thirty one

“I want to melt

into you like wild honey.

you feel like summer sun.”

"Do you want me to make you some soup?" Alastair asked as we walked out of my room, into the lounge. I felt a little dizzy as I walked, but I was glad to just get out of my room. The walls were starting to suffocate me to insanity.

I glanced up at him, raising my brows.

"Do you know how to make it?"

"I don't." He replied with a small sheepish smile. "But I'm sure I can look it up."

I smiled back and shrugged, leaning a little against the kitchen counter. "Sure. Can I help?"

He pulled out a stool for me and I sat down without thinking twice, which was good since I was pretty sure my legs were about to give up on me any second now.

"You can sit down and watch." That was what he said, which wasn't something I'd categorize as help. But since I didn't know shit when it came to cooking, I decided that I'd just do what he said.

I softly pressed the tips of my sock-clad feet against the wooden floor, resting my elbows on the kitchen counter as I watched him opening different cabinets and looking around for ingredients.

"I'd help you with that," I said. "But I don't really know where Luce keeps half of the stuff."

I never had to know, not when Luce was the one who usually cooked. I barely even went inside the kitchen.

"I'll find the basic stuff." He sounded quite sure of himself, stuffing a hand in his pocket and taking out his phone, tossing it at me. It landed right between my elbows thankfully, and not on the floor. "And you do that."

"Do what?" I asked, picking up his phone.

"Find a recipe."

Not after almost half an hour, there was this mouthwatering smell wafting through the kitchen. Alastair hadn't given me much stuff to help with, except for choosing that one recipe, so there I was, leaning against the kitchen counter and my stomach grumbling in protest as I swung my feet to and fro.

"It smells good," I murmured, resting my forehead against the cool countertop. "You are surprisingly good at cooking something you haven't cooked before." Then I added after a slight pause, "Scratch that. No surprises there. You're good at everything."

"You haven't even tasted it yet."

But when I tasted it, I was right. The soup was really good. And that's saying something since I didn't necessarily enjoy soups, especially when I was sick. But this one was tastier than any soup I had ever eaten.

We both decided to watch a movie after we were done eating. It felt nice to do this, spend a normal day with him. The movie didn't really pique my interest as I leaned against him, my eyes on the screen. Alastair seemed invested though. I might've found some interest in it too if only I had cared to really watch it.

Instead, all I could do was think about those few harsh words, replaying in my head again and again. Those words I had spoken to him earlier when we were skating. He hadn't talked about it or even mentioned any of that since I woke up this morning. Almost as if it never happened.

But it did. And I knew he was trying to pretend it never happened. Either that or he was just too hurt by my words to even talk about it. None of those options made me feel any better.

There was this constant guilt in my stomach ever since I woke up, making me feel awful. I wished I could forget it. But what good would that have done? Would I rather forget about it and not apologize to him at all?

"I'm sorry." I blurted out all of a sudden, my voice coming out louder than the movie that was playing in front of us.

I tensed up just a little when I felt Alas's gaze on me, trailing away from the TV screen. Out of pure instinct, I pressed the side of my face against his arm, already thinking twice of what I was about to say.

"What...what I said that day, when we were skating, I didn't really mean any of that," I added.

He tilted his head ever so slightly before lazily dragging his arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

"The whole 'you don't trust me' part?" He asked.

Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I nodded. "You know I didn't mean that, right?"

He gave me a small smile in response before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss on the top of my head. "I know." He said, and I tried not paying attention to the slight uncertainty in his voice. That, however, doesn't mean that I didn't notice it.

I had meant that, I thought. I had meant it in the spur of the moment when I said I didn't trust him. But it wasn't that I was scared he might break my trust. It was the fear of holding onto that trust, enough to tear myself open, enough to give everything of myself. It terrified me to trust someone because I always opened up a little too much.

But how was I not supposed to trust him? How was I not supposed to trust him when he was the one who pulled me out of that lake? When he was the one who didn't sleep the whole night, looking after me just because he thought it was all his fault?

How was I not supposed to trust him when he kept telling me, reminding me, that he loved me so much?

I'll tear myself open, I thought, just one more time. For him.

I pulled away from Alastair before fully facing him, and took hold of his hand that had been around my waist. He just passed me a questioning look.

"He was someone I liked." I blurted out for the second time during that moment.

