"Hold still."

"I don't trust you."

"Why don't you trust me?"

"Because you aren't gentle, that's why not."

I giggle softly. "You're full of shit."

"I am not," He sucks air through his teeth, "Careful."

"Stop being such a baby, Rollins."

"Look, just don't yank it out, alright? I don't want you to- Fuck!" He jerks his arm away from me, holding the back of his elbow. "Goddamn it, Pip!"

I snicker with a mischievous smile, holding a fishing hook up to view. "I got it."

"Yeah and did you snag some of my fucking skin with it?" Dwight scoffs, trying to inspect the small, bloodying puncture in his flesh.

"Relax, man, it would've hurt more if I had gone at the pace you wanted me to go."

"I didn't want you to rip a chunk of flesh out," He touches a finger to it, "Did you?"

I shove his shoulder a little, before getting up from the beach towel. "No, you're still in one piece. Come over to the water."

"Why?"

"To wash it out, dummy."

He stands up and walks over to me by the river's edge. I scoop up some water with my hands, bringing it up to his elbow, and releasing it over the blood. Dwight winces the first time, but not when I repeat the process again and then a few more times until the blood is cleaned off his arm.

I lightly brush a wet hand over the wound. "There."

"Is it clean?"

"Mhm." I lazily wander back to our spot and plant it.

D does the same shortly after. "It's getting late."

"Yeah."

"We should probably head back soon." He adds.

"Yep." I wrap my arms around my legs, looking out at the river and trees, "Did you hear about that fight today at school?"

"Kinda," He replies, still looking over his elbow, "What happened?"

"I guess Janna Leone wrote something mean about Sarah Wallis on the bathroom stall."

"What'd she write?"

"That Sarah let some guys from the football team take turns touching her tits," I inform him with a chuckle, "Like bare titties."

"Tch, that's a lie." D furrows his brows.

"That's what I said," I laugh, "Janna's just mad, because Ryan broke up with her and started dating Sarah."

"Right and I doubt anyone on the football team would keep it a secret, if it were true."

"Yeah," I agree, resting my head on my knees, gazing at him, "Would you keep it a secret if I let you touch mine?"

"I have touched yours."

"No, I mean like...bare tits?" I softly inquire. Dwight stops what he's doing and looks over at me, lowering his arm. I gaze back. "Would you tell people?"

He shakes his head. "No."

I sit up, turning myself his way. "Do you want to?"

"Hello?"

"Hi, Sherry?" I reply, while groaning internally because she answered.

"Yeah," She says back, "Is this Pippa?"

"Yeah, it's me," I crouch down, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder, as I tie Jolyon's shoes,"I just got your message about Friday night."

"Oh, great! Can you make it?"

I open the front door so we can leave the house for work and daycare. "Um...yeah, I can come. What time?"

"How does six sound?" Sherry asks. I can hear a shower running in the background.

"That sounds perfect." I lie, fastening Jolyon into his car seat.

"Awesome! I've been meaning to have you over for awhile now, but D's usually gone Friday nights."

"He works late?" I inquire, pretending I don't already know that.

"Yes, he doesn't usually come home on the weekends until early Saturday mornings, but I finally pinned him down," She jokingly chuckles, "Well, I'll see ya then, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." I answer.

"Okay, bye, Pippa!" She hangs up.

"Bye." I toss my phone into my purse and start the car, tapping my index finger to the steering wheel.

...

There's a meeting after school today, which means I have to bring Jolyon and prey to high fucking heaven that he won't be too disruptive. When we get into the boardroom, Jolyon immediately asks if we can sit next to his new pal, Negan, whom he didn't get to see yesterday because I decided not to stay after work after our little chat in my car. I shush him and quietly maneuver us over to a chair on the left of him.

"Hey, champ, long time, no see." Negan smiles at him. "How's it going?"

"Mommy yelled at me the other day," Jolyon relays, "And made me cry, because she hurted my feelings."

"That seems like something she'd do." Negan's eyes blink up to me.

"It's okay, she got scared that I ran away." Jolyon explains innocently.

