This story has been rattling around in my head for a while, so I decided to just sit down and write it. I don't know if it's a continuation of my other story, but it's a continuation of how I see Angela in the future. I own nothing.

Stay

"How's my girl?" he asked softly, his hand on the side of her face, and they both danced around the truth, because they both knew she wasn't his anymore.

He was a boy on the verge of becoming a man. She could see the trace of stubble on his jawline, the tiny lines that were starting to form around his eyes, the same bright blue eyes she had always loved.

"Keeping busy," she said. "School's going really well, and I love it here in the city." She was referring to New York, where she had moved three years ago for university, leaving Three Rivers behind. She never tired of the city, of the endless neighbourhoods to explore, the diversity of the dynamic campus atmosphere. University was exactly the escape she had been longing for from her oppressive, middle-class upbringing. She was happy here, and although she occasionally felt lonely, she knew that there was always something new to discover just outside her doorstep.

"Are you still planning to go to grad school?" he asked, playing along with their little game of dancing around what really mattered.

"For sure. I want to stay here if I can, and I've already done some placements so I have an idea of what I'm getting myself into. I could start working after I get my Bachelor's, but I think getting my Master's will really give me the skills I need." He had actually inspired her to pursue her degree in Social Work, when he finally broke down and told her about his heartbreaking childhood, of the years spent as a ward of the state when his mother was deemed unfit and essentially abandoned him. She was still struck by his loneliness, the manifestations of years of being shuffled from place to place, knowing he was unwanted and numbing himself against the pain. She wanted to make a difference, if only one sad lonely child didn't have to suffer quite as much as he had. It was a natural fit. She had always rooted for the underdog and stuck up for what she believed in, and here was her opportunity to make it her life's work.

"I'm proud of you, Ange," he said, touching her lips, looking into her eyes, stroking her hair, which was no longer red but now honey blonde and past her shoulders. He missed the crimson glow shade sometimes, although she looked more beautiful than ever now that she was becoming a woman. "You're doing something you believe in."

"Well, you helped me," she said softly, looking back into his eyes, feeling her insides melt and her heart pick up speed, just as it first had, over five years ago.

"You helped me more than you'll ever realize," he replied, still studying her face, "so it's only fair that I got to help you just a little." She was the first person who believed in him in any way, and she made him want to be a better person. If it weren't for her, he would probably still be stuck in tenth-grade English class, almost totally illiterate. Actually, he probably would have long dropped out by now if that had been the case. He'd graduated a semester ahead of Angela, eager to leave Three Rivers and his meaningless life there behind. He didn't want to leave her behind, but she was getting ready for college and didn't seem to need him anymore – at least not in the same way.

Suddenly, he knew that he had to kiss her. He longed to feel her smooth skin under his fingers, her body underneath his, around him. He leaned over to kiss her hungrily, and she didn't protest. She started to unbutton her top and his hands slid over her soft skin, moving down over her breasts. She gasped as he slid his hand under her bra, then reached behind her and undid the clasp. Like a man possessed, he pulled her bra down and drew one breast into his mouth, then the other. She began to pull at his shirt while he tugged at her jeans, feeling her heat even through the fabric.

Soon, they had removed all of their clothing and she wrapped her legs around his waist, straddling his lap. He could feel how wet she was as she pushed her hips into him. She was no longer the shy little innocent teenager she had once been, and he tried not to think about the other guys she'd been with since their first time, almost four years ago. He turned his mind to the present, and the erection that she was holding in his hand.

"I need a condom," he gasped, reaching for his pants on the floor.

"Forget it," she moaned, "I want you inside me now."

"Oh my god, Ange, you're killing me," he groaned, as he fumbled with his pants, then the wallet in the back pocket until he finally found the condom. She was kissing his chest and grinding her nipples into him, which was driving him wild.

Finally, he positioned himself at her opening and she gently lowered herself onto him. She was just as tight as she had ever been, and he found himself having to hold back as he started to thrust into her. She started to moan and thrust harder, then he pushed her onto her back and repositioned himself on top of her. Their bodies still fit together so well, despite all the months apart, with her in school and him on the road constantly. He was starting to gain recognition as a photographer, having started off with some random modeling gigs, which still made Angela giggle at the thought, although she knew exactly why the camera loved him. Still, he preferred being behind the lens, and he seemed to see the details that others missed.

"I'm going to come," he breathed, thrusting into her.

"Don't stop," she pleaded, "I'm right there…" Then he felt her grip on him loosen as she contracted around him, and he let himself go.

She watched him as he lay asleep in her bed sometime later. His face was peaceful, and she could still see the boyishness in his features. She listened to his slow, steady breathing and tried to imagine what it would be like to hear that sound every night. A big part of her missed him, she knew, as she sat there with a book open in her lap, a small lamp lit beside her. He had played such a big part of her growing up and maturing – he had helped make her into a woman. Yet a part of her still longed to be free, to discover who she was and how she wanted her life to take shape. How could your first love be your only love? She didn't want to believe it.

He stirred and opened his eyes, unsure of where he was for a moment. When he saw her, he smiled.

"Come back to bed, baby," he said softly, his voice scratchy.

She closed the book and went to him.

He was leaving that morning, going to shoot on location somewhere in Arizona, where it was perpetually dry and sunny. They drank their coffee together at her kitchen table in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. She noticed he still drank his with lots of sugar, no milk. She had long since started drinking hers with milk and a little bit of sugar. It was one thing that had changed.

"You know I still love you, right?" he said suddenly, turning to look at her, his eyes never leaving her face.

"I know, Jordan…" she said quietly, feeling the tears starting to form. She'd hoped they could avoid this conversation, this time. "I know you do. And I still love you too. But I still don't know…"

"What don't you know?" he asked, knowing what she would likely say and dreading it all the same.

"I don't know if this will work. You're on the road all the time, I'm going to be in school for at least another three years, and who knows where we'll be after that." Her lip was trembling, and she willed herself not to cry.

"We could make it work," he said, which was the same thing he'd said six months ago, and then the time before that, and the time before that.

"How? I don't see how it could work. We're different people now. I've been living without you for three years now. Don't you feel like everything's changed between us now?"

"I still love you," he said fiercely, suddenly angry but he was more hurt than anything else. "I've loved you for five years now, and I think about you every single day. There's no one else for me but you."

"Jordan, I'm sorry…" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love you too, but it's not the same for me anymore. There are things I need to do, and I need to do them alone."

"This is ironic," he said bitterly, not bothering to hide the tears that were coursing from his eyes. "I finally find the words to say to you, and you don't want to hear them."

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "This is hard for me, too." She knew that she was being true to herself, but she couldn't stand to see him hurt. She still cared too much about him and part of her knew she wasn't ready to let go of this part of her, of her past.

"Is there a chance you'll ever change your mind?" he ran the back of his hand over his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I don't know," she said honestly, looking away. "But I don't want to lead you on either."

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me. It's my own fault for believing you could love me back." He looked down at his lap.

"I did love you." She took his hand in hers. "I still do. I just can't… be with you."

"Okay, okay. I get it. I'm not going to beg you to be with me if that's not what you want." He stood up and pulled his hand away. "I need to go."

"Okay…" she whispered, watching him walk away towards the door. She knew it would probably be for the last time, and she couldn't stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks.

She watched him, one more time, the boy she'd loved, as he made his way out the door, the tears drying on his cheeks, his hair cut short, the boyhood fading from his face.

I'm sorry to those who want to see Angela & Jordan together forever, I don't know if this is the end of them for good, but this story is the end of them for now. I hope you liked it.