“What the fuck are we supposed to do?” I pace the length of the house while Hendrix looks at me with confusion. “Go to dinner, and then cut it short because I have to be home? I should’ve never agreed to meeting up. Let's not mention the headfuck that’s public transport.”

“Can you stop walking around and talking to yourself, you’re making me nauseous.”

“The texts were enough. They broke up the days,” I continue, ignoring his request. “This is too much.”

“Can’t you just ask her to come here?” he suggests.

“Come here?” I look around the house like I haven’t lived here for the past month. “All we have is a bed and a couch. She’ll think I just want her here for sex.”

“Well, don’t you?”

“Among other things.”

“She knows your situation, Jagger.” He hands me my phone. “Just ask her.”

“I hate that it’s this big fuck off reminder, you know? I start up my pacing, and Hendrix falls back on the couch, waiting for me to be done. “Just when I was starting to get past it.”

“If it’s not okay for her, she’ll say no,” he assures me. “Then you’ll know if she’s worth it or not.”

“She’s fucking worth it, Drix. It’s me who’s not.”

“Fuck that. Stop making this more difficult than it is.” He gestures to the phone. “Call her already. I can even leave the house if you need me to.”

“Fffffuccckk. I feel like a teenager, you know that? When your parents put all these restrictions on you and you have to jump through fucking hoops to get from a to b.”

“That’s very empathetic of you,” he says sarcastically. “Because we did whatever the fuck we wanted when we were younger.”

“Shut the fuck up, and hand me my phone.” Stepping into my room, I close the door and leave Drix and his positivity on the other side. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I press call, and wait for her to answer.

“Hello,” she answers gleefully. My body slumps, falling back on to the bed in abandonment at the sound of her voice. Every day I ask myself what makes her want to give up her time and talk to me, and then every day I thank whoever is out there, because I couldn’t give up contact with her if I tried.

“Em.”

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, no. I’ve just been thinking about us meeting up.” I pause, thinking of how to express my thoughts without being a dick. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting that.”

Dick.

“I want to take you out,” I tell her. “Eat dinner, take our time. Have no restrictions. Not have to worry about public transport. It all feels so juvenile,” I reveal. “I want more than that for you.”

“Jagger, I don’t need all that stuff.”

“It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have a choice.”

“I think the choice is overrated. We can eat together, with no restrictions and no need to worry about time or transport, at your place.” Just like Hendrix, she suggests coming over like it’s no big deal. “Unless that’s too much too fast. It’s your space, and I don’t want to encroach on that.”

“No, that’s not it at all,” I chuckle in relief. “I am one hundred percent okay with you being in my space.”

‘Well then it’s settled. Pick a time and day for me to be in your space.”

“What are you doing now?” I jump at the opportunity, ready to have her in front of me.

“Now?”

“Yes. If I wait any longer l’ll convince myself it’s a bad idea.”

“Okay, let’s shelve that conversation, because it’s not a bad idea, but for now,” I hear her moving around on the other side of the phone. “Text me the address and I’ll be there soon.”

“It will probably take you forty minutes or longer to get here,” I warn her.

“It’s Sydney. It takes you forty plus minutes to get anywhere. Do you need me to bring anything?”

“No. Just yourself.”

Jumping in the shower real quick, I get ready and straighten out my room. Ready to do the same in the living area, I see Hendrix has already tidied up and is just about to leave.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting out of your hair,” he says, grabbing keys and a wallet off the table.

“I didn’t even tell you she was coming.”

“I eavesdropped.”

“What are you, twelve? Fucking weirdo,” I mutter to myself. “Where will you go?”

“To see Melissa, Stacey’s friend.”

“Oh, that’s a thing?” Curiosity flares about Drix’s life away from here.

“It’s enough of a thing to keep me busy while you’re busy.” Standing in the doorway, he looks back at me, “and I told you she wouldn’t care.”

Sticking up my finger, I smirk at him, “I know. You’re always right.”  

“As long as you know, big brother. As long as you know.”

The knock on the door doesn’t surprise me since I’ve been sitting on the couch staring at the piece of wood for a solid hour. Riddled with anxiety, I exhale loudly and tell myself to man the fuck up and enjoy whatever is in store for the night.

Opening up, I’m taken aback by how stunning she looks in my doorway. At ease, she stands in front of me with an uninhibited smile. Provocative and motivated, this girl will bring me to my knees.

She’s wearing blue skinny leg jeans with rips along the thighs and a black t-shirt that has the words Don’t You Forget About Me written over a silhouette of Bender. Like forgetting her was ever a possibility. Her hair blows all around her face, making her look recklessly beautiful.

Moving forward, I reach out and tame her strands of her hair with my hands. Her eyes flutter until there’s nothing obscuring her vision.

“There you are,” I say softly.

“Here, I am.”