"We were in a store," I tell Negan, although I'm not sure why, "I turned around he was gone."

"Mommy had to get vitamins that only she gets to have. I'm not allowed to have them."

"Hey, Jol, why don't you take out your coloring book and color under the table?" I unzip his backpack and pull out the book and some crayons.

"Okay."

"Just stay by my feet only, alright? Or else you might get stepped on." I smile as he sits right at my feet, before looking back at Negan. "What?"

He gives me the up and down with his eyes, then smiles. "Nothing."

"No, really, what?" I scoff.

"Hey!" Lourdes comes over, greeting me and only me. She sits down next to me. "This oughta be good."

"Why?" I ask.

"Diane told me that the school board is not too happy with the grade average this quarter."

"Oh," I nod, "But the quarter's not over yet."

"It's not that big of a deal," She claims, rolling her eyes, "They're always a little wonky first quarter and then they bolster for the rest of the year. The district's just worried they won't get raises at the end of the year. We're the ones that have to put in the effort and they get rewarded for it. " She scoffs, looking at Negan. "Glad our backs can provide such good elevation for them."

Negan turns in his chair, staring back at her with a smirk. "Yeah, especially yours, since we know it's fucking sturdy."

"Go fu-" Lourdes stops herself when the principal walks in. She instead gives him a fierce glare, which he responds to with a humored grin.

The meeting is about just what Lourdes told me beforehand. Mr. Coolidge blandly gives us the lowdown, making it clear that neither he, nor the district is blaming anyone in particular. Jolyon's pretty good through the whole thing, occasionally tapping my knee to get my attention. When I discreetly glance beneath the table to see what he wants, it's usually just to show me what he drew, or to wave hello. Lourdes tunes it all out, looking off around the room, or down at her phone.

Negan, like Lourdes, doesn't appear to be interested in what's being said either. At least the others are trying to act like they care. Negan's just slowly rotating his chair side to side, while clicking his tongue every once in awhile in boredom. He probably heard all this at home, since his wife is the superintendent. After a few minutes, he sits up and scoots himself forward, bringing himself to the table more.

Jolyon moves under me and as soon as I feel him touch my leg again, I put my hand over his, clasping gently. Except...it's not his hand. These fingers feel too long and weathered to be his. That's when I realize it's Negan's semi-calloused hand that I'm holding. I calmly look over at his dirty grin, before shoving his hand off. I roll my chair to the side to create some distance.

"Ow!" Jolyon cries out as a wheel to the chair rolls over one of his fingers.

"Shit!" I push my chair back to get him. He emerges from under the table, crying and holding up his finger at me. I pick him up and stand to leave the room. "Sorry!" I mouth to Mr. Coolidge, as I exit.

"You...squished...my...finger!" Jolyon says between sobs.

"I know, honey, I'm sorry!" I set him down in Diane's chair at the reception desk. "Let me see."

"It's broken!"

"No, it's not," I kiss his finger, "It's okay, Jolyon."

"It hurts to bend it." He whimpers, calming down.

I kiss it again. "It's fine, I promise."

The rest of the faculty exits the boardroom. Diane comes over and pulls a lollipop out of the candy jar, giving it to Jolyon to make him feel better.

"Are you okay?" Lourdes bends down, wiping a tear stream from his face. Jolyon nods, while sucking on the candy. "See ya tomorrow." She smiles at me.

"Bye." I smile back.

"Bye, Pippa." Diane waves as she gathers up her purse and keys.

"See ya, Diane."

I straighten up. "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah." Jolyon says.

"You forgot these." Negan comes up with my purse and Jolyon's backpack in his hand.

"Thanks." I take them, handing the backpack to Jolyon.

"Any chance there's reward for returning 'em to you?"

"Yeah," I nod my head, "The rewarding feeling of doing something good for another person."

"How about something better?" He chuckles.

I take Jolyon's hand and start to walk out. "Consider me not breaking your hand to be just that."

Negan grins wide, letting out a small laugh. "It turns me on when you say feisty shit like that."

"So take a cold shower." I reply, chuckling.

