The last person I expected to knock on my door was the very same person sitting beside me in the passenger seat of my car. I hadn’t heard from him since he’d dropped me home three days ago and honestly, I was kind of thankful I hadn’t. Frankie had been very forthcoming with information when I’d sheepishly asked her what had happened that night. In fact, I’d probably go as far as to say that she had taken great pleasure in my humiliation. I’d been almost too afraid to ask, even though I knew I wouldn’t get any sleep with the worry of what I might’ve said or done. As it happened, I had every reason to be mortified. I had refused to leave until Jake explained why he was so ashamed of me. It was a theory that plagued me endlessly and it would appear that even wasted, it still played on my mind. I really didn’t need to bring it up in front of his friends, though. I should have ignored him, left it well alone and allowed Frankie to take me home instead.

After that night, I’d convinced myself that Jake would no longer want anything to do with me. I’d been licking my wounds on and off for days.

So when a knock at the door interrupted my Trecco Shore marathon, the last person I had expected on the other side of it was Jake. I was more than grateful when he didn’t say a word about what had happened.

When Jake asked me to show him the girl in the picture, I bet he hadn't counted on ending the night in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of town. When he stepped out of the car into the night, I knew he was confused. A part of me wanted to take him to the local park swings and pretend that that was where I was at my happiest. But that would have been a lie.

I shut the driver's side door and fished in my back pocket for the rusty key. I reached out in front of me, trying to locate the padlock. I couldn't find it. “Jake?”

“What's up?” he said from behind me. I hadn't even heard him approach.

“Pull the torch up on your phone. I can't find the lock.” A few seconds later and the torch lit up. I clutched the padlock in my hands, jammed the key inside and unlocked it.

“What is this place?” Jake asked as I pushed the door open and stepped inside, flicking the lights on.

“This is where I spent my summers.”

“In an abandoned warehouse?”

“No, it was very much alive back then.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, frowning. “What was this place?” Jake walked around me and made his way over to the table, his hand running along the old Singer I’d found in the attic back home.

“My mum had her first job here when she was my age. When she graduated and this place came up for sale, she bought it.”

“It's a few steps down from Paris,” Jake said, quirking a brow.

“She loved it all the same.”

“What happened to it?” Jake asked, spinning in a circle. He was taking it all in.

“Business was thriving; her name was published in every fashion magazine as far as Milan. It wasn't long after that she sold up, left this place behind and set up a studio in London. A few months later Shawn died, and Mum threw herself into work. She rarely came home, spending more and more time in London or Milan. Sometimes even as far as New York…”

“And this place?”

I shrugged. “It became just another unused warehouse.”

“That's kinda sad.”

I closed my eyes, breathed in and smiled. “I kept coming by, waiting to see what the new owners had done with the place. But no one ever came back. It was just left here, empty and lonely.” I glanced up and saw Jake frowning. “They hadn't even changed the locks.”

“You kept it?” he asked, referring to the key I still had.

I nodded. “I couldn't throw it away. It felt like if I did, I would be turning my back on my childhood, forgetting about the memories I had of this place.”

“So you keep coming back here?”

“As much as I can. Work takes up most of my time but I come by as often as work allows.”

“You said you spent most of your summers here. Why here? You were a kid. Shouldn't you have been doing kid stuff? Like going to the park or swimming in the river.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. But then I never would have discovered the beauty of this place. Or the way it made me feel watching my mother do the one thing she loved to do most of all. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since the very first day I sat at this desk and watched her piece together that ugly arse dress I’m so intent on keeping.” I laughed nervously and continued to run my hand along the table in slow strokes. Jake’s eyes were on my every movement. “Now, every time I look at that dress, I tell myself that the next dress that will be hung next to that one will be mine.”

“So all of this?” he said, gesturing to the machine and fabrics I’d collected through the years. “This is yours?”

“Technically, the machine is my mother’s. But the fabrics, they're all mine,” I stated proudly.

Jake's eyes moved towards the hanging rail. Then he walked over to it, stopped and examined each item of clothing without touching.

