I jolt awake with a gasp. Fucking dreams. My pulse hammers so fast I can barely catch my breath. My entire body is covered in sweat, the sheets beneath me drenched. I instantly get up and start stripping the sheets like a ritual. I throw the bedding in the hamper and go to the bathroom, shoving my boxers down my legs. I clutch the edge of the sink and glance in the mirror for a second. My eyes land on the array of thick silver lines neatly criss-crossed down my sides. I spend every day trying to forget the things that haunt my mind and fail miserably. I climb into the shower and allow the hot water to wash over my tense muscles, but it does nothing to wash away the nightmare.  

  

I don’t go back to bed, instead I sit up, playing my guitar while shitty late night TV flickers in the background. It’s here, as night transitions into the early hours of the morning that it seems you may be the only person in the world. The impending sense of loneliness wraps around me, and then my phone beeps. I lean forward, glancing at the screen.  

  

Hope: We’re going to the fair tomorrow. Don’t bitch about it. I promise to bring you food.   

I find myself smiling as I sit back. I guess I’m not the only person awake at 3AM. But what could possibly plague Hope enough to keep her awake? Surely the Irish princess can’t have a care in the world?  

 

* * *

 

It’s nearly 4:30 by the time I get home from the school run and park my motorcycle against the curb. The sun is sitting low in the sky, the last of its warmth touching my skin. A few stray leaves skip down the pavement, autumn declaring itself. I open the front door of my building, climb the stairs to the first floor, and unlock my door. The second the door opens I hear the TV. It instantly jolts me. The only person who has ever had a key to my apartment was Brandon. Pushing the door wider open, I round the corner of the hallway and find Hope sprawled on my couch, her red hair spilling around her. The short black dress she’s wearing rides dangerously high on her thighs, exposing the pale skin between her skirt and the tops of her over the knee boots.  

 She laughs at something on the TV before flicking her gaze to me, a grin plastered on her face. 

 

"How did you get in here?" I ask.  

"Through the door." She flashes me an incredulous look.  

 I sigh and eye the key on the coffee table. I move to take it, but she sits up and swipes it, shoving it inside her bra. "Hope," I sigh. She's annoying as fuck. I just want to be left alone to do my own shit. I don't know how many different ways I can say I'm fine. Poppy may need Hope but I don't, so why the hell she insists on coming here... "You got a key cut?"  

"What do you take me for? A fucking stalker? No, Poppy had it. If you have a problem with me turning up here perhaps you should have opened the door when I knocked all those times. I knew you were in here. I could hear the TV." She glares at me. "That's just plain rude." 

Most normal people would take a hint. "You can't just break into my apartment." 

"It's not breaking and entering if you have a key." I stare blankly at her and she rolls her eyes. She slaps playfully at my chest. "Oh, come on, Finnley, lighten the fuck up. It's not like you found me wandering around the place naked like some psycho ex." 

I shake my head and walk into the kitchen. I don't even know what to say to her half the time.  

"What do you want for dinner?" She shouts from the living room and I groan, dragging my hands down my face. 

I take a beer from the fridge and go to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I don't have a lock because I live on my fucking own! But if I did, I'd bolt it. I take my phone from my pocket and stare at it, wondering who the hell I can call to come and save me. I just want to be on my own, to live my life the way I want. I don't like change. I don't like the unexpected. I haven't always been this way, but it's necessary. Control and predictability are my greatest allies now. I sit here, hiding in my room from the crazy ginger chick in my apartment. I just want an easy life. Is that too much to ask for? 

"Dinner, Finn!" Hope screams. "Either we eat here or you're buying me candy floss." 

I get up and throw the door open, walking back through the apartment until I find her in the kitchen with the fridge door open.  

"What are you talking about?" I ask, frowning, even as I stare at her arse. I can't help it. She's bent over, head practically in the freezer as she rummages through things. With every movement, she makes, her skirt inches up her long, toned thighs. I inhale and force myself to look away.  

"Pizza?" she asks. 

"I don't eat pizza," I say.  

She turns and stares at me. "Who the fuck doesn't eat pizza? You've got issues, Finn." She brushes past me. "Serious issues." 

I frown. I have issues? "I don't eat shit." Why won't she leave? 

"You only live once." She grabs her purse from the floor. Thank god. "Fine, a hot dog and candy floss it is." And then I remember her text about the fair. Fuck. She narrows her eyes at me, and grabs my arm, yanking me forward. "Come on. Live a little, Finn. We'll be there an hour, we'll ride the Ferris wheel, and I'll whip you on the bumper cars." I'm struggling to think of anything worse than the fair. All the noise, people, flashing lights...and Hope, who is hard work at the best of times. "You owe me a massive cuddly toy. Come on, you might have fun." She smirks at me. 

Jesus-fuck. This is going to be awful. I should tell her no but she did bring me food, so I just follow her to the door and down the stairs to the car. She's annoying as all fuck, but she does most of the talking, which is fine by me, and something about her—I find entertaining I guess.