Seconds feel like hours, and the decision to devour her or deny myself is impossible to make. Pools of olive green watch me, tracing every inch of my face. Want swirls around, inviting me in for the taking.

I take it. With my hands wrapped around her neck, I meld our mouths together and let her frantic pulse fuel me. Beating in sync with the thumping in my chest, I kiss her the way I should’ve kissed her the first time. Our tongues caress one another, obliterating the worry, the trepidation, and more importantly, the memory of every goodbye we’ve shared.

She moans in my mouth, and I walk us back into the house. Like magnets refusing to break, our lips refuse to part. Kicking the door with my foot, I push her up against it. I hear a thump, beside my feet, Emerson dropping a bag I didn’t even realise she was holding. Her hands creep up underneath my shirt, gripping either side of my waist, and I shiver from her touch. I press myself into her, my dick hard and determined. Now that we’ve started, I can’t stop. My body and mind are split in two. Desperate to savour, but begging to burn.

Breaking apart, I close my eyes and lower my head. “If I look at you right now, with your crimson cheeks and needy eyes, I won’t be able to stop.”

Cupping my face she raises my head. “What if I don’t want you to stop?”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman, Em.” My breathing gets heavier at the exact sight I predicted. “I can’t wine and dine you the way I want. So, let me do this right.”

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes and lets her head fall back against the door. “Show me what you got Michaels. Be a gentleman.”

* * *

“What are these?” Emerson asks, her fingertips skimming the edges of the pictures that decorate the fridge.

“Photos?” I question, not sure if she’s serious.

She slaps the back of her hand to my chest, “Thanks genius, I mean why do you have so many, and who took them?”

“Oh. Dakota takes them. She’ll be having a conversation with you, or waiting for the bus to take her to school, and if the moment’s right...” I say the last two words said the exact way Dakota always throws them at me.

“She’s really good. Like professional good.”

I scan the photos with pride, never getting sick of what magic Dakota’s eyes can see.

“What does she take them with?” Emerson asks.

“Her phone is her everyday camera, but if she plans something elaborate, she borrows the professional cameras from her school.”

“These ones of you two are something else.” She points at the collage of selfies Dakota made me take with her. Each with a different filter.

“I love these too.” I point to a series of photos where she’s captured Hendrix, Sasha, and me in deep conversation. “It’s probably the most honest photo of us.”

She stares at the image, then turns to look at me. ”You guys look like you’ve lived lifetimes together.”

“The three of us grew up together and did absolutely everything together.” I put my arm around her shoulder and steer her to the couch while we’re talking. “Then one thing led to another and everything changed.”

“Because of the shooting?” she asks. Tucked into my arm on the couch, I haven’t been able to keep my hands off her in any way since she arrived.

“Before that.”

“Really? What happened?”

“Just the usual. I realised a little too late, and I fucked up.”

“Anybody told you your explanations need work?”

I poke her side. “You’re not the first person.”

“Stop it.” She giggles and moves my hand.

“So, you’ve never been in a room with Sasha and Hendrix before?” I ask.

“No. I only spoke to them separately. Hendrix said everything was complicated but I thought he meant between you and her.”

“What did you ask him?”

“If you and Sasha had plans to get back together.” She buries her face in my chest, embarrassed by her answer.

“I can see how that could come up, but it’s them who are in love with one another,” I reveal.

She sits up and faces me. “Oh my god, really?” Her eyes bulge out of her head in surprise. “That’s like romance novel type stuff.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Did they become close taking care of Dakota. Is that how it came about?” she pries.

“No, nothing like that. They’ve always been in love with one another.”

She tilts her head at me.

“Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t sleep with her knowing how she felt.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything, I’m just trying to piece the puzzle together. Did you feel something for her, that’s why you slept together?”

Rubbing my temples with one hand, I close my eyes and hide my face from her. Picking up on my hesitation, she climbs onto my lap. One leg on either side of my thighs, she balances herself on her knees.

“Look at me Jagger,” she orders. Letting my head fall back on the couch, my tired eyes find hers. Her insight is unnerving. “Can I sit here?”

I slide my hands up her legs, and sit them right under her arse. My movements answer her question loud and clear. I lower her onto me, a hand squeezing each cheek, till I feel her body line up with mine.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” My voice is low, desire seeping through.

Resting her forearms on my shoulders, her hands sink into my hair and she instinctively begins to rock her body against me. “You can’t blame everything on yourself Jagger,” she pants.

“I’m just not there yet, Em.” My grip on her flesh tightens and I slide her up and down my covered length. “I did a lot of stuff I’m not proud of.”

Lowering her head to my neck, she nips and licks my skin, making her way to my mouth. “People make mistakes, Jagger.” She whispers my name like a prayer. She continues to my mouth until her tongue opens up the seam of mine. Leading the kiss, each stroke s a gift from her heart to mine. She gives me strength, she offers me forgiveness, and delivers redemption. “You’re so much more than yours.”