A/N: Ahhhh hangovers. Yeah, I've never had one =P


The Friend Zone
Chapter 3

Hangover

There isn't anything more annoying than people who don't get hangovers; especially, when I probably get their share of them—as well as my own.

As I opened my eyes to a thunderstorm raging inside my head, and a swelling of nausea rising in my stomach, I faintly heard Rose whistling chirpily downstairs. I groaned, my envy quickly subsiding to self-pity.

"Breakfast is up, Marlena!" the wench called, sounding like she was on the stairs.

Recoiling instinctively from her tone, I fell out of bed.

"Shut the fuck up—" I attempted to force sound from my hoarse, croaky throat, only to practically gag on the bile tinged taste that was lining the inside of my mouth, while going over backwards from the metal rod—that was my own voice—hammering against my skull. "Oh god," I whimpered pitifully.

Rose opened my door a fraction and peeked in before pushing it open completely. Folding her arms across her chest, she smirked only slightly to herself; the rest of it was for my benefit. "Erm . . . the yellow cab company just called. You owe them sixty-nine ninety-five for—," she broke off for a moment and coughed back her obvious amusement, "the carpet cleaning bill."

I looked up at her from my heaped position on the floor momentarily, a low groan vibrating from my chest as her meaning became clear. "Are you serious?" I asked her weakly, running my hand through my—sticky—hair.

Oh, god, no!

"'Fraid so, sunshine. You hurled all your Edwards on the floor of the cab, and then had us unceremoniously turfed out. Emmett and I had to drag your unconscious ass five blocks home."

"What the hell happened last night?" I asked her in a deliberate whisper, lifting myself sluggishly off the floor and sitting carefully on the side of the bed. I dropped my head in my hands; it felt like a bowling ball.

"Wish I could tell you. My memory got a bit foggy after the cake." She shrugged.

Cake?

"Well, you got further than I did. I remember . . . dinner and. . ." I scrunched up my brow in an endeavor to recall more, but the action only caused a shoot of pain to spasm behind my closed eyes. I massaged my forehead slowly with the tips of my fingers and uttered a pathetic sounding moan.

"You hung with Edward for the most part. . ." her voice intentionally trailed off in emphasis.

My fingers froze over my skin and I looked up at her, cringing away from whatever horrifying reality I'd created for myself. "Rose, stop being a cow. Whatever it is, just tell me."

"I didn't see anything, and I'm assuming Alice didn't either, but. . ." she fought the obvious urge to grin, deliberately prolonging this torture over me.

I closed my eyes, trying to muster up some annoyance over my hangover. "But?"

"Mrs. Cullen definitely saw something."

"Saw what?" I uttered despite the fact that my heart had staggered to a halt.

"She rang not long after Yellow Cab. She wanted to know if we'd had a good time and if we'd got home okay," she paused, pointedly clearing her throat, before continuing—and just in time before I ripped the wench's hair out. "She then asked how long you and Edward had been a couple for."

"What?" My breath caught as a huge swell of dizziness over took me. "What did—oh fuck, what did I do?"

"Apparently, at some point during the evening, you and Eddie crossed that friendship boundary of yours and locked lips. It might have been alcohol induced but"—she scoffed—"who's judging."

Could she be any more amused at my expense?

I felt the color drain from my face, while—I shamelessly had to admit—I allowed Celeste to emerge for an internal booty dance.

Nausea, skin tingling and raging, lustful desire really wasn't a good combination. I didn't know whether I wanted to puke or have a cold shower—with Edward!

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

"H-how did it happen?" I faltered, swallowing past the rising bile and grimacing—while wanting to nose dive for my vibrator.

Oh, God.

Just the thought that my lips had touched Edward's made my skin suddenly hum with salacious energy, while my static blood burst to life through my veins.

Celeste had won out, but holy hell, did I feel sick!

"Don't know, sweetie, but if someone caught it on tape, we could send it in to Fox and see about getting a pilot."

My carnal thoughts were immediately sucked back into the present moment of vertigo and vomit scented hair. "Ad nauseam, bitch-face," I grumbled at her.

Standing up, I walked with half drunken, unstable legs towards the door to the bathroom. I blocked out Rose's chuckling, hearing only the echoed sound of my heart as it silently conveyed both my absolute mortification and whorish elation.

Whether I was going to throw up or take a shower, I wasn't sure.