He raised his brows slowly, looking confused. "He?"

"Noah." I was anxious. I could feel my stomach knotting itself, my head telling me that I was a fool. Not because I was finally trying to open up to Alastair, but because I was still holding onto this little broken piece of me, not letting myself move on.

But how did one move on so easily?

Alastair looked surprised. "Ophelia, you don't have to--"

"No." I shook my head, cutting him off. "I need you to know that I do trust you, Alas. What I said back there was just me trying to push you away. That wasn't...I really don't want that."

He blinked, his gaze slowly darting across my face.

"I know," He said. "But that doesn't mean you have to feel pressured into telling me something you don't want to talk about."

He was right. I knew he was.

"Please," I whispered, pleading. "Just...let me try."

This was a first and it scared me, but if it lessened the guilt inside me, I was willing to do it.

"Okay." He said, a little slower this time, his brows furrowed as he leaned back on the couch. He wasn't looking at me anymore, but I felt the tiny squeeze of his hand. "Go on."

So I gathered up the courage and finally told him things that I spent years running away from.

"He...He was in the same grade as me. One of the golden boys. You know, the ones who are just...perfect. And popular. And just amazing." I wasn't looking at him but down at my lap, my fingers nervously fidgeting within his hold.

"So you've got a type," He responded. I looked up at him and saw the smile lightening the tense atmosphere. "You fall for the wrong guys."

I blinked and looked back down at my lap.

"I don't," I whispered. "You're the right one."

I didn't even get a second to register what he was about to do when he straightened up from his leaning position, tugging onto my hand and practically pulling me on his lap. My heart nearly lurched out of my chest in surprise as I gripped the couch behind him, almost straddling him.

"Did you just call me a golden boy?" He asked me with a lazy grin tugging across his lips, his arm slowly snaking its way around my waist.

My eyes were wide and my lips parted in surprise. Placing my hands on his chest, I managed to shove him just a little.

"Alas," I hissed. I actually did. "You've got to give me some type of...warning before doing these things."

He smiled and leaned closer. "I think that would take away the element of surprise."

I could only frown in response. "You're...you're trying to divert my attention."

The look in his eyes turned warmer and softer.

"Is it working?"

"You can't do that," I whispered with the same frown, relaxing involuntarily as his fingers trailed up the sides of my waist through my sweater, slowly, softly. "I-I was trying, Alas."

He leaned even closer and I felt his lips brush against the side of my head, making me close my eyes.

"I know, baby." He whispered in my ear. "I just hate seeing you all tensed up."

I slouched against him, my forehead resting on his shoulder, my eyes still closed. "I'm not tense."

"I know." He wrapped both of his arms fully around my waist. "You can continue now."

I don't know how or why, but it felt a tad bit easier to talk about Noah now. I didn't feel as anxious as I felt a few seconds ago. Maybe Alastair knew that. He knew things about me that I didn't even know.

I am safe here, I told myself. In his arms, I was safe.

"I don't really know how it happened. It was...it happened so fast, which should've been a big clue for me." I murmured a little sadly. "But I'm stupid."

"You're not." I felt his head dip along the curve of my neck, his lips softly pressing there.

"I was stupid." I shook my head lightly. "We became good friends. Noah and I. Nora too, my...ex-best friend. I knew it was foolish of me to like him when I knew I wasn't the type of girl he could ever like back. But I still liked him. Because he was nice, not just with me, but with everyone. We used to spend a...lot of time together. Not at school, but outside. He used to sometimes show up at Mum's shop, and even Mum loved having him around."

I pressed a little closer and Alastair let me.

"Then he came to me one day during one of those theater shows we had in our school, and he told me that he liked me. He told me that he had liked me for a very long time. I thought it would be a random thing, one of those flings he had with almost every girl in our school. But we started spending even more time together then. Even at school." I stopped, before forcing myself to speak again.

"We...we didn't move onto labels. I never cared, and he never asked me for it either. And then one day he told me that he wanted to take me out. I was surprised. Obviously. Because I liked him. I thought I loved him. And just thinking he felt the same way about me made me so happy. So I agreed on that little date."

"Where he took me should've been another clue for me. After all, I've read so many sad books like that." I whispered, a little glad that I didn't have to speak it any louder since Alastair was right there with me.

