers closed around the gifts and I pulled them into sight. I never enjoyed giving gifts. I didn’t like the element of surprise, of not knowing if the objects would be liked. And I didn’t like the idea of putting someone in a situation where they had to fake excitement or happiness over something I presented to them. I was a little more relaxed about it where Jared was concerned. Thankfully, I seemed to have better luck with him; he was always genuine, as far as I knew, and his reactions never appeared forced. But I was still nervous.

I descended the stairs again, chewing violently on my lip. I set the gifts on the couch where Jared had been sitting before diving into the overstuffed chair and shoving my hands into the pocket of my sweatshirt. I stared idly around the room, my teeth still gnawing on my lip, waiting. I listened as the water shut off in the bathroom. A few minutes later, I heard his footsteps move across the bedroom and into the closet. Just a few more minutes after that, he was making his way downstairs. The butterflies in my stomach were multiplying exponentially.

When Jared entered the living room, he was carrying a rather large box wrapped in cartoonish Santa paper. My mouth fell open and he laughed at me, setting the box down. It came just about to the middle of my ribs. I tried to speak, to tell him no, I wouldn’t open it, but nothing would come out. My eyes followed him as he sat down on the couch and looked curiously at the box and envelope there waiting for him. He pointed at them and I nodded.

"Does it matter which I open first?" he asked.

"The box."

He grinned and picked up the small red, square box. He untied the white ribbon from around it, then lifted the lid. His eyes lit up when he saw what was inside and I immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

"What is it?" he asked, lifting the silver and black gift from its resting-place.

"It’s a Celtic knot," I explained, watching in delight as he ran his fingers over the silver emblem. "It represents reincarnation, the cycle of life, death and rebirth. I couldn’t resist when I saw it, it’s my favorite knot."

"It’s perfect," he gushed, happiness clearly evident in his voice. He ran the black leather cord through his fingers to the clasp and fastened it at the back of his neck. Warmth spread through my body at the sight of his elated reaction and the remnants of my nerves fell away.

I sat up cross-legged on the chair as he reached next for the envelope and tore the end off. This was the part I was most excited for. He tipped the envelope up and a handful of pictures cut out of various magazines fell into his lap. His eyes widened in surprise and he thumbed curiously through the collection.

His eyes always said more than his lips ever did.

"Okay, here’s the deal," I began as he looked up at me with question in his eyes. "I was going to buy you two plane tickets. For you and me, for you and Shannon, for you and whoever. But I was having trouble coming up with where, so I thought I’d let you pick the place. London, Brazil, Hong Kong, Argentina," I started listing, pointing at the pictures in his hands that I had found in various travel magazines.

"Wherever you want, whenever you want. Just tell me, and I’ll take care of it. I just thought…you might want to get away sometime. You haven’t taken a vacation in a while, since before I joined you guys on tour this year and then moved in…so I thought it would be nice. I don’t know." My insecurity was back and I was rambling, afraid it wasn’t thoughtful enough since I couldn’t pick a destination…or something ridiculous like that.

"It’s wonderful, thank you," he said after a few moments. "And of course I’m going to take you." He stood up and pulled me off the chair into a tight hug. A tiny bit of relief flowed through my body.

"Now open yours," Jared demanded, breaking my train of thought.

"Okay, okay, I’ll open it," I said, moving over to the box. Curiosity was taking over. "What is it?"

"Ha! Like I’m going to tell you. Just open it!" he persisted.

I hesitantly reached for the edge of the paper and slowly tore it off. But the box was no help in telling me what was inside. It was a plain, brown cardboard box, no writing or pictures or anything. I looked up at Jared, an eyebrow raised. He was standing a few feet away, chewing nervously on a fingernail but looking as excited as a kid in a candy store. I lifted the lid of the box and reached inside. Jared immediately stepped forward, coming to my assistance, and slid the box off of the object my hands had grabbed a hold of. My mouth fell open as my gift emerged from the box.

"You didn’t," I said in disbelief. "Tell me you didn’t." But it was obvious he had. I set the guitar case down on the floor and stepped back, my hand over my mouth.

"I did," he replied with glee. "You like?"

