He smiled back and said hello. He'd never understood why Skye didn't like her sister. She had always been sweet to Taylor. The unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach was making him nauseous. He knocked on Skye's door.
A minute later, she peered out, her eyes flashing and a bright smile overtaking her mouth. He felt tears coming to his eyes as he thought about all he was about to lose. She went to hug him, but he put up his hands defensively. She stood back, confused. "This'll only be a minute," he said hoarsely.
She let him in. "What's wrong?" she asked, flopping back on her bed.
He stood near the open door. "You'll hate me after I tell you this," he told her.
"Taylor?" she asked.
His eyes met hers. "I want you to know that I didn't mean for this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you. You are the best friend I've ever had and the most incredible person I have ever met."
She shook her head. "I don't understand. Tell me what happened."
"I met a girl with we were on tour," he told her.
Her eyebrows lifted. "You want to break up?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
He nodded.
She choked back the tears that were rising to her eyes, and swallowed hard on the lump building in her throat. "I understand," she said. "Just tell me who she is."
"You remember me talking about Lia? Who has been schooling with us?"
Skye closed her eyes. "I do," she whispered.
He shrugged. "I just wanted you to know. I didn't want to drag this out."
She shook her head limply. "Please, leave me," she said softly. He watched her for a moment.
"I'm so sorry," he murmured, then slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him. He walked quickly out of the house, and back into the cold outside. He jumped in his car and cranked the engine.
Skye peered out from between the slats in the miniblinds on the window, watching as he sped away. She whirled, grabbed the picture of them together that had sat on her desk forever and threw it across the room. It slammed into her closet door, and she fell into her bed. She kicked off her shoes and jeans and crawled beneath the covers.
She didn't even care to get up and examine the picture frame. The metal frame had broken apart at two of it's corners, and either half lay surrounded by a puddle of broken glass. The picture - Skye and Taylor at a community leage baseball game in the 7th grade - had a scratch that ran the length between the two of them. Instead, she lay in bed and sobbed, praying that the past 5 minutes had only been a dream.
