"Grow up," she replies in disgust and walks off.

Dad catches me looking at him. There is a second where we just stare at each other through the gla.s.s, then he throws me a jaunty salute.

I return it.

But I'm not feeling it.

I'm seeing my dad in a whole new way and I don't like it.

I always thought he had the moves, but that was just pathetic. I know we'll never bring this up, because guys don't go there, but I feel sick. I don't want my dad to be a joke.

I don't want to be a joke.

My life was going great. Now I feel I'm stuck at some stupid crossroads with a sign saying "Dad" pointing one way and "Ally" pointing the other.

I just want to keep going straight but that doesn't seem to be an option.

Then again, I can't fake being in love with someone either. Especially my best friend.

That's exactly what I try to tell her the next day.

She's volunteering at the lab, so I've gone out to the campus to see her. But I decide that maybe I better phone first, make sure she's not busy.

I hit speed dial and go immediately to her voice mail.

"Hi. You've reached Ally. Leave a message."

I hang up before the beep.

I stare at the entrance to the biology labs as I run my hand roughly over my face.

I jam the phone in my pocket.

Ball's in your court, Ally. If you can't accept me as your best friend and nothing else, then it's "Sayonara, suckah."

Chapter thirty-two.

I watch Sam's number come up on my cell phone and tense. I'm in the lab with Angel in one hand and nail scissors for his claws in the other.

"No message," I tell the bird.

"Big jerk," he squawks.

I clip his front nail carefully. "You got it."

He is a patient little guy so I give his head a favored scratch when it's over. "You're all done."

I put him back in the large cage. Angel immediately flies over to Buffy. I watch them, happy at their togetherness.

A sharp rap on the door startles me. I turn and find Sam hovering in the doorway.

"Hi," he says.

After remembering to keep breathing calmly, showing no hint of weakness, I realize I'm disappointed.

Hi? That's it? Not that I expected him to declare his undying love from a hallway, not really.

Maybe just a teensy bit.

But he could still do better than a lame generic greeting.

I cross my arms and stare levelly at him. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to say that I really am sorry."

He's not just blowing smoke up my b.u.t.t. I can tell he means it. Though I'm not sure if he's sorry for how he behaved or the fact he doesn't love me.

I don't ask.

"Okay," I tell him.

There is a long pause.

"Anything else?" I inquire.

"Yeah. I..."

"You what?" I think I said that a bit more sharply than I meant to. But I'm a mite sensitive about serious-voiced guys who suddenly can't finish a sentence. Blame Jeremy.

Sam straightens up and squares his shoulders. "I think we should date."

Wow. That was the last thing I expected. Though it would probably be a happier moment if he didn't look like he was facing the firing squad.

Despite that, I'm pathetic enough that I'm filled with cautious hope.

"Why?" I am petty enough that I want to drown in compliments as he lists all the reasons we should pair up.

Sam is clearly taken aback. I can tell he wasn't expecting to have to answer that question.

"You know. We're best friends."

Stating the obvious, a.s.shole. Plus I'm on the fence about that fact right now.

Still, I would like a positive outcome. "Uh-huh." I throw him an encouraging look.

"And we're sleeping together...Or, we were..."

Under what must be my patently noticeable expression of "not impressed," Sam begins to fumble.

"And I know girls like dating."

"Big jerk," Angel pipes up from his cage.

I throw a fond smile at the bird.

"Not just girls. Guys like it. Well, some. I've never been a fan, but in this case, I think it could be good. Because of the best friends and sleeping together thing."

Apparently that was his attempt at fixing his previous sorry a.s.s comment.

EPIC Fail.

I continue to stare at him in case he'd like to add something that might actually help his case, but he has nothing except a smile for good measure.

Part of me just wants to nod "sure" like an eager puppy dog. But if Sam and I are to date or whatever, I can't have him start it like this.

He may be a dog, but he doesn't get to throw me a bone and think I'll be grateful.

I want him completely into me. Completely into us. And thrilled about it.

"I've got to clean the cages," I tell him, my dismissiveness clear.

Sam is an idiot but he's not stupid. He screwed up and I'm fairly certain by the slump of his shoulders as he leaves the room, he knows it.

I almost feel sorry for him.

Almost.

Chapter thirty-three.

So she'll date Adam but I get frozen out? In what universe does that make sense?

I kick aside a pizza box to make room to lie on the couch.

The place is disgusting: congealing food on plates, half-empty pop cans strewn all over the coffee table. Before he left for work, my dad tore a strip off me about cleaning up the pigsty I'd turned his home into.

I can't find it in myself to care.

I lie on the couch, unwashed, unshaven, in sweats that are none too clean.

My theatre manager sent me home from my shift. I got a stern warning instead of being fired because he thought I was deathly ill.

I'd be happy I kept my job if I could be bothered.

I can't believe she turned me down. I have never and I mean not ever asked a chick to date. She knows this. Where's the grat.i.tude?

Also, how did she make me feel like I'd done something wrong in this situation? I was trying to be n.o.ble. Do the right thing.

Isn't that what she wanted?

Ian shows up and lets himself in through the unlocked front door.

He cracks a window to air the place out, then knocks my legs off the couch, sits down, and doesn't say anything.

Good. I don't want to talk anyway.

I stare at the ceiling.

More silence.

Now I'm getting curious because Ian is a chatty guy who I'm sure was sent here by Rachel. So what is he waiting for?

"I get it," I begin. "You're here to find out exactly how I screwed up. Well, nice a.s.sumption, because it wasn't me. Everything was fine between us until she changed the rules."

Not a word.

"And yes. Maybe I did that when I kissed her, but people can have s.e.x without involving undying love and happily-ever-after garbage."

Ian leans his head back against the couch and gives a hard sigh.

"Okay, fine. Maybe I was already more connected to her than anyone else in my life. But it's not like I was trying to keep the s.e.x impersonal. I reframed our friendship to include the context of s.e.x."

I think about what I just said. "I guess, though, she reframed it to include the context of love."

So much for that.

"I tried to be with her. And where's the respect for me even offering to date? I've never done that before. I think I deserve a little love for that fact."

Ian just looks at me.

"Could you say something already?"

"Rach and I broke up."

I do a double-take. "That's not possible."