"Take one with me."

I snap a look at him. "You know what'll lessen your chances? Talking like that in front of my son, so keep it up."

"He's not even paying attention," Negan points out, "Right, kid?"

Jolyon doesn't respond, too preoccupied with bending his ran over finger. I roll my eyes and then give Negan a tired stare. "It still isn't appropriate."

"So...there is a chance of you and me knocking boots again?"

"I don't know, maybe." I open the door of my Jeep and Jolyon gets in.

"When?" He presses.

I curl my lip in annoyance, buckling Jolyon into his seat. "Don't you have better things to fucking worry about?"

"Mommy, you said a bad word." Jolyon whispers.

"Sorry," I quickly apologize, before looking to Negan for an answer, "Well?"

Negan shrugs casually. "Are there better fucking things?"

"Probably," I close Jolyon's door, "And if not, then at least focus on wetting your dick with someone a little more interested in you."

"You're interested in me?" He inquires with a grin.

My raised brow settles. "Only for my own selfish reasons and to be honest with you; I'm sure I can do better."

"And yet you fuckin' chose me, didn't you?"

"Well, like I said yesterday," I smirk at him before climbing into my car, "You were easy pickings, peach."

I slam the door close and stick my key in the ignition. As I turn it to start the car, the engine stalls a little before firing up. I really hope he didn't see, or hear that, because I felt pretty powerful just a second ago and now I'm a little stunted.

I forgot to set anything out for dinner, so I call Mom on the way home to see if maybe we can come over to eat there. I don't know why I even asked, because she barely needed me to finish my sentence before cheerfully telling me to come.

When we finally get to their house, Jolyon goes inside, while I hang back to smoke. My dad comes out right after my mom ushers her grandson indoors. He sits down next to me on the porch swing, quiet. I always use to think my dad had some type of magic to him. Or maybe divinity, like a god, because he always has this way about him. It's a wise quietude that makes you feel either really at ease, or on the verge of confession, because you know he has some idea about you, but you know he's not judging you.

He doesn't even have to say anything direct and interrogative. Dad just has to say something simple like, "How's it goin'?" and I feel understood and compassioned with to the point that I want to open up and tell all. I use to think it was magic, or grace, but now I'm older and, to some extent, wiser and I know it's just because my dad is a good listener.

"Rough day?" He finally speaks.

"What makes you say that?" I exhale smoke, staring off across the street.

"You just seem a little off is all."

"I haven't been on for a long time, Dad."

"That's true," Dad gently agrees.

"I got a call from Sherry Rollins, Dwight's wife, last night," I drag from my cigarette, "She invited me over for dinner Friday night."

Dad's silent for a few moments. "Are you going?"

"Yeah," I turn my head to look at him, "Do you think that's a dumb idea?"

He scratches the side of his eye. "Why would it be dumb of you to have dinner with old friends?"

I glance forward again and nod, understanding and disappointed. "Okay."

...

Today's another day of putting my head down at my desk at lunch. I'm morbidly tired after getting some pretty shitty shut eye, or lack thereof, last night. Jolyon asked if he could sleep in my room again and while he didn't ask a million question until he fell asleep like usual, I didn't luck out on his feet kicking and laying across me. Sometimes, if he scoots himself close enough, one of his hands will take hold of my some of my hair, which occasionally leads to inadvertent hair pulling. Outside looking in, this is a very cute, tender hearted scene fit for a commercial, but let me assure you that I slept in reality last night and it fucking sucked.

Lourdes has ASL club today, so thank god she's too busy to ask if I want to have lunch together, although I could really use an espresso. About fifteen minutes into the lunch period, my door opens.

"Seriously," I grumble with my head cradled on my folded arms, "You need to stay approximately fifty away from me at all times."

"Sorry?"

I sit upright and spy Diane with a confused look on her face. "Oh, Diane. I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"Oh," She giggles, "That's a relief. Are you alright? You had your head down."

"Yeah, I'm fine, just tired," I smile, despite not having the energy for it, "Is there something you need?"