I dropped to the floor, excitement rising to a rather uncontrollable level, and opened the case. Revealed to me was the guitar I had always wanted. The guitar I had admired in the hands of many skilled musicians from the front rows of countless crowds. It wasn’t the most expensive but it had always been something that I lusted after and wanted some day to have. It was a black Epiphone EJ-200, complete with pick guard etching.

"Like?! LIKE?!?! How about LOVE!" I squealed, jumping up and flying into his arms. I pressed my lips against his, wanting to show him just how much I loved it, loved him. "How did you know?" I asked breathlessly, returning to the guitar and lifting it carefully out of its case.

"Well…" Jared began hesitantly, "I checked the internet history on your laptop." His voice had gotten gradually softer as he spoke, but I still heard every word. I stopped what I was doing and looked up at him, not sure if I should be offended at the invasion of privacy or touched. Apparently there really weren’t any boundaries. When I didn’t react negatively, he continued. "I just wanted to know if there was anything you had been shopping around for, like, window shopping or whatever. Things you wanted but wouldn’t buy for yourself. That’s where I got a few ideas for cameras, because I saw the ones you had been looking at. Then Shannon helped me narrow it down to one. You’re not mad, are you?" He still sounded unsure, like now he was the puppy who had done something wrong.

"How the hell could I be mad?" I said in assurance. "I got a fucking Nikon and a guitar out of it; I don’t think it would be right if I was offended. Besides, I don’t have anything to hide on there. The stuff I have saved in word documents is private, but nothing on the internet."

"Don’t worry," he jumped in, almost cutting me off. "I know you write a lot, and that’s your business. It only becomes mine when you choose to show me, and I didn’t want to violate that." So maybe there was a boundary, but only just one, and it was of my doing.

"Okay..." I said slowly. It was the answer I had been expecting. I knew he was respectful of my privacy despite feeling that he should sometimes push me to talk to him anyway. He looked as though he was relieved, certain that I wasn’t upset, so I turned my attention back to the guitar.

I fell back to the floor, sitting cross-legged, and set the guitar in my lap. I ran my fingers up and down the fretboard, and I knew the intense happiness I was feeling was written clearly across my face. Jared sat down on the couch to watch me silently. I tried to play a few chords, but the instrument hadn’t been tuned and the dissonant sound was enough to make me cringe. But I was content enough to just sit there, getting to know the feel of it. I ran my hand over the wooden top, fingers tracing the flower etching.

I sat a few moments longer, simply enjoying the feel of the guitar in my hands, but my eyes focused on Jared. He was watching me intently, an almost indescribable look on his face. Part of it was pleasure; pleased with himself for picking out something I loved. He was a musician. He knew what it felt like to hold a guitar in your hands, and he knew how that feeling was intensified when it was a guitar you lusted after and that was now yours and yours alone. It was a guitar I would pour the entire spectrum of my emotions and thoughts into, and he was genuinely happy that he could be the one to provide that for me. The camera, the guitar, it was everything to me. I had lost all forms of creative expression when my mother had died and months later, it was still gone. But Jared had just returned it to me. All of it.

This realization was followed closely by incredible appreciation. You could put a price on the camera and guitar, but you most definitely could not put a price on what those two objects provided for me.

A smile slowly spreading across my face, I set the beautiful instrument back in its case and rose, stepping around the guitar to the couch. Jared leaned back into the cushions and I dropped happily into his lap.

"You’re the one for me, you’re my ecstasy, you’re the one I need," I whispered against his ear, barely getting the words out before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Are you ever going to tell me what that’s from?" he whined, joining me in laugher. "That’s the third time you’ve said it!"

"Seriously," I said, calming myself and ignoring his question. "I cannot even begin to tell you how much this means to me."

"I know you’ve gotten back to your music," he said, referring to my struggle with the piano earlier, "but does this mean you’ll start taking pictures again?"

Hope was dripping from his voice. "Of course. It’d be a sin if I just let that beautiful camera just sit there unused."

"I think the last time you used your camera was when your mom died…at Dunkirk…" His voice had started strong as he had been thinking aloud, but he spoke quietly as he trailed off at the end. He swallowed hard and looked up at me, not sure if he should have spoken, if he had reopened old wounds or not.

