Landon realized he spent a lot of time staring at Tori. Before, it had been purely for aesthetic reasons. The chick was hot. If someone ever asked him to make a sculpture of sex, he'd use Tori's body as the mold. She was incredible, he didn't think he'd ever get tired of looking at her.

As time passed, though, it had less and less to do with her looks, and more to do with the person. She smiled a lot when she was with other people, and he was growing to like her smiles. The sound of her laughter. He also liked that he was now able to read beyond the smiles and know which ones were fake, and which ones were real. That he could now see how sometimes she was smiling when really she was hurting.

She reminded him a lot of Liam, actually. His twin put on a smiling, happy front all the time. No matter what was going on in Liam's life, he tried to make everyone around him feel comfortable and happy. Often at his own expense and to his own detriment. Tori was much the same way. She helped her friends and her coworkers and her boss, often relegating herself to a back burner.

It was how she'd ended up in her current predicament, after all. Taking care of her friend Katya and respecting her relationship with Liam. Then respecting Liam as a boss and a man involved with other females. Hell, even being with Landon was more of the same – she put up with his bullshit and his moodiness, for no other reason than that she thought he deserved some niceness in his life.

Yeah, okay, but who was nice to Tori? Sure, her friends all adored her and were nice to her, but none of them were there. They were too busy with their own lives. Katya was getting married, she had a wedding to plan, and Liam was at the beginning of a brand new relationship – his first ever real relationship. He couldn't deal with a sad, lonely girl right now.

Landon had learned all those things from staring at her. Observing her. Watching her as she made phone calls and checked in with everyone. Noticing how she always steered the conversations back to her friends' lives, helping them through their issues while not burdening them with her own.

“You should tell her you're here,” he commented the next morning, after she'd gotten off the phone with Katya.

“Jesus, I didn't even know you were awake,” Tori gasped, pressing her hand to her chest.

“How could I not be? You're on the phone two fucking feet away from me.”

They were still in bed. It had been early when they'd crawled between the sheets, but she'd been worn out from the day and from her emotions. She'd fallen asleep quickly.

Landon, on the other hand, had spent most of the night staring at her.

“Sorry,” she winced. “She hasn't caught onto the time difference yet, it's like ten at night there.”

“You should tell her you're here,” he said it again, rolling onto his side so he could face her. “Tell her what's going on, explain how upset you are.”

She frowned and kept looking straight up.

“No, she has a million things on her mind. She just started her new business, and now she has a wedding to plan. This isn't the time to be her pathetic, sad, jilted friend.”

“I'm sorry, is there ever a good time to be that?” he asked. “If she's your fucking friend, she won't care about the other stuff. You listen to all her bullshit – let her return the favor.”

She finally turned her head and looked at him.

“You're just trying to unload me on someone else,” she joked.

“Obviously. Crying chicks aren't as hot as you'd think,” he said, and he was glad when she laughed.

“No, probably not,” she snickered as she wiped at her under eyes.

It was a little after seven in the morning, the sun had just risen. He was exhausted, and by the looks of it, so was she. Normally, he'd get up and go for a run. Score some more blow. Start his day off. But their night was weighing heavy on him. Some how, some way, this girl had become more than a tool he could use for sex and personal gain. She'd become a person. Someone he actually related to a little. He took a deep breath.

“I don't want you sleeping with anyone else,” he said, his voice more stern than he'd intended. She seemed a little startled as she looked back at him.

“Excuse me?”

“That guy last night,” he continued on. “I didn't like it.”

“You were with that girl the -”

“I didn't like it,” he stressed. “I think ... this is our time together. As fucked up and awful and weird as it is, that's how it is. Just the two of us.”

She was silent for a long time, then she turned onto her side, as well.

“I didn't like it when you talked to the blonde,” she informed him. A grin spread across his face.

“I knew you were fucking jealous.”

“What's that saying about a pot and a kettle and wearing black?”

“Shut up,” he said. “So we have a deal. While we're here, I'll stop picking up random chicks, and you don't get to fuck random football players.”

“I wasn't ever going to fuck – wait a minute, how many chicks have you picked up!?”

He cleared his throat.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked, then laughed when she stuck out her hand so he could shake it.

“Deal. I won't do what I already wasn't doing, and you'll stop being an asshole,” she agreed. He snorted and grabbed her wrist, yanking her across the mattress and into him.

“You know what's the most annoying thing about you?” he started as he reached around her and deftly unhooked her bra. “You're actually pretty likable.”

“I know. Want to know what's the most annoying thing about you?” she returned his question, then obediently lifted her arms so he could pull off her top.

“No.”

“You snore,” she continued, helping him as he shoved and prodded at her shorts, forcing them down her legs.

“Can't snore if I don't sleep,” he pointed out, pulling her on top of him so she was straddling his hips.