"Oh, yes," She hands me an orange flyer, "There's a staff potluck on Halloween and I know it's three weeks away, but Mr. Coolidge insisted I let people know ahead of time."

"Okay, thanks." I read over the paper and all it's dumb Halloween puns.

"You bet, see ya." Diane turns to leave and is almost hit with the door, as it opens more. "Oh, you," She says, displeased, handing out another flyer, "Here."

"Thanks, Di," Negan smirks, as she steps past him to leave. He looks over the flyer. "I'm not fuckin' going to this."

"I don't think you're necessarily invited," I murmur, laying my head back down, "But they have to invite everyone to avoid complaints to the school district."

"Did you get a little too heavy-handed with the sauce again last night?" Negan humorously chuckles, tossing his flyer in the recycle bin.

"Excuse the fuck outta you, I have only come in with a slight hangover once, so shut the fuck up with that, will you?" I turn my head to face away from view of him. "That's so fucking annoying."

"Jesus, take a fucking joke, why don't you?"

There's a screeching, dragging sound that makes it's way up to my desk. I lift my head up to find him sitting down in a desk he drug closer to mine. I can feel the bags under my eyes as I blink dully at him clasping his hands together in front of him on the desk, blinding me with a sunnyside up smile.

"Get out." I tell him.

"Oh, come on, Pip," Negan leans back in his seat, "Don't be an asshole."

"What do you want?" I inquire, exhausted. "Wait, let me guess. You want to know when we can have sex again, right?"

Negan raises his brows to his forehead. "I was just coming in here to shoot shit with my friend, who's kind of lousy as hell at being a friend."

"We're not friends."

"Man, you are such a bitch, you know that?" He says with a smile on his face.

"Why?" I scoff, "Because I'm not gonna hop on every time you come around? Because I'm not eager to be with you?"

"I'm not use to the rejection, admittedly." Negan chuckles.

"Yeah, well, you're not all that." I cover my eyes with my hands, letting out a deep breath.

"You alright?"

"Fine, thanks," I take my hands away, "Just tired is all."

"Maybe it's time to flip the mattress."

I huff. "I don't think it's the mattress."

"Then what is it?" Negan asks.

"None of your business." I answer with a bleak smile; "My parents are going to pick up Jolyon from Happy Hands on Friday so, if you want, we can do it then."

...

Friday night rears it's ugly head and every mile and half mile has me contemplating cracking open the bottle of wine I'm bringing along as a gift to Sherry for having me over. I can't believe I agreed to do this. What the hell was I thinking?

I spritz some perfume on me to mask any hints that I let Negan have me on his desk three hours prior. I ran a wet wipe from my purse over myself afterwards to be on the cautious side. I also pop a mint just to settle my stomach.

I park where I did last time I was here. I look at their house that's lit from within behind curtains. I get out and stroll up to the porch lighted door, ringing the doorbell. I can hear Sherry call out for Dwight to answer the door inside. A few seconds later, the door opens.

Dwight stands before me with an aloof, causal expression. "Hey."

"Hi." I hold the bottle of wine nervously in my hands, still standing outside.

"Dwight, something's not right!" Sherry shouts from the kitchen.

Dwight looks back and then steps aside for me enter. As soon as I'm in, he closes the door and walks back into the kitchen where Sherry seems to be struggling by the stove. Dwight glances in the pan she's poking a spatula in.

"Did you put butter, or cooking spray in the pan?" He asks her.

"Uh, no, I forgot." She sighs, letting him take over.

"You're supposed to put something down." He mumbles.

"Hi!" She greets me with a smile, "I'm glad you could come."

"Yeah," I smile back, extending the wine, "I brought this for you. I don't if it'll go with dinner, but I was raised not to show up without some type of thanks."

"Oh, no, this is perfect, we're having fish!" Sherry reads the bottle. "Thank you."

"No problem." I grin, looking over at Dwight who's purposely focused on the pan.

The dinner that Sherry apparently attempted without Dwight's help is finished by Dwight. Sherry laughs, telling me that she usually tries to tell people she's a good cook, but since I've seen the truth, there's no use in lying about the fact that Dwight does majority of the cooking around their house. Dwight's fairly quiet the whole meal, only ever talking when Sherry asks him something, or makes a remark about how quiet he's being.