. . .

I was recuperating on the sofa around midday, a mess of blazing primal urges and seediness, when Alice came to celebrate.

Her squealing was practically the end of me.

She was another annoying person who didn't appear to feel the long-term effects of alcohol consumption.

She pounced next to me, making me jolt and my stomach roll, her expression manic with puzzled amazement. "Bells—I can't believe I missed it!"

"That makes two of us," I mumbled behind the safety of the throw cushion that I'd grabbed in anticipation of her entrance—and just in time for the whirring of the blender.

Rose was in the kitchen concocting a hangover remedy for me, and getting far too much enjoyment out of grinding it all together for longer than I was sure was necessary. It felt like a jackhammer on my brain.

With a sigh of relief, it stopped a moment later and Rose returned to the living room carrying a glass of orange gunk that made me shudder at the idea of drinking. "After three years of being shipwrecked on a deserted island, Marlena has returned with no memory and a new identity after ground breaking facial surgery."

I threw the cushion at her.

She chuckled and sat on the other side of me, placing the glass in my hand. "Here, drink up, Mrs. Brady."

I took an apprehensive sip, discovering it was little more than vegetable juice with a raw egg added, before I turned to Alice.

"Did Jazz see anything?" I breached her, hopeful.

She shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip. "I grilled him all morning, but he said all he had seen were the two of you dancing. Though, he did say that Edward was acting funny all night."

I took a frustrated breath, my fingers subconsciously touching my lips, as I searched my brain for something—anything—that would spark a memory. All I recalled was the Slavin brothers, and Edward, looking so beyond ridiculously fuckable that I'd wanted to cry—while Celeste unhooked my bra.

I had literally woken up with it hanging down my arms, but in reality, I could probably chalk that one up to Emmett while I was passed out drunk. The guy would think nothing of a quick feel-up of the roommate of his fuck buddy if the situation was presented.

"Bells, I don't know what you're waiting for. Tell him how you feel. It's so blatantly obvious that he's nuts about you," Alice mumbled becoming distracted as she flipped through channels on the remote control. "Oh—90210!"

"Haven't I already explained—in detail—why I can't?" I replied, deciding whether I should add my impatience to it, while my celestial former self was causing my blood to climax to the pores of my skin at the mere idea that Edward had feelings for me.

I didn't believe it, anyway. From what I remembered of the night before, Edward had made it clear where we stood. I was his best bud's girlfriend—I was off limits. He would not break that rule to the detriment of his friendship with Jake.

I was stuck in the friend zone.

This was the penalty of orgasming your way through four years on the back of a barbarian who liked to watch his butt cheeks clench in the mirror with each thrust during sex. What the hell did I expect?

"So, is Brandon Edward, or is Dylan?" Alice inquired, quirking her head in Rose's direction. "I can't decide."

"I'd say Jake is Dylan—easy on the eye, but not too bright," Rose answered, with a deadpan expression that was quickly betraying the length of her amusement.

My patience expired explosively. "Am I supposed to be Brenda in this scenario—mother fuck!" The Tourette's kicked in, as my head reacted to the pitch of my tone impulsively; threatening whiplash.

Cradling my head in my hand, I took a measured breath and counted inwardly to ten.

"No, Marlena, you're Kellie Taylor. If you were Brenda you'd be lusting after your brother." Rose scoffed, as if it went without saying.

Alice on the other side of me snorted out a burst of laughter, and because the bitch couldn't utter anything in a tone below a high range octave, it caused me to jolt from the further torture it afflicted on my head.

I was ready to spew forth my reaction by the way of obscenities, when Rose slung her arm around me. "Bells, you know we love you, right?" I jerked my shoulders in irritation—more annoyed at my persistent hangover than I was at her—when she took a collected breath and added, "By the way, when you were in the shower Edward rang. He wants to know if you're okay to drive or if he should come and get you."

Celeste answered on my behalf; I was left rendered to a state of cryonics.

. . .

Alice insisted on driving me. In retrospect it was probably for the best; Celeste was my only coherent faculty, and was presently throwing a swinger's orgy with my stomach. Driving might have proven suicidal.

She dropped me off, allowing me to exit the car only after releasing me from her stranglehold of enthusiasm. Ironically, I was grateful. I needed the time to pull myself together while I reminded myself that it was Edward. We'd hung out for over a year, just the two of us, and despite spending most of my time in his presence, consumed by carnal thoughts, I'd always managed to stay at ease around him.