"He took me to a club. A really loud, fancy club. It surprised me because I was pretty sure he knew I hated clubs and parties. But he seemed unfazed. So I sucked it up. And we had fun. We talked, and he even asked me for a dance. But then...then a girl came up to him and I recognized her from my school. She used to have an on and off affair with him, with Noah. And apparently, Noah brought me there on that date because he thought he could make her jealous enough to come back to him."

I fell quiet. I think I even felt Alastair tensing a little against me.

I let out a small, bitter laugh, muffling it against his hoodie.

"He used me to get her back." I shrugged. "I didn't understand why back then. Because I thought I loved him, and when you love someone you just forget for a second that they could be wrong too. It hadn't occurred to me even once that he might be faking it. I asked him why he did it. I just...I just wanted to know why. He told me that it all happened because I was an easy target."

"He told me that he did like me. But just as a friend. And all those months he hung out with me, pretending that he actually really liked me, was to just get her back. That other girl." My voice fell down to a whisper and I felt Alastair tightening his arms around me. "It hurt because I should've seen that coming, but I didn't. He even...he even had the nerve to tell me that I couldn't really be serious about this. That I took things seriously way too easily."

You aren't really anyone's type, Lia, I remembered him saying. And then laughing. Come on, he had joked, why would anyone want to date a girl named Ophelia?

I took a slight pause before continuing again.

"It pained me. Because I loved him. I thought I loved him. But as time passed by, I realized I never really loved him. I just...loved the idea of him. And even if he did love me, it would have gone away anyway, that feeling. Love is the last thing you should hold on to. That's what I...that's what I told myself."

I stopped again because I could somehow still feel it. The ache I had felt after that one day, the pain he had left me with. It disgusted me that I could still feel it. It disgusted me because I still couldn't move on from it. And maybe Noah was right. Maybe this was why no one could ever love me. Because I felt too much, too fast.

"We stopped talking after that. He was still perfect, he still had everything. But we were never the same." I murmured, closing my eyes. "Disgust, that's how he continued looking at me whenever we crossed paths. I was the girl no one could ever...love."

I felt Alastair's lips against my ear, pulling me closer. "That's not true."

It was, I wanted to say. Back then it was so true.

"All that took a huge toll on me," I said instead, my voice lowering down to a whisper. "And then...yeah, Nora stopped being friends with me too. I mean, I never really blamed her for never being there for me, not when I never told her anything about what happened with Noah. But it still hurt me a little when I found out that Noah had started dating her. My best friend."

"What?" Alastair asked, his voice laced with disbelief, surprise, confusion, anger--so many emotions that it took me a while to reply back.

"Yeah. I was pushing away a lot of people at that time. So when she started choosing other people over me, making friends who were better than me, it shouldn't have surprised me." I continued. "But it did. Everything seemed to be crumbling around me."

I shifted a little when tears stung in my eyes. "I wasn't fixing anything. I was doing the exact opposite. I was...disgusted by myself."

Alastair seemed to tense a little more.

"Don't say that." He whispered in my hair.

I could just shake my head in response. Because it was true. I still sometimes felt like that. I still sometimes couldn't stop myself from feeling that disgust, all at myself.

"I tried talking to Mum and Dad, but they were...always so busy fighting with each other. They fought a lot those days. Everything Mum did seemed to irk Dad." I sniffled. "My sister and I were never really close so I didn't know how to talk to her either."

"I could have talked to Luce, but I didn't want to burden her. She would've told Mum anyway. And my parents, well, they were just too much into their own shit to give a fuck about me. When they did though, it was mostly to tell me how much thin I was getting, or that I wasn't eating enough." I continued.

I still vaguely remembered how I started thinking back then that I had some sort of an eating disorder. I had wanted to believe in that. At least that way I would've had a label to put onto all my useless, pathetic issues.

"Everyone started telling me that. They used to do that before too, but now it just started hurting my head even more; their comments about my eating habits. Everything started to feel like it was being aimed at me. I didn't care if I ate or not. I just stopped feeling hungry, or happy, or like I enjoyed doing anything." I blinked down at my hands, my head still resting against Alastair's shoulder.

"I'd spend loads of days in my bed. I cried a lot, all the time. I stopped seeing the good things. It was always either the bad things or nothing at all. Everything I tried to do seemed useless."

