Archive of Our Own

Work Text

Chapter One

“So what’d you tell her?”
I lift my gaze from the screen before me, exhaling a heavy sigh as I lean back in my chair.
My eyes hurt. I should take a break from working, but I am reluctant to stop now. I don’t want to give Sam the opportunity to misinterpret the abrupt end of my work day as a desire to talk about it.
The last thing I want to do is talk about it.
I rub my eyes partially to soothe the ache and partially to give myself an excuse not to look him in the eyes. “I told her there was no realistic way for it to work out in a way that wouldn’t end up with someone getting hurt.” I drop my hands to my lap, shrugging my shoulders when I see the baffled expression on his face. “What am I supposed to say? We were incompatible. What’s the point of dragging out the inevitable?”
“Dude.” Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“What?” I scoff. “I’d be more of a dick if I let her drag it out until she was deeply emotionally invested in me.”
“She was already deeply emotionally invested in you, Sebastian.”
I widen my eyes. How is he not seeing my point?
“Then maybe I should’ve ended it sooner. Am I an asshole for not wanting her to get hurt?” I ask, raising my eyebrows when he looks back up at me. “You can’t tell me you think I’d be a nicer guy if I lied to a girl and let her think a relationship was going somewhere when it wasn’t. It’s nicer to cut it off before it really starts if I can already tell it’s gonna end badly.”
This is precisely why I didn’t want to discuss this with him. I have zero doubts about the decision to stop seeing Marley, but I know Sam will try to make me second-guess myself. Like he thinks if he pokes and prods at me enough, I’ll realize some random girl I didn’t really like was actually my soulmate. I’m not sure how he expects it to go from there. I get her back, and then what? Ask a girl I have nothing in common with to be the mother of my children and buy a house with her in the suburbs?
The thought makes me nauseous.
If my options are being single and happy or doing that — then fuck it. I aspire to die alone.
“Why were you so sure it’d end badly?” Sam asks, cocking his head to the side.
From just his tone of voice, I could be tricked into thinking he’s just curious. But when I factor in the expression on his face and the look in his eyes, I can physically feel his frustration with me.
He’s almost acting like I’m breaking up with him.
He didn’t even fucking know the girl. He met her twice. The first time was the night we met at a club in the city. The second time, I invited her to bring a friend and meet Sam and I for a concert at a shitty venue downtown. We went to high school with the band's drummer, and he’d randomly reached out to invite us to see their first show in the city. It honestly kind of sucked, but it’d been a decent night, I guess.
We didn’t have as much in common as she initially made it seem. I didn’t enjoy talking to her. At most, she was good in bed. Everything else about hanging out with her was just… decent at best.

So why are we doing this?

I take a drink of my water, contemplating how I can respond in a way that’ll make this conversation just fucking end. As I screw the cap back onto the bottle, I ask, “Do you actually want to know how I knew it wouldn’t work out? Or are you asking because you want to point out a flaw in my reasoning so you can try to make me change my mind about some random chick you don’t even care about?”
Sam groans in exasperation, tipping his head back to face the ceiling.

That’s what I thought.

“I don’t understand what makes you want me to be with her in the first place. What makes you want me to want her in particular?”
“I don’t know, Sebastian,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair. “Maybe it’s not her in particular. Maybe I just want you to be with somebody.”
I chuckle. “Okay?” I scrunch my nose at him, then roll my eyes. “And why do you want me not to be single so bad?”
He doesn’t respond. He just looks at me.
“Because you’re not single?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at him. I smirk, dragging my lip ring between my teeth.
He rolls his eyes at me. “It’s not just because I’m not single anymore.” He lays back on my bed, looking up at the ceiling — sparing me from the pressure of eye contact. “I think I just want to believe that you can be in a relationship with someone. It doesn’t have to be her.”
“Do you think I’m incapable of being in a relationship, Samson?”
“Yes.”
I laugh in response.
He didn’t miss a fucking beat. It was instant. He had his answer ready. Immediately yes.
“Do you think you’re capable of being in a serious relationship, Sebastian?”
“If that was something I wanted to do…?” I begin, smirking at him even though he’s not looking at me. “Then yeah, probably? But I can’t force myself to do something I don’t want to do… especially if the thing itself doesn’t benefit anyone. If it’s a net loss for everyone involved, why would I force myself to go out of my way to be uncomfortable just to hurt someone?”
“The problem is that you perceive all relationships as things that will hurt someone.” Sam sighs. “Like you have one bad breakup when you’re sixteen and just call it quits on love forever.”
I take a breath, allowing him that one singular low blow before I tell him to fuck off and let me work.
The nausea creeps back up again. But this time, I know it’s gonna stick around. It always does when it’s because of her. My chest feels tight.

No. Actually, I changed my mind.

Maybe I am in the mood to argue with him.
Fuck him for bringing her up.
“Remember when you and Emma broke up?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him. “Was that not painful?”
“Of course it was.”
“Do you see how that proves my point? Relationships end with one or both people getting hurt.” I roll my eyes. “It’s not just me being jaded, dude. That’s the objective truth. It sucks for one or both people when relationships end.”
“Not all relationships end, though,” Sam argues.
“You are the only person I know that has two living parents who are still married and actually in love with each other,” I chuckle. “It makes sense that you’d think that — that you’d be so optimistic.”
“Abby’s parents are still married.”
“And they fucking hate each other, Sam.”
“True,” he winces, pushing himself upright again. “You did say married and in love.”
I widen my eyes, tossing my hand in the air. He’s proving my point. What else is there to say?
“So it’s possible, though,” he shrugs. “My parents are proof that it’s possible. Maybe I’m an idiot for believing I can have that kind of relationship for myself.”
“You’re not an idiot.” I offer him a soft smile. “You’re a hopeless romantic and optimistic to your detriment. But you’re not an idiot.”
“You don’t want that for yourself?”
I respond with a raise of my eyebrows and an incredulous glance. I have a hard time believing he doesn’t know the answer to that question.
Sam exhales a heavy sigh. “We’re 25, man. We’ll be 30 in five years.”
I hum, nodding my head. “Good counting, buddy! Proud of you. Penny teach you that?”
“Fuck off,” he rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Again… Not really. I don’t feel the same as you, Sam. I don’t know what else to say. If you wanna panic about being married with kids by the time you’re thirty, then more power to you. That’s not what I want to spend my time and energy on.”
“What do you want to be doing when you’re thirty?”
His tone and body language come across as sincere this time. He actually wants to know. I’m sure he’s wondering how different our lives will be five years from now. I have no doubt in my mind that he’ll be married with at least one kid when we turn 30.
He knows what I want from my life, but I’ll humor him this time and just answer the question.
“You know what I want to be doing in five years,” I smirk, gesturing toward my computer screen. “Ask me again in six months. The five-year plan will look slightly different depending on how it goes when the game is out.”
Sam pulls his phone from his pocket, grinning to himself.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“I’m adding it to my calendar,” he chuckles. “6-month follow-up — ask Sebastian for his 5-year plan. Set for exactly six months from now, October 18th at 4:00pm.”
“Great,” I roll my eyes. “I’ll add it to my calendar too. I can make you a PowerPoint presentation.”
“It’s just like five different slides with that gif of Scrooge McDuck swimming in a pile of gold coins,” Sam chuckles.
Exhaling a laugh through my nose, I nod my head. “That’s the plan.”
“I’m sorry about Marley, though, dude.” Sam sighs. “I know you didn’t like, have real feelings for her like that. But I’m sure it still sucked to have that conversation and have to break it off.”
Again, I don’t know what to say. I shrug my shoulders. Of course, it sucked, but it would’ve sucked more if I’d let it go on any longer. She would’ve cried more. I would’ve felt like an even bigger asshole. There’s nothing to say. It sort of just is what it is. It doesn’t feel deserving of any further discussion. We’ve already talked about it much more than we needed to.
“It could’ve been worse.”
“Yeah,” he agrees reluctantly. “It could’ve been worse.”
“How’s Penny?” I ask, diverting the topic of conversation back onto him.
He smiles. “She’s good.”
“How’s her mom?”
His smile slips. That’s definitely not a good sign. I feel my chest deflate.
“Pam’s...” he begins, hesitating as he tries to decide how to articulate his thoughts. “I mean, Pam’s... Pam.” He lets out a heavy sigh.
“Right,” I nod my head. “She’s drinking again?”
Sam winces. “We don’t gotta talk about it, man. I know it’s…”
“It’s fine,” I interject, directing my focus back to the screen in front of me.
In the time we’ve been talking, I’ve gotten thirteen messages - two emails and eleven messages on Discord. I hold myself back, waiting to read them until I can respond.
I’ll get to them in a minute. Sam looks like he needs to talk about this.
I put the walls up again with a deep breath, mentally distancing myself from the conversation.
“Is Penny having a hard time?” I ask, focusing my eyes back on him.
“Not any harder than normal,” Sam shrugs.
And then my phone lights up, vibrating on the desk. God damn it. I wish he’d come over when I'm not working.
“Extended car warranty, or someone important?”
I look at the name on my screen and immediately pick the phone up. “Fuck. Someone important. Do you mind?”
He gives me a thumbs up.
I tap the screen, lifting the phone to my face to answer her call. “Hey,” I breathe. “I’m sorry. I have your messages in front of me, but I haven’t read them yet. I’m with a friend right now.”
She laughs, but it sounds strained. “Hey! No, no worries! If you’re busy with a friend, I can let you go. It’s not urgent.”

Then why did she call?

Obviously, it’s urgent.

“No, you’re good. What’s up?” I ask, pressing my lips together as I lift my eyes to the ceiling in an attempt to keep myself grounded.
Something’s wrong.
I’d be lying if I said the sudden phone call didn’t have alarm bells ringing in my head. She never calls me out of the blue like this unless it’s something urgent. We’ve spent countless hours on calls together, but it’s always planned ahead of time. There’s at least a message or two exchanged — letting each other know when we’ll be free to talk. Anything beyond text messages is always planned ahead of time.
Something’s wrong. I’m on edge.
“Don’t worry about it,” she insists. “It can wait, I promise. Have fun with your friend. We can talk later, okay?”

Nope.

Absolutely not.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “You are such a bad liar, you know that?” I turn in my chair, and when my eyes open again, I see Sam watching me curiously. “It’s Ava,” I explain, cracking a smile when his eyes widen.
“Oh shit,” he grins. “Hi, Ava.”
She must’ve heard his voice. She laughs and asks, “Wait, who are you with? Someone that knows me by name?”
I glance away from Sam when I respond to her. “It’s Sam, yeah. Of course he knows who you are.”
“Hot art mommy,” Sam says, just a touch too loud for my liking. He bursts into laughter when his comment makes me widen my eyes and glare at him.
I tip my head back, holding in the urge to let out a dramatic sigh. “You didn’t hear him, right?”
“I heard you, but not him. I could tell someone was talking, though.”
I feel my shoulders drop in relief. Thank fucking God.
“Sam remembers you,” I explain, omitting all the details that’d imply we’ve extensively spoken about how fucking gorgeous she is.
“Sam’s the blond one,” Ava hums. “Right? The one that I based Zade off of?”
“Yup,” I nod my head. “That’s the one.”
Ava giggles, and the sound relieves some of the anxiety in my chest. It doesn’t quite make a dent in the feeling of dread, but it’s better than nothing.
“I’m gonna head out,” Sam announces, standing up from my bed and winking at me. “I promised Penny I’d stop by before it got too late.”
“Just a second, Ava. Sam’s about to leave for his girl’s house.”
“Aw! Bye, Sam!” She coos. “Do you wanna call me back once he’s gone?”
“Ava says bye, Sam,” I smirk at him. He makes a kissy face at me, and I roll my eyes. “He’s leaving right now. You don’t gotta hang up. Let me say bye, and I’ll pick up my phone right back up.”
“Sounds good,” Ava agrees, and I can just tell she’s trying so hard to seem unbothered. Something is wrong. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach as I set my phone down on the desk.
Sam grabs me, pulling me into a hug the second I’m on my feet. “Don’t work too late, okay?” He pats my back. “Bar night tomorrow, right?”
“Yup,” I nod my head. “I’ll let you know when I’m done working tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
“Say hi to Penny for me.”
“Will do.” He pats my back again, and as he crosses the room to leave, I pick my phone back up from the desk. He throws up a peace sign as he opens my bedroom door, then calls, “See ya,” over his shoulder.
“See ya, man.”
The door clicks shut, and I lift the phone back to my ear.
“What’s wrong, Ava?”
She immediately sighs. “How do you know something’s wrong?”
“You’re just easy to read,” I admit. “I can hear it in your voice. That, and we don’t usually just call each other out of the blue unless it’s something important. So… tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s not work-related, I pr—“
“I don’t give a shit about work,” I interject. “I know it’s not about work.”
She laughs an uneven little giggle that sets my nerves on edge. That was so fucking fake.
“You absolutely do give a shit about work. Don’t lie.”
“FaceTime me.”
“No!” She whines. “I look like shit right now.”
“Because you’ve been crying, right?”
I’m just taking a wild guess. This girl has FaceTimed me looking like a fucking model, and she’s also FaceTimed me in pajamas with her hair looking like she hadn’t brushed it in days. She isn’t the type of person who wouldn’t answer a video call because she thinks she looks bad.
She must have been crying. She just doesn’t want me to see that she’s been crying.
I can’t think of another reason she wouldn’t want to be on camera.
“How do you fucking do that?” Ava groans.
I hate that I was right.
“Is it your boyfriend or your dad?” I furrow my brows, looking down at my fingernails as I try to remember her friend's name — the guy she was talking about last week. Shit. I can’t remember his name. “Or is it about that friend you were worrying about? I’m sorry, I forgot his name. The one with the kidney thing. Is he okay?”
“Jared’s fine,” she answers immediately. “No, it’s not him. Thank god. Knock on wood.”
I know for a fact she actually knocked on wood. The superstitious little thing wouldn’t risk it. I tap my knuckles against the top of my desk twice in her honor. “Knocked on my desk. We should be safe.”
Her soft chuckle sounds sincere this time, and it makes me smile. But she still hasn’t said what’s wrong.
I’m stupid. She probably mentioned it in a message.
I click on the tab and open her messages, scrolling past the two screenshots she sent me. My eyes scan over the words on the screen, and I realize none of the messages have anything to do with her personal life. It’s all work-related: Updates on progress with the last few things she has to finish, a couple of screenshots so I can see where she’s at, and a message with her plans and a rough timeline for next week.
“Oh. I expected your Discord messages to tell me what’s wrong,” I chuckle. “But it looks like you were working until a few minutes before you called me. So, what happened between then and now?”
“To be honest, it happened like an hour ago. I kept working to keep myself distracted until I physically couldn’t anymore. I’m sorry for calling you, Sebastian. I’m an idiot. You don’t need to, like...” Her voice trails off.
She’s not finishing the sentence because she doesn’t mean it.
“So it’s Nolan, right?” I assume.
There’s a brief pause, but it doesn’t take her long to give in and tell me the truth.
“Yeah.”
“What’d he do, Ava?” I sigh. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what I’m helping with. I want to help. You called me, so I assume that means you want my help. So let me help.”
Several seconds of silence pass. It isn’t long, but it’s just enough time to make my heart race. It’s almost like I can feel it coming. Some kind of instinct deep within me knows what she’s going to say, and my body is bracing for the impact. The adrenaline rush comes before she even responds, preparing me for what I can feel coming.
“Nolan relapsed.”
I hear her voice tremble and break, and tears spring to my eyes.
“Fuck, Ava…” I whisper. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, Ava. How can I—”
In a quivering voice, she interrupts me just to lie to me. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not, honey,” I sigh. “Your boyfriend relapsed. It’s not okay. When did it happen? Did you just find out today, or did he relapse today?”
“Today. He relapsed today.”
“And what about you?” I ask, keeping my voice soft and tone gentle, trying my hardest to sound patient and understanding. I want her to know it’s safe to tell me the truth. She can tell me if she relapsed, too. I don’t want her to feel like she needs to lie to me.
I find myself praying to a god that isn’t listening — please let her be okay.
I’m sure she’s still sober. I’m sure she didn’t relapse. There’s no way she’d been on the phone with me telling me her boyfriend relapsed if she’d relapsed too. I just wouldn’t hear from her if she’d relapsed.
I still need to ask, just to be safe. Just to make sure.
“Was he using in front of you? Are you okay?”
“He wasn’t in front of me, no. Thank god. I wouldn’t be talking to you right now. I’d probably be strung out, too, if I saw him. Like if he brought it around me, you know?”
I feel my shoulders drop with relief. My chest fucking aches for her, but I’m so happy she’s still clean. Thank fucking God he didn’t relapse right in front of her.
“I’m so happy he didn’t bring it around you, Ava. It’s awful to think about it like that, but I’m sure there’s a good chance you would be. It’s hard. I know it’s hard.” My heart fucking hurts. It’s pounding in my chest. The adrenaline rush has my hands shaking, but I’m doing everything I can to keep my voice steady and my tone calm and soothing. “It’s been more than a year, though. You’re doing so well. I’m so fucking proud of you, Ava.”
“I hate myself for thinking that I could just fucking ruin everything just like that, you know?”
Her voice is trembling. I hear her crying, and I just wish I could make it better.
I wish this kind of pain was curable.
I wish there was a remedy for the soul-sucking devastation of addiction.
Her voice cracks, and she sniffles, and then the sound of her soft sob stabs me right in the heart.
“Like it’d just take one fucking second, Sebastian. If I didn’t have the willpower to resist for one second, it’d all be down the drain,” Ava cries. “Just like that. Just fucking everything. I’m seconds away from ruining my entire fucking life every single day. How long can I keep this up? Like really. Realistically. How long am I going to keep this up? How long is it going to be until I relapse and just ruin everything?”
I take a slow, deep breath. I need to stay calm. I need to be her voice of reason.
“You’re doing everything you can to stay as far from that risk as possible,” I remind her. “It’s not your fault Nolan relapsed. He’s been clean, too, Ava. It’s not like you’re dating someone who’s actively using.”
“I guess I am, now,” she mutters.
“Ava,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut and letting my body drop back against my chair. My hand is shaking as I bring it up to cover my eyes. “You just acknowledged that being in the same room as heroin means you’re gonna end up relapsing, too. Please don’t tell me you’re going to stay with him if he’s a direct threat to your sobriety.”
“I can’t just kick him out of the apartment, Sebastian. His name is on the lease, too.”
She’s right that he’s legally entitled to the place as much as she is. And I’d say she could just leave and let him stay there, but… I don’t know where she’d go.
She can’t stay with her dad. He was abusive, and they haven’t spoken in years.
Her only brother is dead.
One of her best friends is experiencing active kidney failure.
The other one I know of — her childhood best friend — I’m pretty sure they had a mental breakdown or something and moved away a couple of years ago, too.
I don’t know every detail of her life, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have anyone close by that she can lean on. As far as I know, the rest of her friends are still using, so being around them would defeat the point.
Being stuck in that apartment is going to be the reason she relapses. Being trapped in that environment will fucking kill her.
“If the logistics weren’t an issue, would you leave him?”
“Of course,” Ava sighs. “But I—“
I stand up, pushing my chair back. “Great. Is Nolan there right now?”
“No. I told him to stay at Ben’s place for the night.”
“Good.” I pull my sweatshirt back over my head and stuff my wallet into my pocket. “Send me your address.”
“What?” She laughs. “My address? Why?”
I turn off the light before heading upstairs. “You’re still in the city, right?”
“In Zuzu city?” She asks. “Yeah. Why?”
“I’m not as far from Zuzu as you think I am, Ava. Send me your address.”
She gasps. “I thought you were in the middle of nowhere…?”
“Mhm,” I hum. “I am. Both statements are true.”
“How far are you from Zuzu City, Sebastian?”
“Send me your address, and I’ll tell you how long it’ll take me to get there. What side of the city are you in?”
“The south side, obviously,” she snickers. “Southeast, really.”
I smirk. “Even better. I’m in nowhere, like an hour south of the city. Hang on just a sec, Ava.”
I stop in the living room, holding up my car keys with a wave of my hand to get my dad’s attention. My dad pauses his video on the TV and looks at me expectantly. He opens his mouth to speak, pointing at the video on the screen like he’s about to start telling me about what he’s watching, but I just start talking.
“Hey, Dad. I’m heading up to Zuzu to pick up a friend of mine.”
“Oh!” He nods his head with a warm smile. “Wonderful. Is it somebody I know?”
“Not personally. You’ve seen her art, though. It’s Ava, the girl that’s done all of the character art for the game.”
“Oh!” He beams. “Oh, man, yeah — she’s phenomenal. That’s great. I didn’t know she was in the area! Is she coming back here with you, or are you just spending time with her there?”
“She’s coming back with me.”
“Awesome! I’d love to meet her!”
My dad’s smile is fucking massive. I remember how geeked he got when I showed him her work. I remember him saying something about wishing he had that kind of brain — that he can’t even fathom how cool it’d be to be born with an ‘art brain’ rather than a ‘science brain.’ He speaks about artists like they’re magicians. My dad is in awe of Ava — as he should be. I can feel how excited he is to meet her.
I smile, bringing my phone back to my ear. “You can hear him, right?”
“Yes,” Ava answers softly.
“Yes, you’d like to meet him too?” I smile, meeting my dad’s gaze again.
“Jesus Christ, Sebastian. I can’t believe you’re within driving distance of the city, and you never fucking told me.”

She’s not refusing.

Responding to my dad, I nod my head. “She’s excited to meet you, too.”
“What part of Zuzu is she from?” He asks. “Near the school, or...?”
“Have you sent me your address yet?” I ask her.
“I just did.” She sounds mildly annoyed, but I can’t help but notice how little resistance she gave me. She didn’t even try to dissuade me.
I step closer to my dad as I open our text thread and tap on the address she’s sent, opening it on the map. “Oh, shit.” I laugh, looking down at my dad on the couch. I turn the phone toward him so he can see the pin on the map. “She’s pretty close to campus, yeah.”
“Ah!” He nods. “Traffic will probably be crazy on your way back with the detour — they’re working on the southbound side of the bridge, remember? It was a mess when I stayed late last week.” He scoffs, shaking his head as he processes some lingering resentment. “Unless you’ve got plans in the city and won’t be home until later. Then it shouldn’t be too bad.”
I lift the phone back to my ear. “You’re packing your stuff, right? I’m forty-five minutes from you.”
“You’re fucking shitting me!” Her voice cracks under the high pitch of her screech. “You’re less than an hour from the city?!”
Ava still hasn’t said she doesn’t want me to come get her.
I smile at my dad and hold my hand up in a wave. “I’ll text you when I get there, Dad.”
“Drive safe!” He calls after me.
“Yes, sir,” I call over my shoulder as I step into my shoes.
I bring my phone back to my ear and walk out the front door.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how close I was to the city. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you to know, exactly. I was overly cautious at first, like… deliberately vague because I didn’t know you. But once I found out you’re from Zuzu, I didn’t know how to tell you that I’m only like an hour away from you without it seeming weird that I’d waited so long to tell you.”
“Sebastian. Are you actually coming to my place? What the hell?”
“Of course I am,” I smirk, walking down the sidewalk and unlocking my car. “I’m getting in the car right now. You should give Nolan a few days to check himself into rehab or pack his shit, right? You don’t need to be in the apartment when that’s going on.” I turn the key over in the ignition and quickly turn down the volume when the music starts blasting. “Sorry. But… Yeah.”
“You’re crazy,” she laughs. “What is the plan?”
I tap on the screen, setting the navigation to my phone's most recently entered address. “The plan is to keep you safe, Ava.”
“So you’re coming to my apartment and bringing me back to your house with you… to keep me safe.”
“I’m sure it’ll be more complicated than that. Breaking up with someone isn’t easy, right?” I roll my eyes, swallowing back the urge to mention that I just cut things off with a girl I was seeing. As I pull out onto the road, I buckle my seatbelt. “Once you’re out of there, you can tell him you’re staying at a friend’s house so he has time to figure out what he’s doing. But he can’t just stay there with you, Ava. I can’t let him endanger your sobriety.”
“I just can’t believe he did this, Sebastian…”
“I know,” I sigh. “I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this. The heartache or the threat to your sobriety — you don’t deserve any of this.” I turn the car’s volume up slightly to hear the navigation directions as they’re read out to me. “I can’t promise it’ll be easy, but I can promise that I can keep you safe during the transition.”
“I should take a shower.” She sighs. “I look like fucking hell.”
“Sure,” I shrug. “Take a shower if you want. I won’t be there for…” I glance over at the screen on the dashboard. “Forty-three minutes, apparently.”
“Can you call me again when you’re, like, five-ish minutes away?”
“Sure, Ava.” I smile, thankful she isn’t even arguing. She knows she needs to be somewhere else.
I’m so proud of her for accepting help. It’s an excellent sign that she’s still willing to accept help. It means she’s not ready to give in yet. She still wants to fight to stay clean.
“Okay. I guess I’ll see you soon?” Ava exhales a soft, airy laugh. “Fuck, that’s weird. I’m actually going to see you… what the fuck?”
“Super weird,” I agree. I never thought this would happen – especially not like this. “Go take a shower and start packing. I’ll see you soon, Ava.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter Two

I’m hit with the smell of vanilla the moment her apartment door opens.
And there she is. The same girl I’ve spent countless nights talking to on FaceTime or phone calls. Hours and hours of my life that add up to days upon days of time speaking to this one person that I never could’ve dreamed I’d actually get to meet someday.

It’s Ava.

It’s weird seeing her in person — a disorienting collision between the two distinct lives I live. Seeing her with my own eyes makes both versions of me feel like they’ve combined into one.
Nobody in my real life sees me as Sebastian, the game developer. My friends and family know what I’ve been working on, but to them, it’s just a random detail that doesn’t make much of an impact on their perception of me.
To my friends online—to Ava—it’s a part of my identity. And I like it that way. My work is the only thing I’ve ever been so proud of. I like feeling like I am perceived as Sebastian, the game developer, rather than Sebastian Anderson, who just so happens to be months away from the release date of his first video game.
Meeting Ava makes it all feel real.
My brain lags behind, struggling to process that she’s actually real.

Of course, she’s real.