I'm a little subtle myself at first, but a few glasses of wine fixes that. Sherry and I talk about our cheerleading days and cackle over the funny memories. After dinner, Sherry invites me to the living room to have more wine and chat more.

"Stay here, I'll be right back." She says, before striding off out of the room and down the hall.

I take a sip of my wine, looking over my shoulder towards the kitchen where Dwight offered to do the dishes. Probably just so he wouldn't have to be in the same room in his house as me. Sherry returns with what I instantly recognize to be our senior yearbook.

"I found this the other day," She smiles, "I was doing laundry in the garage and the box it was in was down off the shelf."

"Oh, wow," I itch my eyebrow, "I don't even have mine in my possession."

"You tossed it?" Sherry gasps, as she gets on her knees by the coffee table.

I sip my wine. "Mm, no, my mom has it along with my bedroom exactly how I left it when I went off to college."

"Oh!" She laughs, opening up the yearbook. We both look through the pages and I'm somewhat glad that I'm a little drunk, because it lessens the blow. "You were so popular back then, I swear, you show up every five pages."

I look down in my glass. "I knew a girl in yearbook."

Sherry chuckles. "Here's varsity cheer," I lean forward to look at where her finger's pointing, "There's me and... You, right there."

"Yeah." I stare at younger Pippa whose glowing smile is real and careless. She wouldn't be smiling if she knew what would happen to her six months later.

Sherry flips through some pages, casually mentioning a few people she recognizes and what they're up to nowadays.

"God, I can't believe I went out with this guy," She points to a picture of the captain of the football team, "Do you remember Dean Casterly?"

"Yeah, I think so."

She rolls his eyes. "Ugh, what a loser. You know what he's doing now? Seven years for trying to rob a bank."

"No way!" I chuckle, drinking more wine.

"Way!" She laughs out, "It was in Waltersville. He didn't even have a gun, it was just his hand in his pocket!"

I almost spit out my wine in laughter. "Jesus Christ!"

"Right?" Sherry holds her glass up to her lips, flipping the page. "Oh my gosh, look!"

She indicates to a picture on the detention page, which was supposed to be funny and lighthearted. The photo she wants me to look at is of me and Dwight sitting in adjacent desks with big smiles on our faces.

"What were you in for?" Sherry giggles.

"We-" I stop when I hear the back door in their kitchen open and close, then footsteps. "We, uh...we ditched first and second period and got caught trying to sneak into third."

"Why first and second?" She inquires, humored, "Why not the last two periods of the day?"

"Because the Denny's in Little Water was giving away free grand slams that day, but only from six to ten and Dwight wanted to go."

"How funny," Sherry notes, "You guys went to prom together, right?"

"Uh, yeah, we did." I answer, suddenly downtrodden.

"Aw, there you are!" She opens up the prom page. "Look how cute!"

I glance down at the picture and my eyes flicker up when I spot Dwight slowly leaning on the entranceway.

"Oh, honey, can you make some coffee, please?" Sherry asks him upon seeing him.

"Yeah, sure." He goes off to the kitchen.

"Yeah, I guess I should have some, so I can home," I put down my glass on the coaster, "It's getting late."

"If you want, I can have D follow you to make sure you get home alright."

"Oh, no, that's okay. I don't want to inconvenience anyone."

"Nonsense, he didn't drink tonight, right, hon?" Sherry calls, looking towards the kitchen.

"What?" He yells back.

"Have you had anything to drink?"

"No." Dwight says and the smell of coffee blooms in about then.

"See?" She smiles back at me, "It's really no big deal. Besides, I'd feel better knowing you got home safely."

"Um, okay."

Dwight brings us two mugs of coffee ten minutes later, and then sits down in the armchair in the corner.

Sherry cackles at her senior photo. "God, that was such a bad look."

I smile at the picture. "I think it's nice."

"Please, some people are just not meant to have bangs," She continues, "Barnes, Barnes... There you are! Did you do your own make up here?"