Then I breathed in a heavy sigh, pulling away from him so that we were face to face. Alastair looked at me with a small frown on his face, looking just as unhappy as I felt. Except that his unhappiness was more towards the angry side. Mine was mostly towards the sad side.

"I..." I trailed off, not sure how to say it. This part right here, this was one of the reasons I hated myself so much.

Gripping the corner of my left sweater sleeve, I pulled it up, all until it reached my elbow. And then I stared at the faded scars, running just below my elbow.

"I started cutting myself," I whispered.

Alastair blinked in surprise, his hands going still around my waist. And then he was gripping my wrist, not harshly, but enough to show me the surprise he felt at that moment.

"Ophelia." He whispered so softly, staring right at the spot where most of the cut marks were. They were faint, but still present to remind me of those times that I would give anything to forget.

I shrugged helplessly.

"Most people do that," I said. "I thought...it'd take away all of my messed up thoughts too."

He looked near horrified now, his grip tightening just a fraction around my wrist.

"Fuck." He spoke up, his eyes wide. "That's not...you don't just do things because others do them too."

"I am aware of that." I looked down, away from his eyes when I felt my face heating up. "It didn't fix things for me. It would just hurt more. I didn't...understand why people did this when it'll only make it hurt more."

"Because people are fucked up, Ophelia." His eyes were still wide. "They are fucking messed up."

"It diverted my head from things, though," I whispered, still not looking at him. I couldn't really look at him. Saying the truth out loud felt like a relief, but sometimes it made you feel small. Really small. "Not directly, but it helped."

"Don't say that."

"I mean it." I looked up at him then. "It helped. Whenever things got too much, whenever I felt like I could never belong anywhere, I used to cut. Because that told me that I deserved the pain. It was...it was a sort of punishment, and I was aware of how self-destructive that was, but I couldn't stop."

I breathed out a dry laugh, rubbing my face with my hands.

"I was so disgusted by myself," I said. "I don't think I've ever hated myself more than at that time."

I felt him pushing my hands away, cupping my face and making me look at him. He looked furious. "Don't say that."

"It is the truth." I shrugged, feeling a little empty.

"No, it bloody isn't." He clenched his jaw, his gaze boring into my own. "Those people made you think that way. They made you believe in lies. You don't deserve that."

"I know," I murmured, softly fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie between my fingers. "I know that now. I didn't...know it back then."

"You know what I think you deserve?"

I raised my brows questioningly, feeling a small smile curve on my lips.

"I want to say the whole world but I think we both know how fucking toxic that could be." He muttered, pulling his hands away, still frowning.

I laughed and relaxed against him, feeling the hollowness in my chest slowly fading away. There was never any hollow feeling or emptiness when I was with him. It never felt like this with Noah.

"You're right." I smiled. "It would be a little cheesy too."

His frown softened when he saw me genuinely smiling again. But he didn't really smile back.

"Ophelia?"

"Yeah?"

"I would take them from you in a heartbeat if I could. All those painful memories." He whispered, sounding so extremely honest that I felt my heart skipping a few beats.

I stared back into his eyes. "I believe you."

The surprise was quick to show on his face, probably because he must not have been expecting me to sound so trusting.

"Really?"

"Yeah." I smiled at him, wrapping my arms around his neck before hugging him a little too tightly. "I trust you."

He didn't waste a single second before folding his arms around me, pulling me even closer. "Also, it'd take me some time, but I could definitely beat up that bastard."

That caused me to laugh again, even though I wasn't sure what bastard he was talking about. After all, I had the privilege of knowing lots of bastards in my lifetime.

"Wow, aren't you nice."

"A nice boyfriend." He agreed.

I buried my face in his neck. "Did we move onto labels so fast?"

"Did we?" I think he was smiling. I pulled away and pressed my lips softly against his cheek. "Is that all I needed to say to get a kiss?"

When I pulled away, he was smiling. It was a real smile, a smile that I adored so much. A smile, I realized, that would forever be ingrained in my head, and my heart, and my entire being. Forever.

"I guess so." I smiled back cheekily, a little glad that the atmosphere wasn't so sad and tense anymore. "You're good with words."

"What else should I say?" He asked with raised brows, the eagerness quite obvious on his face and his voice, both.

"I don't know. You're the one with words."

"I am." He agreed, beaming. "I love you, Ophelia."