We’ve been friends for a long time now. She’s always been real in my brain. At first, she was just a friend of a friend that I was connected with when I needed an artist for the game. But over time, we’ve gotten closer and closer.
The first couple of days after we were introduced, we spent hours just talking. I knew I’d chosen the right artist when I realized how deeply she cared about making sure she understood the characters she was designing. She had so many questions. I didn’t even know she’d been taking extensive notes about each character we talked about until she gave me access to the document.
I think about that moment so often. Clicking on the document, scrolling through it, and seeing pages and pages of notes about each character and their backstory. I remember seeing an italicized note that said, ‘this one seems really special to him.’ And from that moment, I just knew she was going to be so fucking important to me. She picked up on what characters I spoke the most passionately about and then spent so much time ensuring she captured them perfectly.
She means so much to me.
She meant so much to me before she opened up to me and told me she was struggling with addiction. After I found out, she became even more important.
I remember the day she told me she was checking into rehab. I remember being so fucking proud of her when she stayed sober after getting out. I remember her relapsing and going back to rehab.
I remember the day she told me she’d started dating a guy that was in recovery, too. I remember being fucking terrified that they’d relapse together. That they’d spiral back down and use together, and I’d lose her.
But she stayed clean. It’s been a year, and she’s still clean.
She’s been doing so well.
Truthfully, I’d l stopped worrying. I’d stopped thinking about it. She’s been stable. Addiction is tricky like that. Sometimes, it waits until you’re comfortable — until you’ve gotten used to the feeling of not actively worrying about getting a phone call telling you your loved one is dead. It’ll wait until you think you’re in the clear, and then it’ll rear its ugly head and snap you right back down to the depths of despair.
I am so fucking proud of her.
Ava is so fucking strong — stronger than my mother ever was. I genuinely believe she is strong enough to overcome addiction. If anyone is strong enough, it’s her.
She has been as real to me as any other person in my life. I know her face and her voice and her little quirks and the things that make her her. I just haven’t seen her in person until now, and it’s fucking dizzying. It’s a head rush.
Her arms fling around me before she’s even closed the door behind me, and it feels so fucking good to hug her.
“Why are you so fucking tall?” She laughs with her head against my chest, squeezing me tight.
It feels so fitting that the first thing she’d say when we finally meet is something stupid like you’re tall.
So… Ava.
I reach back to push the door shut behind me. Then I pull her into my arms and rest my hand on the back of her head. “Uh. Maybe you never asked how tall I am. Did you think I was short?”
I feel her shrug. “No, no short. Just not this tall, either.”
“For what it’s worth, I always imagined you were shorter than you are, too,” I chuckle, kissing the top of her head before I take a small half-step back to look at her. I slide my keys into my pocket to fully free my hands. “Do you need help packing?”
“Do you know how hard it is to pack a bag when you’re still trying to comprehend that you’re about to physically meet someone you didn’t think you’d ever get to meet?” Her eyes widen, and she laughs. “It’s fucking crazy to be standing in front of you right now, Sebastian. What the fuck?”
“Yeah. Pretty weird, huh?” I ask, scrunching my nose at her. “I got here pretty quick, though. There’s never a ton of traffic coming into the city this time of the day. So I figured you probably weren’t done packing yet.”
“I am definitely not.”
I step out of my shoes and pat the top of her head. “Let’s just make sure you have whatever you’ll need, just in case things don’t go smoothly with Nolan.” The sadness in her eyes makes my chest ache. I offer her a reassuring smile. “And then we’ll get out of here. My dad’s fucking geeked to meet you, dude.”
The corner of her lips turns up in a small smile. “Is your dad just okay with you randomly bringing someone to stay at his house? For, like, an undetermined period of time?”
I chuckle, nodding my head. “Of course. He’ll just be stoked to have someone else to cook for.” I run my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my face. “And he’ll be really happy to have you there once he knows why you’re there.”
She widens her eyes. “Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. He’s gonna wonder why you just suddenly left to pick up some girl he’s never met…”
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it, Ava. My dad—“
Ava interrupts me, “You obviously don’t want to tell your dad that you’re stupid enough to involve yourself with someone like me.”
The sincerity in her eyes and the tone of her voice make my throat feel tight. I’m prone to self-depreciation, but fuck, Ava means it. I think she actually hates herself. She thinks I’m stupid for being her friend.
I furrow my eyebrows, shooting her an incredulous glance. “My dad already knows how stupid I am, but being your friend isn’t stupid, Ava. And besides, my father would be the last person to see it that way.”
Her expression is skeptical.
“Just trust me, okay? He’ll understand when I tell him. I wanted you to meet him before I told him what’s going on.”
“I don’t want your dad to think I’m like…” Her voice trails off as she furrows her brows and drops her gaze from mine again. “Nevermind. I was gonna say I don’t want him to think I’m an unstable addict, but I guess I am. I just don’t want him to think badly of me.”
I roll my lips together, tipping my head back to look up at the ceiling. “We haven’t talked about my mom.”
I look back down in time to see Ava silently shake her head.
I run my hand up and down the side of her arm. “Let’s finish packing your stuff, okay?”
Ava doesn’t budge. “Wait. What’s up with your mom, Sebastian?”
I try to give her a reassuring smile, but I’m sure it’s just making me look sad. I shrug my shoulders and decide to just state it simply. “She's an addict, too.”
“Oh.” Her eyes drop to the ground. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. You really don’t ever talk about your family.”
Exhaling a soft laugh through my nose, I nod. “Yeah. That’s why.”
“Is she still around?” Ava asks, looking up at me with fresh tears filling her eyes. “Like, does she live with you? Am I gonna set her off when she meets me? Like—”
“I haven’t seen her in ten years,” I interject, waving away her concern. I pat the middle of her back softly, ending the conversation before she can make me say more than I want to say. Now isn’t the time. I don’t think there will ever be a time, but I know for sure that now is not the time. “Okay. Time to pack. Take me to your bedroom.”
Ava’s eyes widen. “This is not how I imagined you saying those words to me.”
I choke on a laugh, rolling my eyes at her. “Yeah, I’m sure you regularly fantasize about me taking you to your bedroom, Ava.”
She snickers, pushing her hand against my shoulder with a mischievous grin. Without confirming or denying my statement, she turns around and leads me to her bedroom.
I follow behind her, taking in the sight of the apartment I’ve only ever seen little corners of in the background of FaceTime calls. It’s really cute. It’s small, but it’s a lot nicer on the inside than the building’s rough exterior would lead you to believe.
She really hasn’t gotten much packed.
I make sure she has all of her devices and chargers while she works on packing more clothes — just in case. I think she’s only packed clothes so far.
A few prescription pill bottles on one of the bedside tables catches my eye. “Yours or his?” I ask, pointing across the room when she looks my way.
“Holy shit,” she gasps, rushing across the room to pick up the bottles. “They’re mine! Fuck, that would’ve sucked.”
I wince. “Yikes. Yeah, I’m sure it would’ve.”
I look around her bedroom, trying to think of anything else she could’ve missed. Clearly, she hasn’t even covered the essentials yet.
While Ava packs her meds, I walk into their bathroom. As I flip on the light, I see some makeup on the bathroom counter scattered around an open travel bag. Abby keeps her makeup organized in a bunch of little drawers in her room. Keeping everything in one bag makes it much easier to pack for her.
I look inside the bag, and given the sheer quantity of stuff, I assume this is everything. I pick up the makeup that’s scattered around the countertop and set them inside the bag, then zip it up. It’s just barely able to zip shut. This has to be everything she needs.
I carry the bag back into her room. “I’m assuming we need the skincare stuff, too?” Ava looks up at me and smiles when she sees her makeup bag in my hands. “I packed the foundation and everything you had sitting on the counter.”
“Fuck. Thank you,” she smiles. “You’re the best.”
“No, you.” I set the bag in her open hands and watch her add it to the bigger bag she’s apparently just finished packing.
“I feel like I’m moving into your house,” Ava rolls her eyes. “This is an excessive amount of stuff.”
I tousle her hair. “It’s not excessive. Maybe it’d feel like a lot if I lived in a one-bedroom apartment. But I think my bedroom alone is probably the same size as your entire apartment.”
Her eyes widen. “This is the part where you tell me you’re loaded and you live in a fucking mansion, right?”
I chuckle. “Nope.” She looks skeptical, so I continue. “The house is big, don’t get me wrong. But my room is only so big because it takes up a good chunk of the basement.”
“Oh. Is it just you and your dad?” She stops mid-step before I can answer. “Wait, no. You have a little sister, too, right?”
“Yup,” I nod my head. “Maru. Half-sister, technically, but yeah.”
She tilts her head to the side curiously.
I answer the question she’s reluctant to ask. “My dad is actually my stepdad. We aren’t biologically related, but he’s the one who ended up with full custody of me when he divorced my mom. If that tells you anything.”
Her lips turn down in a frown. “That… yeah, fuck. That says a lot.”
I hum, nodding my head. “He’s a really good guy. Clearly.” I run my fingers through my hair. “Not just in comparison to my mom. Just, in general. Really good guy.”
I blink, and she’s hugging me. It feels so fucking good, but now is not the time for talking about my problems. I try to get us back on task.
“What else do we need to pack? Aside from your skincare stuff.”
I feel her shrug, but she doesn’t let go. I exhale a slow breath and wrap my arms around her a little tighter. The tension in her body drops when she feels me give in, letting her stay in my arms for a moment longer. I press my hand against the back of her head, stroking my fingertips against her scalp before running them through her now-dry hair.
“You give the best hugs, Sebastian.”
“Do I?” I chuckle, rubbing her back again.
Ava’s response is a silent nod of her head. Her cheek nuzzles into me, and I find myself smiling.
I could get lost in her. If I don’t get her moving again, I will get lost in her. So I pat her back, reluctantly pulling back. I don’t want to, but I know I have to.
“Do you share your location with Nolan?”
She nods.
“Remember to turn it off when we’re leaving. I don’t want him showing up at my house.”
“Shit,” she whispers. “Yeah, good idea. I don’t think he’d do anything, but...”
“People are different when they’re using, Ava. You know that just as well as I do. He might surprise you.” I kiss the top of her head, and she finally steps back, releasing me from her arms. “If it were just me, it’d be one thing. But I have a little sister. I don’t wanna put her in danger, you know?”
“He’s not dangerous,” she insists. “But I understand. You’re right.”
She looks so sad again.
“Let's go. Space will help, I promise.” I stroke the side of her cheek, and after a few seconds of prolonged eye contact that makes my stomach drop, she takes a small step back.
It took me this long to realize how affectionate I’m being. What the fuck is wrong with me?
When I stop and think about it, I realize how out of my depth I am. I have literally never been in this position before.
Just a friend. A purely platonic relationship.
I drove almost an hour to pick a girl up to get her away from her boyfriend for her own well-being – not out of some fucked up desire to get in her pants. But I don’t know if I know how to be affectionate in a platonic way. I don’t know if I’m exactly affectionate with my friends.
That’s not true – I know I’m not.
I don’t think I ever instigate physical affection with my friends. I’m comfortable enough accepting it, but I know I’m not the one who decides everyone is going to snuggle up together and fall asleep watching movies.
Am I being too physical with Ava? Is that why she looked at me like that?
Was she joking when she said she imagined me asking her to take me to her bedroom?
That was a joke, right?
How could she jokingly have that look in her eyes?
Have I been so oblivious I haven’t noticed signs that she’s into me?
She has a boyfriend. She isn’t into me. I know she isn’t. But that look in her eyes makes me feel nervous.
I can’t let her pick up on my uncertainty.
I need to be calm, cool, and collected for her. I need to be strong and confident. I need to be a source of strength for her because she’s about to go through a breakup right in front of me.

Fuck.

How am I just now connecting the dots that I’ve opened myself up to the ugliest part of a breakup? I’ve volunteered myself to be her emotional support system.
I didn’t even think about it. I acted on impulse.
She needed to be removed from Nolan’s proximity to protect her sobriety. There was no other question. I had to do something. It felt like a matter of life or death — probably because it is.

Her bags have been loaded into my car, and she’s locking her apartment door behind us. There are already tears in her eyes as I watch her tap the ‘stop sharing my location’ button on her boyfriend’s contact in her phone, and I can feel it in my chest. It’s only a matter of time until this blows up.
This is gonna be bad.
I lead Ava down the stairs with my hand pressed against the middle of her back. It’s a quiet walk the rest of the way to my car again. She doesn’t speak until the car doors are shut and my key is in the ignition.
I glance over to make sure she’s buckled her seatbelt. When I see she hasn’t, I reach over and grab the buckle myself. Her spaced-out look finally fades when she sees and feels that I’m fastening her seatbelt for her — pretty brown eyes blinking over and over like she’s trying to snap out of it.
As I click the buckle into place, Ava holds out her phone. She grabs my arm before I can pull it back and places her photo into my hand.
I look at her curiously. “Do you want me to hold onto this for you?”
She nods her head. “I don’t wanna see what he says when he realizes I turned off my location. Take it, and don’t give it back to me.”

That’s probably for the best.

“Sure,” I nod my head, sliding her phone into the front pocket of my jeans. I set my own phone in the cup holder, then rest my hand on her knee. Her head lifts to meet my gaze again. “Wanna grab some coffee on the way back? Or dinner?” I check the clock on the dash. “It’s like 6, shit. I should make you eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Would you eat pizza for me?” I ask.
Ava gasps. “Wait! The pizza place! The place you’re always sending me pictures from.”
I chuckle, nodding my head. “Mhm. It’s not just a pizza place, but yeah. Will you eat for me if I take you there?”
She nods her head immediately. “Fuck yes. That shit looks so good.”
“Sounds good to me. Coffee for the drive?” I ask as I set the navigation for my house on the touch screen. I’m really not looking forward to dealing with that construction on our way back.

“You’re kidding me.”

“About what?” I ask, turning my head back to look at her.
Ava is pointing at the screen with one hand covering her mouth.
“I told you, Ava. I’m fucking close.” I chuckle. “Less than an hour away without traffic.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “No. That’s—Wait. Can I have my phone?”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “You literally just gave it to me and told me not to give it back. You’re not gonna text him, right?”
When she holds her hand out with her palm facing up, I lean to the side and pull her phone back out of my pocket, then place it in her hand. I watch her curiously as she quickly unlocks the screen, tapping a few times before lifting the phone to her ear.
She reaches forward to the display on the dashboard, tapping the button to zoom out on the map. I watch her swipe across the screen, following the route from her house to mine until whoever she’s calling picks up.
“Hey! What’s up?” she responds to their greeting. “No, everything’s good. Yeah. You busy?”
I purse my lips, watching her tap her fingers against her leg as she listens to whatever they’re saying. I buckle my own seatbelt, trying to distract myself from the slowly building anxiety in my chest.
“No, I’m good. Yeah. No, I just had a question,” she pauses for a second, listening to them talk. Then she asks, “You’re still in that little farm town, right?”
My jaw drops.
“What’s the name of that place again? It’s something stupid, right?”
Ava leans forward, dropping her head into her hand. Her shoulders shake as she laughs. “Drop me a pin. I need to see something.”
Who the fuck is she talking to?
My heart is pounding in my chest.
I watch her pull the phone away from her face. When she sees her friend’s location, she finally turns to look at me with her screen facing out.
There’s a red pin right over Pelican Town.
I gasp, staring at her with my mouth hanging open. “Who the fuck...?”
She switches back to the call and puts the friend on speakerphone. “So, I’m curious if you know my friend,” Ava says, leaning back in the passenger seat with her eyes squeezed shut.
She looks like she’s in pain. Like she already knows the answer. Whoever’s on the other end of the phone call — there’s no way I don’t know them.
There’s a soft, low, yet feminine laugh. And then her friend speaks. “Uh, maybe? Who’s your friend?”
My jaw drops again when I immediately recognize her voice. I audibly snort, leaning forward to rest my head in my hands. “Hi, Leah.”
“Wait!” Leah gasps. “Wait, Ava. No. Why do I recognize his voice? Who are you with? Who the fuck—“
Ava’s laugh comes out like a screech.
I’m in fucking shock, and Ava’s not answering Leah’s question. She’s too busy hysterically laughing — that borderline manic-sounding cackle of a laugh I’ve only ever heard after 3:00am when she’s deliriously tired and out of control.
“I’d hope you’d recognize my voice, asshole,” I smirk, trying my hardest to keep it together.
After a few more seconds of flustered, incomprehensible stuttering, she finally recognizes my voice.
“Sebastian?!” Leah screams my name, followed by another exasperated scream — no words this time, just a scream. She coughs from the high-pitched screech’s strain on her smokers’ lungs, and then she shouts over Ava’s hysterical giggles. “What the fuck?!”
“Hi,” I croon, reaching over to rest my hand on Ava’s knee again. I pat it gently, trying to bring her back from the brink because her face is getting red, and I don’t think she’s getting enough oxygen in the gasping breaths she’s taking between scream-laughs.
“What the fuck is going on?” Leah asks. “Ava? Why are you with Sebastian? What the actual fuck?”
Ava wipes away the tears that are running down her face. She takes a deep breath and lets it out, trying her very hardest to calm down so she can speak. “So you know the guy I work for?” Ava asks, squeezing her eyes shut again and pressing her lips together to hold in a laugh.
Her hand rests on top of mine, and it feels so fucking small and warm. My heart misses a beat.

Fuck.

“You’re fucking with me,” Leah laughs. “It’s Sebastian? You work for Sebastian?”
“The world is so small. What the fuck?” Ava laughs, turning her head to look at me.
“Remember the hot guy I told you about right after I moved here?” Leah asks. I can fucking feel the mischievous grin that must be on her face right now.
I lean my head back against the headrest, covering my face with both of my hands. I hate her so much. I squeeze my eyes shut, cursing both Leah and myself.
“Oh my god...” Ava groans.
“Yup,” Leah snickers.

Fuck my life.

“I don’t want to know that,” Ava whines. “Oh my god. No. I do not want to know that—holy fucking… Why’d you have to say that? You could’ve kept that to yourself, Leah. What the fuck?”
“Say what? That I’ve fucked your boss?” Leah asks, deliberately inflicting psychological torture on Ava.
I’m gonna strangle her.
“Leah, why are you the way that you are?” I ask.
“Why?” Leah challenges, pitching her voice up like she thinks she’s gonna get away with taunting me. “Why are you with her, hmm? Were you planning to fuck one of my best friends? Did I just throw a wrench in your plans, Sebby?”
“Go fuck yourself,” I roll my eyes. “No. I’m not fucking Ava. Jesus Christ. Get a grip.”
“You didn’t complain about my grip wh—“
Ava lets out a barely restrained scream of frustration that interrupts Leah before she can say too much. “I’m hanging up the phone. I hate you both.”
“Love you too, cutie,” Leah chuckles.
She hangs up the call without saying another word. She drops the phone in her lap, presses both of her hands to her face, and brings her knees to her chest.
“I guess it’s not that surprising you know each other,” I sigh. “Two artists from Zuzu City. I guess that makes sense.”
“Correct. That’s not surprising. But it’s incredibly surprising that the small town out in the middle of nowhere that she moved to when she broke up with her boyfriend is the same small town that you live in. Like out of all places in the fucking world.”
“Weird coincidence, I’m not gonna deny that.”
I have to start driving. I need to focus on something other than how the coincidence makes me feel. I can’t help but feel like it means something.
I shift the car into reverse, backing out of my parking spot.
I can’t think like this right now.
Ava’s hand rests on my thigh. “I could’ve gone the rest of my life without knowing that you are the guy I got a graphic play-by-play—“
“Okay, fuck,” I wince, interrupting her before she can finish the thought out loud. “Wonderful. Leah’s not shy, yeah. That makes sense. If you’re that close of friends… I’m not surprised.”
Her fingers grip my leg a little tighter.
“What?” I whine, trying to focus my attention on the road in front of me.
“Why is life like this?”
“Like what?” I ask, glancing her way as I pull the car to a stop at a red light.
Ava squeezes her eyes shut. “Just… weird.” She shrugs. “This feels like a sign, you know?”
“A sign that breaking up with him is the right choice?” I ask. She hums softly in response. I rest my hand on top of hers. “It is, Ava. Even if it sucks… you know it is.”
She turns her hand around and threads her fingers into mine. My throat feels so fucking tight. Despite the jolt of anxiety, I keep a straight face. I adjust my grip on her hand, weaving our fingers together comfortably. I give her hand a gentle squeeze and stroke my thumb across the back of her hand.
I see the sign for a Starbucks up ahead of us. I change lanes, just barely getting into the right lane before the turn into the parking lot.
Ava doesn’t say anything, but I can feel it — she’s wondering if I’m gonna ask what she wants. She’s wondering if I remember her Starbucks order. We were on the phone as she went through the Starbucks drive-thru a few months ago, and we spent a solid ten minutes talking about coffee orders. I imagine it had to be this exact drive-thru she’d been in, the closest Starbucks to her house.
The girl asks for my order, and I order two of Ava’s favorite drink. Simple — just two iced vanilla lattes with soy milk. At the last second, I add a brownie to the order, and then I feel Ava squeeze my hand. I hadn’t even realized we were still holding hands until she squeezed mine again.
I don’t let go of her hand until after I’ve paid, and the girl is passing me our drinks.
“Oh shit!” The employee grins, pointing at the tattoo on the top of my hand. “That’s sick, dude.”
“Oh, thanks,” I smile, passing the first cup to Ava.
The girl hands me the second drink, then leans on her elbows at the window, pointing at her own wrist as she looks at mine. “Does it continue up your arm?”
I set my drink in the cupholder, then reach over to push the sleeve of my hoodie up to show her the rest of the tattoo. “Yeah, it continues—“
“Holy shit,” the girl whispers. I finally look up at her, and she’s staring at my arm with widened eyes. “How far up does it go?”
“Oh,” I chuckle, gesturing over the rest of my left arm. “It’s my entire arm, up past my shoulder.”
“Fuck,” the girl murmurs. Another employee appears beside her, a shorter girl with bright pink hair. “Gwen! Look at this guy’s sleeve, dude.”
I hear Ava stifle the sound of a laugh beside me. The pink-haired girl passes the pastry bag to the first girl with Ava’s brownie in it. Girl #1 hands me the bag, and I pass it to Ava.
“Here’s your brownie, babe,” I say loud enough for the girls to hear. I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but I feel inclined to give the first girl the impression that it’s my girlfriend in the passenger seat. I don’t like the way the blonde one is looking at me like a piece of meat.
Ava exhales a laugh through her nose. “Thanks, babe.”
I look back at the two overly eager girls so the pink-haired one can see my arm.
“Bro, that’s sick.” The pink-haired one marvels. She looks legitimately impressed by the artwork rather than just attracted to the idea of tattoos like the other girl. “My girlfriend has a full black and gray sleeve, too. Who’s your artist?”
“Trevor Black.”
“Wait, that sounds familiar. Is he in the city?” She asks.
I glance over at the console. “Yeah, actually. He makes me keep some of his business cards on hand. Do you want one?”
She laughs. “Fuck, I bet you get stopped by people constantly — like a walking billboard for him. I don’t blame him for making you carry business cards.”
I nod my head, chuckling. “It’s worse in the summer when I’m not wearing long sleeves, yeah. That’s why I have the business cards.”
“I’ll take one, yeah. Jules would kill me if I told her without having photos to show her. Is his Instagram on it?”
Ava hands me a card before I can even reach for one.
“Thanks, baby,” I wink at her. She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but laugh. I hand the girl his card. “His Instagram is on there, yeah. Their booking site is too, but he has that all linked in his Instagram bio if your girl wants to get some work done.”
She looks at the card and thanks me.
“Yeah, no problem. I’m pretty sure one of his pinned posts is of this sleeve if she wants to see it.”
The first girl pulls her phone out and takes the business card from Pink Hair’s hands. She’s looking at her phone when she starts taking an order for the car that just pulled up at the speaker behind us.
I offer the girl a polite smile. “Have a good one.”
“You too! Thanks for the card, man.” She beams. “Have a good night, guys.”
Ava snorts as I pull away from the window.
“Are you tagged in his posts? Blondie is instantly following you if you are.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I am.”
“She’s in your DMs the second she clocks out. Guaranteed.”
I take a drink of my coffee. Fuck it’s good.
“You don’t think the babe play worked? Making it seem like I was with my girl?”
She laughs again. “It was a nice try.”
“Would you shoot your shot at a dude that called his girl babe in front of you twice? Or would you take the hint?”
“Would I?” She asks, taking another sip of her coffee before setting it down. “Absolutely not. But I’m also not gonna hit on dudes in the drive-thru at my job. She was cute, though. I can’t blame her for trying.”
“You thought she was cute?” I ask. In my peripheral vision, I see her shrug. “Then I’ll send you a link to her profile when she follows me.”
Ava snickers. “Cute for you, not cute for me.”
“Cute for me?” I scoff. “What does that mean?”
“I mean, she’s cute,” Ava shrugs. “I’m not saying she’s my type, but maybe she’s yours? I don’t know. I don’t know what your type is.”
“You don’t know what my type is,” I repeat.
“Yeah,” she nods. “I don’t know what your type is. What’s your type? Little Barbie dolls like her, or…?”

Lord have mercy.

I know I shouldn’t do this, but I’m still gonna do it.
I drag my lip ring between my teeth as I reach over to her side of the car and flip down the visor. I flip the mirror open, then sit back in my seat like nothing happened.
She’s stunned.
I keep my eyes on the road. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying (and probably failing) to seem nonchalant.
Ava’s mouth hangs open in shock.
I pretend my heart isn’t pounding in my chest, like the dopamine rush of blatantly hitting on her isn’t making my hands feel shaky as I grip the steering wheel.
I hear the sound of the paper bag in her hands, and I take it as a sign that she’s gonna let the subject drop. I point at my phone in the cupholder, keeping my eyes on the highway. “If you wanna turn on some music, my phone’s connected to the system.”
“Open your mouth.”
Her response confuses me. I open my mouth with the intention of asking‘what?’, but Ava pops a piece of her brownie into my mouth the second my lips part. I cover my mouth, laughing as I chew the brownie. It’s fucking delicious, but I’m too stunned to even really focus on how good it tastes.
“I was opening my mouth to speak,” I laugh, shaking my head as I reach for my coffee. “Oh, shit, which one was mine?”
Ava picks up a cup and puts it in my hand.
“Thank you.”
“What’s your passcode?” She asks, picking up my phone.
“Guess.”
She exhales a laugh through her nose. “How many guesses do I have before it locks me out?”
“I don’t think you’ll need that many attempts.” I shrug. “You know the number. It’s four digits. You can do it.”
“Well, my first guess was wrong,” Ava chuckles.
“What was your first guess?”
“Kaprekar’s constant,” Ava laughs. “I don’t know why I expected it to be that.”
I press my lips together and cover my mouth with my hand, trying to stifle a laugh.
“Is it something stupid and nerdy like that?” She asks, interpreting my reaction as if it means she’s close.
“No. But my bank PIN is 6174.” I shake my head when she starts snickering. “I fucking hate you, Ava.”
She throws her head back, laughing. I pinch her thigh, and she squeals, laughing even harder.
After a moment, music starts playing.

She guessed it.

“You guessed Kaprekar’s constant before my fucking birthday?” I smirk, turning the volume up a little higher.
“Excuse me for thinking you were more nerdy than self-absorbed. Lesson learned.” She holds her hands up defensively. “Won’t make the same mistake again.”
“Fuck off,” I grin. “What’s your passcode?”
“Obviously 6174, dipshit.”
For some reason, I wasn’t expecting that. A shocked laugh bursts out of me, and she’s laughing just as hard.
Ava’s hand comes to a rest on top of my thigh again. The touch sends my heart rate flying sky-high, yet still manages to feel strangely comfortable despite its unfamiliarity. My hand lifts from the steering wheel, and my palm covers her hand to give it a gentle squeeze. I always drive with my right hand on the wheel, but I’m more than happy to switch to my left if it means I can feel the warmth of her hand beneath mine.
I want her to turn her hand over and actually hold my hand again. I want her to want to hold my hand.
It’s Ava. I need to get it together. I shouldn’t want to hold her hand.
She’s my best friend.
What the fuck is wrong with me?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter Three

“Oh my fucking god,” she murmurs, staring at the pizza with her mouth hanging open in shock.
“I know, right?” Emily laughs, scooting the pan closer to the center of the table. “Gus’s pizza is the best.”
“It looks so good.” Ava beams, looking at me from across the table with a genuine smile.
“Where is everyone?” Emily asks, directing her attention at me. Meeting my curious expression, she points between Ava and me with her index finger. “The rest of the gang, I mean. I’m not getting date vibes.” She scrunches her nose, exhaling a soft laugh.
It takes me a full two seconds to realize Emily’s picking on me. Ava is beautiful. Emily’s right. She has no business being on a date with me.
Ava laughs, bumping my knee with hers under the table.
“I don’t know where everyone is, Em.” I shrug. “We just got back in town.”
“Oh!” Emily nods her head. “Where are you from?”
“Zuzu City,” Ava smiles politely. She looks mildly uncomfortable. I probably should’ve mentioned that Emily is a friend of mine. She’s never been in a town this small. She probably thinks Emily is just an overly friendly waitress.
It’s crazy how different her world is from mine.
Emily looks unsurprised by Ava’s response. I’m unsure if that’s due to her weird psychic shit or if Ava just seems like a city girl. Em shifts her weight to one foot, popping out her hip as she asks, “And what brings you to town?”
“Just visiting this guy,” Ava meets my gaze with a soft smile that’s so full of affection, I don’t know how to feel.
Is she acting, or was that sincere? Does she want Emily to think she’s into me?

Fuck, she’s hard to read sometimes.

I can’t help but smile back at her.
“Awww,” Emily croons. She pats my shoulder and then messes up my hair. “Okay. On second thought, minor date vibes. I’ll get out of your hair. Holler if you need anything, okay?”
“Thank you!” Ava calls after her in a painfully sweet tone of voice.
Her eyes meet mine again, and I watch her saccharine smile fade into a much more authentic grin that warms my face.
“Hungry?” I ask, picking up a slice of still-way-too-hot pizza and setting it on her plate. “Ouch. Maybe give it a minute. Don’t burn your mouth.”
“Don’t burn your fingers then!” Ava protests as I pick up another slice and set it on my own plate. She lets out an exasperated sigh as I wipe my fingers off on a napkin.
“It's fine,” I roll my eyes.
She rolls her eyes back.
“It’s fucking trippy to see you here,” I smile, gesturing to the bar around us.
“It’s fucking trippy to be here with this pizza instead of just receiving photos of pizza porn like I usually do every weekend.”
I chuckle, dragging my lip ring between my teeth as I nod my head.
Seeing her here has made reality set in a little more. Ava’s really here with me — here for the weekend, at the least. I dropped everything to drive to the city and bring her home with me without stopping to consider the fact that bringing her to my house actually meant having her stay with me.
Dread grips my stomach.
I’m fucking terrified for what comes next between her and Nolan.
From what she says, she intends to break up with him. But will she actually break up with him? And will he just accept it? Or will he try to manipulate her and convince her to stay with him?
“You okay?” She asks in the softest voice, resting her fingertips on top of my arm.
I blink, coming back to the present with an apologetic smile. “Yeah,” I assure her, setting my hand on top of the fingers pressed against my arm. “I’m good. Sorry. Spaced out.”
“You look upset.”
“Of course I’m upset, Ava.” I can’t lie to her and act like I’m not. How could I not be upset?
“Why?” She tightens her grip on my arm as her lips turn down in a frown that absolutely crushes me.
I chuckle, tilting my head to the side. “You know why, Ava. I’m just worried about you.”
“What else do you have to worry about? I’m here now,” she shrugs. “I’m sober, aren’t I?” As she reaches for her glass, she laughs. “Maybe sober isn’t the right word.”
I scrunch my nose, chuckling as she takes a sip of her drink. “Sober from what matters. You’ve never had a problem with alcohol, correct?”
“Nope,” she smiles. “Went straight past the normal stuff.”
“Couldn’t just get addicted to nicotine,” I smirk.
She scoffs. “That’d be boring. Gotta keep it interesting and go straight to H.”
“Keep them on their toes.”
“See? You get it.” Her smile feels so sincere. I can’t believe she can joke about it like this. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait to take a bite.”
“Don’t burn your mouth. You won’t be able to taste it if you burn your tongue.”
She pouts her lips at me. I clutch my hand over my heart, flinching like the devastating look on her face caused me physical pain. She giggles, bumping my foot under the table again.
“Did Leah text you back?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “At least I haven’t felt my phone vibrate.” She pulls her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket and slides it across the table for me.
She's still afraid to look. I pick her phone up and unlock the screen.

Fuck. Nolan texted her.