I smiled reassuringly and ran my hand up from his neck into his hair. "It’s okay," I said slowly and his face brightened a few degrees again. "I think I sort of cut myself off from almost everything after mom died. There was the occasional song I would play, but that’s it. I haven’t even written anything more than a few sentences here and there in months.

"I noticed…" Jared said. "I would’ve said something, but I didn’t know how you would react. And I figured a grand gesture," he paused, motioning to the camera and guitar, "would make more of an impact." He cracked a smile.

"Never be afraid of my reactions," I replied seriously before lightening my tone again, wanting to be rid of the dangerously near heavy conversation. "Every girl loves a grand gesture or two." Before he could respond, I tightened my grip on his hair and pulled him forward, capturing his lips with my own.

"What was that for?" he asked once we broke.

"Thank you from the bottom of my heart," I said before pressing my lips to his again. I shifted as best I could until my legs were straddling his. His tongue was begging entrance to my mouth, so I opened to him, my hands running down his chest, coming to rest at the hem of his shirt.

But as soon as it had begun, it began to end. It was like a switch had been flipped, and Jared pulled back.

"Not right now," he said breathlessly, both apology and excitement in his eyes.

"Yes right now," I began to persist in confusion. I wanted him to know how much I loved what he had done for me, how much I loved him. I slid my hands up his chest beneath the fabric of his shirt and attempted to kiss him again but was met with avoidance. Confused and almost to the point of being hurt and offended, I withdrew my hands and crawled off of his lap.

"You wanted it last night and you wanted it this morning, but you don’t want it now? What the fuck?" I asked bluntly.

He looked a little squeamish and opened and closed his mouth a few times but failed to utter any explanation. I stared at him, silently demanding some insight into why he refused to kiss me, but he was saved by the bell.

The doorbell.

I groaned as its ring reverberated through the house. I didn’t want visitors or to deal with a salesmen at the door. I wanted Jared, and I wanted Christmas Day to just be with him.

But my groan quickly fell away as I saw a brief moment of excitement cross Jared’s face before he brought out the skillful actor in himself and put on more of a frowny, ‘It’s Christmas! Who could be at our door?’ kind of face instead.

He stood up and started towards the door, smoothing down his clothes and hair as he went. He stopped when he reached the hall and turned back to me. "I can’t answer it," he said pointedly. "What if it’s a salesman? They can’t know I live here."

I eyed him warily from my position on the couch. I knew something was going on, I jut couldn’t figure out what it was. But Jared didn’t say anything else. He stood expectantly, waiting, and the doorbell rang again. I sighed, still unhappy about his refusal to be intimate, and rose in resignation, making my way to the front door with Jared following closely behind. I paused when I reached my destination and the doorbell rang yet again. I looked over at Jared who had now moved to be out of sight when the door opened. I caught that same fleeting glimpse of excitement, only there for a fraction of a second. He looked from me to the door and back again, so I put my hand on the knob and turned.

And then there were two bodies flying at me, and I received multiple bone-crushing hugs from two of my best friends. Squeals of delight rang through the house, but whose mouths they came from I can’t be sure. I was in a state of complete shock that left me speechless. Sarah and Eva? Here in LA? Kevin too, but he was still standing in the doorway, waiting for Sarah and Eva to calm down before giving me a hug as well.

I turned wordlessly to Jared for an explanation. His smile barely fit on his face, and all he said was, "Merry Christmas." Like this was my real gift – the guitar and camera were just extras. Insanely expensive extras.

"But how…how did…" I was trying to form a question, but it didn’t work. "The phone call…earlier…that was…?" Eloquence obviously was not in the cards at the moment.

"That was me calling from the airport to tell Jared we landed," Sarah jumped in, practically vibrating with excitement. She pulled me into another hug and planted a kiss on my cheek. "Goddamn I missed you darling."

"I missed you too," I said, the shock starting to fade. Speech was returning. "All of you. You should have TOLD me you were coming!"

"Awww but this is our gift to you, and gifts are supposed to be surprises," Eva replied in defense.

And then it hit me. Eva was HERE, in LA. She wasn’t in the rehab center. When did that happen?

Wanting answers, I said, "Why are we still standing here? Come on, let’s go." I motioned down the hall towards the living room. Sarah, Eva, and Kevin left their bags by the door and followed me, Jared closing the front door behind us.