My heart skipped a beat like every time when he said that. It still took me a few seconds to let those words sink in, to repeat them again and again in my head, all until I could actually tell myself how true they sounded.

Smiling a little, my hands trailed up his shoulders, softly pushing his hair away from his forehead, staring into his eyes all the while. Then I leaned down and placed a soft kiss there, right along his forehead.

I wish it was as easy for me as it was for him to tell him that I love him.

But did I really, I found myself thinking, like always. What did I even know about love?

Alastair leaned his head back against the couch, a breathtaking smile ghosting across his lips.

"And I love seeing you smile." He murmured. "I would do anything to see you smile."

I blinked at him, exhaling softly.

Maybe I did know something about love. This, this feeling right here.

I responded by drawing my lips lower towards his eyes, watching them falling shut under the touch. His grip around my waist tightened a little. Before my lips could have trailed down even lower and met his, he opened his eyes, pinning me with a look that was a mix between want, sadness, and just love.

"Ophelia?"

I blinked, waiting.

"Promise me something."

I gently dragged one hand through his hair, along the back of his head. Velvety soft, that's how his hair felt like between my fingers. "Hm?"

His eyes were still on me, watching, hopeful.

"Don't ever destroy yourself over someone again." He whispered. "Not even me."

He must've seen the confusion on my face.

"No one has that power over you." He added. "You're you. You're amazing and smart and brilliant and you make me laugh. The most beautiful person I've ever met. Don't let anyone control that."

My heart started racing again, in a good way. And I could only blink in response.

"Not even you?" I asked.

"Not even me." He repeated, a slow smile spreading on his lips. And then he leaned upwards, kissing me on the lips. I slid my hands on either side of his face, pressing closer and trying to cherish these little moments as much as I could have.

Because I wanted to remember this forever. This feeling.

I didn't really seem to mind when this little moment started turning into something much more.

Alastair gripped my waist before flipping me down on the couch, crawling over me, his lips still on mine, kissing me a lot more hungrily this time. I kissed him back with just the same intensity. Because God, I loved this.

He had his hands on either side of me, holding himself up as he slowly pulled away, blinking and looking down at me. "You don't feel sick, do you?"

"I...I feel light-headed." I swallowed, my dazed stare involuntarily darting down to his lips, just wanting to feel them again.

"In a bad way?" He seemed concerned now, his brows furrowing up.

"No. No." I shook my head. "It's just..." I couldn't help but feel my face heating up as I trailed off. "I feel like that, usually, when you...kiss me."

He blinked again, the worry changing into something that seemed much like amusement to me.

"Sure?" He asked, smiling just a little. I nodded. And then he kissed me for much longer this time, in a way he hadn't ever kissed me before, in a way that left me light-headed even after he had pulled away.

His lips left my own before moving lower down my jawline and to my neck. I arched my back when he slipped his hand inside my sweater, kissing down my throat. So hot. Quite the opposite of what I felt when I woke up this morning.

His lips lingered below my ear like molten hot fire, gently sucking and biting onto it. I couldn't help but clutch onto his shoulders, my insides going insane at this point.

"Alas..." I breathed out. "No...no more hickeys."

I still remembered the embarrassment I felt when I had been trying to hide the first one, after that ice skating date Alastair took me on. I couldn't imagine confronting Luce if she managed to see it this time. Besides, I hated turtlenecks.

I felt him chuckle, his teeth grazing my neck, his hand still inside my shirt. "I don't see why not, babe."

I couldn't help but let out a strangled moan when he gently bit onto the same spot, kissing it softly afterwards. There was this electricity brimming inside me. And I felt it till my toes. God, I was so fucked.

When he pulled away, I was a panting mess.

"God, you're...you're bad." I breathed out, still gripping his shoulders as he looked down at me. His eyes were bright and gleaming with amusement.

"I guess so." He mused. "Why else would you be so out of breath right now?"

I blinked twice before a small breathy laugh escaped my lips. His smile widened at that.

"Ophelia?" He leaned a little closer, still supporting himself by his forearms.

"Yeah?" My voice came out in a whisper, one of my hands curling up around his neck, gently playing with his hair.

"I really wanna touch you."

When I looked back into his eyes, they were still bright; a dazzling shade of grey. They looked happy, but there was something else in there too. A kind of wanting that made me feel all breathless again.

"What?"

He leaned down, stopping just an inch away from my lips.