Based on the message preview, I’m very glad she didn’t feel it vibrate.
I try to keep my expression neutral as I open her message from Leah, avoiding Nolan’s for now.
“Oh. Leah answered three minutes ago. She asked if you minded if she brought her friend Elliott.” I look up at her, and she’s lifting the pizza to her mouth. I wince, bracing myself to watch her scald her mouth.
“Do you know him?” She asks, holding eye contact with me as she blows on the still too-hot slice. When I nod, she asks, “Would I like him?”
“He’s an author, so probably,” I shrug. “He’s nice enough. I haven’t personally spent time with him unless Leah was there. But I have to assume that if you and Leah used to be super close, you’d get along with him, too. She’s constantly with him.”
“Is she dating him?”
I smirk. “Elliott doesn’t swing that way.”
“Oh.” She smirks. “Okay, cool. Tell her to bring him.”

Ava
It’s Seb. She says to bring him. As long as we can keep the topic of conversation off of drugs/partying/shit like that, we should be good.

Read 7:39 PM

I watch the message immediately switch to read.
My phone vibrates on the table, so I pick it up and set Ava’s back down in my lap.
Leah sent her response to my phone.

Leah
IS SHE OKAY
HOLY FUCK seb is that why she’s with you???

Ava
She’s okay. It’s her boyfriend.

Leah
is she still sober?
oh
fuck, what about nolan?

Ava moans as she takes the first bite of her pizza. The sound shouldn’t affect me the way that it does.
“Is it as good as you imagined?” I ask, grinning at her as she drops back against her chair.
“Even better,” she responds with her hand covering her mouth, which is still full of pizza.

Ava
We’ll talk later, okay? Just got a pizza. Come eat with us.

Leah
omw, two minutes

“They’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”
I put my phone back in my pocket, then pick hers back up from my lap. I delete the warning text I sent to Leah so she doesn’t see it. She saw me switch phones — she’ll probably just assume I responded from my phone in the first place.
But Nolan texted her.
I feel sick to my stomach. She’s going to break up with him from here while she’s with me. If not tonight, then tomorrow. Knowing how bad she’s going to be hurting makes my heart fucking ache.
By the time I’ve taken my first bite of pizza, Leah and Elliott are walking through the door.
Leah squeals, startling nearly every person inside the bar all at once. “Avaaaaaaa!”
I can’t wipe the smile off my face as Ava jumps up, meeting Leah halfway between our booth and the door. They’re a spinning, squealing ball of excitement as they hug each other.
Elliott makes eye contact with me, and I smile, beckoning him over. I stand up, and he shakes my hand. I will never get used to how formal this guy is. I thought it was just an act, but the dude’s been here for over a year and still hasn’t broken character. He’s legitimately just like this.
I point at the pizza on the table. “Pizza sound good?” I ask. “We ordered a large.”
Elliott hums. “It’s quite difficult to say no to Gus’s pizza, isn’t it?”
“For sure.” I chuckle, patting his shoulder and gesturing toward the table. “I’ll grab a couple more plates from Em.”
As I approach the counter, Leah and Ava drift toward the table. Emily already has more plates and napkins in her hand, so she passes them to me. “I’ll be right over to get their drink orders,” she glances at Leah and Ava. So... your date clearly knows Leah.”
“They go way back, apparently. They grew up in the same neighborhood and then went to art school together.”
Emily looks satisfied by my explanation. “She seems like an artist.”
“She’s great,” I smile. “So fucking talented.”
“Are you… dating?” Emily cocks her head to the side. “It’s hard to put my finger on, but it feels like something’s there. Either you’re into her, or she’s into you. It’s definitely something.”
I scrunch my nose. “She’s my friend, Em. We work together.”
Emily beams. “Oh! She’s a programmer, too?”
I shake my head. “She’s done literally all of the character art for my game, Emily,” I smirk. “Literally the only person I’ve hired to do anything.”
“Wow,” she hums. “She must be good if our little control freak is willing to accept her help.”
I roll my eyes.
She shoos me away. “I’ll be right over there to get their drink orders whenever the girls sit down.”
“Thanks, Em.”
I bring the extra plates, napkins, and silverware to the table. By the time I’m setting them down, Ava is sliding her plate over to my side of the booth. Leah slides across the seat on the other side of the booth. Ava sits in front of her, leaving Elliot and me to take the outer seats beside them. I expected the girls to want to sit together, but I’m not gonna turn down the opportunity to sit beside her.
Once I’ve urged Leah and Elliott to grab a slice, Emily appears at the side of the table to ask what they’re drinking tonight.
During the brief moment of distraction, Ava’s hand drops down to my knee, and her eyes are lit by the glow of the most genuine smile I’ve seen on her face since the moment she opened her door for me. She looks so fucking happy.
“Thank you,” Ava murmurs softly, squeezing my knee.
I feel breathless with a sudden crash of all the emotions I’ve been fighting to keep at arm's length. The wires are crossing in my brain. I’m mixing up platonic love with romantic love. I’m thinking about her in ways I absolutely should not. The look in her eyes makes me want to pull her into my arms and fucking kiss her. And I shouldn’t want to kiss her. I should just be happy to see her smiling. I should just be happy that she’s so excited to see her friend.
What the fuck is going on with me today?
She’s here because she was in dangerously close proximity to relapsing. She’s not here for any other reason. She is my friend. One of my few female friends — one of the few meaningful platonic relationships I’ve managed to maintain with a woman.
I think I can count them on one hand. Emily, Abigail, and Ava. Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s only the three of them. I’m sure there are more women I’ve managed to be platonic with, but I don’t think any of those relationships classify as meaningful. Penny, for example. She's never been anything other than a friend — just the girl my best friend has pined after since junior high. But I wouldn’t call us close.
Ava and I are close.
Close enough that she agreed to spend a weekend with me with no hesitation.
She trusts me.
She knows I only see her as a friend.
She doesn’t feel worried about my ulterior motives because there are none. This isn’t just a ploy to get her alone.
She’s looking at me like she loves me — the same way she’s looking at Leah. I feel my body begin to relax at the thought. This look is platonic love. It’s no different than the way she’s looking at Leah. The look in her eyes is nothing deeper than that.
“Eat your pizza,” I murmur, glancing down at her plate.
Leah and Ava keep each other engaged in a seemingly endless conversation, catching up on everything except for what’s going on with Nolan. Ava avoids the subject, so Leah does too. Maybe she’s waiting until they’ve broken up to tell her.
Elliott and I are left mainly to talk amongst ourselves while the girls are enthusiastically trading stories, updating each other on their lives and the lives of people I’ve never heard of. Elliott appears just as clueless as me — clearly having grown up in a different, nicer part of Zuzu City. I can’t imagine someone like him fitting into the stories I’ve heard about Ava’s past.
Leah fits, though. It makes sense.
The longer I listen to the girls talk, the more I realize how similar they are. Maybe that’s why I immediately clicked with Leah. Maybe she’s always reminded me of my best friend.

“I wondered if you’d be back before I turned in for the night!” My father beams, extending his arm to shake Ava’s hand. “Demetrius Anderson. Great to finally meet you, dear.”
The weary-eyed girl who looked like she was ready to fall asleep in the passenger seat just a moment ago is suddenly wide awake again. A bright smile lights her face as she shakes my father’s hand. “Mr. Anderson, sir! Hi, it’s so nice to meet you. Ava Reynolds.”
“How was the drive, buddy?” He asks, his gaze meeting mine. “Probably missed all the traffic getting back in so late, yeah?”
“Oh, no,” I chuckle, hanging my keys on the hook by the front door. “Nah, we’ve been back in town for a few hours. We met up with Leah and Elliott for dinner at the Stardrop.”
His brows raise with a look of surprise. “Ah!” He nods, quickly reigning in the expression he clearly hadn’t meant to let slip. I watch him fix his gaze back on Ava, and his smile returns. “How’d you like Gus’s pizza?”
“It was insane,” Ava grins. “The best pizza I’ve ever had, genuinely. I told him if he opened a restaurant downtown, he’d have a line wrapped around the block every single night.”
Dad chuckles, nodding his head. His expression suddenly changes. “Oh! Leah is an artist, too.” He lifts his gaze back to mine. “Is that why you thought to invite those two out for dinner?”
Ava looks over her shoulder at me, and I roll my eyes and ruffle her hair.
“Actually,” I drawl, shooting her a look of feigned irritation. “Ava apparently grew up with Leah. They were college roommates.”
His eyes widen, and his head jerks back. “Really?” He blinks several times, glancing back and forth between us until he’s sure he’s not detecting any signs of insincerity. “Did you know that before? I don’t remember you mentioning that.”
“Nope.” I pop my lips. “Had no idea.”
Ava scrunches her nose at me. I mirror the expression back at her.
When I look back at my dad, I realize he’d been watching our interaction. The look in his eyes tells me that it looked like something it wasn’t.
“Do you need a hand bringing her stuff in?” My dad offers, glancing at the bag that’s still slung over my shoulder.
“Nah, we’re good.” I point down at the other bag sitting beside me on the floor. “This is everything. Thanks, though. It’s late for you, Dad.” I check my watch. It’s after 10:30 — he usually would’ve gone to bed over a half hour ago. “You should go to bed. You’re on campus tomorrow, right?”
He nods. “Yes. And yeah, I should. I got busy reading, and by the time I realized how late it was, I figured staying up a bit longer wouldn't hurt.” He shrugs, and I pretend not to notice that he’s dodging having to admit that he was waiting up to meet Ava.
I bend down to pick up Ava’s other bag. “It’s past Ava’s bedtime, too,” I chuckle, nudging her with my shoulder. “Will you grab the door for her? My hands are kinda full.”
“I can carry my own bag, Sebastian!” Ava scoffs.
My dad audibly snorts. “Good luck with that, dear.”
Ava immediately relents. It’s the dad voice. It has to be the dad voice.
“If you’ll follow me,” my dad beckons for her to follow, then leads her through the house until we’ve reached the basement door. He gestures broadly around us. “Kitchen, obviously. Back door to the patio right there,” he points. He turns and points in the direction of the hallway. “Guest bathroom is the first door on the left down the hall, but Sebastian has an en suite downstairs, of course.” He purses his lips as he switches the stairwell light on. “I’m sure he’ll give you a proper tour of the house tomorrow when Maru’s not sleeping.”
“Yes, sir,” I nod.
“Right,” Dad nods. “Alright, I’ll get out of your hair. Want me to leave any lights on up here?”
“Nah, we should be good. Thanks, Dad.” I pat the side of Ava’s hip. “Downstairs, the door straight ahead of you. The light switch is immediately on the left just inside the room — you’ll see it.”
She smiles, sensing that I want to speak to my dad out of her earshot. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Anderson.”
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to call me that. Demetrius, Demetri, just D — your choice.” He smiles.
“Demetrius,” she decides. With a sweet smile and a respectful nod, she says goodnight and heads downstairs to my bedroom.
I feel the curiosity in my father’s eyes. I lower my voice and smile weakly. “Can you stay up another five minutes? I need to talk to you.”
He nods as if he’d expected as much. “Of course.”
I look down at her bags. “I'll bring these down for her, and then I'll be right back up.”
He pats my shoulder. “Sounds good, buddy.”
Ava is surprised to see me come downstairs so quickly. I set her bags down for her and pull her into a quick hug. I point out the bathroom in case she needs it, then welcome her to snoop through my stuff until I’m back in two minutes.
When I return upstairs, my father is putting away the last couple of dishes from the dishwasher. He looks over his shoulder, then glances past me to ensure I’m alone. I nod, and he smiles.
“Very sweet girl,” he notes, keeping his voice low. “Very pretty.”
“Yeah,” I nod, running my hand through my hair. “She’s great.”
“Go ahead,” he chuckles. “Tell me.”
I furrow my brows. “What are you expecting?” I ask. He smirks, and it makes me chuckle. “Dad…”
He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, smiling back at me. “What’s goin’ on, bud? You’ve been seeing her a while now, I’m guessing?”
“It’s not like that,” I shake my head. He exhales a laugh through his nose, his expression deeply skeptical. “We’re not—“ I clear my throat. “Ava and I are just friends. Honestly.”
He cocks his head to the side with a low, curious hum. He really doesn’t believe me.
“She left her boyfriend today.” I watch his expression drop from skeptical to sympathetic in the blink of an eye.
“Oh,” he frowns. “Gosh, I’m sorry, bud. How's she handling that?”
I don’t know how to say it gently. “Ava and her boyfriend are both in recovery.” I clear my throat again, forcing my gaze back up to his. “Or, her boyfriend was. He relapsed today. That’s… why she’s here.”
His hand covers his mouth, and he squeezes his eyes shut. I watch his shoulders rise and fall with a slow, deep breath. When he opens his eyes again, he has miraculously gotten his emotions under control again. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do we need to get him some help?” He glances in the direction of the basement door. “Is she—“
“She’s still good, yes.” I see my own pain reflected back at me in his eyes. I answer the question he's afraid to ask: “Heroin.” The word comes out much softer than I intended, but I can tell that he heard me. “She’s been clean for over a year, Dad.”
“Good for her,” he smiles, focusing on the positives. “That’s great. Good for her. I’m proud of her for knowing she needed to get away from the situation.”
I nod.
“What about you, Seb?” He asks. The question takes me by surprise. He scans my face curiously. “She is important to you — I can tell. How are you feeling?”
I look up at the ceiling, but despite my best attempt at introspection, I can’t really feel anything. I don’t think I’ve processed anything yet. I’m not really dealing with it right now. I feel like I’m still in the active crisis management mindset. I’m not thinking about how I feel because my brain and body still feel like I’m in the middle of a life-or-death situation.

Do now. Deal with it later.

That’s all I know how to do.
I answer his question honestly: “I’m not feeling anything right now. I feel like I’m still putting out the fire.”
“I’ll make an appointment with your therapist for you,” he nods, making his mind up without my input. I have no desire to discourage him. “Does she have a counselor?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Would she see one?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. “Do you think she’d—“
“I’ll have to ask her,” I wince. “I feel like she would if it wasn’t forced on her. But if the appointment were made without her permission, she probably wouldn’t go.”
“The same with the boyfriend?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. “What’s his name?”
“Nolan. I can’t remember his last name.”
“I’ll make some calls tomorrow. Tomorrow’s Friday, so it’d be best if I at least gave Christine a heads-up that we may need her this weekend. If Ava is doing well and not at risk while she’s here with you, we can worry about getting her taken care of next week. At least — that’s what I’m thinking.”
He waits for my opinion, but I have nothing to say. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders. He’s so much better at this than me. He springs right into action. He doesn’t panic, doesn’t get lost in his own head. He’s everything I wish I could be.
As if he can read my mind, he holds his arms out for me as I start walking toward him. It takes every ounce of my strength to hold back the urge to break down crying the second my father hugs me. I drop my head on his shoulder, and his hand rubs up and down my back, and he reminds me that I’m going to be okay. I think I only ever believe those words when he’s the one saying them.
When I pull back, I know I don’t need to tell him why. He understands. I know he gets it. He knows I’m just barely holding it together.
“Thank you for telling me.” My dad pats my shoulder. “Thank you for bringing her here. Let me know if you need anything, okay? I’m on campus tomorrow, but I'll be home in the early afternoon. If you need anything—”
“I will,” I promise. “I think we’ll be okay. She’s gonna have to talk to him on the phone tomorrow. That’ll be rough, obviously. But…” I blink a few times, then shrug my shoulders. “It’ll be okay. I can handle it.”
“You can handle it,” he agrees. “She is sober. She will stay sober. We’ll make sure of it,” he promises. “Tell her I’m here for her. If, for some reason, she’s more comfortable talking with a father figure than a friend… you know?”
“I’ll tell her. Thank you, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you too, son.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter Four

When I return to my room, Ava is lying sideways across my bed, flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. She doesn’t move when I enter the room — doesn’t even turn her head when I shut the door behind me.
In a soft voice, she murmurs, “Hi.”
“Hi,” I whisper back. “You goin’ to sleep? Beds are usually more comfy when you lay on them the right way.”
“I’m not sleeping,” she whines, pushing herself upright again.
She looks so tired, but if I had to guess, she’s more emotionally exhausted than physically. She’s overwhelmed. The stress, the fear, the anxiety, the heartache… It's a lot.
If I were her, the last thing I’d want to do is talk to anyone.
I sit down beside her, holding out my arms for her. With a sympathetic smile, I whisper, “We don’t gotta talk. I know you’re past your limit.”
Ava scoots closer, letting me pull her into a hug. I feel her body soften in my arms, relaxing as she’s held against my chest. Her shoulders drop, and she exhales a soft sigh. Feeling her body relax makes a noticeable difference in the tension in my own shoulders.
Maybe I’m a little overwhelmed, too.
“Wanna change into something comfy and watch a movie?” I offer. Movies or drawing are her go-to distractions, so I’m not surprised when I feel her nod. “Yeah? Okay. What kinda movie?”
Ava ponders for a moment before finally suggesting, “Maybe something scary?”
“Something scary that you’ve seen before, or a new scary movie?” I rub her back gently. “How scared do you wanna be?”
She sits up, releasing me from what felt like the best hug of my life. “What do you wanna watch?”
“I’m down for whatever you want,” I answer honestly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m just happy to be with you right now.”
Her eyes look misty, like she’s fighting back tears. “I’m really happy to be with you too, Sebastian.”
I pat her back. “Let’s get changed and pick something to watch, okay?”
Ava’s fucking adorable in leggings and an oversized, faded Whitechapel t-shirt, all tucked into my bed with her legs crossed beneath her. It takes everything in me to not comment on how fucking cute she is as she scrolls through the horror movies.
Eventually, she settles on one, and I switch off the lamp beside my bed, killing the last remaining light in the room.
I settle back against my pillow, expecting her to do the same. Ava’s hand lands on my bicep, prompting me to turn my head and strain my eyes to see her in the dim light cast by the movie's opening credits. She starts to lift my left arm, and it snaps me back to attention. I raise my arm, holding it open for her.

She wants to lay on me.

Ava rests her head on my chest and snuggles up beside me. My heart feels like it’s backflipping, but I will myself to stay calm.
I wrap my left arm around her back, holding her securely against me. Her cheek is pressed against my chest. She can’t even see the TV like this, but I'm not gonna question it right now. I don’t think she cares. She bends her leg and rests it on top of me, and I feel it slowly begin to register in my mind that it feels good to hold her. Not just comfortable, but good. An invisible weight is lifted off my shoulders, and all that’s left is a feeling I can only describe as bliss. The tension in my body melts away.
I rest my right hand on top of the leg she’s thrown on top of me, holding onto her calf as she nuzzles into me. She somehow finds a way to scoot even closer — sliding her knee up higher until her thigh is fully hiked up on top of me.

Fuck.

With the arm that’s wrapped around her back, I give her a gentle squeeze. “You don’t wanna watch the movie?”
I feel her shrug. “This feels too good.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle, bringing my hand up from her leg to stroke my fingers through her hair. “You’re so warm.”
“You’re warm,” she sighs. “I love you, Sebastian. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
My heart could fucking burst.
“I love you, Ava.” I kiss the top of her head. “You have no idea how much that means to me. I’m happy you feel that way.”
“Thank you for just… doing this.” Her voice is soft, full of sincere appreciation. “You didn’t have to drop everything and come to the city for me. You could’ve just listened to me vent like a normal friend.”
“But just listening to you vent wouldn’t have been enough,” I chuckle. “You can vent all you want, but that doesn’t solve anything. I care about your feelings, and I want you to talk about them… But I’m more concerned about your physical safety and well-being.”
She sniffles.
“Ava...” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut as I wrap my other arm around her. She moves with me, curling into my embrace and letting me hug her tight. “You don’t need to thank me for being a good friend. Picking you up and taking you away from there is the bare minimum.”
“It’s not.” Her voice breaks. “Driving to the city to pick up your friend and save her from her fucking self is not the bare minimum. You’ve never done the bare minimum. You’ve always been such a good friend. I feel like I don’t deserve you.”
She deserves so much better than me. She deserves so much more than life has given her. But I don’t know how to convince her of something that feels so obvious — how to make her see an objective truth.
“You deserve the world, Ava.”
Making her cry is pure agony, but I swallow it down because this is a painful truth she needs to accept. Even if it hurts — especially because it hurts. My heart splits between the urge to make her stop crying and the knowledge that I need to let her truly feel this until she allows the truth to sink in and dry her tears.
The best thing I can do is just hold her and let her cry, so that’s what I do. I hold her close, quietly running my fingers through her hair and rubbing her back until she’s let it all out.
She breaks our silence with the last question I could’ve ever wanted her to ask.
“Did Nolan text me?”
“Yeah,” I answer her question honestly. “But you asked me to not give you your phone until the morning.”
“I don’t want it back. Can you just tell me what he said?”
“He asked why you stopped sharing your location with him.”
“Oh.” Her tone is flat. “Was that all?”
“No.” I don’t want to tell her what the following message said — or the one after that. My heart aches for her. Changing the subject, I ask, “When is your lease up?”
“It was that bad?” she asks, lifting her head from my chest to wipe the tears from her eyes.
She looks so fucking hurt. It absolutely kills me.
“I can’t remember what month you moved in. I feel like you've been there for a while. Your lease has to be up soon, right?”
“June,” she smiles weakly. “They sent us a thing about renewing our lease last week.”
“You didn’t do it yet, right?” I ask, widening my eyes. I fucking hope they didn’t just sign another lease together.
“No, thank god,” she sighs.
“Do you want to stay there for the last two months, or do you want to let him stay?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “When we were leaving the bar, Leah told me I could move into her second bedroom.”
“She did.” I smile, wiping away a tear as it rolls down her cheek. “Is that something you’d want to do?”
She shrugs. “We were roommates in college.”
“She moved here after breaking up with her ex, too,” I murmur. “I think she seems pretty happy now.”
Ava smirks, propping herself up on my chest. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t… what?” I ask.
“Don’t play dumb.” Ava rolls her eyes.

What the hell is she talking about?

“I….” I blink a few times as I search for whatever it is that I’ve missed. “I’m not playing dumb, I just am dumb. What do you mean, Ava? What did I do?”
She just laughs. “You’re so fucking funny sometimes.”
“I am mildly funny at best. But I’m not trying to be funny this time. I genuinely don’t know what we’re talking about.”
“Leah.”
“What about Leah? What does that have to do with me?” I ask, cupping her cheek in my hand. “You were talking about Leah inviting you to move in with her. What am I missing?”
“And then you said she seems happy after moving here post-breakup.”
She looks at me expectantly, so I nod my head. I’m still following, but she looks confused. Like she doesn’t understand how I’m not understanding her.
“You’re… You’re completely unaware of your involvement in that, aren’t you?”
“Ava. Girl. My involvement in what?” I furrow my brows.
Ava chuckles, resting her forehead on my chest again. “You are so oblivious.”
“Clearly,” I agree, sliding my hand down to rest on her back. “I don’t understand what Leah’s post-breakup happiness has to do with me. I had one drink — I’m not even buzzed. You’re confusing the hell out of me.”
She lifts her head, looking at me with a curious expression. “Did you or did you not fuck Leah?”
“Oh.” I blink. “Yes.”
“Yes, you fucked Leah?”
I sigh, looking up at the ceiling as I repeat the answer for her. “Yes. I hooked up with Leah.”
When my eyes meet hers, she looks so fucking amused. She blinks at me slowly, pressing her lips together to hide her smile.
“Don’t,” I groan. “Why are you acting like I did something? Yes, I had sex with your friend. Now what? Why is this funny?”
“Can I have my phone? Where’d you put it?”

What? I guess her meds have worn off. I remember her telling me she feels like a different person at the end of the night when her meds are out of her system. I’m glad I saw the pills on her end table before we left her apartment.
I smile, stroking her cheek. “You told me to not give it to you, Ava.”
“I just want to show you something,” she insists. “I won’t start a fight with Nolan until tomorrow, I promise.”
I feel like she’s testing me. Like she wants to see how easily I’ll give in.
“What do you want to show me?”
“I want to prove to you that you did, in fact, do something for Leah.”
I tip my head back, groaning in exasperation. “Yes, Ava. I made her come. I don’t need you to prove that to me. I was there. I remember.”
She giggles and shakes her head. This is so fucking funny to her.
“What the hell do you mean, then, Ava? Explain the joke to me. I’m clearly missing the joke.”
“It’s not a joke. You’re so annoying,” she grins as she grips my t-shirt, bunching the fabric up in her hand. “You’re the first person she slept with after her breakup. You are the thing that made her finally move on from that fucking prick.”
“I think you’re assigning more meaning to that than she would, Ava,” I roll my eyes.
“You sure?”
The smug look on her face makes me immediately doubt myself.
“I mean, I was sure until you looked at me like that.” I furrow my brows. “Did Leah say that?”
“Among other things.”
I don’t know how to feel. That’s a good thing, right? A net positive. So why does it make me feel so weird?
“I’m… glad?”
Ava laughs at the uncertainty in my voice. “You’re really sweet.”
“How?” I blink. “I’m sweet because I had sex with your friend like a year ago?”
She smirks. “For someone that’s so good at feelings, you’re awfully clueless about feelings.”
“Correct,” I nod my head. “That sounds about right.”
“Obviously, you weren’t doing it on purpose.” Ava smiles, resting her warm hand on the side of my face. “But that doesn’t take anything away from how much it meant to her, regardless. You made her feel like herself again. Like… reminded her there are other guys out there. I think she just didn’t realize there were men other than Kel, you know?”
“I believe you.” I smile. “I don’t know if that’s what she really felt, but I believe you if you say that’s what happened.”
“I just thought it was kind of funny,” Ava smiles back. “You fuck my best friend and help her heal from her breakup. Then she invites me to be her roommate again. Then you say she moved here after a breakup, and she’s happy now…” She bites her bottom lip. “But I guess you weren’t implying what I thought you were.”
My jaw drops.
“Ava! Jesus Christ. Did you think I was—“
She nods her head.
I close my mouth, bringing my hand up to cover my face. “I swear on my life, that wasn’t what I meant.”
“I believe you,” she hums. “I just didn’t realize you had no idea what you did to her.”
“I know exactly what I did to her,” I chuckle, rubbing my eyes. “I just didn’t know how what I did to her affected her afterward.”
Ava laughs, swatting at my chest.
“I’m serious, though,” I insist. “I’m glad Leah felt more like herself again after being with me. I’m sure it’s hard to get over a breakup. It makes sense that sleeping with someone else would help. Like a reminder that the entire world still exists.” I finally meet her gaze again, but looking her in the eyes makes my stomach feel tight. “But I wasn’t implying that. I just meant that leaving the city and getting space seemed to help her.”
“Getting space and dick.”
“Do not!” I squeeze my eyes shut, lifting both of my hands off of her body so I can fully cover my face. “Do not.”
Ava fucking cackles. “Am I wrong?”
“Do not talk about my dick,” I beg. “Especially not when you’re fucking laying on top of me.”
I feel her start to move, and I immediately feel bad. I didn’t want her to think I want her to get off of me. I don’t want her to think I’m asking her to move or that I don't want her right where she is.
I drop my hand from my face as I feel her sitting up, moving her leg off of me. My eyes are open just in time to watch her swing her leg over my hip, sitting down on top of me — fucking straddling me.
“Can I talk about your dick if I’m sitting on top of you?” Ava presses her lips together, trying to hold back a laugh. “Or… on top of it.”
“Ava!” I whine, reaching out to grab her hips. “You fucking freak. I hate you.” I exhale a sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut again. “Why do you want to talk about my dick so bad?”
“Because I’ve never seen you get embarrassed before.”
I open my eyes, staring up at her without responding.
“… And it’s fucking cute.” She finishes the thought. She squirms on top of me, and I bite down on my tongue.
“So cute,” I agree, softening my tone. I hate her. “By all means, go ahead. Keep talking about me fucking your best friend. Leah isn’t shy. I’m sure she gave you graphic descriptions.”
She nods her head but doesn’t say anything.
“Aw,” I coo, sliding my hand up the side of her thigh. “Are we shy now?”
“No,” she rolls her eyes.
“You had so much to say before,” I murmur, tracing my fingertips back and forth.
“You’re like Schrödinger’s cat.”
My laugh comes out like a cough. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to live inside her head.
“Yeah?” I ask, too stunned to even try to articulate a better response.
“Yeah.”
“Great. Okay. I’m like Schrödinger’s cat… how?”
She pauses, thinking for a long moment — like she somehow hadn’t anticipated that ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ would naturally be my follow-up question.
After a moment of consideration, still perched on top of me, she shakes her head. “Never mind.”
“No,” I chuckle. “Absolutely not. Explain what you meant. I don’t care how stupid it is.”
“No. It’s really stupid.”
“You want me to be dead in the box so bad.”
Ava nods her head, not missing a beat. “That’s exactly what I meant.”
“You wanna talk about quantum superpositioning?” I ask, biting down on my bottom lip as I look up at her.
“That’s like foreplay for guys like you.”

And she’s right back to that. Good lord.

“Just say you want to fuck me,” I roll my eyes. “You’ll feel better if you say it out loud.”
“I don’t think I will.”
I squeeze her thigh. “Do you want to keep talking about my dick, or do you want to cuddle and watch The Conjuring?”
She blinks, cocking her head to the side as she gazes down at me. She thinks for a moment before responding. “No, I changed my mind. I have to say the Schrödinger’s cat thing.” She tucks her hair behind her ear.
“God, please. I’d love to hear it.”
“You’re simultaneously my best friend that would never think of me as anything more than a friend, while also still just… a man.”
My heart drops.

Why is she thinking about me like that?