“You sleep, Dr. Edenhoff. Tiny little cat naps, when you think no one's watching,” she informed him, helping him to sit up and take off his own shirt.

“I love it when you call me doctor,” he sighed. “Make sure to yell it loud enough for the people in the next room to hear.”

“You got it, doc.”

*

TORI CHEWED AT THE edge of her nail and stared at Landon's back. They were walking down a crowded street, surrounded by tourists from all over the world. She was getting bumped and shoved from every direction. Without looking behind him, he reached back with his hand, and she gratefully took it in her own, letting him guide her.

Aaaaand now we're holding hands, technically. What the fuck is going on!?

It was a question she'd been asking herself over and over for the past twenty-four hours.

After her bizarre meltdown on the balcony, Landon had been surprisingly nice to her and had put her to bed. Then in the morning he'd been downright charming. It had almost been unnerving. He'd admitted to being jealous, then had said he didn't want her sleeping with anyone else while she was with him. Promised he wouldn't sleep with anyone else, either. Then they'd had sex, and it hadn't had any of the characteristic roughness of their other trysts. It had almost been ... sweet.

What did it all mean? Was he her boyfriend? Did she even like him? She suspected the answer was yes, she liked him very much, which made her nervous. She'd also liked his brother, and that had ended badly for her. She was positive Landon would be able to rip her in half if she gave him half the chance.

Don't give him the chance. Jealousy doesn't equal feelings – it equals possessiveness. He doesn't wanna share his human sex toy, that's all.

“This isn't as fun as I'd pictured,” she called out to him. He didn't say anything, but she could tell by the way his shoulders jerked that he'd laughed.

She'd wanted to go shopping. They'd spent the whole day in their hotel room, only leaving twice to get food. They hadn't had any more deep heart to hearts. She could only handle so many breakdowns in a twenty-four hour period, and they obviously didn't come naturally to Landon, so it was nice to just take it easy. From everything. They'd been lazy and watched movies and talked about pointless things. It had been nice.

But it had also wasted one whole day of her precious five. In four more, she'd be flying home, so she was determined to buy a shit ton of souvenirs. When she'd announced she'd be going off to find some, he'd simply said he'd come along.

He'd been a good sport, looking in all the shops with her, but she could tell it wasn't his thing at all. He seemed twitchy and uncomfortable, and he'd been chain smoking the whole time, having to stop into one small shop and by some off label pack to replace his empty one. When they finally broke free from the busy side street and came out into a square of sorts, she saw he was even sweating. More so than the tropical climate called for.

“You okay?” she asked. He nodded his head and let go of her hand so he could shake out another cigarette.

“Peachy keen,” he mumbled, struggling with his lighter. She finally took it from him and flicked it on. He nodded and leaned into the flame.

“You look sick,” she said, then she reached up and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. He jerked away, but she could tell it felt clammy under her touch.

“I'm fine,” he insisted. She watched him for a second longer, then the wheels in her brain kicked into high gear.

“Oh,” she gasped softly. “The other night ... I walked in and she was doing a line.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You never got to do any, did you?”

“I told you it wasn't a big deal, I don't care that you dropped it all,” he said. She shook her head.

“You're detoxing right now.”

“Fuck off,” he growled, tapping ashes at their feet. “I'm fine. Worry about yourself.”

“When was the last time you had anything?” she kept going.

“I'm not having this conversation with you.”

“Let's see ... probably like the same morning, soooo ... forty-eight hours?” she guessed.

He'd been serious, though, and he walked away without answering. He was long legged and had a brisk stride, she had to jog to keep up with him.

“We're not so fucking close all of a sudden that you get to act like my fucking mother,” he snapped when she caught up to his side.

“Clearly you need someone to act like it,” she replied. “I just don't want you having a heart attack while we're out here.”

“I'm a doctor, I know what happens during detox, I know my body. I'm fine.”

“You're not fine. Look at me,” she snapped, grabbing his arm and yanking him around to face her. As they stumbled to a stand still, she grabbed his sunglasses off his face.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing!?”

He would always be handsome, no matter what his condition – god had blessed the Edenhoff men. She could tell, though, when they were worn down. She'd been around Liam enough to know exactly how he looked when in good health, and though they weren't 100% identical, especially when a person got to know them, it meant she also knew what Landon should look like at his best. And right now, his eyes were bloodshot and he had bags under them which were so big, she was pretty sure he could carry his groceries in them.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” she asked softly. He scowled and snatched his glasses back.

“I told you, I don't sleep.”

“You have to sleep, Landon.”

“Tell that to my hypothalamus.”

“Why can't you sleep?” she kept pressing. He sighed and looked over her head, nervously tapping his finger along the side of his burning cigarette.

“I just can't, alright? A lot of shit up here,” he said, rubbing at this temple.

“Like what?”

“I don't wanna talk about this.”

“Well, I'm asking about this.”