I stepped around the new guitar case and curled up comfortably in the corner of the couch, laughing as my friends bent over the instrument and asked a barrage of questions.

"Where’d you get this?!"

"Jared gave it to me for Christmas."

"What kind is it?"

"Epiphone."

"Will you play something?"

"Not right now."

"Play something!"

"Maybe later."

"Please?!"

I didn’t respond. Of course, I was too busy laughing to answer, but it served its purpose. They dropped the line of questioning and fell onto various pieces of furniture. Jared appeared a few moments later with an armful of water bottles and Dr. Pepper cans.

"So, how is everyone? Tell me what’s been going on," I asked, aiming the question mostly at Eva but addressing the general population.

"Life is good," Sarah and Kevin replied, answering in unison with smiles plastered across their faces. "Working, of course," Sarah continued, "unlike SOMEBODY we know."

"Fuck you," I said, giving her the finger before standing up to let Jared sit down. All seats were taken, so he pulled me down into his lap. Sarah just laughed and settled back into the couch cushions.

"I’m good," Eva spoke up, addressing my want, my need, to know how she was. "I was released early, two weeks ago. But I wanted it to be a surprise, so we didn’t tell you. I made Jared promise not to tell you either."

"Which I was not too happy about," Jared interjected.

"I’m feeling a lot better though," Eva continued. "I’m just happy to be out of that godforsaken place. I couldn’t stand it anymore, I felt like I was dying."

"I’m glad you’re out too," I said warmly. "And I’m glad you’re feeling better." I wanted to keep talking about it, to really make sure she was okay, but I didn’t know what else to say, and a nod from Sarah convinced me for the time being that all was good.

"Where’s Shannon?" Eva asked, changing the subject. You could tell she was trying to conceal the hope in her voice, but she was failing miserably.

"You missed him, he was here earlier to bring the camera over," I said. "He didn’t stay very long though. We could probably call him." I looked at Jared for confirmation.

"Yeah, I’ll call him now," Jared said.

"Wait!" Eva jumped in. "Don’t tell him we’re here. I want it to be a surprise."

"Okay," Jared said knowingly before pulling out his blackberry and dialing. Eva’s adoration of Shannon was obvious, and she wanted to be the one to show him that she was here and healthy again.

We remained silent as Jared spoke to his brother. Convincing Shannon to come over didn’t seem too difficult. In fact, no convincing needed to be done. Nobody wants to spend the holidays alone, and since Christmas with the Letos had been celebrated the night before, Christmas alone was exactly what Shannon had been doing.

"Here, let me up," Jared said once he had hung up, poking my sides to get me to move. I sat back down once he had risen, but he stopped at the end of the couch, gave me a look that said he needed to talk to me, and jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen.

I frowned, alarm bells immediately going off, but I got up and followed him. "We’ll be right back," I said over my shoulder to my friends. We started toward the kitchen, but Jared veered off towards the music room. Apparently the kitchen was too open to the living room.

He closed the door once we were inside and started pacing in front of it. I stood watching, waiting for him to speak, but he didn’t.

"What’s going on Jared?" I asked, breaking the silence. Something was obviously on his mind.

He stopped pacing and turned to look at me. "I think I’m overreacting," he answered honestly, his eyes widening a little bit.

"Okay, overreacting about what?" I was clearly going to have to take him through this one step at a time. He wanted to tell me what he was thinking, but at the same time, he didn’t want to tell me. The entire situation had come out of left field, and I didn’t know what to think.

"Shannon coming over," he said.

"You’re…but…he’s your brother." Now I was even more confused. "You’ve always liked having Shan around, he’s family."

"I know, I know. But Shannon and Eva? I don’t like it."

"Oh." That was unexpected. He had never had a problem with it before, at least not one that he had showed or talked about like this. "Where is this coming from?" I asked slowly. "You’ve never said anything about it before, and we’ve both known that they have a relationship since going to see her at Thanksgiving. And you had an idea about it even before that. If I remember correctly, you didn’t have any objections whatsoever."

"Yeah, well, that was before."

"Before what?" I demanded. I was the one frustrated now. This involved my best friend whom I loved dearly, and if he thought she would somehow get hurt with Shannon, I wanted to know about it.

"Before it became serious. Before she came here, to LA, and wanted to see him," he explained.