Trying my hardest to not show any physical reaction to the way that just made me feel, I force a soft laugh and nod. “That’s not nearly as stupid as it could’ve been.”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No. But if you keep wiggling around, I’m going to inadvertently make you very uncomfortable.”
She snickers, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m gonna sleep with you tonight.”
I blink, stunned for a split second before I realize she’s being literal — literally sleep. She is sleeping in my bed. Right.
“You are,” I agree.
She climbs off of me, and I’m immediately relieved. The threat of getting hard while just cuddling with her is exponentially lower.
“Ready to cuddle again?” I ask, holding my arm out for her. “All done implying I’m trying to fuck you?”
She giggles, nodding her head. “Can we switch sides? I wanna snuggle on you, but I do kinda wanna watch the movie. Or at least halfway watch it.”
“Sure,” I grin, scooting over. She climbs over me, trading sides.
With my right arm open for her, I’m somehow even more comfortable. She curls up in my arms with her knee hiked up on top of me.
“You’re right, by the way,” I murmur, stroking my fingers through her hair.
“About what?”
“You do turn into a monster at night once your meds have worn off.”
She laughs, holding up her middle finger. “Fuck you.”
“We literally just decided we’re done talking about fucking. Control yourself.”
“I’m actually going to bite you.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” I chuckle.
“Why?” She takes my left hand and brings it toward her mouth, challenging me. I let my arm go limp, letting her move it because I’m sure she won’t do it.
“I fucking dare you,” I smirk.
She stops, seemingly thinking better of it. I watch her run her fingers down my left arm and it gives me fucking goosebumps. It sends a chill up my spine. “I just remembered that girl at Starbucks.”
I chuckle. “Mhm.”
“She was so horny about your arm.”
“She definitely appeared to be a little into it, yeah,” I roll my eyes.
“You do have really nice hands.”
“So I’ve heard,” I chuckle. “I didn’t realize that was a thing until Trevor started posting progress pictures of my arms.”
“The girls love ‘em, huh?” She hums.
“Pretty sure a good chunk of his comments on posts of my arms are about my hands instead of the actual tattoos, yeah.”
“Do you blame them?”
I shrug. “I guess not?” I hold my hand up in the air. “Does this do something for you? Are you one of those people?”
“I wasn’t until you held my hand in your car.”
It feels like a kick to the chest. I should be flattered, but it just makes me panic. I try to play it off with a nonchalant, “Oops.” Then I drop my arm back down to rest it on her back again.
She holds her hand up just like I had mine. “It’s not the same with girl hands.”
My room is dark, but I can still see her hand well enough. I’m sure it’s not the same, but I don’t like how it makes me feel. I mean… I do like it. I like the way it makes me feel. But I don’t like what feeling this way means.
Her hands are so much smaller than mine. Softer. Her nails are painted black, but every nail is chipped to a varying degree. Something about them being imperfect feels so right. Like long, freshly-manicured nails would look out of place on her hands. I imagine Abby’s nails on her hand, and it’s almost funny.
I don’t like the thoughts rushing into my mind. There are so many things I could say, but every single one of them would make things worse. I adjust the arm that’s wrapped around her so I can take her hand, guide it to my lips, and kiss her knuckles. “Your hands are pretty too.”
“You’re pretty.”
“You’re pretty.” I roll my eyes, holding back the smile that threatens to form on my face. “Shut up.”
“You shut up,” she giggles. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”
“Bro, you’re not even looking at the TV.”
I look down at her, and her eyes are closed. She’s so fucking cute, happily snuggling with me like this is just normal for us. Like today isn’t the first time we’ve actually met.
Her immediate trust and comfort with me makes me feel so fucking good.
I hope to god it helps tomorrow.
Dread begins to creep in again. I think I should stop trying to fight it. Every time our conversation lapses, it sinks back in.
I want to tell her what he texted her. Maybe that’s what has me feeling so uneasy — maybe it’s the fact that I’m keeping something to myself when I know she deserves to know.
I fucking hate him. I can’t believe he’d talk to her that way. It makes me worry about what their relationship has been like. Is he always like this?
“Are you okay?” Ava asks.
When I focus back on her, she’s propped up on her elbow and looking at me curiously.
She frowns. “You’re tense.”
I smile weakly. “Sorry. Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?”
I take a deep breath, dragging my hand down my face as I gather the emotional strength to ask this question.
“Up to this point, has Nolan been good to you? Or was he always a jerk?”
Ava looks stunned. Her mouth opens, and she blinks rapidly, like she doesn’t know how to process the question. I caught her off guard, I guess. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I’m an idiot.
“I’m sorry to bring him up.”
“It’s okay.” Her eyes focus away from my face. “I wouldn’t say he’s always a jerk.”
Her answer makes my stomach turn.
“Okay. Would you say he’s good to you?”
She shakes her head slowly, then shrugs her shoulders. “He’s… fine, I guess?”
How can someone else’s heartache hurt this bad?
‘He’s fine, I guess’ is a tragic way to describe a boyfriend.
She deserves more than fine. I can’t believe she’s just been accepting fine. I hate myself for even considering that I could give her more than fine because she’s my best friend, and I will inevitably, undoubtedly ruin it all if I even consider crossing that line.
Our conversation about Leah springs back up in my mind, and I’m actively battling the intrusive thoughts that I could help Ava get over her ex just like I helped Leah.
Leah and I weren’t close enough to have something to lose if we never hung out again after sleeping together. But Ava is my best friend. She’s the only other name in the credits of my game. She’s the unnamed person that is thanked in my game’s dedication.
I can’t risk this. I’m not willing to risk losing her to an impulsive decision.
That’s why she’s here right now — to protect her from the disastrous repercussions of her own probable impulsive decisions. Why would I even consider subjecting her to the consequences of mine?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter Five

“We gotta talk about it at some point.”
Ava looks up at me and gives me the sassiest slow blink I’ve ever seen — so much fucking attitude. That look rivals the kind of impatience I’m used to seeing on Abigail’s face when she’s sick of my shit.
I press my lips together, reflexively trying to hold back a smile.
“What’s funny?” she asks, setting her iPad and Apple pencil on the desk in front of her.
“Nothing,” I insist. I rest my elbow on the desk and lean my head against my hand. “You remind me of Abby when she decides she’s gonna hate me for a little bit.”
“I don’t hate you,” she sighs. She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her forehead on them. Her arms wrap around her legs, and I pretend not to care that she looks so fucking cute in my sweatshirt.
“It’s just men in general, right? I’m guilty by association?” I smile. Her head pops up, and I can see that she’s going to argue, but I keep talking before she can. “I feel the same; don’t worry. You’re not wrong. Men are bad. I hate myself purely on principle, too.”
She finally cracks a smile. My chest feels a thousand times lighter.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
Ava shakes her head. “No.”
“What if I told you my sister texted me that she’s baking cookies?” That gets her interest. I smile, laughing softly. “I thought so.”
“I could be persuaded to eat a cookie.”
“I know you could. That’s why she made them for you.” I stand up from my chair, then bend down to kiss the top of her head.
“She baked them for me?” Ava’s voice pitches high. “Why?!”
I smile apologetically. “I think my dad must’ve mentioned that you were here. Maru texted me this morning asking if you’re a cookie or cupcake kind of girl. And I’m assuming my dad told her you were also friends with Leah because she asked which one of Leah’s friends I’m fucking now.” I squish her cheeks between my fingers when she starts to laugh. “I hate you. Stop.”
“I just think it’s funny that even your sister perceives you that way. Like it’s such a thing that your sister is aware that you’re—“
I choke on a stunned laugh. “Are you calling me a slut?”
Her jaw drops. “I didn’t say that!”
“You were about to.” I mess up her hair, exhaling a sigh as I walk across the room. “I’m gonna go get you a cookie, asshole.”
“Wait!” she whines, standing up as she runs her fingers through her now-disheveled hair. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that. I’m coming with you — I wanna thank your sister.”
She grabs my wrist and tugs me back before I can open my bedroom door. I let her pull me, slowly turning myself back around to face her.
Her hands are on my sides, and she’s looking up at me with a soft, remorseful look on her face. “I wasn’t going to call you a slut. I don’t think you’re a slut.” I feel her hands slide back and forth before she grips onto my shirt. “I don’t even remember the last time you told me you were seeing someone. I don’t even have a reason to think that, Sebastian. You slept with Leah once — that’s all I’m aware of. And I only became aware of that yesterday.”
“It was twice,” I admit.
She smirks. “Sure. Fine. That doesn’t change anything. I still have no reason to think you’re a slut, and it’s honestly none of my business.” She shrugs. “Like I said. It’s not like you’re always talking about a bunch of different girls.”
“What if I was?” I cock my head to the side, suddenly very curious how she’d react.
She shrugs. “As long as you’re not, like, being a dick and leading a bunch of girls on at the same time. Like, overlapping relationships.”
I exhale a laugh through my nose. “Have I ever mentioned being in a relationship?”
Ava shakes her head. “No.” She pats my chest. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not dating people. That just means you’re not telling me.”
I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly.
“Are you single?” she asks. “I just realized that’s… like.” She looks away, blinking a few times. “If you haven’t mentioned seeing anyone as long as I’ve known you… Fuck. I assumed you were single.”
“I’m not dating anyone,” I smirk, running my hand up and down her side to reassure her. “And it’s not that I’m just not mentioning that I’m dating someone. I just haven’t actually dated anyone since you’ve known me.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows furrow.
The disbelief on her face is almost funny. It’d probably actually be funny if it wasn’t such a problem. If it wasn’t a persistent struggle, a hurdle I can’t get over.
“You look surprised,” I note. I try to keep my expression and my tone casual. I don’t want to influence her reaction.
“Was your last breakup particularly bad or something?” She asks, tilting her head to the side. “Because I know it’s not that girls aren’t interested in you.”
“I’ll take the compliment, I guess?” I chuckle, raking my fingers through my hair. “Uh, yeah. It ended badly.”
“Really bad?”
I nod my head.
“Bad enough that you still haven’t felt interested in dating?” she asks, her lips turning down in a frown. She pats my chest gently. “I’m sorry. It had to be brutal for you to still be messed up about it.”
I wince, nodding my head slowly. I don’t know what to say. It still feels like an open wound to this day, and I don’t want to talk about it.
But Ava obviously doesn’t pick up on that.
“What happened?” she asks.
Her hand slides up my chest, and she strokes the side of my face, imitating my compulsive gesture of reassurance. It feels so sweet when she does it. I wonder if it makes her feel like this when I cup her cheeks in my hands. God, I hope it does.
I try to smile, concealing the urge to break down crying. But the façade isn’t going to fool her, so I let it fall — exposing my resignation.
“It was a long time ago. We don’t need to talk about it. We should be talking about your breakup.”
“Let’s talk about yours first.” She smiles, crinkling up her nose at me. “You talk, and then I will.”
I squeeze my eyes shut to hold back the tears. “Ava. I love you so much, but I don’t think I can do that.” I pull her in, hugging her so she can’t see my face as I grapple with the urge to cry. She melts into my arms. “I can’t talk about her and be the supportive, strong friend you need me to be right now.”
“Sebby…” she whispers, squeezing me tighter. “You’re scaring me. I didn’t know…”
“Don’t be scared.” I force a breath in and hold it for a couple of seconds, trying to get it the fuck together. “It was a long time ago. You didn’t know because I don’t talk about it.”
“She really fucking hurt you.”
I nod my head. “Yeah. But it’s not entirely her fault.”
Ava’s pulling back from the hug. She pushes her hand against my chest, forcing me back far enough that she’s able to look back up at me and see my eyes full of unshed tears. “Sebastian.”
“Ava.” I make a weak attempt at changing the subject to distract her, pointing over my shoulder toward the bedroom door. “Cookies?”
Ava frowns. “Did she pass away, Seb?”
“I don’t know.”
I hear my voice break, and I fucking hate myself for not just avoiding the question. She’s gonna force it out of me, and I’m going to fall apart.

“You don’t know?”

I can’t do this.

I turn around, pulling her hand to bring her with me. I walk up the stairs ahead of her.
Halfway up the staircase, we’re hit by the smell of cookies. My mouth waters and Ava groans behind me.
“Holy fuck. Is your sister single? I’m gonna ask your sister to marry me.”
“Yes, she’s single. Yes, you’re her type,” I snicker the rest of the way up the stairs — still laughing as I push the door the rest of the way open.
Maru looks up at the sound of my laugh. She’s sitting on the kitchen island with her phone in her hand. The smile on her face drops when she sees me.
“Fuck, Mar. It smells so fucking good.”

The kitchen is a mess.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Her eyes widen as she slides down from the counter and walks straight over to me.
“It smells incredible in here,” Ava murmurs, resting her hand on the center of my back.
I watch Maru take one glance at Ava, and I brace myself to watch my sister awkwardly hit on my best friend.
“Holy...” Maru grins. “Hi. It’s Ava, right?”
“Hi!” Ava smiles. “Yeah, it’s Ava.” She takes a step toward her and holds out her hand to shake my sister’s.

Maru is so fucking bad at playing cool. Jesus Christ.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Maru murmurs as she shakes her hand.
My sister looks at me quizzically, as if Ava’s appearance simply doesn’t compute. There’s an implied ‘the fuck is she doing with you?’ behind that look, but I refuse to take the bait — deciding instead to just roll my eyes and ignore her.
Ava responds with a compliment for Maru and a genuine thank you.
“I made you cookies!”
“We can smell them.” I bump Maru’s shoulder as I walk past her. “And it looks like you set off a bomb in the kitchen.”
I pick up a cookie from the wire rack they’re cooling on, then grab a napkin and bring it to Ava. It’s still warm — the perfect temperature to eat right now.
“Thank you!” Ava beams. Her eyes widen as she looks at the cookie. “You did not have to make cookies for me, but I’m really glad you did,” she giggles.
I watch her take a bite, and the look on her face makes Maru proud.
“How many fucking cookies did you need to make?” I ask, pointing at both of the cooling racks full of cookies, then at the third batch in the oven. I grab a cookie for myself and take a bite — immediately regretting my words. “Nevermind. Make more.”
“There’s still more dough in the fridge,” Maru chuckles. “I was gonna bring some over for Penny. And if I’m giving Penny cookies, I have to account for Sam...”
Ava looks at me for clarification.
“Sam has a bigger sweet tooth than even you, Ava.”
She looks so fucking pretty when she smiles back at me. “That’s impressive,” she laughs. “And moderately concerning.”
The timer starts to beep, seemingly catching my sister off guard.
“Shit!” Maru yelps, dashing over to the oven.
I reach over and stop the timer, picking up the oven mitts and holding them out for her.
“Can you put the ones on the right tray into the bowl for me?” Maru asks, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the cookies. “These have to come right off the pan. I got distracted on my phone. I forgot to clear the tray before this batch was done—“
“Got it,” I nod.
She is so fucking calm in the lab with Dad, but baking cookies has her frantically scrambling around the kitchen. The stakes are much lower with baking than with any of the shit she helps my father with in the lab, and yet this is what makes her panic.
Ava is watching, so I decide to be a good brother and help.
The cookies on the right are much cooler — I must have grabbed ours from the second batch. These ones are cool enough to stack up in the bowl she has set out on the counter. I slide the first rack over once the second is empty, then place the empty one closer to the stove so Maru can transfer the cookies off the pan.
“Thanks,” Maru breathes, still awkwardly holding the pan with an oven-mitt-clad hand as she transfers them to the rack.
I drop a potholder onto the counter. “Set the pan down.” I chuckle. “You’re a mess today.”.
Maru laughs and agrees as she sets the pan down. I reach over and pull the oven mitt off her hand, dropping it onto the counter for her. Embarrassed and flustered, she just rolls her eyes.
I feel a hand press against my back, and it makes me nearly jump out of my skin with a startled yelp. Fuck. Ava moves so quietly.
She giggles, patting my side with a half-hearted apology for scaring me. As she pulls her hair up into a bun on top of her head, I realize she’s taken off my sweatshirt. Then, she steps in front of the sink and turns the water on.

She’s gonna wash the dishes.

“Ava, you don’t gotta—“
“Awww!” Maru croons when she looks our way. “Oh my god, Ava, you don’t need to wash the dishes. You’re so sweet. I’ll clean it up.”
She shrugs. She’s already got the dish brush in her hands, and she’s washing a bowl. “You didn’t need to make cookies for me, either. I can help you clean up.”

I fucking love her.

Nolan is an idiot. That absolute piece of shit never deserved her. I can’t imagine anybody on this earth is deserving of a girl like her.
I pull my sweatshirt over my head, then set it on the back of the chair she had discarded hers onto. Maru looks at me curiously, expecting me to make her stop. But I don’t want her to stop — I just want to help her with something sweet and domestic like washing the dishes.
I wrap my arm around her waist, hugging her from behind. She tips her head back, giggling as I squeeze her tight. I kiss the side of her head, leaning beside her ear to murmur, “Scoot, I’ll help you.”
She leans back, pushing her ass back into me before she steps to the side. I push her forward, then pat her hip before stepping beside her. Thank god the dishwasher is empty. I start loading all the stuff that doesn’t need to be rinsed off first.
“Oh! I didn’t even consider that you’d have a dishwasher,” Ava chuckles.
Maru laughs. “Our dad would rather die before he lived without a dishwasher.” As she speaks, she’s placing the second batch of cookies into a separate container. “The high-heat sanitizing rinse thing… I’m pretty sure that’s the only thing keeping Dad's OCD in check.”
“Oh! I didn’t know your dad had OCD.” Ava bumps my arm with her elbow. “You really don’t talk about your family a lot.”
Maru meets my gaze curiously. I have to assume she's worried that she's already shared too much. I nod with a soft smile because it’s okay. I trust her.
“Specifically contamination OCD,” I explain. “Which is valid for a scientist, I guess. But… yeah. You're right. I don't think I've told you much about them.”
“You can blame our mom for that,” Maru scoffs.
Ava nods solemnly. “I’m sorry. Yeah. That makes sense.” She glances up at me. “I didn’t...”
“It’s okay,” I insist. I glance at my sister, then back to her. “I just don’t talk about it. It’s not like only with you. I just don’t talk about it in general.”
“That’s the truth,” Maru adds. “Like, I don’t enjoy talking about her, and he’s even worse than me.”
“I totally get it. I only talk about my dad when I’m complaining about him,” Ava offers, trying to breathe levity into the tense conversation. “I don’t expect you to talk about it.”
Maru taps her nails on the side of the bowl of cookie dough — seemingly not picking up on Ava’s willingness to drop it. “It’s just exhausting to rehash it. It’s hard to love an addict, you know?”
I widen my eyes, pressing my lips together as I look at her over Ava’s head.

Fuck.

Maru realizes what she’s done, reads the panic on my face, and then freezes.
But Ava doesn’t miss a beat. “Preaching to the choir, babe.”
I dry my hands on the dish towel, then reach over to turn off the water. Ava hasn’t moved a muscle. I take the dish brush from her and set it back in its stand.
“Oh. Was your ex an addict?” Maru asks. “I’m sorry to pry...”
I dry Ava’s hands for her. She suddenly moves, her entire body jumping before she looks up at me and exhales a nervous laugh. I drop the towel on the counter and take her shoulders to turn her around. I spin her in place until she’s facing me and then wrap my arms around her.
“I’m sorry,” Maru whispers, staring at me with a horrified look on her face.
Ava’s soft voice is the least convincing thing I’ve ever heard when she says, “It’s okay.”
I press my hand against the back of her head, holding her against my chest. I look at my sister and answer the question for her. “He is.”
Tears form in Maru’s eyes.
“So am I. Just for the record,” Ava adds, turning her shoulder to look at my sister. “I’m sober. He was, too. Until he suddenly wasn’t anymore — so now we’re not together.”
“Oh, honey…” Maru murmurs, absolutely crestfallen. “I’m so sorry.”
“It is what it is,” Ava shrugs.
“You broke up with him after he relapsed?” Maru connects the dots aloud. “To protect your sobriety?”
She nods her head.
Maru closes the distance between us, holding her arms out for her. I loosen my grasp on Ava’s body, fighting back the urge to cry as I watch her eagerly accept my sister’s hug.
“I’m so proud of you,” Maru’s voice trembles. “You’re so fucking strong. That’s incredible.”
“I’m literally not.” Ava begins, pausing to wipe her eyes. She sniffs, then clears her throat. “I absolutely wouldn’t have left on my own if it weren’t for Sebastian. You’re giving me way too much credit.”
Maru’s jaw drops. She stares at me and pulls Ava back in, hugging her tight.
“Ava…” I sigh. “I don’t wanna believe that.”
She exhales a laugh through her nose. “Okay, then don’t believe it. That doesn’t make it any less true.”
“You would’ve left him.” I fully recognize that I’m saying it because I want it to be true — not necessarily because it is. But I don’t want to believe that she just would’ve stayed and let herself relapse.
“You’re giving me too much credit, Sebastian. I have no sense of self-preservation.”
Maru chuckles, holding eye contact with me as she passes my best friend back into my arms. The urgency of her embrace makes my heart ache.
“Does dad know?” Maru asks.
“Know what?”
She glances down at the back of Ava’s head. “Why they broke up.”
I nod. “Yeah. He’s already… doing the Dad thing.”
Ava looks up at me curiously. “The Dad thing?”
“Aggressively trying to support you,” I explain, smiling as I smooth my hand down her back. “Overbearing father figure shit.”
“Yeah. Like, a friend of ours...” Maru begins, offering me a sad smile. “Our dad has been an overbearing father figure to him ever since he figured out he has a drinking problem.”
Ava chuckles. “And you think he’s planning to be an overbearing father figure to me, too?”
“So you don’t end up like our mom. Yeah,” Maru nods. Her voice breaks, and I realize she’s tearing up again. “He’d want to make sure you’re staying sober and taking care of yourself.”
“My own dad doesn’t even give a shit,” she smirks. “Wild that yours does.”
Maru shrugs. “Did your dad lose his wife to drugs?”
“No.” Ava offers her a sad smile. “Cancer.”
“Ouch. I’m sorry,” Maru breathes.
“It’s fine. Better than drugs.”
“Is it?” Maru grimaces. “We can at least blame our mom for doing it to herself. When it’s out of everyone's control… that has to suck more. I hate feeling powerless.”
Ava squeezes my bicep. “Can I ask what your mom’s addicted to? If you even know. I know you said it’s been a long time.”
“Ten years,” Maru sighs.
I lift her arm, running my thumb across the faded, scarred marks on the inside of her arm. Tears spring to my eyes as I look down at the remnants of her life before we met.
“Oh,” Ava whispers. Her chin drops down. “Sebastian…”
“Heroin?” Maru asks in a soft, hesitant tone as if she’s afraid to hear the answer.
“Yeah,” Ava nods.
A few seconds of heavy silence pass over us.
“Leah said she invited you to move in with her.” Maru tries to steady her voice, clearing her throat softly. “She said you were roommates back in school.”
“We were, yeah.”
“Maybe it’d be good for you,” Maru suggests. “Out of the city, away from any opportunity to even get your hands on the stuff.”
“I didn’t think about it like that.” Ava shakes her head. Her eyes finally meet mine again.
“I didn’t just want you away from him, Ava," I whisper. I take either side of her face in my hands. “I wanted to get you away from the opportunity to hurt yourself.”
I am so fucking happy my sister is right there. If she weren’t, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my willpower would’ve broken by now. If Maru left the room, I’d be kissing her.
Ava’s hand clutches at the fabric of my t-shirt. “Will you come with me?”
“Yeah.” I nod, agreeing before I even understand what I’m agreeing to. “Where?”
She smiles, scrunching her nose as she looks up at me. “To help me move my stuff out of the apartment.”
The relief that washes over me is indescribable. The tension in every single muscle drops all at once, making my body feel so soft and light. I exhale a sigh that undeniably exposes how relieved I really am. “Of course, Ava. Just tell me when. We could go right now.”
“I should talk to Leah first.”
“Sure.” I nod my head. “Is a lot of the furniture yours?”
“I don’t want it.” Ava shrugs. “Some of it is… but I don’t want to keep anything that reminds me of him.”
I look up, and I’m surprised to see that my sister isn’t there. When my eyes meet Ava’s again, her soft brown eyes are full of tears.
“Sounds good to me. I’d gladly replace everything you own that reminds you of him.”
“How long ago did you break up with the girl that traumatized you?”
I blink, absolutely stunned by her question. “Where did that come from?” I ask, deflecting with a nervous chuckle.
“You acted the same way about your mom and the girl you didn’t want to talk about.” She shrugs her shoulders.
I hear Maru clear her throat as she walks back into the room. I’m grateful for the distraction, eagerly taking the opportunity to break eye contact with Ava.
“What’d I miss?” she asks.
“I was asking Sebastian about the ex he doesn’t like to talk about,” Ava answers immediately, turning around to look at my sister.

I feel like my heart has stopped beating.

Maru gasps. “Katie?”
“Is that the one?”
Maru offers her a weak smile. “Is there another one?” Her eyes dart up to meet mine.
I feel like I’m gonna pass out. I think I was holding my breath.
My sister’s face falls. “Sebby. Hey.”
She’s walking toward me. Ava steps out of the way, and then my sister’s hugging me.
“Sit.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“Sit the fuck down, Sebastian,” she snaps, pushing my side a little harder this time.
“I’m fine,” I lie, shaking my head before I decide to just give in and sit down.
I grab Ava’s hand, pulling her with me. Maru pushes me, forcing me to take three steps back before she pushes me down into a chair.
Ava’s stunned. She blinks, blindsided by Maru’s overreaction. “Sebastian, I—“
“Don’t.” I shake my head, interrupting her before she can apologize. She has no idea what’s wrong. She had no way of knowing. I pull her hand again, dragging her until she lands in my lap. “I’m fine. Maru’s just paranoid.”
“Fucking excuse me for not wanting you to pass the fuck out on me again.” Maru squeezes my arm, crouching down to look at me.
“I am fine.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry. I didn’t…” Ava’s eyes fill with tears, and she doesn’t stop apologizing until the tears spill over, and she’s covering her face with her hands.
Maru immediately responds, not missing a beat. She wraps her arms around Ava’s shoulders, hugging her like she’s known this girl forever. “It’s not your fault, honey. Seb, if you want, I can just tell her. We can go down to my room, and I can tell her what she needs to know, and you don’t even have to be involved.”
“I’m fine.”
“You keep saying you’re fine. You’re not fucking fine.”
Ava wraps her arms around my neck, holding me. It’s strange how much of a difference it makes to be held rather than be the one holding her. Or maybe it’s strange that I’ve never really thought about that before. Our height difference isn’t a factor when she’s in my lap like this. I take a deep breath, resting my head on her shoulder with my arms wrapped around her waist.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she murmurs, rubbing her hand back and forth across my shoulder blades.
“I can, though.” I lift my head, looking at my sister.
The concern on her face makes me feel so fucking small. I’m the older sibling. She shouldn’t be the one worrying about me.
“Sebastian, no,” Ava sighs. “You don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“But I think it would be good for you to try,” Maru insists. “If Ava has had a substance abuse problem in the past, I’m sure she can at least imagine what it’d be like to be the child of an addict.”
Ava nods, but she doesn’t say anything. I can feel that she’s afraid to push me.
“Brief backstory for context,” Maru begins, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Our mom chose drugs over her family when I was 10 and Seb was 16.”
“That’s awful,” Ava whispers. “I’m so sorry. I’m glad you have such a good dad to compensate for her absence.”
I lean forward, dropping my forehead on her shoulder again. “It could’ve gone exponentially worse.”
“Right,” she sighs, stroking her fingers through my hair. It feels so nice.
“I don’t know if you could tell, but Demetrius isn’t my biological father.” I somehow manage to keep a straight face and even tone until Maru snorts.
“I’m sure she’s fucking shocked, Sebastian.” My sister rolls her eyes and laughs, kicking the side of my leg.
“No way,” Ava plays along. “You look just like him.”
“I know,” I smirk. “People are always shocked.”
“Your biological dad isn’t around, right?” Ava assumes. “Since your stepdad took custody of you?”
“No clue who my bio dad is.” I exhale a laugh through my nose. “I’m really hyping my mom up, aren’t I?”
She strokes my cheek softly. “Sometimes you don’t realize how much you’ve fucked around until you’ve already found out.”
Maru snorts, turning away as she laughs with an awful, shrieking sound.
I should just rip the bandaid off.
“So it’s two separate things that happened in the same couple weeks. The overlap in timing is a lot of the problem.”
Ava nods, patiently stroking her fingers through my hair.

This is going to be fucking awful.