It didn't need to change just because I may or may not have had his tongue in my mouth.

But it was going to change, I hastily reminded myself. I was no longer his best friend's girlfriend, and whether I was comfortable in his presence or not was irrelevant; our time as buddies was up.

No more movie nights, no more games of ten pin; no more snuggling against him as I whored myself into denial over the word 'platonic' and its significance.

No more Edward Cullen.

As I walked up the stairs to his apartment, my heart slowed and my hangover—that had temporarily gone into remission—snapped back into place like elastic.

I wouldn't let myself foster any fantasies that Edward had invited me over to confess his true, undying love. If I had any chance of moving beyond this and learning anything from it, then I had to keep my mind focused on the cold, hard—brutal—facts.

Edward did not feel the same way, and if by some miracle he did, I had no right to come between him and Jake. He would resent me for it if I did!

No matter how I looked at it, the conclusion was always the same; the idea of Edward and me was little more than a wanton delusion.

You'd have thought it'd be enough to sober me up—or tame Celeste into submission.

It did neither.

When Edward opened the door, his smile had not changed; it was broad, askew and hinting with amused affection—making me wonder what I'd been expecting.

"I-I'm sorry," I blurted out as my face burned brazenly, but I still couldn't decide if I was more mortified that I'd kissed him than I was unrepentant.

He held my gaze comfortably, his grin peaking before he half rolled his eyes. "Get in here." The tenor of his voice was slightly gravelly as he grabbed my hand and pulled me through the door. Or maybe he sounded completely normal and I was hanging on to the last shred of hope knowing the heart break I was meant to feel over my boyfriend, the night before, was about to become a reality with Edward.

I stumbled forward, finding myself against him, with my lips pressing against the little indent in his skin where his collar bones met, as he pulled me in for a brief, warm hug.

"You're sporting a nice shade of green, Bella," he said with a small, soft laugh, after he'd released me. His eyes shone with the same familiar affection, but there was something very guarded about his expression.

I only nodded, shrugging one of my shoulders, and offered up a half-hearted smile in resignation.

"You sent me a text last night at about 3am," he explained, chuckling again to himself.

My heart stalled in a moment of dread, my mouth falling slightly agape. "Oh, god, what did I say?" I muttered, as I reached up and massaged my prickling brow.

A small smile remained curved on his lips, as he retrieved his phone, clicked his messages open and showed me the result of my early morning drunken confessions.

I puked in my hair, but I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!

I groaned, only semi beneath my breath and he laughed again; the timbre of it making Celeste stir.

There it was in black and white; I'd confessed my soul to him, but it didn't make an ounce of difference, because he was very obviously taking it as an exaggerated display of my platonic affections.

Platonic; there was that word again. And the one word that could slap a gag order on Celeste at the mere thought of it.

Fuck my life.

I'd been thinking that a lot lately, and for a little while "FML" had become my regular Facebook status. I used to enjoy the look of self-pity in words, until the day Jake replied with: a bit hard when you aren't doing any fucking lately.

The asshole obviously forgot the fact that my father was also added as one of my friends, and who'd consequently posted in reply: Thessalonians 4:3 - For this is the will of God, [even] your sanctification, that ye should abstain from fornication.

And within a few hours the entire membership of the Ladies Auxiliary Club, and the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club had all liked his comment.

To date, it still has the most likes on my Facebook—one of my many social media low points, and another source of great amusement for Rose.

Edward nudged me, snapping me from my present course of agitation.

"I thought we were going to wait till tonight to get drunk—at least, then I can hold your hair back." He grinned broadly, and rubbed his chin, obviously again finding great amusement at my expense.

Yeah I remember; he found me funny because I was adorable—adorable like a puppy. Man's best friend—man's best friend's girlfriend!

FML.

"Funny, Edward," I grumbled and scoffed out the equivalent of pissed off sarcasm.

His brow pulled together and his expression piqued with concern. "Are you pissed at me, Bella?"

This surprised me, and I looked up and met his gaze squarely. He appeared genuinely remorseful, his eyes darkening with it beneath his bridged forehead.

Did he have any idea how beautiful he was? Even with slightly bloodshot eyes and excess stubble. I had the almost irresistible urge to jump him, but then it was best I didn't cock-tease Celeste by entertaining such thoughts.