"I want to touch you, Ophelia." He repeated. "Can I?"

I could only blink in response, totally at a loss for words.

"Hey," He murmured softly, one of his hands gently caressing the side of my face. "I'm not forcing you. I just want you to say yes or no. I'll back off if you say no. Promise."

The thought of his hand up my shirt and his soft lips on my skin made me grow even hotter. I felt so hot. Especially in the face. I didn't even care at that moment that he might see it, the way my face was burning right now.

"I-I don't know," I mumbled, worried that I might say something wrong and push him away. But I wanted this. Why was I so bad with words?

He smiled softly and I felt myself relaxing a bit. "It's all right. We can do it some other time."

Some other time.

I blinked in surprise. "I...I didn't say no."

He raised his brows just a little.

"I just don't know," I murmured truthfully. "I'm a bit in between both yes and no."

He gave me a slow smile and I felt my insides doing a somersault. If not for the hypothermia, I'd probably die of a heart attack with how breathless, hot and tingly I felt at that moment.

"Okay." He whispered. "I can work on that." And then he pulled away just a little, his lips near my ear. "Close your eyes."

"Huh?" I asked numbly, confused.

His eyes found mine. "Do you trust me?"

I could only nod.

"Then trust me with this. If you feel uncomfortable, you just say it." He said, watching me all the while. "Okay?"

"Y-Yeah."

He smiled and I fell back against the couch. When I felt his lips softly brushing against my cheek, my eyes closed shut on their own accord, in pure bliss. His kisses trailed lower down my cheek, to my jawline, then my neck. And then he pulled away.

I frowned a little in confusion, almost about to open my eyes when I sensed his fingers lightly tugging on the hem of my sweater and pushing it over my stomach.

I tensed for a second there, still not opening my eyes. But then I felt the familiar softness of his lips grazing against the side of my stomach, his warm breath fanning across my bare skin, and I just...forgot about everything.

A small gasp left me as his lips trailed upwards, pulling up my sweater with his hand. His kisses were soft and warm and like a feather-touch, almost as if handling a fragile thing. I could feel my heart almost about to burst out of my chest when his lips neared my rib cage, and when his hand slowly stroked the side of my stomach.

"A-Alas." I panted, finally opening my eyes when it just became too much.

However, to my utmost disappointment, he stopped and pulled away.

"Too far?"

No. God, no.

But I couldn't form any words. It felt like I'd been drained out.

"Ophelia." He leaned closer towards my face, looking a little worried. "Should I not have done that?"

I blinked and breathed out a shaky sigh. "No. It...it felt good."

He stared at me for a while before a soft, unsure smile formed on his lips. "Yeah?"

I nodded almost a bit too eagerly before pressing my lips against his. Just one more kiss. The craving inside me seemed to go on and on and just not stop when it came to him and his so fucking addicting kisses.

I practically didn't even care when he snaked an arm around my waist, pulling me up in a seating position before his lips once again trailed down my neck, making me arch my back to have more, to feel more of him.

"Take...it...off?" He breathed out between kisses.

I could only nod as he pulled away, yanking my sweater over my stomach before stopping a little too abruptly.

"What?" I spoke up, panting and confused.

He opened his mouth, staring at me with this strange, warm and soft emotion in his eyes. It almost made him look helpless.

"You just..." He trailed off. "Fuck, Lia." And then his hands were on either side of my face and he was kissing me again, firm and hard and desperate.

"I love you." He murmured against my lips, his beautiful silver eyes gazing into my own. "I don't...I don't think I could ever love anyone like this, Ophelia."

Something about that, what he just said, made me smile like an idiot. Because no one has ever said that to me. Because I never thought anyone would ever say that to me. It made me feel like something. Everything.

I barely registered when he pulled off my sweater, then his hoodie. And I barely noticed him lowering me down on the couch again, making me fall deep into his soft kisses and promising touches.

It was a lot. But I was fine with that. I wasn't freaking out. All I felt at that moment was the want for more.

Love. What else was this strange and beautiful feeling supposed to be called?

I didn't care to ponder over that little realization, not at that moment. Not when he held me so gently. Not when he made me feel so breathless and hot and happy.

And none of us heard the doorbell ringing for the first time.

Or perhaps Alastair did. He just didn't feel like pointing it out as his lips found my own, his fingers softly digging into my waist, making me moan out loud into his mouth.