“Right around the same time everything happened with our mom — when I was 16 — I was dating this girl.” I clear my throat, looking down at my hand resting in her lap. “Katie.” I force myself to breathe, pushing past the urge to stop talking and shut all of this down. “She was a massive part of my life. Obviously. She obviously was significant if I’m still fucked up from her ten years later.”
Ava’s hand flings up to cover her mouth as she gasps. “The girl we’re talking about is your girlfriend from ten years ago?”
“Yup,” Maru adds. “In his defense, I’m 99.9% sure he wouldn’t still be hung up on her if everything hadn’t happened all at once.”
I’m so glad she’s here. I don’t know if I could actually get through this conversation without my sister.
I don’t know if she’s right about that. But I do know that the intricate entanglement of the back-to-back traumatic events has made them feel like one big thing instead of two separate events.
“So Katie was the granddaughter of the old farmer that lived in town. His son’s daughter. Right?” Maru explains, making sure Ava is following her. “She lived with her grandpa. I feel like I’m gonna get it mixed up, Seb. I was a kid, and nobody told me exactly what happened until later.”
“Katie and her parents lived with her grandpa Robert. Like, since we were kids. I think they moved in with him when we were like, 4,” I explain. “I don’t remember her ever not being here.”
“You grew up together.” Ava smiles, stroking her fingers through my hair softly.
“Yeah. She was my best friend.” I try to smile as if it’ll do something to disguise the sound of my voice breaking.
“And she ended up being your girlfriend when you were older.” Ava’s filling in the blanks for me and trying to help me along.
I nod my head as I take her hand and interlace our fingers. Holding her hand is a nice distraction. “So her dad died right before I turned 15.” I clear my throat, trying to steady my voice. “Car accident. Really sudden. Fucked everyone up.”
“That’s awful,” Ava murmurs. “Poor girl.”
“Yeah. You know how hard it is to lose a parent.” I squeeze her hand. She hums softly, coaxing me on. “But we spent our entire lives together — we got through everything together.”
Ava’s eyes are full of tears again. She squeezes my hand, sniffling as she tries her absolute hardest to keep it together for me.
“I don’t wanna get into everything that happened with our mom.”
I sigh, seeking my sister’s gaze for reassurance. She’s watching me with a sad smile on her face, but she looks proud. I’m talking about it. It hits me all at once that I’m talking about Katie. I’m giving next to no detail, but it doesn’t matter — this is more than I’ve managed outside of therapy in fucking years.
“You don’t gotta.” Ava squeezes my hand again. “What matters is that the timing of everything with your mom lined up with the breakup, right? And that’s what made it so hard — it happened all at once.”
“Yeah. Looking back on it now as an adult, I realize how codependent we were. At the time, it just felt like what love was. You know? It wasn’t just that we relied on each other to get through stuff… It was like an absolute dependence. She physically could not cope with shit without me, and I physically couldn’t cope without her, either.” I clear my throat again, looking back down at Ava’s hand and how small it looks in mine. “It was fucking unhealthy, but at the time, she was just… everything to me. And it never felt like a problem, you know? Because she was literally a two-minute walk away — any time of day, she was always right there. It was never a problem that we’d become so codependent that we never developed healthy coping mechanisms of our own because we were always right there.”
“You were kids,” she whispers, wrapping her free arm around my neck to hug me again. “I don’t think anybody’s first love is exactly healthy. You were teenagers — kids. You didn’t know what you were doing. It just felt right, right?”
“Right.” I nod, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. “I fully recognize how stupid it is to be hung up on a girl I loved when I was a literal child. I don’t want you to think I’m that emotionally stunted.”
“Of course I don’t. She only made a long-lasting impact because your brain literally developed around your experience with her. You were each other’s coping mechanism during some of the most emotional, volatile years of any kid’s life. Much less a kid who experienced the death of a parent, or what feels like the death of a parent that’s just abandoned them.” Ava kisses my forehead. “Your brain formed a reliance on her existence. When you lost that thing you relied on, it had an impact. It’s completely understandable.”
“I fucking love you,” I sigh, dragging her closer and wrapping my arms around her.
“You’re doing so fucking good, Sebastian.” Maru sounds like she’s crying, but I don’t want to open my eyes to see it. “I’ve never ever heard him talk about it with anyone but our dad.”
“I’m so proud of you, Sebby,” Ava whispers. “Let’s get you through the hard part, and then you’ll feel so much better, okay?” She rubs my back again. “Why did you break up? Can you tell me what happened? Where did she go from there? You haven’t seen her in years. You said that much.”
Maru takes a step closer, placing her hand on my shoulder.
I hesitate for a moment. I don’t know how deep I can go while still keeping it together.

Surface level details.

I just want to get this over with.
“I think the relevant point is that her mom had a breakdown, sort of. And she needed to move back home to be closer to her family. Her husband died — she needed to get out of his childhood home. Living with her father-in-law was too much.” I shrug. “Again, as an adult, I understand where she was coming from. But as a teenager, I absolutely did not.”
“Typical teenager shit, yeah,” Ava chuckles. “So she moved away. Her and her mom.”
“Yes.” I nod. “My mom left. Then Katie and I were… going through it. It was rough. I don’t know how else to put it. Things were fucking awful. So naturally, I’m leaning on Katie. She was here, we were in my room, and I think I was just venting about it. And in the middle of it, I realize she’s like… absolutely not listening.” I exhale a bitter laugh, shaking my head and wiping the tears from my face. “I’m 16, so my natural reflex is to be like… what the fuck? Do you not care?”
“I one thousand percent would’ve started a fight.” Ava gives me a sad smile. “A physical altercation. We’re absolutely boxing — we’re going blow for blow until you say sorry.” She grins when she sees me crack a smile. “I would’ve fought my high school boyfriend over much less.”
The kitchen timer starts going off again. I watch my sister step away to take the cookies out of the oven and transfer them to the cooling rack.
“I obviously did not fight her,” I roll my eyes. She laughs, and I shake my head. “We for sure fought about it — verbally, not physically. And it was just a mess, dude.” I sigh. “She waits until we’re fighting about her acting disinterested in to suddenly just drop the fucking bomb on me that she’s leaving — moving away. In the middle of an argument: ‘I’m moving.’ In the shittiest way, like, okay, fuck you, I’m moving so I don’t care.”
Ava’s expression falls. “Oh, honey…” She winces. “I was a bitch when I was 16, but god damn. I wasn’t even that awful.”
“It was completely out of character for her, for the record.” I shrug. “Like, I don’t recall her ever being that awful before that moment.”
“Still…”
“Still,” I agree, nodding my head. “So that fight goes completely unresolved, and everything just keeps spiraling and getting worse and worse until she’s leaving. Not even kidding.” I exhale a laugh through my nose, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation. “We had literally never fought before. And our first actual fight goes on for a week, and then she leaves.”
“And then she proceeds to ghost him, mind you,” Maru interjects as she walks back across the room. “She carries on a pointless fight and refuses to be a normal person and just fucking talk to him before she moves away. Then she blocks your phone number, right?”
“I thought she did,” I shrug. Ava’s horrified. I take her hand again, letting myself seek the source of comfort for the moment because I fucking need it right now. “All of us, our whole friend group —me, Sam, Abby, Haley, Penny— thought she blocked all our numbers. But then I have the bright idea of having our cousin, a guy she’s never met, call her number— just to see, you know? To make sure she’s blocked my number.” I pause, dragging my lip ring between my teeth before finally saying. “Disconnected. She changed her number. Moved across the country, changed her number.”
“Fucking hell, dude. So you literally never spoke to her again after she left.”
“Oh.” I blink. “No, there was one time that she texted me. It was like… Fuck. I think it was a month later. It was before she changed her number. Immediately after she left, my messages weren’t being delivered. So I thought she’d blocked my number. Then, a month later, she texts me saying she needs to talk to me.” I clear my throat, swallowing hard. “So I’m pissed, because… what the fuck. Like no shit Katie? I fucking needed you too? I’ve needed to talk to you every day since before you left.”
Ava’s eyes are wide. “What did she want?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I told her basically, ‘You weren’t there when I needed you, but you expect me to just drop everything and be there for you after everything you did?’”
“Fair.”
“Absolutely fair,” Maru echoes her statement.
“No response, of course.” I run my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my face. “Naturally. I’m sure she realized how stupid and selfish she was. And things were getting pretty messy with our mom again when she happened to pop back up.” I close my mouth, shuddering at the memory. “She catches me at the absolute worst time and reopens the wound, you know? And I just didn’t have it in me to destroy myself for her again. So I didn’t. And then a few days later, I text her again to see if she’s okay. Message won’t deliver.”
Maru snaps her fingers. “That’s when you had Kenny try calling. Because it stopped going to voicemail and started saying it was disconnected or whatever.”
“Right,” I nod my head. “Yeah. Right. That’s how it happened.” I furrow my brows. “Maybe she waited two months to text me, actually. I guess it doesn’t matter.”
Ava wipes a tear from my cheek. “I think that’s genuinely the most fucked up way she could’ve handled herself. Like, even at 16… that level of immaturity is astonishing.”
“Yup,” Maru agrees. “So basically, an ex-girlfriend taught him that depending on someone for support is unsafe, which eventually equated to love is danger in his head. Parental abandonment, plus an awful breakup and subsequent emotional abandonment… That adds up to intimacy issues and a fear of commitment and vulnerability.”
“Just fucking dox me dude, fuck.” I groan, tipping my head back. “Jesus Christ, make me sound more unstable.”
“The two most important women in your life dropped you like it was nothing to them. At the same fucking time,” Maru scoffs. “Nobody’s judging you for becoming allergic to love and having intense fucking attachment issues.”
“I don’t have attachment issues.”
Ava snorts. “You have an anxious-avoidant attachment style.”
“Is that an issue? Or just an attachment style?”
“Do you think it’s normal and healthy to have such an intense fear of intimacy and emotional connection and vulnerability?” Ava smirks. “Or is that an issue that you — understandably — developed as a response from trauma?”
“What are you, my doctor?”
“Go ahead. Deflect. Prove my point,” she widens her eyes at me.
“This has become excruciating,” I admit, blinking my eyes a few times. “I need to disassociate and stare at a wall for six hours.”
“Want another cookie?” Maru asks.
“Ava does,” I answer, forcing my vision to return to focus.
“Yes I do,” she chuckles, standing up from my lap. My legs feel cold without her there.
I can’t believe I did this.
My chest feels so hollow — raw and exposed like a freshly opened wound all over again. But I did it. I got through it. It was difficult and uncomfortable but not nearly as awful as I thought it would be.
Ava is a good listener. She’s always been easy to talk to. Every time I’ve opened up to her, even though I’ve never opened up about something so deeply personal, she always finds a way to make me feel better.
It’s like venting to her actually works. Rather than walking away from the conversation more frustrated than I was at the start, the way I feel when I vent to my other friends, Ava leaves me feeling calmer. She soothes the chaos.
Even when I’m complaining about something as small as a code issue I’ve gotten hung up on, talking to her feels more productive than therapy.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter Six

An old, classic rock song blasts from the speakers inside the bar — only slightly muffled by the door that’s closed but not fully latched shut.
The Stardrop is undeniably the heart of this town, especially on the weekend. Every time the door swings open, the conversations around every table briefly pause, and heads turn toward the entrance to see who’s walked in. Waves, smiles, polite nods of greeting — sometimes a name is cheered by the group expecting their arrival.
I take it for granted. I don’t fully appreciate the small-town things that make this place feel like home: the comfort of its predictable nature and the intrinsic understanding that your neighbors may as well be family. I used to resent living in such a small town, perpetually lusting after the idea of moving away to the city. But with age has come an appreciation for the security and the stability of a place that truly feels like home.
I recognize the next song that begins to play as one of Pam’s favorites. I can imagine her, goaded on by Gus, snickering to herself as she hunches over the jukebox to cue up their shared favorite songs one after the other. Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me” will inevitably be followed by Warrant’s “Cherry Pie.”
Halfway into the first track, Pam will have convinced Emily to dance with her, leaving Gus alone behind the counter to laugh as he watches his right-hand woman spin around in circles with the woman he loves.
It’s nearly a routine set in stone, and it’s one that only strengthens that feeling of home within these four walls. A younger Sebastian would watch the same tradition play out week after week through jade-colored glasses — pessimistic and bitter, too stubborn to appreciate the security within that sense of belonging.
“It’s a party.” Ava chuckles weakly, with an unmistakable edge of uncertainty seeping into her tone.
I rest my hand on the small of her back, slowing our pace to a stop. She looks up at me curiously — silently asking why we've stopped walking with just a slight tilt of her head.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” I ask, straightening the drawstrings of her hooded sweatshirt. “If you're not feeling up for this, we don’t need to—” I cut myself off as Ava shakes her head.
“No!” she insists with a smile. “No, I’m up for it, I swear!”
My brows knit together. “You sounded nervous. Are you sure? You’re not hurting my feelings if you change your mind, Ava. We can do literally anything else.”
The uneasy look in her eyes melts away. “I’m not exactly nervous. I was just surprised? I guess? I didn’t expect it to be so lively. It was really quiet here yesterday, so I was just surprised.” Her soft laugh is real this time. “It’s cool. I wasn’t expecting blasting music and like…”
“Yeah, the place feels much more alive on the weekend. Everyone’s probably already here, honestly.” I glance at my watch to see it’s just after 6:30pm.
“How many people is everyone?”
“I mean, I could name everyone and do a head count if you want.” I chuckle, smoothing my hand over her hair. “You saw how small the place is, Ava. You’re used to packed clubs in the city, right? I’m surprised a tiny little bar with twenty people inside makes you nervous.”
Ava wrinkles her nose and squints her eyes. “I’m not nervous.”
I respond with a pointed look.
She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and crosses her arms. “When there’s hundreds of people, you don’t stand out. You’re just part of the sea of bodies. You know?”
Oh.
A wave of understanding comes rushing in.
The problem is that the bar is not crowded. She's only comfortable when she blends into a crowd. She’s afraid to stand out. And she’s right: she will stand out. A new face will always stand out in this town.
And a face as pretty as hers, when seen right at my side, will certainly draw curious glances at the very least. I can only hope that that’s as far as it goes, that everyone perceives her as my date and leaves it at that. If I’m lucky, they’ll save their prying questions for another day.
A light gust of southerly wind gently lifts the ends of her hair, blowing it in front of her face. When the breeze settles, her hair drops back down — save for a few strands that got stuck to her lip gloss. My hand moves before hers, disconnecting the strands from the gloss before smoothing her hair back into place. She spent about fifteen minutes straightening it before we left my house, insisting her beautiful, naturally-dried hair looked awful. Her hair clearly matters to her a lot; it’s like a reflex to fix it back into place before she can make another self-deprecating comment.
With a coy smile, Ava whispers a thank you.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Ava — you’re obviously going to stand out. But I’ve known these people my entire life. They’ll just be curious at the worst.” I offer her an apologetic smile. “If you don’t want people to approach us and ask who my friend is, act like we’re on a date.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t that make them more curious?”
I nod. “For sure, but I imagine they’ll be less likely to interrupt what at least looks like a date.” I push my hair out of my eyes, exhaling a soft laugh. “Hopefully, everyone has enough self-awareness to wait until later to interrogate me about you. You know, when you’re not directly in front of them.”
“Sooo, how do we make this look like a date? Rather than a friend just meeting your other friends?” Her head cocks to the side with a playful smile.
I roll my eyes. “Are we gonna act like you’ve never been on a date before?”
She scrunches up her nose. “I’ve never been on a date with you.”
“Sike,” I chuckle, wrapping my arm around her waist as I lead her back toward the door. “You are right now.”

Penny and Abigail have drawn Ava over to the other side of the room, away from me and Sam. The girls are crowded together on a couch on either side of Ava, deeply engaged in an animated conversation. They’re clearly hitting it off. Ava looks entirely at ease — talking, attentively listening, and giggling along with them.
Even without being able to hear what they’re saying, I can tell they’re talking about Ava’s ex right now. The twin looks of horror and disgust on Abby and Penny’s faces make it abundantly clear. Ava laughs as Abigail grabs her by her shoulders like she's trying to shake some sense into her. Penny throws herself back on the couch, her feet kicking out as she hysterically giggles.
Sam puts his phone back on the table and pulls a knee up to his chest. He bumps my shoulder with his, briefly gesturing across the room.
“The girls seem to like her,” he notes, stating the obvious.
“Mhm,” I hum, lifting my glass to take another sip of my drink.
He's dissatisfied with my response. I clearly was supposed to answer a question he hadn’t even bothered to ask. But I’m not in the mood to try to read his mind, much less volunteer random information about her.
When we first arrived, Sam took one look at Ava, and his jaw dropped open. With his back turned to his girlfriend and with big widened eyes, he’d silently mouthed the words ‘bro, she’s so fucking hot’ — and he’s been testing my patience ever since.
It genuinely pissed me off.
The same dude that perpetually rides my ass about settling down and committing to something — deliberately facing away from his girlfriend to gawk at a girl and tell me how hot she is?
The cracks in his good-guy, ‘my girl is my world’ persona are showing more than ever, and it makes me feel sick to imagine how Penny will feel when she finally sees them.
His hypocrisy gets under my skin.
Sam always acts like it's a bad thing that I avoid committed relationships. But I only avoid them because I’m acutely aware that I'm not in a place to be committing to someone. So I just don't do it. Forcing myself into a serious relationship just for the sake of it could only end badly, with someone getting hurt.
I know it doesn’t sound good to say, ‘I don’t do commitment,’ but in doing so, I feel like I’m making the most altruistic choice I could make.
The alternative would be much, much worse.
I could, for example, tie myself to a monogamous relationship with a girl, only to turn around and lust after other girls behind her back.

Just like Sam did tonight.

Would he see me as a better man if I acted like him? If, despite being in a committed relationship, I still felt the need to check out other girls? If I felt the need to start a conversation about how hot a girl is — a girl that’s not my girlfriend — right behind my girlfriend's back? Would that be better in his eyes?
Sam’s waiting for me to say something, to give him anything that he wants to know about Ava.
I set my glass down again. With pursed lips, I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah. She's easy to get along with. I don't know what else you want me to say.”
Sam scoffs. He turns in his chair, angling his body toward mine. In a lower voice, he asks, “What’s going on with you?”
“With me?” I ask, furrowing my eyebrows. “What do you mean? Nothing’s going on.”
Sam exhales a laugh through his nose. “With the two of you, I mean. Not just you.”
The clarification only gives me more questions. I finally turn toward him, angling myself in my seat. “Sam, what makes you think something is going on between us?”
He rolls his eyes, chuckling as he reaches for his drink. “Right. I regularly have girls stay the night at my house for no reason.”
“I’m sure Penny would love that.”
Sam snorts, shaking his head before he takes a drink, perceiving the obvious slight against him as a joke. He sets his beer back down and then sighs. “That’s kind of my point, though, right? Penny would kill me if I had just a friend sleep over because, like… no the fuck she’s not. You know?”
I furrow my eyebrows. “How many times have we all crashed at Abby’s place?”
He shrugs. “That’s different.”
“How?” I scoff. “Unless you were fucking Abby after I passed out—”
Sam grimaces. “Ew. Fuck. No.” He shakes his head. “That’s different because Abby’s like, literally just a friend. Our best friend. It’s not the same.”
I widen my eyes at him. It’s deeply concerning that he can’t hear how fucking stupid he sounds right now.
“Samson, buddy…” I pat his knee gently. “It’s not different. Ava is my best friend, too.”
He blinks at me, unconvinced. “You expect me to believe you’re not attracted to her?”
I stare back at him blankly. “I never said that. She’s fucking beautiful — I’m not going to deny that just because she’s my best friend. Abby is really pretty, too, Sam. Are you gonna question whether or not I’m secretly fucking her, too?”
Sam flicks his gaze back across the room, watching the girls again. “It just feels different.”
“To you,” I clarify. “It feels different to you because she’s not your friend. You don’t know her like you know Abby, so you aren’t seeing her as a person. You’re just perceiving her as a tiny waist and an ass rather than a whole fucking human.” He looks back at me, already on the defensive, but I just shrug. “Don’t act like I’m a freak for being able to see a good-looking woman as a person. You’re the one that has an issue here — not me.”
I expect him to snap back at me for calling him out, but to my surprise, he actually closes his mouth and thinks for a second. Then he sighs, rakes his fingers through his hair, then shrugs.
“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “You’re probably right.”
I’m stunned into silence.
He laughs softly, elbowing me in the ribs. “She’s prettier than Abby, though. Don’t blame me for—”
“Stop,” I interject. “You’re not gonna compare the girls to each other and rank how attractive you think they are.”
Sam rolls his eyes again, and I want to strangle him. It’s like he gets it for a split second, then he slips right back into being a fucking douchebag again.
I hold up my hands in defeat. “Nope, nevermind. I take it back. If you wanna be that guy, be my guest. If you wanna compare them, then go for it — but you have to include Penny. If you think Ava’s prettier than Abby, where does your girlfriend land in the ranking?”
I hope to God he doesn’t actually accept my challenge. He should know better. I hope he has the sense to back down and let it go — maybe learn a lesson from this and then move on.
Sam points down at the table with his index finger, and my heart sinks.

Of course, he’s gonna do it.

He points at the table as if he’s ranking the girls from bottom to top. “Abby,” he begins, glancing at me to ensure I’m watching. When he sees that I am — albeit in horror — he continues, his finger moving one step higher with each of their names. “Abby, Penny, Ava.”

I should’ve just strangled him.

The double doors that lead to the main room swing open, creaking on their hinges. Sam should count himself lucky for the sudden distraction.
“Yo, Gonzalez,” I nod in Shane’s direction, holding my hand up in a wave.
Sam’s head turns. “Sup, Shane?”
Shane’s eyes meet mine, and I can tell something’s wrong. He ducks his chin down in a nod and beelines right toward us, stopping on the other side of the table — blocking our view of the girls.
“What’s up, man?” I ask, gesturing toward one of the girls’ empty chairs. “Everything okay?”
His eyes are wild.
“You good, man?” Sam asks, adjusting his position to sit properly in his chair. He rests his elbows on the table and leans forward, anxiously assessing Shane’s frazzled state as he drops himself into the chair across from me.
Shane looks directly into my eyes again. “Emily said—”
The three of us all jump at the sound of an unexpected voice just over Shane’s shoulder.
“…. Shane?”
It’s Ava. Not Abby — I thought it was Abby, but that voice belongs to Ava.
Shane jumps to his feet. The chair is shoved to the side, banging against its neighbor as he stumbles, turning his back toward us.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Shane cry. His voice cracks as he gasps Ava’s full name — first, middle, and last — and in the flurry of curses and movement, I can tell that he’s crying.
My mouth hangs open in shock as Shane scoops Ava off her feet, crushing her in a hug. Her legs wrap around his hips as he spins her around in a circle, his hand pressed against the back of her head. His voice drops down low, and he rests his head on her shoulder. Their reunion feels too emotional to even let myself wonder what he’s saying to her.
Shane is from the south side of Zuzu City, too.
I’ve heard him blame the south side for his drinking problem more than once, justifying his addiction by simply referencing the district he grew up in.
Abby and Penny come to the side of the table, staring at me with unspoken questions in their eyes. I watch Shane continue to hold Ava in his arms.
Penny’s hand rests on my shoulder as she steps behind Sam and me to murmur, “She heard you say Gonzalez, and then you said Shane, and she turned and looked at him, then just bolted across the room to him. I don’t—”
Sam slides his chair to the right, creating enough space to drag Penny into his lap. She holds down her skirt as he lifts her like a rag doll, giggling and swatting at him for his public display of affection. But once he sets her down sideways across his lap, she happily settles in, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
She looks so happy.
I’m still mad at Sam for not putting her first.
Shane finally sets Ava back on her feet, and they both turn to look at me. Shane dries his face on the inside of his shirt, still laughing and cursing to himself. Ava wraps her arms around his sides, resting her head against his shoulder. She stares at me with tears in her eyes and the biggest smile on her face.
“My brother, Nick?” she begins to explain, but pauses to laugh as Shane hugs her again. Ava moves with him, angling her body to continue looking at me. “Do you remember me telling you about our friend SJ? Jules?”
I clap my hand over my mouth as my jaw drops open. “Shane is SJ?”
Shane holds both sides of her head as he looks over at me. “I told you, man. Nobody has ever just fucking called me Shane.”
Ava grins, squeezing him harder as she affectionately teases him. “‘Cause you’re Julie!”
Shane digs his fingers into her ribs, making her screech as she’s tickled. “Don’t fucking call me Julie, shithead.”
“Awwww!” Sam coos. “Julie!”
Penny scolds him for teasing while Ava cackles mischievously, encouraging him on.
“Why Julie, though?” Sam asks.
“His middle name is Julius,” Ava shrugs. “We’ve always called him anything but his actual name.”
“Nick had everyone convinced my name was actually Shawn our senior year of high school,” Shane grins, his eyes growing misty as he reminisces. He pulls Ava back into a hug. “Fuck, kiddo. I can’t believe you’re here. Why are you here? How do you and Sebastian know each other?”
Ava points at me. “I work for Sebby!”
“You work for Sebastian?”
“She’s my artist, dude.” I grin, scratching the back of my neck. “I’m pretty sure my dad showed you the character that’s inspired by him.”
He nods.
“Ava designed him. She designed all the characters for the game.” I’m absolutely beaming with pride when Shane’s jaw drops open.
“How the hell—” Shane looks back and forth between us. “How did you meet? Where the fuck have you even been, Ava?”
“Through a mutual friend.” Ava glances at me and smiles. “Or, I mean... A mutual friend of mine and a friend of his. Friend of a friend of a friend.”
“Yeah. A buddy of mine said that a friend of his was friends with a super-talented artist who would be perfect for the job. That’s how we got connected.”
“Jesus Christ,” Shane whispers, dropping his head into his hands. “Ava, where have you been? Are you still in the city, or…?”
“Yeah.” Ava nods, looking back over at me. “At least, for now.”
Shane tracks her glance, watching her smile at me as she says those words. He meets my gaze with a curious raise of his eyebrows. “For now?”
He’s reading way too far into that smile. But I have to fight the urge to answer for her. It feels like an instinct to say yes — to answer the unspoken question in his eyes with a resounding yes. Even if it’s not true, even if she’s not considering moving here for me. Shane assumes we’re together as if that’s the most natural conclusion, and I want to say yes.
I feel it hit me all at once—like a switch has been flipped, the lights have turned on, and I can finally see that I want it to be true.
Maybe it was watching Shane pick her up and hold her in his arms. Maybe it’s been spurred on by some kind of fucked up, possessive, toxic internalized desire that I shouldn’t even dignify with a shred of consideration. Maybe that’s why it bothered me so much when Sam talked about her.
I feel more for her than I’m letting myself acknowledge. That must be what’s wrong. I’m so detached from my own feelings that I can’t even identify what they are.
I have to bite my tongue and keep holding them back just a little bit longer. At least until the night is over. Until after we've left the bar and I've taken her back home and she's fallen asleep in my arms again.
It can wait until she’s asleep. Then I'll try to untangle this mess and sort myself out.

No. Fuck.

Oh my god, I’m fucked.

The thought of taking her home and back to my bed makes my chest burn with a gnawing kind of ache that wasn't there just a few moments ago.
The conversation continues around me as I allow myself to get lost in the feeling — picking it apart to identify what it even is that I’m yearning for. I’m sure it’s something more significant than the first thoughts that rush into my mind. It’s more than just the way her body fits so perfectly against mine. It’s more than the feeling of waking up to her crawling back under the covers after going to the bathroom early this morning — that addictive, dreamy haze of her wiggly body as she tangled her limbs back into mine.
It feels like a craving for nicotine: that deeply ingrained need for a smoke. I don’t always know what’s wrong, but I know a cigarette will make me feel better. When I think about it, I can't quite put my finger on what it is that makes me realize I need to smoke. I just know. The craving is so deeply ingrained into my psyche that I don't notice it. It’s simply become a part of who I am. It scratches an itch I cannot describe.

It’s just like a craving.

But the cure to this craving doesn’t fit inside a small pack in the pocket of my jeans. The remedy I’m itching for feels more deadly than the carcinogenic equivalent, and it’s far less attainable than just stepping out for a smoke.
Everything starts to feel distant — like I’m further away than I should be. It’s almost like I’m underwater, yet still participating in the conversation on autopilot for the rest of the evening.
It takes Shane’s hand on my shoulder to bring me back to the surface, just in time for us to say goodbye.
“Bring her over tomorrow, okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, of course.” I nod.
Worry pulls down the corners of Shane’s lips. “You alright?” He glances over his shoulder to where Ava is saying goodbye to Sam, Penny, and Abigail.
“Are you?” I ask, deflecting attention back onto him. “You said you thought she was dead, man. I’m sure you’re having a pretty rough time with—”
Shane chuckles nervously, looking down at his feet. “Yeah. I feel like I just need to process it, you know? Getting some air will help.”
“Yeah,” I agree, patting his shoulder as I accept his one-armed hug. “For sure, man. It’s good news. I know there’s more to it, but… yeah. If you stay grounded in the good things, you’ll be alright.”
And so will I.

The bar is still just as lively as it was when we arrived. Only a few hours have passed, but so much has happened. It’s only just after 9:30pm as we walk through the front door, leaving just a few minutes after Shane.
The sky is completely clear, not a cloud in sight.
“Wow,” Ava whispers, stopping mid-step to look up at the stars.
“Pretty, huh?” I hum, standing behind her, wrapping my arms around her.
She hums, leaning against me slightly as she tips her head back, taking in the crystal clear view of the stars.
“It’s so beautiful…” she whispers.
“I guess you can’t really see the stars like this in the city.” I rub my hand up and down across her abdomen as she stays leaned back against my chest.
The light of the moon and stars reflect off of her eyes. She looks absolutely angelic.
“Never,” Ava smiles, still focusing up at the sky. I watch her eyes slowly scan around, taking it in. “It never gets dark. There’s just too many lights, you know? And there’s so much pollution. You just can’t…” her voice trails off again as she stares up in wonder.
She blinks, and I watch her eyes focus in on me. Her cheeks flush despite the cold air chilling her skin.
“You’re not looking at the stars, Sebastian!”
I smile, tightening my arms around her as I finally force my eyes away from her face, up toward the stars. The sky is beautiful, but I’d rather experience it through the expression of awe on Ava’s face.
I can feel her gaze lingering on me now. She’s waiting for an explanation, but I can’t think of a convincing lie, so I decide to just tell her the truth. “I could see the reflection of the stars in your eyes.”
I hear the breath catch in her throat.
My heart feels like it’s beating out of time as I drop my gaze back down from the sky. “Do you wanna stay out and watch the stars tonight?” I ask. “We can get some blankets and—”
“Yes!” Ava interjects. “Please!”
I kiss the top of her head, then gesture in the direction of my house. “Let’s get back, then. The view will be even better from my place.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter Seven

With the table pulled close enough to use as a footrest, a warm blanket, and this girl in my arms — I’d be more than happy to stay curled up under the stars with Ava until the sun comes up.
Ava started off just sitting right beside me, but she quickly found her way into my lap. My legs are stretched out now, and the scratchy pillow behind me makes it comfortable enough to lie with my back at an incline. But even if it weren’t comfortable, I’d still stay just like this. Ava’s body is angled back on top of mine, letting her head and neck rest comfortably — fully supported by my chest and shoulder. It feels too nice to let it end prematurely.
She’s so fucking warm.
I’m glad the blanket is keeping her warm enough to be comfortable out here, even despite the unseasonably cold weather we’ve been having — the coldest first month of spring that Pelican Town has ever had. Sharing body heat under a warm fleece blanket is enough to offset the cold, and I’m thankful for that. I can’t stand the thought of making her go inside before she’s had her fill of stargazing.
She’s still staring up at the sky in wonder.
We haven’t spoken in a few minutes. We’ve just been lying together, quietly absorbing the beauty of the night. If I wasn’t so hyper-focused on every movement of her body, or if I hadn’t felt the breath she took before she opened her mouth to speak, it might have startled me to hear her break the silence.