"Why would I be pissed off at you, Edward?" I asked him sincerely with entirely too much emotion behind my words. I quickly changed course, knowing I was about to end up in a pitiful state and attach myself to his leg. "You're my best friend and the only guy that never saw me as just a pussy with legs."

Of course this brought an immediate grin to his face as he quirked a teasing, dubious eyebrow. "Pussy?"

I rolled my eyes, already feeling myself relaxing as my smile pulled wide. This was Edward. Goofy, dependable, adorable Edward. My weekend buddy. Always there. . .

Fuck!

"Who says I don't look at you like that, anyway?"

I couldn't decipher his meaning. Was he serious? Teasing? Flirting?

My cynical side answered while I pondered, "Oh my God, Edward—I don't think you're gay!"

He chuckled, snorting it shortly as he exhaled. "I'm kidding, but I meant. . ." he broke eye contact for a moment as his hand ran to the back of his head, "I meant about last night."

It was so pleasant to see the reaction he had to my kissing him. He looked like he was suffering from an acute case of walked-into-a-spider's-web.

I sighed, feeling my face deepen as my self-esteem plummeted, while Celeste went AWOL. "I was told I kissed you, Edward. I'm sorry. I don't remember any of it."

His eyes met and locked with mine, while something flickered behind them. "You didn't kiss me, Bella. I kissed you," he admitted. His tone was vulnerable—raw, and as his eyes continued to canvass mine they began to magnify with it.

Celeste came gate crashing back, and began slapping me from my stupor. I think I blinked a couple of times and sucked in my bottom lip. I wasn't sure if it was a subconscious, carnal mannerism or I was checking to see if my jaw was still attached to my face.

"Y-you did?" I asked, becoming confused by the increasing look of uncertainty in his expression.

He began rubbing the back of his head again, his forehead knotting with what I could only describe as concentrated amounts of discomfort. "Yeah—I mean, I wasn't taking advantage of you, or anything, Bella," he explained in a rush, "but you—you were obviously needing the contact. You were upset and you wouldn't let me g—"

Oh, hell no!

"You pity kissed me!?" I interjected, my voice rising high with indignation.

"No—it wasn't like that!" he insisted, his eyes wide and earnest. He dropped his head again and continued to rub the nape of his neck, running his fingers into his hair. "I was kinda drunk as well."

"Oh, so you drunken pity kissed me!" I folded my arms and scoffed out my resentment, scowling at him.

I wasn't pissed at him; I was more pissed at the irony. Edward kissed me because he thought I was rebounding from Jake.

I further snorted in disgust, which of course, Edward took as my reaction to kissing me in the first place.

His face colored, his eyes flickering away from mine awkwardly.

But naturally I couldn't tell him that a huge part of me was overjoyed at the fact that he'd kissed me, even if it was out of pity—or even if I couldn't remember. Just knowing it had taken place was enough.

Exhaling deeply, I turned to sit down on his couch. With all the excitement—and anti-climaxes that promptly followed—my heart felt like it was about to short circuit, and I was beginning to feel light headed. Plus, I had to gather the strength and resolve I'd need to break up with him.

Dropping my head in my hands, I took another hopelessly drawn out breath.

He came and sat beside me, placing his hand on my knee and squeezing it gently. "I'm really sorry, Bella—it just . . . kind of happened."

I looked up at him; his eyes were gauging mine with so much intensity, I began to feel exposed. Yet, at the same time, they were darkening and seemed . . . troubled.

I grabbed his hand in mine and flashed him a small, reassuring smile. "I'm not upset that you kissed me, Edward." I looked down at his large, masculine hand in mine and felt the prickle of tears forming behind my eyes. Sniffing them back impatiently, I scoffed beneath my breath at how pitiful I was.

"What is it, Bella?" he prompted me, the tone of his voice dropping, squeezing my hand this time.

I looked up at him, not caring that my excess emotion would be misconstrued. He'd simply assume I was mourning Jake. "I'm going to miss you."

"Where are you going?" he was teasing me, yet his eyes, as they held mine, were burning. He took a rushed breath and nodded, reaching up to rub his forehead roughly with the heel of his palm. "I know—I know what you mean."

Well, that was . . . easy.