“We're not best fucking friends, Victoria,” he sneered. “I'm not sharing my deepest, darkest secrets with my best buddy here, okay?”

She was quiet for a long moment, absorbing what he'd just said.

“So your deepest darkest secrets are what keep you awake?” she asked in a gentle voice.

He turned and walked away again, this time moving purposefully fast. She got to his side just as he entered a tree lined pathway. The shade offered some relief from the heavy heat, but it did nothing to relieve the sudden tension between them.

“I seriously don't want to have this conversation,” he grumbled, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground and taking out his pack. When he went to get his lighter, though, they both remembered she still had it.

“No nicotine,” she threatened, holding up the Bic. “Not until you talk to me.”

“Get fucked and give me my lighter,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Nope. You may not want me as a friend, but you're stuck with me now, so you might as well let me help you.”

“I don't need any help.”

“Baby doll,” she chuckled sadly. “You need help more than any person I've ever met.”

Oddly enough, those words seemed to enrage him more than anything else she'd said. Suddenly he was grabbing her arms and forcing her backwards. Shoving her up against a tree trunk. She winced and cowered as he loomed over her.

“You think I'm some stray fucking kitten you can take in and nurse back to health? Is that it? If you're sweet enough and nice enough, maybe you can fix me, and maybe I can be a replacement Liam for you?” he yelled at her. She gasped.

“Is that what you think?” she was appalled. “I would never do that! I could never think that!”

“Good, because I will never be like him. Now give me my fucking lighter.”

“Talk to me,” she urged. “Is that what keeps you up at night? Worrying everyone just wants you to be like your brother?”

“You wanna know what fucking keeps me awake at night? I killed someone. That's what fucking keeps me up at night.”

Tori was so stunned, she didn't move when he snatched the lighter from her hand and stomped away from her. He was a good fifty feet down the path when she came to her senses and trotted after him. By the time she reached him, he'd lit a cigarette and was greedily sucking in the smoke.

“You ... killed someone?” she asked slowly. What was she supposed to think after a statement like that? Was he a serial killer? A psycho? Was it a drug deal gone bad?

He sighed and exhaled a long stream of smoke. Then he took another deep drag before heading over to a bench. She hesitated for only a second, then sat down next to him.

“I was in Colombia,” he started, playing with his lighter while he spoke. “Some shitty field hospital. Not enough medicine, old equipment, dirty tools. We were working all the time, twelve, eighteen hour days.”

He paused for a while, so she licked her lips and risked the question, “were you high at the time?”

“No,” he chuckled. “But I wish I had been.”

“What?”

“It was a kid. Maybe eleven. Came in the morning, bullet wound to the chest. It shouldn't have been a big deal. He was bleeding a lot, but I could've stopped it, I'd dealt with worse.”

“So what happened?”

“I passed out. One minute I was turning to grab some gauze, the next I was laying on my back. I don't know how long I was down there for, no one had checked, they were all too busy. The kid bled to death on the table while I was unconscious.”

“You just fainted?” she asked.

“I was tired, hungry, hadn't eaten in like a day or two. That's the shitty thing, because I keep thinking if I had used, I would've stayed awake. I wouldn't have passed out. That kid would be alive right now, walking around. Hanging out with his friends. Going home to his mom. But he's not, he's in some mass grave somewhere, and all because I couldn't keep my fucking eyes open.”

“Landon,” she said his name softly. “That was not your fault. How could you think so? You couldn't help it, it could've happened to any doctor.”

“But it didn't – it happened to me,” he said. “I never slept good before that, and after ... I don't think I've slept through a whole night since then. So I do fucked up things so I won't think about it. Drugs help me forget. Sex helps me forget. Stupid shit helps me forget.”

“Being an asshole to everyone helps you forget?” she guessed, gently teasing him. It earned her a small smile.

“Yeah, or at the very least keeps them from talking to me about it,” he replied.

“Maybe you should talk about it. Does Liam know?”

“No, I never told him.”

“Maybe you should,” she suggested. He finally looked at her. Stared at her for a long moment.

“I'll tell him right after you call Katya and tell her you've been here with me this whole time,” he challenged her.

She frowned. Not fair. Their situations were very different. Still, she didn't want this eating him up anymore. She chewed on her lip and came up with a compromise.

“These aren't conversations we should have over the phone,” she spoke, her voice full of caution, and she slid her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. “So how about if we get through this whole ordeal without murdering each other, we'll tell them when we get home, okay?”

“We?” he asked, squeezing her hand so tightly it hurt.

“Yeah, we. You're not getting rid of me so easily, Dr. Edenhoff,” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers. “We're friends now. A basket case and an asshole. Who knows, we may be each others only friends after we talk to them.”

“Scary fucking thought, Tori.”

“Why? Not like you have any friends now.”

He snorted and dropped her hand.

“C'mon, let's stop being depressed and get the fuck out of here.”