“I feel so small.”

Ava and I are diametrically opposed beings, existing in two separate worlds – yet our entire lives have happened with only an hour’s drive between us. And despite the countless ways we differ, at the very core, she feels familiar – like the same kind of person. I recognize something within her, at the center of her being. We are the same. Like a living demonstration of nature versus nurture: if she and I had traded places at birth, I could’ve become her, and she could’ve become me. If I’d grown up on the south side of Zuzu City in the house she was raised in, it could be me with the still-fading marks along the veins in my arms. And if Ava had been raised in my home, she could’ve turned out just like me.
I am only the way that I am because of the environment I was raised in. I think I’ve always known that to be true, but sensing the familiarity of Ava’s spirit so close to mine has brought that truth to the front of my mind.
Ava’s mind works the same way as mine. She gazes up at the stars in wonder and awe, but not only for the beauty of the world surrounding her: Ava sees past the beauty and considers its meaning. What would be just a pretty sight to someone else becomes a question about the nature of her existence. Ava looks up at the stars and feels small.

And so do I.

Keeping my voice just as soft as hers, I respond, “You are.” I coil my arm around her waist, resting my open palm on her stomach beneath the blanket. “We are so fucking small.”
There are several long seconds of silence. I can feel that she’s considering my words, as if my thoughts have a meaning worthy of her contemplation.
“Doesn’t that scare you?”
I shake my head, knowing she can feel the movement even though she can’t see it. “Not really. It’s disorienting, for sure. But in a strange way, it’s kind of beautiful.”
I stare up at the sky, into what simultaneously feels like an open void of nothingness and an endless sea of everything all at once.
Ava adjusts the position of her head against my chest, getting comfortable again. I slide my hand back and forth across her stomach, instinctively comforting her before she has a chance to get upset.
After another lapse into silence, she says, “Beautiful in that it’s big enough to scare you, yeah. But that also makes it terrifying. At least, it scares me. It is beautiful, but the bigger picture is just as scary as it is beautiful.”
“It stops feeling scary when you learn to accept your insignificance.” My fingers trace back and forth across the soft fabric of her sweatshirt. “Nothing about my existence will matter a hundred years from now. I could spend my entire life fighting to make an impact on the world, but in a hundred years, it will all mean nothing. A single generation of humanity and all traces of me will be gone.”
I feel her take a slow, deep breath. I slide my hand just under the hem of her shirt, flattening my palm against her bare skin to offer her the comfort of physical contact.
I keep my voice soft, verbalizing thoughts I’d never say aloud to anybody but her. “It’s terrifying, but it’s also freeing, you know? When you’re faced with the concept of eternity, I think it’s comforting to accept that you don’t actually matter. The universe expects nothing of you. So, you’re free.”
“Feeling like you don’t matter comforts you?”
I don’t want to upset her.
There’s a noticeable difference in this conversation.
Most of the time, when I say something, Ava’s response expands upon what I’ve said. That’s why she’s been so helpful with the game – beyond just the physical art she’s created. Her expansions upon my concepts for storylines and character backstories transformed this project into something bigger and better than I ever could have imagined. Ava takes an idea and adds to it, making it bigger, more meaningful. But right now, she isn’t expanding on what I’m saying. She’s taking my words and boiling them down to their essence, simplifying bigger meanings into something easier to handle.
She is anxious. This makes her feel uneasy. But not uneasy enough to tell me she doesn’t want to talk about it, or that she needs me to bring her back before her anxiety spirals. And I know she’s not uncomfortable telling me to shut up before I trigger her. This topic makes her nervous — understandably so — but I think she still wants to hear what I have to say. She’s asking questions, so I assume she sincerely wants my answers.
She summarized my words fairly well: Feeling like I don’t matter comforts me.
“I think feeling small and insignificant keeps me grounded.” I lean back a little further and shift her body with me – keeping my hands on her body to help her stay grounded, too. “The stakes can only be so high, like… scaling with your perception of yourself, you know? I am small; therefore, my mistakes are also small. If I saw myself as very important and had an inflated sense of self, every mistake would feel bigger, too.”
“That’s how you cope with the pressure, then?” she asks, resting her hand on top of mine. “You can only fuck up so much because you’re just one little guy?”
Her synopsis makes me genuinely laugh. “Yeah, basically. I’m just one little guy.”
Ava squeezes my hand, and I feel the switch flip again.
I’m viscerally aware of how good this feels. How special this moment is.
Ava is lying directly on top of me, snuggled up with me under a blanket, watching the stars. And it’s just us — just the two of us. The night is so quiet and still, it'd be easy to imagine that she and I are the only people left in the world as we lie here together.
I’m openly sharing myself with her in ways I haven’t been able to do since I was a teenager. Without an ounce of hesitation, I’m sharing unfiltered thoughts that should make me feel vulnerable and exposed. And it does: I do feel vulnerable, and I do feel exposed. The feeling is raw, but it’s good, like I’m sharing little pieces of myself with someone who wants them. It feels like the warm, fuzzy blanket we’re tucked underneath. It’s cozy and comforting, despite the inherent discomfort of the subject of our conversation.
“That’s just devastating to even think about.”
I drag my hand back and forth across her abdomen, just beneath the bottom of her sweatshirt. “Devastating and beautiful. But to me, it feels like relief. Like an instantaneous absolution of sin, the very moment you make a mistake. I’m just a little guy, and I might fuck up, but it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. It’s comforting.”
Ava laughs softly. “Remind me not to call you when I’m feeling depressed.”
I exhale a laugh through my nose. I slide my hand across her bare skin until I reach the space where her waist begins to narrow. “I think I’m exactly who you should call. Isn’t it comforting to hear somebody tell you you’re free?” I follow the curve of her body down until I’m squeezing her hip. “You’re alive, Ava. You’re alive and free to look up at the stars and think about your life and what it means to even be alive.” I press my free hand against her cheek and kiss the side of her head. “Knowing I won’t be alive someday makes me feel so alive right now.”
Her palm rests on the back of my hand, and she threads her fingers into mine. I let her lift my hand, guiding it down from its place on her cheek. Her other hand lifts the blanket, and she presses my palm against her chest – right over her heart.
“Do you want me to feel your heartbeat?” I ask, sliding my other hand from her hip back to her stomach as she clutches my palm over her chest.
She whispers, “Yes.”
I hum softly. “I can’t feel it through your sweatshirt.”

That’s a lie.

I can feel Ava’s heart pounding through her back as she lies against my chest.
She responds wordlessly, lifting the bottom of her sweatshirt that my other hand is already under. I follow her direction, slipping my hand beneath the fabric.
If I were a better man, I’d simply set my hand down over her heart – check her pulse, tell her heart is racing, then pull my hand back out of her shirt.

I guess I’m not a better man.

I trace my fingers across her skin, fingertips ghosting up her stomach, past her navel up to her chest, between her breasts until, finally, I press my palm over her heart. She squirms on top of me ever so slightly as I follow the source of the beat. I feel it the strongest with my fingers pressing into the top of her left breast. I admit that I don’t need to use so much of my hand and that it’d be more effective to check her pulse on her wrist or the side of her neck. But that’s not what she asked me to do. She put my hand on her chest. She didn’t ask me to check her pulse – she wanted to feel her hand over my heart. And the way her hips continue to move makes me feel confident that the touch is welcomed. Her heart beats even faster, racing higher and higher with my own.
“It’s beating so fast,” I murmur, repositioning my hand to cup more of her breast, keeping my fingers where I can feel her pulse the strongest.
Ava nods. She knows it’s beating fast. But she wants me to feel it, too.
I withdraw my other hand from its comfortable position on her stomach. I lift my arm, shaking my wrist until the sleeve of my hoodie falls enough for me to see my watch. The screen lights up, and I wait for the second hand to tick past the 9 before I start counting the beats.
Her heart really is pounding.
I count the beats for fifteen seconds, then murmur, “28. So… 112 beats per minute. Do you feel okay?”
Several seconds pass. Her heart feels like it’s beating even faster now.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I feel… alive.”
“Yeah?” I hum, adjusting the blanket so we’re all covered up again. “Good.” I feel her body move, her back slightly arching off of me. I soften my hold on her breast, then slide my fingers closer to the center of her chest. “Take a deep breath for me.”
I feel her chest rise as she takes a slow, deep breath. She lets it out just as slowly, and I hum softly in approval. I force myself to slide my hand out of her shirt. Touching her bare skin is addictive, and I need to stop before I want more. And I think I made that choice just in time. As I pull my hand out of her shirt, she squirms. I reach down to steady her hips.
“You ready to head inside?”
“It’s so beautiful out here,” she sighs. “I feel like I could stay here forever.”
“Then stay.” I wrap my arms around her, leaning back and settling in again.
I’ll gladly stay. The last thing I want to do is let her out of my arms.
“I shouldn’t make you stay outside in the cold just so I can look at the stars.”
“You’re keeping me very warm,” I assure her, tightening my hold on her again. “This is nice. I haven’t spent this much time watching the stars in a long time.”
“How?” she whispers. “If I lived here, I think I’d be outside watching the stars every night.” Her hand slides down until she finds my hand to squeeze it. “It’s so fucking beautiful. I can’t believe this place is real – that the world is just like this, only an hour away from home.”
“An hour makes a crazy difference, huh?” I hum. “I bet it’s even crazier to believe the Fern Islands are less than an hour-long boat ride from here.”
Ava’s body shifts. She sits up a little, turning around and staring down at me. “What? Really?”
“Did you know that?”
She shakes her head. “They’re that close?”
I shrug. “Well, one of them is. They’re kinda spaced out.” I hold my arm out to her, pouting my lips at the loss of her weight pressed against me, and especially of her body heat. “Come back. Lay down. Cold.”
Ava quickly adjusts herself, settling back into me. She pulls the blanket, making sure I’m covered up, too. Her warmth makes me sigh with relief.
“You’ve never been out there, then.”
“Never,” she shakes her head. “I guess I technically knew they weren’t that far from the city, but like… It seemed further. The mountains and stuff, you know? It always felt like going toward the ocean was like going to another country or something.” She shrugs. “That sounds so stupid. I don’t know how to say what I mean.”
“I get it,” I reassure her. “It’s like another world. I feel that way about the city sometimes. Like it’s this far-away magical place.”
She exhales a laugh through her nose. “Except the city fucking sucks.”
“If you really feel that way… You’re more than welcome to stay here, Ava.” I kiss the top of her head softly. “If you think the city sucks, do you think you’d be happier out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“It’s not nowhere.”
“Yes, it is,” I chuckle.
“No, it’s not. My best friend, one of my childhood best friends, and my fucking college roommate all live here. This place isn’t nowhere. The most important person in my life is here. It’s not nowhere.”
My heart aches in my chest with a flutter of hope that, of the three people she's referencing, the most important one is actually me.
“Ava, that was so fucking sweet.”
“I’m not trying to be sweet. I mean it.”
I wrap my arms around her tighter, hugging her from behind as we let the conversation fade away.
The moment is serene, yet bittersweet.
My first and last kiss with Katie both happened right here on this patio. The furniture was different – it wasn’t the same chair, but it was the same spot. The last kiss hadn’t intentionally happened in the same place as the first. But looking back on it, I’m glad it happened in the same place – a poetic beginning and end. We were young, and it wasn’t healthy, but it was love. And in the end, I hated her just as much as I loved her. But the last kiss still felt just as powerful as the first kiss.
That moment, too, was bittersweet.
The lingering bitter taste fades away as I set the memories free. Now, all that’s left is an addictive kind of sweetness. Tonight feels even more intimate than either of those memories.
“Would you stay out with me?” Ava asks. “If I actually moved here, I mean. Would you still want to stay out and watch the stars with me?”
I feel my heart miss a beat. The mere suggestion of having more nights like this makes me feel almost giddy.
“I’d stay out with you every night, Ava,” I promise. “I would drop the world to watch the stars with you.”
My words linger in the air just long enough for me to consider how much meaning could be extracted from them, but not quite long enough to determine precisely how much I meant.
Ava rests her hand against my side, stabilizing herself as she pushes herself upright and slides off my lap. The loss of her back against my chest makes me shiver against the cold. She’s facing me now. Her arms wrap around me, and her cheek presses against my chest. I adjust the blanket on top of us, tucking her underneath it before wrapping my arms around her back. She nuzzles into me, shimmying a little closer and it’s the sweetest fucking thing.
In a soft little voice, she murmurs, “Aw. Your heart is racing, too.”

Fuck.

Her ear is resting right against my chest – I can’t even deny it. And I’m sure it’s beating even faster now that she’s pointed it out.
The moment she said it, I’m sure she expected me to panic and deflect – to dodge the feelings by making a joke. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I don’t even think before I open my mouth. I make the first excuse that comes to mind. “I am actively dying of a heart attack.”
Ava snickers. I’m not looking at her face, but I’m willing to bet that she rolled her eyes, too.

“Me when I’m in denial.”

My jaw drops open around a sharp intake of air. “What?”
With a soft, mischievous giggle, Ava chooses to ignore me. She pulls the blanket up higher until the fleece covers her face.

Jesus Christ.

“Are you hiding?” I chuckle, setting my hand on her head, which is now fully covered by our blanket.
From beneath the blanket, Ava says, “No.”
My laugh comes out like a snort. “Oh. Okay, good! Because it seemed like you were hiding.”
“Yeah. Definitely not hiding.”

I can’t stop smiling.

I’m sure she can hear the smile in my voice as I continue to play along. “Good, good. Because hiding under the blanket that I’m also currently underneath would be an awful hiding spot. Right?”
She nods her head beneath the blanket. “Right. Who would even do that?”
“Right,” I agree, patting her back gently. “As long as you’re not hiding.”
Ava hums.

I can’t fucking stand her.

I grab the top of the blanket and slowly pull it back, uncovering her sweet little face.
“Hi!” she beams. “Fuck, it was warm under there. Put it back.”
She reaches for the blanket to pull it back down over her face – surely not trying to hide from me again, of course – but I lift it higher, refusing to let her go back under.
“If you’re cold, we can go inside, Ava.” I stroke my hand down her back. “You can’t see the stars if you’re hiding under the blanket.”
She props herself up with her elbow on my chest, biting the inside of her cheek to hold back a grin. “I thought we agreed that I wasn’t hiding.”
I tilt my head to the side, cupping her cheek in the palm of my hand. “Then why were we under the blanket?”
She scrunches her nose. “I hate you.”

Thought so.

I scrunch my nose back at her, even though it’s a thousand times cuter when she does it. “I hate you, too, Ava. Wanna go inside?”
She smiles. “Your bed is so comfy.”
“It sure is,” I agree. “And there’s even more blankets to hide under when you lose your nerve.”
Ava scoffs, her jaw dropping in undeserved outrage. “Lose my nerve?!”
“You heard me, Ava.”
She tries to look annoyed – narrowing her gaze and scrunching her eyebrows together – but she can’t hide her smile. At least, not without tucking her head underneath the blanket again.
“Lose my nerve with what, Sebastian?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Aw. You’re too shy to admit that you were calling me out?”
“For what?” she presses with a playful grin. “What was I calling you out for, Sebastian?” She waits a fraction of a second for me to respond. Before I even have the chance to open my mouth, she raises her eyebrows like she thinks she’s won. “Who’s shy now?”
I squish her cheeks between my fingers, shutting her up so I can actually speak before she has the chance to act like a brat again.
“You were calling me out for being in denial.” I raise my eyebrows with a teasing smirk. “Where’s your head at, tonight, Ava? You’re awfully forgetful.”
Her gaze drops down to my lips for a split second.
“Are you in denial, Sebastian?”

Thank God she’s not resting her head on my chest anymore.

My heart is fucking racing.
The first time could’ve been a fluke, but she just did it again. After her second glance at my lips, I know I’m not misreading the signal. She’s looking at my lips whether it’s a deliberate, intentional signal or not – those tiny glances say more than she would ever have the nerve to say aloud.
I slide my hand up past her cheek until my fingers thread into her hair. The dim light above the patio door illuminates her face just enough for me to notice how quickly her pupils dilate in response to the movement – in anticipation of what comes next.

How many times has she caught me looking at her lips?

That makes three times that I’ve caught her, now.
We’re so close, only inches apart.
She’s close enough that I don’t need to try to project my voice any louder than a whisper. I know I don’t even need to say it out loud. Ava knows. She wouldn’t have called me out if she wasn’t sure she was correct. And if Ava can see that it’s true, and if I’m struggling to even pretend it’s not true, then we both know it’s true. Remaining in a state of denial would be pointless.
“I’m definitely in denial.”

And that’s four times her gaze has dipped down to my lips.

The tension hangs in the air for only a second or two, but it feels like a drug, and it’s long enough to get me fucking hooked.
“Stop denying the inevitable,” Ava whispers. Her fingers tangle into my hair. “It’s gonna happen. Just let it happen.”
Ava is the first to lean in, but I’m the one to close the distance between her lips and mine for the first time.
My perception of time fades into a haze.
It feels like a dream.
I blink, and we’re folding up the blanket we‘ve spent at least an hour snuggled underneath. I blink again, and I'm following her down the stairs to my bedroom. Another blink, and I’m kissing my best friend with her back pressed against the door as I lock the handle. One more blink, and she’s beneath me, under the covers with her hands grasping onto my belt, the tips of her fingers slipping just beneath the denim.
The daze only deepens as the tension builds. Pure instinct is what drives us to — with fumbling fingers — shed layers of clothing under the warmth of my blankets, no longer hiding beneath layers of cotton or with faces shielded by fleece.

My dreams are never this sweet.

I succumb to her plea to just let it happen. Whatever hesitation I may have had melts away at the first touch that feels like more. I slip deeper and deeper until I’m lost in her, in the ecstasy and the hope that this dream will last until morning.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter Eight

I wake from a dream of soft lips pressing against my cheek, a sensation so vivid that I almost believe it to be true. The kiss is followed by a draft of cool air and the sweep of a warm hand as it slides off my chest. I continue to bob between consciousness and lucidity, still half-convinced I'm dreaming until the sound of the bathroom door lightly clicking shut makes my eyes finally pop open.
The dim light filtering in from behind the curtains implies it’s very early — maybe just after sunrise.
Awareness filters into my mind next, bringing dreamy memories of last night to the surface. I rub my eyes, accepting the morning with a bleary sense of confusion.

How much of the evening only happened in a dream?

My chest is bare.

Where is my shirt?

In the beginning stages of my acceptance that last night might have actually happened, the bathroom door carefully opens. And there’s the answer to at least one of my questions: I found my shirt. It’s draped around Ava’s frame — oversized, hanging past the tops of her thighs. My gaze drops to see bare legs below my t-shirt, which graciously answers the first question, too. Her sleepy smile, her finger-combed hair, and that soft look of adoration all add up to one conclusion: last night wasn't just a dream.
“Did I wake you?” Ava whispers, crawling back into my bed with an apologetic frown. Her body slides beneath the covers to reclaim her place under my arm.
“I’m not sure,” I murmur — my voice raspy with my first spoken words of the morning.
Ava turns to her other side, stretching to reach the bedside table. She turns back over and offers me my water bottle from last night with no question or explanation, only an accurate assumption that I've woken up thirsty.
I thank her in a whisper, then sit up to take a long drink. As I screw the cap back onto the bottle, a soft hand is patiently waiting to retrieve it. She returns the bottle to its place beside the bed, then scoots out of the way when I realize how badly I need to pee.
Ava is cozy under the blankets with her phone between her hands when I emerge from the bathroom with freshly-brushed teeth.
It’s way too cold to be only half-dressed.
I crouch beside Ava’s bag on the floor to pull out a pair of her leggings and socks, then set them on the edge of the bed. I take a clean sweatshirt from my closet and pull it over my head as I walk back toward the bed, complaining, “So cold.”
Ava looks up from her phone and giggles as I unfold her leggings. She lifts the corner of the blanket, tempting me back under the covers. “It’s warm under here.”
I don’t think I turned the furnace back on. I glance at the bedside table where my phone should be charging — too lazy to walk upstairs to adjust the furnace when I could just use the app on my phone. But my phone isn’t where it should be. I purse my lips, unsure where else I could’ve left it.
Catching the curious look on my face, Ava asks me what’s wrong.
“I have no idea where I left my phone,” I chuckle.
Ava pushes herself upright with a snicker. She shifts onto her knees, crawls over to the edge of the bed, and then bends down right in front of me, reaching for the floor. Gravity pulls the bottom of her/my shirt down, exposing her soft, bare skin. She doesn’t show any indication of concern for the exposure to my eyes or the cold.
I hear the strain in her voice as she picks up my jeans that I hadn’t even noticed were crumpled on the floor. “I was trying to take your shit out of your pocket last night before you just knocked your jeans off the side of the bed.” She sits upright again, fishes my phone from the back pocket, and then passes it to me with a triumphant smile. “Remember?”
“I remember now,” I hum, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, Ava.”
I pass Ava’s leggings to her, and she gratefully accepts them, quickly pulling them on. I hear the furnace kick on as I plug in my now-dying phone, then glance over to watch her slide her socks onto her feet. The pair I happened to grab was green — that’s all I had noticed — but now I see the cute little cartoon frogs all over her socks. My heart aches with the disorienting reminder of yet another small reason I adore her.
“Whaaaat?” Ava fusses when she notices I’m watching her.
I shrug my shoulders, finally sitting back down on my bed again. “You’re just absurdly fucking cute.”
She tilts her head to the side with a shy yet inquisitive smile.
“Do I need a reason to tell you you’re cute?”
Ava crawls back to me, and I hold my arms out for her. Just as I hoped, she climbs onto my lap.
My question goes unanswered.
She responds instead with a soft, tender kiss that sends my heart rate flying.
As she pulls back, Ava looks into my eyes with a wistful sigh. “I was afraid it’d feel different in the morning.”

It doesn’t feel different to me.

Her kiss is just as intoxicating as it was last night when she used it to drive me out of my mind. I’d hate to assume that the feeling is mutual, and I’d love to hear her say that it is. So I ask, “Does it feel different?”
She takes a deep breath, then follows it up with a nervous laugh and a shake of her head. I take her chin between my thumb and index finger with a whisper that we should make sure before slowly guiding her lips back to mine.
On closer inspection, it might feel just a teeny bit different. Better. Deeper. Closer. The kiss holds more weight now that the haze of lust has cleared. All that’s left is a sobering realization that I had sex with my best friend last night, yet I still don’t feel an ounce of regret. Where there should be hesitation and fear, I can only find a desire for more.
Last night at the bar, I felt like I’d hit an impassable wall. Recognizing that I had deeper-than-platonic feelings for her felt like an obstacle I didn’t know how to climb. But only a couple of hours later, we were in my bed. That barrier had been broken down, leaving me with an intrinsic understanding that it’s already too late: Ava is already close enough to hurt me – close enough to break me apart. She’s close enough that this will fucking destroy me if or when this blows up in our faces. But she’s also close enough to forgive her when it eventually happens because she’s my best friend. If I had any sense, I would stop to protect us both – to keep us far away from the line we’ve already crossed. But the damage is done. We’ve already crossed it.
The line between best friend and more wasn’t simply crossed: It was pole-vaulted over.
It happened in what felt like a trance. But even now that my thoughts feel crystal clear, that undefined feeling persists. Sex feels different when you genuinely feel something for the other person — when they feel like something more than just a fleeting moment.
It’s different. It’s hard to even wrap my head around exactly what was different and how, but I know I want more of that feeling. And I can feel that she wants it, too. Whether her desire is for something emotional or if purely physical, I can’t be sure – but I can feel the urgency of her desire in the rock of her hips and in her insistent, wandering hands as the kiss goes on and on until she’s lost her patience.
We’re going to cross back over that line again. It won’t be just once. I have no excuse for my actions this time. Just once could be explained away by citing the heat of the moment: an impulse I would’ve otherwise resisted if I had stopped to think it through. But that excuse won’t work if I make the same choice again. I have had plenty of time to resist the urge – to stop and reconsider. A split second is more than enough to make up my mind:
I don’t want to stop.
So, I begin to toe that line with Ava for the second time.
And it is different now, in the dim light of the early morning. I am wide awake, and my mind is clear. I am rational enough to know I’m crossing into dangerous territory, but the threat doesn’t feel strong enough to subdue the temptation to push my luck and chase the desire – consequences be damned.

I need to get her out of her clothes.

Ava’s teeth lightly nip at the side of my neck, and a soft moan slips from my lips before I’m able to repress it. She takes the sound as an encouragement to bite me again – this time a little harder.

And my patience is gone.

My thumbs hook beneath the elastic waist of her leggings with a single-word command: “Off.”
“Off?” she purrs, giggling softly. Eternally defiant, Ava continues kissing a path from the base of my neck up toward my ear.
“Mhm,” I hum, taking it upon myself to just start taking her pants off for her since she’s choosing to be difficult.
She can keep kissing me all she wants. I don’t particularly care what her mouth is doing right now – her mouth isn’t what I’m after. At least, not this time. Jesus Christ. She’s my best friend, but I’m pulling her pants down and thinking about her getting on her knees for me. If it weren’t for the sharp sting of her teeth nipping even harder right where my neck meets my shoulder, I could be convinced I’m still dreaming.
“Why did you bother making me put pants on?” she giggles as she shifts herself up to let me get her out of her leggings.
I grab her elbow to balance her body as she clumsily repositions beside me.
“Because it’s cold, Ava,” I chuckle, tossing her pants off the side of the bed. They land somewhere on the floor — I don’t care where, just as long as they’re off.
Ava rolls her eyes, shooting me an impatient, sassy look as she tries to force me to lift my hips enough for her to get my sweatpants off. I roll my eyes back at her, but I comply with her silent demand to move my ass — now. I’m not one to be a brat when someone’s trying to undress me.
“Excuse me for caring about your comfort,” I chuckle, helping her get my pants the rest of the way down before they’re finally discarded off the side of the bed.
With the same sense of urgency as our first time, Ava’s hand wraps around me before I’ve even gotten situated with my back against the headboard. Her lips claim mine amidst a flurry of movement: one hand moves my leg as the other begins to stroke up and down my length; a collision of lips as her body repositions, her knees landing on either side of my thighs.
“Are you comfortable like this?” Ava asks, breaking our kiss to look into my eyes for consent.
My lips stay tightly pressed together to repress the urge to moan, but a quick nod of my head isn’t enough for her. I know she’s going to wait for me to vocalize a response, but I’m afraid to hear my own voice sound so needy, so fucking desperate for her.
Ava’s left hand combs through my hair, pushing it back out of my face. Her right hand continues its slow, steady pace. I still haven’t answered, so she smiles and kisses me gently. “Or would you rather not be on the bottom?” Another soft kiss. Then, “Whatever you prefer, Sebby.”
“This is perfect,” I whisper, guiding her closer with my hands on her hips. “I don’t have a preference. Just you. I just want you.”
“You have me.”
She waits until the moment the words have left her lips to slowly sink herself down onto me, and I’m knocked fucking breathless. My mouth drops open in a gasp as Ava lets out a soft, satisfied hum at the sensation, or maybe just my reaction to the sensation.
Her fingers thread into my hair as she claims every ounce of control of this moment — setting the pace and the rhythm and the depth, leaving me to do nothing but surrender to her and the ecstasy of her body. My hands skim over her hips, following her curves until they come to a rest on the back of her thighs. My fingers sink into the soft, plush skin as I support her weight and simply follow her movement — allowing her to retain dominance as long as she wants it.
Ava’s eyes shift up toward the ceiling when she hears the sound of footsteps upstairs. I exhale a soft laugh through my nose as her gaze drops back to mine, and she suppresses a giggle with her hand covering her lips.
“What’s so funny, Ava?” I smirk, watching her effortlessly shift from back and forth between the temptress I’ve just met and the girl I’ve known for years until the two start to blend together into one. Ava, my best friend — a siren, so enchanting and seductive — all converging into one beautiful person.
She pushes her hand against my shoulder, giggling softly. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m literally fucking you right now. Stop!”
Ava’s movement halts as she drops herself all the way down into my lap, her forehead resting against my shoulder as she snickers – laughing way too much to keep riding me. My arms cross in an X over her back as I fall victim to her contagious laughter. I’m only laughing because she’s laughing. I don’t even know what made her start laughing in the first place. But she whines and complains that I’m making her laugh.
It was just the sound of footsteps. My dad’s footsteps upstairs remind her that we aren’t alone in the house – that she needs to be mindful of her volume. I affectionately remind her that she needed my hand clamped down over her mouth last night. I volunteer to do the same thing right now if she needs it – to muffle either her moans or her giggles.
“This is why you can’t have sex with your best friend,” Ava pouts.
“Aww,” I croon, pouting my lips back at her. I slide my hands back underneath her thighs again and lift her just a few inches before slowly lowering her back down — tilting my head to the side with a smile meant to tease her. “You can’t, Ava? Are you sure? ‘Cause it looks like you are. And you’re doing such a good job…”
But I guess that’s not entirely accurate now. Ava’s not the one doing the good job. Her weight is now being bounced by my arms rather than her own legs. But she’s still doing good – very good.
I’d be more than happy to do all of the work, just like this. She’s even prettier with that little dumbstruck look on her face – like her brain just can’t keep up with what she’s seeing and what she’s feeling all at once. It’s just so confusing. She’s having a tough time processing that her best friend has her bouncing on his dick, and she likes it.
I guess she was right when she said I’m like Schrödinger's cat: simultaneously just her best friend and also just a man. I’m pretty sure she was straddling my lap when she said it, too. I wonder if this is what she imagined when that thought first crossed her mind. She had to be, right? She couldn’t stop flirting with me, and then she suddenly realized the man underneath her was a man after all. I can’t imagine another explanation for the look of astonishment on her face when she thought about the fact that her best friend is a man.
I’m sure she was thinking about this – fantasizing about how it’d feel to cross that line.
I hope it’s as good as she imagined. Because she feels like fucking heaven. She feels so good that it’s a struggle to keep my vision to stay in focus, but I’m fighting like hell to keep my eyes on her because she looks so fucking good when she takes it.
I’m half-tempted to tell her she’s the only girl that’s ever taken me raw, but I don’t want it to go to her head. And I don’t wanna give her the chance to tell me it’s okay if I keep fucking her raw because this girl ruins me, and I know for a fact that I’d fold in a second. I keep telling myself that each little bounce is the last before I pull out and put on a condom, but her eyelashes keep fluttering and she’s so fucking tight and I have absolutely no will to resist the urge to keep watching myself disappear inside her.
“You’re too fucking hot. It’s not even fair.” Ava wiggles as she whines, squirming in my arms.
I let her watch my gaze slowly roll over her body. When my eyes lift back up to hers, I hum. “Look at you, Ava. You’re so fucking pretty.” I drop my gaze down to where we’re joined. “I wish you could see just how fucking good you look wrapped around me.”
Her eyes roll back, and she moans. “I can’t fucking stand you.”
I can’t help but smirk.
“Aww, you can’t stand me?” I coo, pouting my lips. “You want me to stop?”