I heard the bell ringing the second time.

"Someone's...at...the door." I breathed out, pulling away from the kiss.

He only stopped for two whole seconds before chasing my lips for another kiss.

"Alas." I breathed out a laugh before turning my head away.

"What?" He continued to kiss me along the jaw. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The bell rang again.

I gripped his shoulders and pushed him away, sitting up on the couch. He obliged with a small, unhappy frown but didn't pull his hands away.

"Why are you pushing me away?" He looked so utterly confused at that moment that I couldn't stop myself from grinning like a fool.

"Someone's at the door," I repeated, much slower this time, feeling a little like mush in the head. "Don't be so rude."

"You're being rude." He pulled me closer. "Can't we ignore that someone behind the door?"

The thought was highly tempting. Especially since he was leaving soft, delicate kisses down my skin again.

"N...No." I breathed out, pushing him away again. "It could be Luce too."

Of course, it couldn't have been Luce. This was her own freaking apartment. She didn't need to ring the doorbell if she wanted to come in. I wasn't obviously kidding when I said my head felt like mush. Because it did, enough to blur my common sense.

"What would I say if she asked me why I wasn't opening the door?" I asked him anyway.

"You can just tell her that we were making out," He said. It was humorous itself how seriously he stated that.

"Ha ha." I rolled my eyes. "Let me open the door. It'll just take a minute." I looked around for my sweater but failed to find it. I couldn't possibly answer the door half-naked. "I need my sweater."

"It's not just a minute. 60000 milliseconds. That's a lot." He pointed out before leaning sideways and picking up something from the foot of the couch. I didn't notice that it was his hoodie until he had shrugged it over my head.

"What a geek you are." I grinned.

I got up before he could have made another excuse and stumbled towards the front door. I felt drunk, which was strangely odd since I hadn't felt anywhere near drunk when I actually drank alcohol. Perhaps that was it. Alastair's kisses were far more effective than any stupid college party's punch.

When I opened the door, I was met with Rowan who was holding a large box in his hands.

"You sure take a lot of time to open a door." He narrowed his eyes. "I was just trying to be kind and hand you your mail while I picked up my own, but I sure as heck won't be doing this again."

I gave him a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. I was a little busy." Then I glanced down at the large box in his hands. "That came in the mail?"

"No." He shook his head, before nudging his head towards a smaller brown envelope on top of the box he was holding.

I reached my hand out and picked it up, feeling its rough, old texture beneath my fingertips. It was a rectangular envelope, sealed shut on one side. And as I ran my fingers over the object inside it, which seemed rectangular too but shorter in size, I noticed that it felt like a small cassette, just like the ones in that Walkman Rowan gave me.

"That was in your mail," Rowan said.

I nodded, looking back up at him. "Thanks, Rowan."

"Later, neighbor."

I waved him a small goodbye before closing the door. Then I looked down at the envelope again, wondering if it was for Luce. But it strangely looked worn out, like it had been sitting there in Luce's mails for years.

Cautiously, I opened it up, not really surprised when the glue holding the envelope close fell apart quite easily. And then a folded paper fell out of it, on the floor.

When I picked it up and slowly unfolded it, I realized that no, it wasn't just a paper. It was a picture.

And then my eyes widened in surprise because I had seen that picture before. As a matter of fact I hadn't only seen it, but there was a picture just like this in my closet, stuffed inside my trench coat's pocket.

The picture Mr. Smith gave me, of Alastair's family.

It was the exact same picture.

The only difference I could see as my eyes darted across the entire picture, was a small name written at the bottom of it. It was messily scribbled, so I couldn't really read it, but it wasn't Alastair.

I turned the picture over, my heart skipping a beat when my eyes lingered on the few inked words written on it.

You didn't tell him.

"Who was it?"

I looked up so fast that I almost had a whiplash. It was Alastair standing in front of me, his eyes trailing towards the now-closed front door and back at me.

"The neighbor." I blurted out, before folding the picture and sliding it back inside the brown envelope. My heart started beating a little fast. "He came by to drop Luce's mail."

I was lying. God, I was lying to him all over again.

"That's it?" He was frowning. And the envelope in my hands seemed to weigh a lot out of nowhere.

"Yeah." I nodded. "That's it."

At least for now.