I sighed, letting my shoulders slump miserably. Did I expect him to challenge me? Fight for me?

"Let's go out tonight—one last time." He attempted to pull me closer to him, but I stiffened, refusing to budge.

"No, I can't," I whispered.

"Do you have plans?"

I only shook my head in answer.

He inhaled sharply, his hand in mine tensing. "Bella, I've spent every Saturday night with you for the last twelve months. One more isn't going to hurt." He sounded frustrated.

I raised my head and glared at him defiantly. "You kept me distracted while Jake fucked half of Washington!"

He reacted like I'd slapped him. Yanking his hand free from mine, he pulled himself to his feet.

"Well that's fucking nice isn't it, Bella! Is that all you saw me as—an extension of Jake?" He stared down at me, his expression hard, but the seriousness behind his eyes had remained steadfast.

I lunged to my feet defensively. "What you were was my consolation—and I was yours"—liar, Celeste raged at me—"I can't do it anymore, Edward, and I don't want to!" I yelled in response, my voice wavering; threatening to break and unleash more tears on me that would immediately contradict me.

Biting down on my lip stubbornly, I continued to hold his gaze; his gaze that was now shining with undisguised pain.

I'd hurt him. Just as I'd intended.

He severed eye contact, his brow bunching deeply, before he looked down and placed his hands on his hips. "I didn't want you to be my consolation. I just wanted to talk to you about something." There was a sharp edge to his words, but otherwise his tone validated how much I'd upset him.

Did I want to sever ties with him hating me? With him thinking that he didn't mean anything more to me than Jake's best friend?

The very idea of it seemed like blasphemy, but even if I denied it, it would still be a lie.

I was in love with him, completely and painfully in love with him. Without that one piece of the puzzle, everything else was irrelevant. I'd spent so much time with him because I'd fallen in love with him; I allowed our friendship to become so close because I was in love with him; and I'd allowed him to believe a lie because I was in love with him.

Our friendship was a lie; Edward was only seeing one version of the truth. I never wanted to be friends with him. In the beginning I wanted only Jake and in the end it had changed to Edward.

I had never stopped being Celeste, because I never wanted friendship from either of them.

Without a word I turned to leave, but I couldn't take a single step away from him; my limbs were frozen. I stood with my back to him, fighting the tears with every breath that I took. If I broke down and admitted even half of what I felt for him, it would just make it a whole lot worse to walk away. And it wouldn't make any difference, because what we had was connected to Jake, and like that farce of a relationship, this too had to end.

"I'm leaving with Jake, Bella. To Seattle. Realistically, I probably won't ever see you again after I've gone, and I-I just wanted to properly say goodbye." His tone was soft and almost devoid of emotion—until he'd spoken that last word.

I took a shuddering breath in that immediately hitched; my heart completely seizing in my chest.

He's leaving?

I placed my palm over my clenching heart; it was breaking beneath it.

He's leaving.

"You might have seen me as just a part of your relationship with Jake, Bella, but I didn't. You meant . . . a lot more to me. . ."

He's leaving . . . with Jake.

And that was pretty much the nail in the coffin.

I could have spared myself the agony of this moment, because Edward had already planned on doing it for me.

"You said goodbye last night, when you kissed me," I answered in a barely controlled whisper and without turning around to face him.

And with that said, I forced my legs forward and fled from his apartment.

I raced down the stairs with tears blurring my vision; stumbling and almost killing myself on the last step. After I was sent sprawling through the main entrance doors to the apartment building, I was soon presented with another problem.

My car wasn't in the lot, because I'd completely forgotten that Alice had driven me.

I snorted humorlessly and zipped open my bag furiously, searching for my phone.

Not there.

"Fucking—dammit!" I burst, practically yelling out my frustration and stamping the ground in a fit of rage.

I was pissed off—so pissed off that I wanted to punch something until my knuckles bled, but I could already feel it rapidly fading. Celeste was MIA, well ahead of me, and what I was left with, what I could feel advancing on me with each beat of my heart, was pure, heart wrenching anguish.

I, Bella Swan, liar and best friend stealing whore, was heartbroken.

And I had a feeling heartbreak and me were going to become very, intimately acquainted with each other.

Well, no time like the present, they say.

Bowing my head into my hands, I sobbed wretchedly. It was genuinely pitiful, complete with snot, slobber and sharp, shuddering breaths, but I was at the complete mercy to it.