“No.”

I chuckle. “Mhm, that’s what I thought.”
“You’re so fucking cocky.”
“Mhm,” I hum, letting my gaze wander down again. “I think I have a pretty good reason to be this way – don’t you think?”
Ava lets out a moan that’s just a little bit too loud for my comfort after hearing the sound of my father’s footsteps upstairs. I lean in to keep her mouth quiet by capturing her lips in a deep, languid kiss. She moans again, but this time, the sound is swallowed back down. She wiggles and squirms until I set her down in my lap, focusing my attention on keeping her quiet with my kiss. Ava takes the opportunity to reposition herself onto her knees – taking back control. The moment she’s reclaimed her dominance, she starts riding me at a pace that feels purposeful, intentional — a frantic, desperate pursuit of pleasure.
“Ava,” I softly moan, breaking my lips from hers. “Are we in a rush now?”
She tugs on my hair, and my eyes threaten to roll back at the sharp sting against my scalp.

“You feel so fucking good, Sebby…”

“Mhm,” I hum, sliding my hands back to her hips and tightening my grip. “You do, too, sweet girl. Way too good. Give me two seconds to put a condom on.”
Ava whines.
“Are you on birth control?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
I know the answer is no because she’s my best friend, and I remember her telling me how crazy the pill made her feel before she finally stopped taking it. Frustrated to be forced into being responsible, she lifts herself off of me – waiting as patiently as she can until the condom is on, and I finally let her climb back on top.
She’s hell-bent on chasing the high now — needy desperation fueled by my relentless urge to tease her now that I know how much she likes it when I'm cocky. Her eyes roll back in her head when the sound of my voice beside her ear brings her close to the edge of an orgasm, but she gets overwhelmed before it even hits. She collapses against me, breathless and shaking with uncooperative, trembling thighs that are twitching too much to carry her past the threshold.
She finally surrenders control.
With her knees slung over each of my arms and her permission to set the pace, I meet every bounce of her body with a thrust of my hips. Far too fast, I carry her over the edge until she’s shaking and jerking and threatening my life with my full government name and her hands in my hair.
She can’t make up her mind: she hates me, I’m amazing, she’s gonna kill me, I’m the worst, that was incredible, I’m too fucking cocky, she hates me again, she’s not done with me yet, I’m so fucking mean, I’m the best she’s ever had—
I can’t get enough.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter Nine

I scroll back up to the beginning of my text conversation with Sam, then pass my phone into Ava’s hand. I don’t know how to explain how weird the conversation was or why it made me so anxious. It’s easier to just have her read it.
My chest feels tight as I watch her facial expressions change as she scrolls through the conversation. I’m not imagining it. Something is definitely going on.

samson 👽

Sam
seb dude we need to talk

Sebastian
Everything okay?

Sam
are you busy? like is ava still with you? idr if i asked when she was leaving

Sebastian
Yes, Ava’s still with me. I’m holding her hostage until Leah forcibly takes her away from me lmao.
We’re about to head out right now, but if something’s wrong, it can wait.

Sam
wait what about leah?
nvm penny said she’d tell me

Sebastian
I don’t know how much Ava told her. But the girls used to be roommates and Leah wants Ava to move in with her.

Sam
YOOOO PENNY DIDNT KNOW THAT she just told me their like childhood bffs
they’re***
(help im being abused why did i think I was smart enough to date a teacher)

Sebastian
Lmfao. Fuck him up, Penny.
What’s going on, Sam? Why do we need to talk?

Sam
so is ava for sure moving in
or is leah still convincing her

Sebastian
Nothing’s set in stone yet. You’re avoiding the question and it’s making me anxious.
”We need to talk.”
*immediately tries to just gossip instead*

Sam
you said you’re about to head out tho
what are you guys going to do?

Sebastian
Sam jfc.
Shane asked us to come over today so he and Ava can catch up.

Sam
okay im just being weird bc its something i dont wanna tell you when you have a friend with you

Sebastian
Sam 🥺
Are you breaking up with me?

Sam
lmfaooooooooo
STOP

Sebastian
You’re stressing me out. Why can’t you tell me specifically because Ava’s with me? Is it something about her? Or…?

Sam
penny thinks it can wait and im being stupid im sorry
im sorry for stressing you out, ignore me

Sebastian
That is even more concerning.

Sam
dont worry everything fine.
everyone is healthy and safe. nothing else matters

Sebastian

That is SO fucking concerning.
I feel like you’re preparing me for very bad news if you’re trying to preemptively ground my anxiety and shit.

Sam
literally dont worry its fine everythings okay.
just come over when youre done at shanes maybe?
you and ava, i mean. its fine if shes there. not a big deal i promise.
i was just being dramatic

Ava glances up at me with wide eyes once she’s finished reading. “Is he always like this?”
I shake my head. “No. Absolutely not. That’s why I feel weird.”
She passes my phone back to me, breathing a heavy sigh. “‘We need to talk’ would make me feel anxious from the start.”
I tuck my phone back into my pocket, letting out a soft sigh of relief. At least it’s not just me — at least Ava feels like it was weird, too.
Her eyebrows furrow, and her lips purse in contemplation as she stuffs her feet into her still-tied sneakers. “I mean, I think you should definitely go over there when we’re done at Shane’s. With or without me, it’s up to you.”
“So you agree that he’s definitely lying about just being dramatic.” I exhale a weak laugh as I put on my shoes. “Okay. Yeah. Would you mind stopping over there with me on our way back?” I rake my fingers through my hair, pushing it back into place. “His house is on the way, so…”
“Of course,” Ava insists, offering me a warm, reassuring smile. “I’d say we could stop by there first, but Shane’s already asked you what time we’re coming over.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “We should get going.”
As I swing the front door open, we’re met with a warm gust of wind. Warm air. Finally.
“Holy shit!” Ava gasps. “It was fucking freezing yesterday. What the hell?”
We stare at each other in shock for a second before we’re both pulling out our phones to check the weather, still standing in the threshold of the door.
“Damn. It was 40 last night, but it’s gonna be in the mid-60s all week.” I chuckle, sliding my phone back into my pocket again. “Maybe it’s finally gonna start actually feeling like spring.”
“Is the weather in the Valley always this weird?” Ava scrunches her nose and holds her arms out at her sides. “I’m probably gonna be too warm with a long-sleeve shirt under my hoodie.”
“It’s not usually this bad. It always feels like seasons change super abruptly, but winter felt so long this year. It never stays that cold this far into April.” I take a step back and wave her back inside. “Wanna change your shirt before we go?”
“Do you mind?”
“Definitely not. I should change mine, too.” I pull the screen door shut, leaving the wooden door open. “Go ahead, I’ll be right down. I’m just gonna turn off the furnace and open some windows.”
Ava grins. She lifts onto her tiptoes and kisses my cheek, then lets out a contented sigh. “I love spring.”
“Spring is really pretty in the Valley,” I hum, catching her wrist before she can turn away and head back down to my room. “Probably like paradise for a girl who loves flowers.”
With her lips in a pout, she whimpers, gazing up at me with those pretty doe eyes – melting like putty in my hands just because I remember how much she loves flowers. It’s almost annoying how much the look in her eyes makes me want to buy her flowers.
It shouldn’t be so surprising that I know she loves flowers. There’s flowers in my game because Ava loves flowers. She designed a bunch and sent them to me — just in case I wanted to do something with them — so I stopped what I was doing and came up with a reason for the game to need flowers so I could put Ava’s fucking flowers into the game.
It makes me feel sick to know she thinks that’s something I’d forget. Like I could just forget something about her.
The thought of Ava at our town’s flower dance makes my heart ache. I can see it so clearly — Ava in a pretty white dress with flowers in her hair, dancing with Haley to learn all the steps to the stupid little dance they still make us do before the party actually starts. She’d find the whole thing just as weird and cult-like as I do, but I know she’d gladly play along if I asked her to come with me.
I lift her knuckles to my lips and kiss the back of her hand. “Stay for the spring?”
“Stay for the spring?” she repeats my words back to me in a whisper. “Stay with you for the spring? Or—“
“With me,” I murmur. “If you’d like to, I mean. I’m not trying to pressure you.” I kiss her hand one more time before carefully lowering it back down to her side, gently squeezing her fingers before pulling mine away.
“Sebastian, are you sure?”
Her expression reads more like insecurity than indecision. Like she wants to say yes, but she’s worried it wasn’t a genuine invitation.

Of course I’m sure.

The thought of waking up without her makes my heart hurt. I’ve only slept beside her twice, but I’ve already grown attached to the feeling.
The rational voice in the back of my mind says to be careful, to take a breath, to make some distance, to reflect and reconsider. But my heart speaks over the apprehension with enough confidence to make me respond without any hesitation.
“At least for the spring.” I amend my request with a smile, twirling a piece of her hair around my index finger. “It’s different out here than it is in the city. Summer isn’t my favorite season, but autumn is really, really pretty here, too. And in the fall, the game will finally be released. Then, maybe we can find a nice part of the city to—“
Ava throws herself into my arms, crushing her arms around my waist so tight it knocks the breath from my lungs. I choke on a laugh, taking a gasping breath as I drape my arms around her, returning her embrace in a much less aggressive fashion.

That definitely felt like a yes.

But just to be sure, I ask, “Does that sound good?”
It was a yes. Ava says it sounds good — that she’d love to stay to experience spring in the Valley, surrounded by nature.
I have to resist the urge to push her against the wall and kiss her when she tells me she wants to stay. I should’ve gotten it out of my system by now. I’ve had sex with her twice in the last twelve hours. But I still feel like I can’t keep my fucking hands off of her. Kissing her is addictive, and touching her is exhilarating. I feel like I haven’t had enough of either.
But we need to leave the house. And my dad and sister are right down the hall, busy working in the lab even though it’s a Saturday. They’re far too close for me to give in to the urge to actually kiss her. I settle for a soft kiss on her forehead, then send her downstairs to get changed.
I open the window above the kitchen sink, then crack the patio door open to let the fresh, warm breeze in. Then I stop by the thermostat and switch the furnace off, then pause by the door to Dad’s lab, lightly tapping my knuckles against the doorframe to announce my presence. They’re both leaning over the table, closely inspecting a sample.
Maru’s head turns first, and she calls a ‘what’s up’ at me over her shoulder. Her voice is what alerts our dad that I’m here — I guess the knock wasn’t enough to break his laser focus.
“Ava and I are about to head over to Shane’s. It’s like 64 degrees outside, by the way. I turned off the furnace and opened a couple of windows. Just so you know.”
“Is it really?” My father raises his eyebrows. “Awesome! I hadn’t checked the weather.”
Maru elbows my dad, happy-dancing as she cheers, “Mushrooms!”
He grins, nodding in agreement. “Thanks for the shout, Seb.” He bumps his elbow against Maru’s again with an eager smile. “Let’s finish this pH assessment, then we’ll head down and check on the mushrooms.”
I will never understand their perpetual excitement about mushrooms, but their enthusiasm makes me happy that I stopped to mention the nice weather.

Ava is pulling her sweatshirt back over her head as I open my bedroom door. I pull mine off along with my shirt, swapping the long-sleeved one for a t-shirt. As I change, Ava straightens the blankets on my bed, fluffing up the pillows.
She never should’ve let me see her naked because now that I have, I feel like I don’t know how to act. Just watching her bend over to reach the opposite side of my bed to straighten the pillows has me ogling how fucking good she looks in her jeans.
I drop my sweatshirt on the bed as I step behind her. My left arm wraps around her stomach while the right crosses over her chest, with my open hand gently resting on her throat. I guide her back upright until she’s standing up straight with her body pressed flush against mine. I feel her throat bob against my palm as she swallows hard, and then I feel the soft vibration in her throat as she moans.
I kiss the top of her head, then murmur a soft “Thank you.”
“For what?” Ava arches back as I slide my left hand away from her stomach, going nowhere in particular — just touching her body because it feels so fucking good to let my hands wander.
“For making my bed.”
With a satisfied hum, she says, “I figured it’d be easier to talk myself out of fucking you again if the bed was already made.” She reaches up to cover my right hand with both of hers, trying to make me squeeze it tighter over her throat. “You’re not choking me.”
“Of course I’m not choking you,” I whisper.
She giggles, writhing her body back against me. “I don’t know… you kinda seem like you wanna.”
I hum softly, shaking my head no. “I’m just holding you, Ava.” I slide my hand up from her thigh until my hand is underneath her shirt. “Do you want me to choke you?”
She nods her head.
“But you already made the bed.”

Because she was thinking about fucking me again, too.

So she started to make my bed to talk herself out of asking me to fuck her.

Because she knows we have somewhere to be.

So I should probably try to behave, too.
But I’m still gonna fuck her.
I adjust my grip on her throat but don’t apply any additional pressure — just to tease her and make her squirm.
Ava whimpers. “But we could unmake the bed.”
“We could.”
I slip my hand beneath the cup of her bra, rolling the tips of my fingers over the sensitive peak of her breast. She pushes her ass back into me as she moans my name.
“Or I could just take a step back and make you wait until later.”
Her hand clutches back onto mine as my hollow threat makes her whimper. “But you wouldn’t do that.”
I chuckle, imitating the soft, whiny tone of her voice. “But Shane’s expecting us, Ava. We shouldn’t keep him waiting, right?”
“We can be fast.”
“We can be fast?”
She traces her fingers down my forearm as she bobs her head up and down, grinding herself back against me. She moves her hips forward, reaching her right hand back between us to unbutton my jeans.
“We can be fast, right?” she asks, pulling down the zipper next. “We don’t even have to unmake the bed.”
“You think?” I ask, raising my eyebrows as she adjusts the angle of her arm to stroke me through the fabric between us.
“Mhm,” she purrs. “I think we can be really quick. And we don’t even gotta get under the blankies.” She whimpers when she feels just how hard she’s making me. “Just like this. You just gotta pull these down a little bit for me.”
I slide my right hand down from her throat and my left hand down from her chest to unbutton and unzip her jeans next. She moans, grinding back against me when she sees just how easily she can persuade me.
With a squeeze to her hips, I lead her a half step forward, then spread her thighs further apart with a nudge of my knee between her legs. She whimpers my name, and I whisper hers back.
“Just like this, Ava?” I ask, teasing her with a soft, upward inflection in my voice as I slide her jeans down her thighs. “Is this what you want?”
A needy, wanton moan slips free from her lips as she frantically nods her head, taking a shuddering breath before she hums, “Mhm."
“Oh. You want me to bend you over," I hum with a slow nod of faux realization — like I'm just now figuring out what she's asking me for.
I place my palm on the small of her back, and she responds with a shattered little gasp and a whimper of my name.
“Please, Sebastian.”
Fuck. She sounds so pretty when she begs for it — her little voice pitched up so high and needy. If we didn’t need to hurry, I’d keep tormenting her until she really breaks down and begs for me.
I settle for just making her say it. Just once. I won’t make her actually beg.
“Please, what, Ava?”
I reach over to grab a condom from my bedside table, keeping one hand on her lower back – dragging out the suspense, making her wait for the feeling of being bent over.
“Fuck me,” she pleads. “I just wanna make you come again, Sebby. Please.”
My entire body is fucking buzzing as I shove her down to the bed, stealing the breath from her lungs when she’s caught by surprise. She props herself up on her elbows with just the tips of her toes still touching the ground. I push her ankles apart and scoot her jeans just a little further down her thighs, then watch her look back at me with a wicked little smile as I roll the condom over my length.
"You’re so fucking tall. Am I up high enough like this? Or should I get on my knees up on—“
She has a good point. I want her up just a little higher. I push her body forward, shifting her hips about an inch further onto the bed. The slight adjustment brings her right to the perfect height and angle — presented so fucking beautifully for me: soaking wet and ready to be taken.
“Just an inch too short to be able to stay on your tippy toes,” I murmur, kneading her ass in my palm as I tease the head of my cock against her entrance. “Is this comfy for you, Ava? You want me to fuck you just like this?”
“Please.”
Her pitch cracks, and she gasps, letting out a high-pitched whine as I sink inside her.

So fucking loud.

I reach forward and gather her hair in my hand, guiding her head back to get her attention. “Cover your fucking mouth if you can’t keep it quiet.”
Another soft gasp, a tiny apology, then her hand covers her mouth.
“I just didn’t lock the door, sweet girl,” I explain with a near-bruising grip on her hip as I fuck her into the bed. “If you keep whining, someone might hear you. You sound like you’re getting hurt, Ava. Are you getting hurt? Do you want someone to hear you crying and come save you?”
“No,” she pants, shaking her head. “No. So fucking good. Sebby, I—“
A shiver runs through her body as she tries and fails to verbally explain just how good it feels.
“Good girl,” I murmur. “We don’t want anyone to walk in and see you bent over my bed getting fucked like a little toy, do we?”
I feel her clench down on me the second the word toy leaves my lips. She does a very good job of stifling the sound of the groan I’ve torn out of her this time — keeping herself quiet.
I bring both my hands down to hold her by the hips, keeping her from sliding higher up the bed from the force of my thrusts as my hips snap into her.
She asked me to be fast, but I feel so fucking greedy. I want to take my time with her.
I reason with myself that we can be a few more minutes late. It’s not even a big deal if we’re late — I just don’t like to be late. But even if it was a big deal, I’d still make the same excuses. I’d tell myself whatever lie I needed to convince myself that it’s okay: that she doesn’t mean it, she doesn’t just want me to come, that she’s only begging for it because she wants me to make her come, too.
She liked it when I called her a toy, but I don’t actually want to use her like one.
We’ll be as fast as Ava can be, and I just won’t hold out any longer than that. As soon as she comes for me, I’ll finish, too. She won’t last much longer, anyway, judging by the way her body is starting to clench down around me already.
We won’t be very late, after all.

Shane is in the front yard with Vincent and Jasmine as we come around the corner, arriving at his house much later than we’d initially intended. They haven’t yet noticed our presence. The kids are chasing each other in a game of tag, and Shane is too focused on carefully refilling a bubble-blowing machine with a big plastic bottle of bubble solution.
Vincent spots us first. He shrieks, stopping to point at me and call out my name. Jasmine, who was previously it, tags Vincent and then stops to wave and say hello to us, too.
Ava squeezes my hand and pulls it back. She abruptly stopped walking, so I stop, too – turning to look at her to see what’s the matter. Her unfocused eyes begin to rapidly blink as I bring myself face-to-face with her. Something is wrong. I let go of her hand to place my hands on her shoulders instead, gently asking, “What’s wrong?”
Ava takes a half-step back, creating distance between us. She opens her mouth but doesn’t speak; she’s stunned into silence, staring up at me with widened eyes and lips that tremble until she clamps them together.
“Ava?” I try again, tilting my head to the side as I attempt to console her with a brush of my fingers against her upper arms.
“Please tell me those are Shane’s aunt’s children. Tell me I didn’t miss one of my childhood best friends getting married and having kids and—”
I feel my heart drop.

Shane didn’t mention Jas last night at the bar?

Last night was such a blur. I can’t remember if he did. His daughter always seems to come up in conversation. I have a hard time imagining Shane making it through their entire reunion without gushing about Jas. He always has something to say about her because that little girl is the center of his world, his reason for being. I can’t even fathom that Shane could’ve made it through the evening without bringing Jas up and showing Ava a thousand pictures.
But maybe he didn’t. They have so much history. I think it’d make sense if Shane just hadn’t gotten around to mentioning his god-daughter yet.
Ava and Shane were more like siblings than friends growing up. They were next-door neighbors. Ava’s late older brother was the same age as Shane, and they acted like siblings. Two tall, handsome boys with dark hair and dark eyes who always claimed to be brothers or sometimes even twins, ignoring their apparent racial differences and shooting sideways glances at anyone who questioned them. The boys were close enough that Ava felt like she’d grown up with two brothers, Nicky and Jules. But she also lost that bonus brother in her falling out with Nick – in the conflict she’s kept deliberately vague in conversations with me, the fight that hadn’t yet been resolved when her brother tragically passed away.
I’m sure Ava can see the worry in my eyes. I need to comfort her.
“Hey. It’s okay,” I murmur. “The little boy is Vincent, Sam's little brother. The little girl is Jasmine, Jas—“
“Yo!” Shane’s voice startles me, and then his hand on my shoulder makes me jump.
I let go of Ava’s shoulders, turning back to face Shane with the intention of scolding him for not mentioning that he has a fucking kid.
Then Vincent crashes into me, wrapping his arms around my legs to hug me, stealing my attention.
“Hey, buddy!” I laugh, tousling his hair as he hugs my legs, shaking me like he wants to bring me down to the ground.
Normally, I would throw myself to the ground and act like he’s strong enough to knock me down. But the ground is damp, the grass is wet, and I do not want to spend the rest of the day with mud on my jeans. As much as I’d like to let the miniature version of Sam try to beat me up once he’s got me down at his level, I don’t want Ava to feel like I’m just ignoring how she’s feeling right now. So I stay standing, and Vincent gives up on trying to knock me over.
Skipping past any semblance of a normal greeting, Vincent proudly announces, “I have a loose tooth!”
He opens his mouth and wiggles his bottom front tooth, just in case I don’t believe him.
“That’s awesome, dude!” I grin. I glance up at Ava, and she’s watching our strange interaction with an affectionate smile on her face. I look back down at the menace, then point up at her. “Hey, bud. This is my friend Ava. Ava, this is Sam’s little brother, Vincent.”
Vincent waves at her. “Hi! I’m 6!”
I suppose that’s one way to introduce yourself.
This kid is a fucking goofball — wild and unpredictable to the point that he makes six-year-old Sam look well-behaved in comparison.
I cover my mouth, holding in a snicker. Shane turns away, unable to hold back his laughter. He walks across the yard to turn off the bubble machine and retrieve his daughter.
“Hi! I’m 26!” Ava holds up her hand, which Vincent promptly high-fives.
Vincent informs her that his mom is 48 – a fact that he perceives as relevant, pertinent information.
Ava responds by asking him what his favorite color is, and I lose the battle with holding back my laughter. She pinches my arm but listens attentively as Vincent begins to babble the most long-winded answer I have ever heard someone give to a question that could otherwise be answered with just the word ‘red.’
Shane walks Jasmine over, and I’m relieved by her shy, polite greeting. She waves at Ava, and then with the encouragement of her dad’s hand on the top of her head, she introduces herself.
Ava melts, shaking the little girl’s hand with a big, bright smile. “Hi Jasmine, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Ava.”
Vincent interjects to tell his best friend that Ava is as old as Sam. Jasmine is amazed.

God, I love kids.

26 may as well be ancient to them, but Shane is even older than us. I hear him exhale a laugh through his nose at the children’s astonishment.
“How old do you think I am, Vincent?” Shane asks, chuckling as he ruffles the kid’s hair.
From the look on his face, I can tell that Shane's confident that Vincent has absolutely no clue.
Vincent pauses to think for a moment. I brace myself for him to guess something fucking ridiculous like 72. The seconds that pass feel extraordinarily long as we wait for whatever is about to come out of Vincent's mouth.
Finally, he makes his guess. “45?”
Jasmine snickers, bumping her shoulder against his. “Noooo! My dad is 30!"
I thought he was 31, but I'd be willing to believe that Jas is right. The kid is insanely smart for a five-year-old, and she's an even bigger daddy's girl than Maru ever was. She's probably right.
Ava’s jaw drops.
Shane meets my gaze. Then he pats Jas’s head and tells the kids to go play. The kids need no persuading. After such a long winter, I’m sure they’re both super excited to play in the nice, warm weather. They run off, arguing over who was it last (it was Vincent, I watched him get tagged) – running and squealing and laughing.
As soon as they’re out of earshot, Ava lifts her hand, reaching for Shane.
“Your daughter?” she whispers, wide-eyed, watching the kids run across the yard. “You have a little girl. I missed you having a kid? Shane—“
“She’s my goddaughter, Ava.”
Ava gasps, stumbling back. I jerk my arm out to catch her, stabilizing her on her feet. It takes me a second longer to connect the dots and jump to the same conclusion that nearly sent Ava to the ground.

Oh.

I can’t believe it took me this long to realize.

His goddaughter.
Shane’s arms wrap around Ava’s shoulders, but she doesn’t move a muscle. I feel tears burning in the corners of my eyes as she stands there frozen in shock, completely stiff as Shane tries to hug her.
“Who’s baby is she, Shane?”
“She’s Nick’s, Ava. She’s your niece,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I know he never—“
Ava takes a step back, pushing herself back from Shane – all but shoving him away from her. “How old is she?”
“She’s five, Ava.”
The tears in her eyes spill over. She looks from Shane to me, and the look in her eyes turns from sadness and shock to anger.
With an accusatory glare, Ava snaps at me. “And you didn’t fucking tell me?!”
We both say no at the same time. As I take a step toward her, Ava takes another step back. She doesn’t believe us. She thinks I knew. But I didn’t fucking know.
“Bullshit.”
“Ava! He didn’t know.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she shakes her head – the rage of a perceived betrayal simmering behind the eyes that I’ve only ever known to be soft and gentle. I don’t know what else to say beyond simply pleading her name. I hold my hand out for her, beckoning her to come toward me, but she shakes her head and takes another half-step back.
“How could you not fucking know?”
I don’t know how to prove that I didn’t know. The fact that I didn’t tell her feels like proof enough. I would’ve told her if I knew, right? Why wouldn’t I tell her? If I knew that Jasmine’s biological father was Nick, I would’ve told her. And I didn’t tell her. So, obviously, I didn’t know.
Why wouldn’t I want to tell her?
If Shane had ever talked about Jasmine’s father and the little almost-sister he once had, if I had ever heard him refer to a pair of siblings called Nick and Ava, I would’ve asked. It would’ve felt like a long shot, but I still would’ve been curious enough to ask.
I hadn’t even realized that Shane doesn’t ever talk about the kid’s parents. I hadn’t even considered that a good friend would ask. Not everybody spends their entire life perpetually running from the past. Maybe Shane just never talked about it because I never asked.

I’m an awful friend.

And I guess Ava’s seeing that now, too. She thinks I’ve kept something massive from her for all this time, for some fucking reason. And I haven’t. But she doesn’t know that. I think she can just feel it. She can just feel that I’m a bad friend. I’ve been a bad friend to Shane, and she thinks I’ve been a bad friend to her, even though I haven’t done anything to hurt her. She’s my best friend. I don’t want to lose her. And I don’t want her to think I’d just keep a secret from her like that.

Fuck. I guess I have.