"We knew it was serious! You couldn’t tell from the way they were acting around each other at the center?" I was doing everything I could to control my volume, but I wasn’t sure how well it was working. I couldn’t believe that he didn’t talk to me about this before now, before Eva was sitting in the living room and Shannon was on his way over.

"I don’t know, maybe I didn’t want to believe it," he said defensively. "Part of me didn’t think it would turn into anything. Shannon hasn’t said anything else about Eva to me since we left Buffalo last month. I don’t know how he feels about her."

"What makes you think he’s going to hurt her?" I asked, fearing the answer.

Jared shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "Shannon’s just never been the…monogamous type," he said in defeat. It had been the sentence that was on his mind for the entire conversation. "And by never, I mean never. He’s never had a serious relationship, and I don’t want him to fuck up and have it hurt Eva. She’s already…"

"…Fragile," I said, speaking Jared’s thoughts. My shoulders fell slightly as I realized what it was he was saying and that I was agreeing with him. "I don’t like this, at all."

"Neither do I."

"Maybe we’re not giving either of them enough credit," I said hopefully.

"Maybe…I don’t know," Jared replied, not sounding too optimistic. "What should we do?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "I don’t think there’s anything we can do. Even if I said something to Eva, tried to warn her away, she wouldn’t listen to me. She’s too deep into this already, you can tell by just looking at her."

"But…"

"You can warn Shan if you want, tell him to be careful, to make sure he really wants a relationship with Eva and can commit to it, but if I say anything to Eva, she’s going to feel like I’m attacking her. Believe me, I’ve tried it before with other guys back in Buffalo. It never worked."

"But…" he said again.

"All I can do is be there for her if something does happen and it doesn’t work out between them. Okay?"

"Okay," Jared repeated, nodding his head. I started for the door, but his words stopped me. "What are you going to do?" he blurted out, panicking again.

I turned back around, wondering what he meant. I was pretty sure I had just answered that question. "What am I going to do? I’m going to make peace with this, go back out there, and pretend we didn’t talk about what we just talked about until something happens. IF something even does happen and whether it is soon or in the distant future. I suggest you do the same, or everyone’s going to wonder what’s wrong, because you look seriously freaked right now. It’s their relationship, we can’t get in the middle of it."

He swallowed hard and nodded again. "I’m overreacting, aren’t I?" But he already knew the answer. "I just don’t want Eva to get hurt."

My eyes widened slightly as I heard his words. Since when did he come to harbor such concern for my friends? He hadn’t known them that long. "Eva?" I asked. "What about the possibility of Shannon getting hurt? He is your brother after all, I thought you’d be more concerned about him than about my friend."

"I’ve come to care about all of those people probably as much as you do," he said motioning toward the closed door and the three friends on the other side of it. "I haven’t known them as long as you have, but they mean the world to you, they’re like your family, and I can’t ignore that. And as for Shannon getting hurt, the thought never really crossed my mind. He’s usually always the one causing the pain, not the recipient of it."

"My point is," I said, eager to get back to my friends, "is that when it comes to relationships, to love, no one’s safe. We should know that better than anyone. And, despite a person’s best efforts, pain can’t be avoided. Whatever’s going to happen is going to happen, and we can’t control it nor dwell on it or we’ll go crazy. We have to pretend that Eva’s NOT a recovering drug addict and that Shannon IS the monogamous type. They have to do this and make their own mistakes if they’re going to make any at all. And then, if need be, be there when it falls apart. Okay?"

"Okay," Jared repeated for a final time. "Let’s go."

He took my hand and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before opening the door and leading me back into the living room. Three faces turned to look at us as we sat back down on the couch, but no questions were asked and nobody looked alarmed or even intrigued as to what Jared and I had been discussing. Instead, they returned to a debate they had been having in our absence about the difference in taste between Pepsi and Coke. So far, Kevin was convinced Pepsi tasted better, Eva was convinced that it was Coke, and Sarah couldn’t tell the difference. I settled back into Jared’s lap to absorb the petty argument we had had many times in my apartment around the television on a Saturday morning or on our way to clubs on Friday nights. They mostly just tried to sway Sarah to either of their sides to break the tie while I refrained from weighing in and simply laughed my ass off, unable to wipe the completely blissful smile off of my face.