. . .

After getting myself under some kind of control, I set out for the hour, or so, it would take me to walk home. However, I didn't get more than half a mile down the road when a car skidded to a stop beside me.

I looked over in surprise, and found myself once again staring into Edward's unfathomable gaze.

"Bella, what are you doing—are you going to walk all the way home? Get in the car!" he demanded, sounding exasperated, reefing his hand back through his hair.

"I'm fine! I think I'll take a rain check on the pity, if that's okay," I retorted, but only sounded meek and weary, as opposed to self-assured like I was hoping to.

I turned away from him, hearing him huff, before the sound of his car door slamming. In the next instant he was standing before me.

"Bella, I'm not going to let you walk home, so just get in the car." He sighed.

"Fuck you, Edward—I'm walking!" I made to shove past him, but he grabbed my hands, holding them firmly in his.

"I get it—okay! You're pissed at Jake, so you're pissed at me. That's fine—just get in the fucking car!" His voice rose, he was angry—he was frustrated—and there was something about his expression that made my stomach squirm and my heart quicken.

Oh my god, even now I was spontaneously mind fucking him—the two of us having angry sex.

Did I have any self-respect?

I felt the brazen hue immediately lodge in my cheeks. I blinked a couple of times, pulling up short, before—in a moment of fluster—my logic went off the rails and I threw a tantrum. "Fuck Jake and fuck you and fuck this shit! Fuck—dammit, I hate—"

And then, taking me completely by surprise and instantly silencing my hissy fit, he promptly lifted me off the ground and threw me over his shoulder.

Hello, Daddy!

I think that was Celeste's sentiments, but as I was slung over his shoulder clinging to the back of his shirt, in complete shock, I wasn't altogether sure.

He dumped me in the passenger seat, huffing to himself, with a scowl on his face, and while one part of me was indignant that he'd manhandled me, the other—greater, whorish—part of me was so seriously turned on that I had to bite down on my lip to physically restrain myself.

"Bella, seriously—you're acting worse than one of my students!" And before I had the chance to respond, he slammed the door on me and stormed around the front of the car to get back into the driver's side.

Not that I had anything ready to say, even if he had given me the opportunity.

Starting the engine, he pulled his car aggressively into gear, all without turning to look at me.

I only stared at him, while everything I'd said to him in his apartment was wiped from my thoughts. All I could focus on were the muscles in his jaw as they clenched, and the way his eyebrows pushed together in irritation, making him appear suddenly volatile. . .

I tried to shake myself back to the reality that only moments before I'd come to terms with, but my mind wouldn't stop from playing out scenes before me.

Me, climbing on his lap while he was driving, and him slamming on his brakes, before tearing the clothes from my body, and taking me with my back pressing hard against the steering wheel. Feeling his lips run down my neck and over my shoulders, while his large, tender hands cupped and kneaded my breasts—

I cleared my throat; it was a difficult thing to do considering my mouth seemed suddenly parched. My blood was burning through my veins, flooding me in a desire that was ripping my soul to shreds. It pounded in my already ignited cheeks, and tingled to the very surface of my skin.

I was suddenly on fire, and all previous rational thought was completely conquered.

We stopped at a red light and Edward turned to glance at me—only briefly before he turned back to the road. But he'd noticed the state of me, and slowly his eyes returned to mine.

"Bella—what?" He sounded aggravated, but the tone of his voice had softened.

He was one clueless male that was for sure!

"You're not my consolation," I spoke softly—from out of nowhere—considering I hadn't made a conscious decision to say anything of the kind to him.

He released his breath and dipped his head for a moment, before his eyes once again met mine. "I know I'm not. You're not my consolation, either."

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about—moving to Seattle?" I sat up a little in the seat, feeling my arousal quickly giving way to emotion again—but not fully. It was amalgamating together, making me feel like a horny neurotic with a masochistic psychosis.

He released his breath again, scanning our surroundings quickly, before he dropped his hand gently on my knee. "Hold tight for minute."

The few brain cells that I still had functioning after last night knew this wasn't going to end well, but they were presently overshadowed by visions of needy, emotional sex on the hood of his car.

This was despite the fact that he was about to explain to me in further detail that he was leaving.


A/N: if you're new to this fic, let me know your thoughts; if not, I hoped you enjoyed. See you next time.