I deliberately chose to not tell her where I’m from – how close I live to the city she’s from.
At first, I only kept it from her to maintain a sense of anonymity as a developer. I never intended to associate my real name and face with the project.
I also never intended for the girl I hired to become my best friend. I never intended for our relationship to grow beyond professional. I never intended to spend hours and hours with her on FaceTime calls talking about our personal lives.
And by the time I finally realized how close we’d gotten, it felt like it’d already been too long. If, one day, I suddenly told her, “Hey, I’m an hour away from Zuzu City. We should actually meet sometime,” it would not only be weird, but it’d also probably be scary for such a sweet, beautiful, yet vulnerable girl who’d openly shared so much of herself with a man she thought she’d never meet in real life. I didn’t want to just shatter the comfort she took in the undefined distance between us.
But I guess I am capable of keeping things from her.
Does she even trust me? Should she trust me?
Shane redirects her anger at me back onto himself. Ava doesn’t want to listen – doesn’t want to believe him. It’s like she’s more comfortable with the thought of being lied to than this just being a misunderstanding. It takes several tries before Ava finally believes him. She finally lets go of the anger she’s clinging onto and focuses on the part that matters – that Jasmine is her niece, that Jasmine is Nick’s daughter, that Nick even had a daughter before he passed away.
“You’re her godfather.”
“Yeah,” he nods, wrapping his arms around himself. “Yeah, they… I mean, when they asked me, I never thought it’d actually… happen, you know?”
I set my hand on Shane’s back as he sniffs, fighting back tears. I wish there was something I could say. I wish there was literally anything I could say or do to make this easier to process.
“So she was only a year old when Nick died?”
Shane nods.
“My brother had a kid for a whole year and didn’t tell me.”
Shane nods again.
I glance back over at Ava, and the sadness in her eyes slowly fades until her expression is blank. Her shoulders drop, and she nods, crossing her arms over her stomach. She looks down at the ground for a moment, and when she lifts her gaze back to Shane’s, it’s with an expression of both resignation and acceptance.
Ava turns her focus to me, and I feel my heart ache. I don’t know what to say. I just want to make her feel better.
I take a step toward her, holding my arms out. Her lips tremble before she accepts my offer, closing the distance to melt into my arms.

Thank fucking God.

It feels so good to hug her. She’s never been mad at me like that before. It’s pure relief to feel the tension in her body soften. To feel her soften for me again. I can’t cope with her being mad at me, especially when I haven’t even done the thing she’s angry at me for.
Ava clutches onto me with her head tucked beneath my chin, soaking in my embrace. She holds onto me long enough that Shane and I have exchanged a silent conversation through glances and facial expressions alone. It has to be something about how we’re holding each other — something about the positioning of our bodies that’s just too intimate for Shane to ignore. I still don’t know what Ava and I are doing, but even Shane can see that she’s not just a friend.
It says something that she’s clinging onto me rather than the man who used to be like a brother to her.
After a long, regenerative embrace, Ava is finally ready to acknowledge Shane’s gentle coaxing. This conversation isn’t over yet, and she knows it. She accepts that her brother chose not to tell her that he was having a child. In that period of time, Ava was in active addiction. I know her well enough to know she’s mentally beating herself up for that fact, but Shane doesn’t allow her to spiral in silence any longer.
I kiss Ava’s cheek, wiping away the last of her tears on the sleeve of my sweater. I rub her back as I turn her toward Shane.
Shane says, “Jas doesn’t know yet,” as she’s passed into his arms.
“That I’m her aunt?”
Shane hums, rubbing her back as he hugs her. “Yeah. My aunt Marnie thought I should wait until after you and I got to talk. I wanted to make sure you’re as okay as you seemed last night at the bar. That you’re doing good.” With a reassuring smile, he strokes his thumb across her cheek. “This can wait until you’re ready — when you feel like you can be a stable, healthy part of your niece’s life.”
“I’m okay,” she promises. “I’m doing good, Shane. I promise.”
He holds her at arm's length, assessing her carefully. “You look good, Ava. You look really good. Even after crying,” he teases, smoothing his hand over her hair. “You’re clean, aren’t you, Ava? More than just a few days clean?”
Without waiting for an answer, Shane slides his hands down her arms until they reach her wrists. He pushes the sleeves of her sweatshirt up to her elbows, sliding his hands up the back of her forearms. Then his face lights with a smile, his shoulders drooping with relief as spontaneous tears of joy spill over. “Ava! Oh my god…” He looks at her with his jaw hanging open in disbelief. “Ava! Fuck. Ava. You’re not just using a different vein, are—“
“No!” she interjects, sending her hair bouncing around her shoulders with the intensity she shakes her head. “I’m clean, Shane. I’m sober. I’m not—“
“How long?” he whispers, rubbing his thumbs over the fading marks on her skin.
I can hear the pride in Ava’s voice as she says, “Just over thirteen months.”
Shane gasps, tugging her back into his embrace. His arms crush around her, and he squeezes her tight, openly crying. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ava! I’m so proud of you. I’m so goddamn proud of you, kiddo.”
His hand rests on the back of her head, and he closes his eyes, murmuring how proud he is, how incredible she is, that he knew she could do it, that he knew she’d get better.
He believed in her. Shane says he always believed in her.
The sudden clasp of a hand on my shoulder slices through the blissful, proud feeling of watching Ava receive the praise she deserves for sticking through the fight for her sobriety. I reflexively flinch away, take a step to the side, and then backward as I turn to face whoever the fuck just snuck up on me and put their hand on my body.
My sister.

It’s just my sister.

“Holy shit, Maru,” I breathe, my hand pressed over my pounding heart. I exhale a startled laugh as I stare back at her. “Fucking hell, dude. You scared me. Why’d you sneak up on me like that?”
She looks… scared? She just snuck up on me, but she’s the one who looks frightened.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, scanning her from head to toe — from the fear in her eyes to her dirt-caked work boots, filthy with a fresh layer of mud around the soles from whatever she and my dad have been up to in their mushroom cave. I point at her shoes. “I thought you were playing with your mushrooms.”
With her lips pressed in a small, tight smile, Maru nods once to acknowledge my statement before saying, “I need to talk to you, Seb.”
That’s the second time someone’s told me that today. This cannot be good.
My heart sinks in my chest, and my eyebrows knit together. I shouldn’t have just let Sam drop it. I should’ve called him. I should’ve made him tell me what was wrong. I should’ve just stopped by his house on our way here to ask him in person.
I think I was just so preoccupied by Ava that I wasn’t even thinking about it. It made me feel weird, but after he dismissed it, I just let it go. I was so wrapped up in Ava. I’m sure Sam wouldn’t blame me if he knew that I was only so distracted because I’m coming completely fucking undone for the girl I denied having an interest in last fucking night. But he doesn’t know that – at least, not yet.

How was that only last night?

Has life always felt like this, or has Ava simply turned my world upside down?
It can’t just be Ava. It isn’t just her because now both Maru and Sam have acted like a storm is about to roll in.
My sister needs to talk to me, and she looks so fucking anxious. The fear is contagious: it rolls off her and crashes into me like a wave, sweeping me under the water.
But I’m the big brother. I need to be strong.
“Okay? Then talk to me, Maru.” I tilt my head to the side, putting on a brave face so my baby sister doesn’t see that I’m panicking, too.
Maru glances behind me, appearing to exchange a nod of greeting with either Shane or Ava before she settles her focus back on me. The words die in her throat, smothered by the fear of being the one to deliver bad news.
Am I really so unstable that people are this afraid to tell me bad news?
Convinced she isn’t going to speak without being pressed further, I ask, “It’s urgent, right? That’s why you came here?”
The look in her eyes says yes.
She swallows, looking down for a moment to gather the strength that made her rush over to me in the first place. With a deep breath, she returns her gaze to mine and nods her head. “Sort of urgent, but not an emergency.”
“Okay. Take a deep breath, then go ahead.” I put an encouraging smile on my face, rubbing the side of her arm. “It’s okay, Maru. Just take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”

It’s like second nature.

I feel my consciousness retreat and detach from my emotions – loosening my grip without completely releasing it. The space between myself and the feelings begins to widen, slowly drifting further apart until there’s enough distance to shield me. The anxiety and fear fade from tangible sensations into concepts – unpleasant things I would be experiencing if I didn’t know how to slip free from the burden of feeling.
Feelings get in the way of action. I can’t get caught up in feelings if a problem needs solving.
My sister is anxious, and that needs to come first.
Something is wrong – something big enough that my resilient little sister is cracking under the pressure of even communicating the issue, much less solving the problem.
That is my job: solve the problem.
Like a seawall built to shield her from the storm's crashing waves, I hold my arms out for my sister, dragging her close to keep her head above water.
“I got you, Maru. It’s okay,” I remind her for the thousandth time. “You can tell me. Whatever’s going on, we’re gonna be okay. Tell me what happened so I can make it better.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chapter Ten

I might have put too much distance between myself and my feelings. Everything feels too distant — far beyond the comfortable range that I tend to seek out when things feel too hard to handle. I think I might’ve let go: fully given in to the urge to slip so far from myself that I’ve lost my grip on my precarious attachment to reality.
It’s usually under my control. I can just come back once the perceived threat is gone. But I’ve tried, and it’s not working this time. I know the threat isn’t gone, but I should feel safe enough to be present right now. My dad is here, and usually just being around him is enough to bring me back from this foggy space between states of consciousness.
I don’t feel like I’m completely here, but I’m at least aware of my surroundings. I’m aware of the room around me: of Dad on the couch across from me, of Ava sitting on my right side, of the slightly off-level painting hung between the windows on the opposite side of the room.
Wow. There’s so much dust built up on the top of the ceiling fan.
I guess that’s not surprising, though. It’s been stationary for months — probably hasn’t been turned on since last fall. Even with the air purifiers constantly running and my father’s punctual, compulsive replacement of the furnace filter on the first day of every month, it’s not surprising that dust would still build up on a surface that’s gone untouched for so long.
But spring is finally here. I wonder how long it’ll take for Dad to start his yearly spring-cleaning frenzy, even though our house is kept meticulously clean. Not just tidy, but clean. Dad needs things to be clean, but tidiness is merely a habit rather than a compulsion.
Both cleanliness and tidiness are just habits for me. It doesn’t particularly bother me to be in Sam’s messy room, for example, but I definitely couldn’t sleep at night if my own room were like that. But if my father set foot into Sam’s room, it would send him spiraling out of control.
He’s good at managing the things that trigger his OCD nowadays – way better than he was when I was a kid. It's probably easier now that his kids are grown. Maru and I are both responsible and considerate enough to maintain the standards needed to keep Dad’s compulsions under control. The house stays as sterile and sanitary as Dad needs it to be; therefore, his brain never has the opportunity to truly convince him that his home is an unsafe, contaminated environment.
There are no messy people in his life now, so messes aren’t as much of a problem.
I think that’s why he’s only ever dated one woman since Mom left. Just one. And the relationship didn’t last nearly as long as Maru and I expected.
We both thought it was pretty serious – especially after Dad asked us to go out for dinner with them one night in the city.
Melissa, I think. Alissa or Melissa. Dad called her Lissa.
Lissa was a divorcee, too – only a couple of years younger than Dad. Lissa brought her daughter to dinner, and our father invited us, and it was a really nice evening. Maru and I both liked his girlfriend a lot. Her daughter was shy but very sweet for a kid her age.
I spent most of that evening waiting for my father and Lissa to drop some kind of news on all of us. They hadn’t been dating long enough for me to fully believe that they’d already be talking about something as major as moving in together – but it really felt like that’s what was going to happen. They’d been friends for a long time before they started seeing each other, so my sister and I thought he may have just been downplaying how serious their relationship was. Why else would they have invited their children to a nice ‘family dinner’ if it wasn’t because their relationship was serious enough that his children needed to meet hers?
I remember my sister leaning over to whisper something about having a little step-sister, and I was happy. Dad was moving on from Mom. She’d been gone long enough that I’m sure most men would’ve moved on years earlier than he had. But late was better than never, and I was happy for him.
It was nice to see him with another woman. He looked happy. They seemed like such a good match. They met at work several years prior, and they had a lot in common. Lissa loved Dad’s dry sense of humor, and she hung on to his every word when he spoke. I swear it felt like they were already in love.
I remember Dad looking at me from across the table with his arm off to the side to hold Lissa’s hand in her lap. I remember the look in his eyes that felt like he was seeking my approval. Dad wanted to know what I thought, if I liked her or not. It felt like he’d wanted my blessing — a reversal of roles, a father seeking approval from his son. The look in my eyes gave him the approval he sought, and it felt like that was just… it. It was settled: Dad was going to be with Lissa.
Maru and I drove home together that night, and Dad stayed the night at Lissa’s house.
I vividly recall the next morning after Dad returned home from Lissa’s house. I’d tried to tease him – reversing the roles once again. Just like when I was fourteen, and my father sat me down for a long, uncomfortable conversation about safe sex, I’d walked into his bedroom with my arms playfully crossed over my chest and a faux air of authority as I asked: “How was your night, young man?”
I remember the way my heart broke when he gave me a weak smile and told me it wasn’t going to work out.

How bad could it have been?

I’d immediately assumed it was the sex that had been bad because, at least from what I’d seen the night before, he and Lissa were very compatible. I’d been prepared to tell him to give it a second chance; maybe just the first time would be bad. But the pained look in his eyes quickly changed my perspective.

It wasn’t the sex.

Dad explained that his girlfriend’s house was a mess. And it wasn’t just a mess – it was a mess that she apparently couldn’t see.
Lissa knew about his OCD. My father had opened up to her, and she’d known how big of an issue cleanliness was for him. As they walked up her driveway together, she’d told him she’d been cleaning all day. My father said he’d felt so guilty for burdening her with his ‘issues,’ but she insisted it was no problem — that she wanted to make sure he was comfortable in her home, that she was happy to do it.
Dad then restated that she’s a wonderful woman: funny, intelligent, compassionate, generous.
She said she spent hours going out of her way to clean her house just for him. But her house had still been a mess. Even after hours of cleaning, in a state she referred to as ‘the cleanest it’d ever been,’ her house was a mess. And she couldn’t see it. She called the floors ‘clean enough to eat off of’ when my father could see visible spots on the floor that had been missed when she mopped.
The bags under Dad’s eyes weren’t due to a late night with his girlfriend. Her home made him so anxious that he’d barely gotten any sleep.
That dinner with Lissa had been the first and last time I saw her. Their relationship ended shortly after that.
They were compatible in most ways, but they were fundamentally incompatible in the one that would truly matter for a long-term, serious relationship: the thought of sharing a living space with her was a nightmare for Dad. Being in her house for just one night was awful for him — awful enough that he had a tough time convincing himself not to leave in the middle of the night for his own well-being. And allowing her into our house to contaminate his space would be worse.
So, their relationship ended. And our house remains clean.

Except for the dust on the top of the ceiling fan.

It must not bother him. Or maybe he just hasn’t noticed it yet? I don’t want to draw attention to it. So I drop my gaze back down, making a mental note to clean the blades while Dad’s at work next week. I should do it on Monday before the spring-cleaning bug bites him and he discovers the dust himself.
I slowly bring my eyes back into focus, and I’m relieved to see that he hasn’t been watching me. I’m not sure how long I spaced out. It could’ve been a split second, or it could’ve been several minutes.
Letting myself keep zoning out like this isn’t gonna help.

Fuck. Maybe my therapist is right.

This isn’t healthy.
She says this is a trauma response: a learned behavior, a coping mechanism. It’s one she’s not fond of, but I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a difficult patient – I haven’t exactly been willing to try to unlearn the behavior. She wants to help me get to the bottom of it, to help me learn how to cope with stressful situations without resorting to disassociation.
But it works for me.
When I want to come back to my body, I usually can just come back. But I can’t this time. At least, not right now.
Maybe my subconscious mind knows I’m not ready – that I need a few more moments of distance between myself and the news that Katie is moving back to the Valley.
My father’s expression is neutral. He’s calm. He’s not afraid like Maru had been when he showed up at Shane’s house or when she gave me a big hug and left me and Ava alone to talk to my father in the living room.
Dad delivered the news nonchalantly, as a simple fact devoid of emotion: Katie is moving back into her grandfather’s house.
“Lewis said she’ll be here Sunday – late in the afternoon or early in the evening, apparently,” my father explains. “Tomorrow, I mean. This Sunday.”
I feel nothing. I understand what he’s saying. I understand what that means. But I’m too far away to know what I’m feeling.
It simply just is.
Katie’s grandfather left the farm to her in his will, which makes sense to me. The place has been abandoned since his passing, so it makes sense that someday, somebody would show up to do something with it: sell it or move in and take over.
I don’t understand why Katie, of all people, would want to move back to the farm. There’s no way in hell that girl intends to run the farm herself. She could just sell the property. It has to be worth millions of dollars. If she’d chosen to sell it, she’d never have to work another day of her life.
Despite the odd choice – at least, it’s odd in my opinion – it’s a predictable enough outcome for a reasonable situation. With my currently detached perspective, I can understand how this is happening.
A girl inherits a piece of property from a deceased relative — the home she grew up in. Looking at it that way, the story is somewhat similar to the narrative of my game.
It makes sense. I should have more thoughts and feelings about it, but right now, I don’t. Or maybe I just can’t.
My dad can tell that I’m feeling very distant from this conversation. Rather than speaking directly to me, his eyes are on Ava.
“Oh, wow,” Ava breathes. “So sudden. That can’t be good, can it?”
Dad looks at her curiously.
“I mean, it feels like a bad sign that it’s so sudden, right?” she asks. “Like, something big must’ve happened to push her to impulsively move across the country.”
Dad frowns, ducking his chin down in a nod. “You’re right. It is a little strange for someone to uproot their lives on what at least appears to be very short notice.”
I must’ve tensed up or something. Ava goes back to rubbing her hand up and down my thigh — an idle, soothing gesture.
“I hope she’s alright. Moving is stressful, even when you’re just moving within the same city. I can’t even imagine moving across the country.”
I watch my dad’s eyes track the movement of Ava’s hand and the comforting yet intimate gesture of affection and reassurance. He doesn’t react. He just notices. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. And Ava doesn’t seem to notice that he’s taken note of her apparent reflex to comfort me.
I feel a jolt run through me as I’m hit with a sudden onslaught of sensory input. I’ve been forcibly yanked back into my own body — abruptly dropped from the comfortable dissociative state I’d slipped into.
Coming back is always the worst part. My body feels extremely uncomfortable. There’s a stiff, sore feeling from the tense muscles I’d apparently been clenching. I don’t particularly mind my brain’s tendency to let me slip away to protect me from things I’m not ready to handle, but I hate the feeling of coming back.
I lean back, trying to get comfortable again. I stretch my arm out over the back of the couch behind Ava’s shoulders.
My dad’s eyes follow that movement, too.
“Any thoughts, Sebastian?”
Fuck. He can tell that I’m back.
Now, I have to participate in the conversation.
I purse my lips, thinking for a long moment. I don’t know what to say that hasn’t already been said. So I should just agree. I should make it clear that I’ve been listening, at least.
“I mean, yeah, I agree. You have to wonder what could’ve made Katie suddenly uproot her life and move back across the country. I hope she’s okay.”
Ava gives my leg a reassuring squeeze, and I can actually feel the warmth and the pressure of her hand now that I’m back inside my own body again. Her hand rests gently above my knee. It’s comforting – a physical reminder that she’s here. I wonder if she’s doing it intentionally to comfort me or if she just happens to have her hand on my leg. The little squeeze was definitely intended to be soothing, but the fact that she’s keeping her hand on my body doesn’t necessarily mean it’s there to keep me calm.
Regardless of her intention, it feels good.
If my father weren’t so perceptive, I’d rest my hand on top of Ava’s. I want to hold her hand. But I don’t want my father to read any further into how intimate our relationship is before I’m ready to talk about it with him. So, I keep my hands where they are. I’ll hold her hand later.
“It’s possible that it’s a good thing, though,” Ava offers. “It could be a sign of a positive change.”
I exhale a soft laugh through my nose, though I appreciate her attempt at optimism. “What kind of positive change makes someone wanna go through the hassle of moving all their shit across the country?”
Ava shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe she just got out of a relationship, and moving away is something she's been wanting to do for herself.”
“Just like yourself, Ava.” My father is visibly relieved by the thought. His shoulders relax, and his smile seems easier. “I’d love to believe it’s something like that.”
“Or maybe she just really wants to be a farmer,” I joke, scrunching my nose at my dad.
“Or that!” Ava agrees, bumping her shoulder against mine. “Inheriting a farm could’ve been, like, an opportunity to change careers.”
My dad laughs. “Sebastian was joking — making fun of Katie. The girl grew up on a farm but did not like getting dirty. She was incredibly particular about not getting dirty.”
I smirk, rolling my eyes at the thought. Katie wasn’t particular. She was a brat. She was a vain, spoiled brat.
Looking back at it now, I don’t know how we managed to be friends when we were little. She hated dirt, and I was a weird little kid who liked to terrorize her with bugs. I don’t know exactly how old I was when I made the switch from wanting to scare her with her spiders to wanting to hold her hand, but reflecting on our past makes me wonder how we ever got along well enough for me to even develop a crush on her.
It’s funny how different the memories feel when examined from a more neutral perspective. Katie wasn’t the love of my life. I was a kid – we were kids. She was a pretty little girl who grew up to be beautiful, and I was a teenage boy with a hectic home life and no self-respect.
I wonder how I’d be taking the news that Katie’s moving back home if Ava weren’t here. If she and Nolan hadn’t broken up, and if this was any other Saturday. Would I still feel nothing if I wasn’t caught up in my feelings for Ava? Would I be freaking out? Would I feel something if I wasn’t preoccupied with a steadily growing desire for the girl who’s supposed to be just my best friend?
Listening to Ava express genuine concern for my ex-girlfriend’s well-being despite having heard only less-than-good things about her just makes me want Ava more.
Ava is a wonderful woman: funny, intelligent, compassionate, generous. I don’t have a but to follow that statement with.

Life goes on.

Maybe I feel nothing about Katie because ten years is a long fucking time. I’ve lived over a third of my life without her because life goes on. Life will continue to go on. I don’t want to be held back by memories of a girl who cared more about split ends or dirt under her fingernails than anything I ever had to say to her.
My mind starts to wander back to last night, to stargazing with Ava, and I have to pull myself back from the thoughts. Now is not the time to fantasize about last night.
But then my mind starts to drift to this morning — to the conversation Ava and I had before we left the house. My chest feels lighter as the warmth of the memory washes over me. Ava said she’d stay with me for the spring.
I want to tell Dad.
When the conversation begins to lull, I take the opportunity to change the subject.
“Oh! Hey, Dad?” I ask, getting his attention. “Earlier today, I was trying to convince Ava to stay here with us for a while.”
A smile lights my father’s face. He leans forward to pat Ava’s knee with a warm, genuine grin. “I think that’s an excellent idea. A change of scenery would be good for you.”
“That’s what I thought,” I agree, glancing over at Ava as I rest my hand on her thigh.
Dad’s smile still hasn’t faded. “We’d love to have you here, sweetheart. Lord knows this house is too big for just three people.”
I can’t help but notice the fleeting sadness in his eyes with his last remark. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, but it still stings. The house is too big for three people. The soft look in his eyes as he welcomes Ava into our home tells me he’s thinking about Mom.
Maybe Ava subconsciously reminds me of my mom. Maybe that look of sadness had something to do with Dad feeling the same thing — drawing the same parallel. Ava is what Mom could’ve been if she’d wanted to get better. Ava is the recovery success story my mother never wanted for herself. Ava is the embodiment of the hope that families like mine cling to: the hope that one day, maybe their loved one who’s battling addiction will make it out alive.
She held onto that sense of hope for herself and found the strength to get sober and stay sober.
And now she’s here — sober, healthy, thriving. She’s sitting on my couch, looking into my father’s eyes as he puts the pieces together for himself. It only takes one glance in my direction to confirm my assumption. Dad has found the light in Ava’s eyes that feels like absolution — like restitution for the years of heartache over a woman who didn’t want to get better.
Ava wanted to get better. And I would do anything to make sure she stays better. I would do anything to protect this woman. She is strong. She doesn’t need my protection, but that does nothing to quell the urge to wrap my arms around her and keep her safe.
I watch my father give in to that same urge. He doesn’t always verbalize what he’s thinking or feeling, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t saying it. I can see his feelings in the microexpressions he probably doesn’t even know he makes. I watch Dad make up his mind: Ava is his responsibility now. It’s the same look he had on his face a few years ago when he formed an attachment to Shane.
Marnie had reached out to my dad and asked him for help with her nephew, Shane. She told Dad that Shane had just gotten custody of his infant goddaughter, but he was in over his head. Shane was struggling with alcoholism. But he wanted to get better. He knew he needed to get better. He had a child to raise. He just needed guidance that Marnie didn’t know how to give him – with the baby or with the addiction.
Shane wouldn’t talk about Jasmine’s parents. He wouldn’t talk about why he started drinking in the first place. He wouldn’t talk about the past, but he would talk about the future, and that was all Dad needed.
Shane and Jas stayed with us for a while. The first few weeks were rough for him — but my Dad got him through a slow, controlled taper to wean him off of alcohol.
Dad got Shane sober. Dad taught Shane how to be a father. Dad took him under his wing and didn’t let go until he was sure Shane was ready to go back to his aunt’s house and begin the rest of his life as a father.
My father has decided to take Ava under his wing, too. A warm, tingling feeling spreads through my chest as he restates his invitation to please stay with us.
Ava thanks him for being so generous and welcoming. She’s probably thanking him for the offer, but my father instantly accepts her gratitude as an agreement to stay. I love him so much.
Dad switches right into problem-solving mode, directing his attention back to me. “Is there enough space between both of those desks for her to work in the same room as you? I’m not sure how much equipment she needs.“
Ava smiles. “I don’t even use my desk at home. Most of my work is done from my iPad.”
Dad nods, moving on to the next item on his mental list. “Excellent. That makes it easy, then. Do we have a plan for how we’ll be getting the rest of your stuff from your apartment?” He looks from her back to me. “We can get Ava a storage unit so she’s not feeling pressured to quickly decide where she’d like to stay — be it with us, with Leah, wherever.”
He’d be happy to let her stay with us permanently. My heart could burst.
It took him two seconds to work out an entire plan.
“Ava, whatcha think?” I ask, rubbing her shoulder. “I know you said you don’t want most of the stuff, but…”
“Even if it’s not a lot of stuff!” my dad insists. “Sebastian and I will help you pack and move your things, of course. You don’t have to worry about being there alone with your ex.”
“That’s incredibly sweet of you.” Ava looks genuinely taken aback by his offer. “Thank you, Demetrius.”
He waves her gratitude away, chuckling softly. “It’s the very least we can do for you, dear.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Does that sound good to you?”
She lets me pull her toward me, giggling as she bumps into me. “I feel like you’re being too generous. Like, my own dad would never —“
I cut her off to say, “Well, mine would, and he is. So say yes. I’m sorry your dad sucks. Mine doesn’t.”
My dad laughs. “Jeez. Twist her arm while you’re at it, son.”
Ava leans her head against me. “You’re not gonna accept no for an answer.”
“To be fair, dear, neither am I,” my father adds with a soft, deep chuckle. “You can’t do everything on your own. Moving furniture requires at least two sets of hands. A breakup requires the support of a friend who loves you dearly,” he gestures toward me, then holds up his hand to claim innocence. “And sometimes that friend’s overprotective father, too. But that’s beside the point.”
The sound of her genuine laugh makes my heart warm. She turns toward me and hugs me, agreeing to let us help her. My father’s relief is palpable when he hears her acceptance. He’s overjoyed to have her under his roof — safe and secure, surrounded by support.
After only a few more moments of conversation, after my dad is confident that I’m handling the news as well as I can, the subject changes again. My dad checks his watch, then announces the time and says he needs to run back into town to pick up a few things for dinner. Before he stands up, he asks Ava if there’s anything she personally would like him to grab for her while he’s there. When she says no, I ruffle her hair and ask him to pick up grapes and clementines for her because she’s too bashful to ask anyone for anything.
“I wouldn’t offer something if the offer wasn’t sincere,” my father insists, patting her knee before rising to his feet. “Don’t be shy. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”
And, just like that, it feels settled: Ava’s going to stay here for a while — an undefined, extended period of time. My father wants her here. I want her here. My sister will be excited to have her here, too. I’m sure Ava doesn’t exactly know how to handle being so deeply wanted, but all I want to do right now is make her get used to the feeling of being wanted. I want her so fucking bad.
Ava and I don’t move from our positions on the couch until after the door has closed behind my father. But the second the door clicks shut, I turn her toward me and lean in to kiss her. The slow, tender kiss feels cathartic — softening the tension, making everything feel better.
“Rough weekend, huh?” I murmur, trailing kisses down the side of her neck.
“Such a rough weekend,” she whispers, stroking her fingers through my hair.
I trace my hand up and down the side of her leg as I lean her further back into the couch. We lapse into silence, soaking in the comfort of each other’s lips and wandering hands — gentle caresses, fingers slipping beneath clothing, skin against skin, and a deep, lazy kiss that feeds my soul.
She pulls back just far enough to look into my eyes. “Why do I still feel so happy, Sebastian?”
My heart throbs in my chest. I can’t help but smile as I swipe my thumb across her bottom lip. “I was gonna ask you the same question.”
The distance is torture, so I close it again. I don’t want to stop kissing her, but we’re still on the couch, and I don’t know when my sister will be back.
Ava whimpers against my lips, spurred on by my admission that the feeling is mutual — that nothing could shatter the blissful feeling of simply being with her. News that may have otherwise broken me feels inconsequential when stacked up beside the euphoria of what exists between us — the undefined connection that she and I are desperately clinging to.
Between kisses, she murmurs, “You should be upset.”
“Maybe,” I hum, punctuating the response with another kiss. “Maybe not.” Another kiss.
“It doesn’t matter,” she agrees, surrendering to the urge to deepen the kiss again.
I’m the one who pulls back this time, breaking my lips from hers as her fingers thread into my hair. Her body writhes between mine and the couch, squirming with the frustration of me pulling back the moment she sets her intentions on more than our tender, innocent kisses. She presses for more, for something it’d be inappropriate to give her right here on the couch in the living room. But she was right, and she can be patient long enough for me to tell her, “Nothing else matters.” I press another gentle kiss to her lips. “Just this.”