I knew what he must have been thinking. They were tatty. He was probably right in thinking it. I still had a lot to learn when it came to designing, but I was hungry for it. I could do anything I wanted as long as I put my mind to it.

I came up beside him, closed my eyes and said, “I know, they need a ton of work and the seams aren't as tidy as they could be, but practice makes perfect, right?”

“You made these?” he asked in a surprised tone that seemed to catch me off guard.

“I did.”

Jake's eyes jerked to mine. “These are really good, Mel.”

“You think so?” I bit my lip nervously, unsure what to do. I felt exposed. Naked. Like I was being judged.

“I know so,” he finally said, his eyes dropping to my mouth.

Don't do that, I pleaded.

You can't do that.

I quickly mouthed a thank you and moved the railing behind the curtain, out of sight. Running my hands flat across my thighs, I walked back to the table, staring into the distance.

Bringing him here had been a bad idea. It was my place—my escape from everything that was capable of hurting me. Now he was there, and I wanted to scream at myself for being so stupid.

I felt him come up behind me and I stiffened when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“You still come here. After all these years you still come here. That means that girl in the picture is still in here somewhere.”

“You don't understand,” I told him, shaking him off.

“Then make me,” he demanded, spinning me back around so we were almost touching. “Make me understand.”

“It doesn't matter. None of this matters anymore. Soon enough, this place will no longer exist to me. So no, it doesn't matter.” I held back a sob and prayed the tears never came.

“Look at me, Mel,” Jake whispered.

I couldn't. I couldn't tell him that I would be leaving soon, because then I would have to admit the reasons why. And I couldn't do that. Not now. Not ever. That girl in the photo? She only existed here, in this abandoned warehouse in the middle of town. And when she left this place, she became Melanie again. The girl everyone hated.

Jake reached a hand out and curled it under my chin, forcing my eyes on his. His searched mine, and mine searched his, afraid at what they might find. If he so much as gave me a small glimmer of hope, all of the plans I had made would blow up in my face. I couldn’t stay. I wouldn’t have a life if I did. And if there was one person in this whole shitty world who was capable of making me stay, it was Jake.

Jake's gaze softened as he continued to stare down at me, his eyes searching mine for something. What that was, I did not know. And I didn't have too long to think it over. He dipped his head, angled my chin a little higher and touched my lips with his own. His lips were soft against mine. Tender and warm as he brushed them back and forth as if he was waiting for me to accept him.

“It's getting late,” I whispered against him.

He pressed his mouth against mine again, this time much firmer. “I know,” he said, pulling back ever so slightly.

His hand came up, cupping the back of my neck.

“We should probably go,” I told him, unable to move.

“We should,” he agreed, making no attempt to move.

His lips continued to travel over mine, still so tender and meaningful. If this was going to be our last kiss then I should at least make it count. And that's exactly what I did. I reached up on my tiptoes, threaded my fingers through the silky strands of his hair and kissed him back with everything I had. My lips parted, granting him access, and the hand on the back of my neck tightened as he pressed me even closer to him. His tongue coated my lips before gently pushing its way in. The sensation made my toes curl as I met him stroke for stroke.

My body hummed with ecstasy. I felt alive and scared all at the same time. Alive because I knew that this kiss would stay with me forever and scared because I knew in my heart that he could never be something different—my something more. As the realisation dawned on me, I pulled back, breaking contact.

Jake dropped his hand and I pressed my thumb to my lips. I could still feel his lips against mine and I closed my eyes. “I have to go.”

When I finally managed to open my eyes, Jake had his back turned, his hands scrubbing away at his face in frustration. He shook his head in his hands and when he eventually met my stare, he nodded silently.

He made no attempt to leave, so I made my way to door, flipped the light off and waited for him outside. I could hear his muffled curses before he finally followed me out.

“Will you be okay getting back?” he asked as I started to lock up.

I lifted my eyes briefly and frowned. “Yeah, I guess…”

“Good. I’ll pick the car up tomorrow.”

I shrugged. “Whatever.”

I could have sworn I heard him say something, but when I lifted my eyes again, he was already gone.