"No, my older sister did," I claim, looking over the portrait, "I didn't start wearing makeup until after high school."

Sherry nods, turning the pages, "Look, D, it's you! Aw, you were always handsome. I always had such a crush on you...since the tenth grade, I think."

I force the rest of my sort of too hot coffee down my throat. "Well, I better call it a night."

"Okay," Sherry stands when I do, wobbling a bit, "Dwight, I told Pippa you'd follow her to make sure she gets home alright."

"Alright." Dwight rises and walks out of the room.

"Well, thanks for coming," Sherry hugs me, "This was fun. We'll have to do it again."

"Yeah." I murmur, taking in the alcoholic scent between us. I tread lightly, steadier than I would be without the coffee.

Dwight shrugs on a flannel and grabs his car keys from a hook. "Ready?"

I swallow the aching lump in my throat. "Yeah."

"Drive safe." Sherry tells the both of us, pecking Dwight on the lips, before walking off to go to bed.

We get outside and I wait for Dwight to lock the door, before heading to my car. He turns around and looks at me. "I could just drive you home."

"I can't leave my car here." I huff, rubbing my tired eyes.

"Sher and I can drive it back to yours tomorrow morning." He suggests.

"I'm fine," I put an assuring hand up, "You'll be right behind me."

I drive fairly even down the road, rolling down the windows to let in some cold air and playing some music a little more loudly than the hour might prefer. Occasionally, I straighten out if I feel like I'm not in the middle of my lane. Another tear producing song comes on, rolling hot ones down my face that chill against the night air blowing in. I swipe them away, feeling a slight sting from my mascara running and possibly getting into my eyes.

There's an abrupt honk coming from behind me and I look into the rearview to see Dwight's headlights flash twice. I get the sense he wants me to pull over, so I do. I dab a teddy bear tissue on my face to try and compose myself.

"Get out." Dwight scares me a little when he's suddenly at my window.

"What?" I rub the tissue under my nose.

"You keep swerving," He irritably informs me, "I'm gonna drive you the rest of the way."

"It's not that far, Dwight."

"I don't care, get out of your car." Dwight firmly demands.

"I don't want to leave my car here." I croak.

"I'll come back and get it for you, if you let me drive you home."

I sigh and nod my head. "Okay."

I get out and fumble a little, but manage to get myself into his car. Dwight shuts my door and then walks around to get in. After closing his door, he starts his car and drives. I glance at the sticky notes on the glove compartment with Sherry's handwriting.

"I don't understand."

Dwight looks briefly over at me. "What?"

"A few weeks ago in the grocery store?" I take a deep breath. "You said she wouldn't call me and then she invites to your party and now to dinner...and she's so nice. I don't understand...is she playing some sort game, like making fun of me, or is she just pretending like you and I didn't date?" I run my tongue across my dry lips. "Or maybe she just likes me."

He's silent until he takes the turn down my neighborhood. "I don't know," He sighs, "But you were wrong by the way."

"What?" I scoff.

"You told her that we skipped first and second because I wanted to go the Denny's," Dwight explains, evenly, "But it was you that wanted to go. I didn't want to ditch, because I knew we'd get caught and then my mom would take my car keys."

"You still ditched, though."

"Because you did," Dwight pulls up to my house and turns the truck off, "Here you are."

I reach into my purse and take the house key off my ring. "Here's my car keys, so you can get inside."

"Okay." Dwight takes them.

I hesitate to get out. "Hey, D?"

"What?"

"...Nevermind." I chicken out

I wander up to my door, struggle to get it unlocked, and then drop my purse on the floor by the bench where it usually goes. I shake my curls out from the bun I had them in and kick off my shoes, before padding to my bedroom. I peel off my layers of clothes and drop them in my hamper and on the floor close to my hamper. I drape on an old t-shirt and some shorts that the shirt covers.

After washing my face, I roam back out of my bedroom and into my kitchen. I find some leftover pizza in my fridge and set the box down on the counter. I hop up on available spot next to the box and eat the pizza cold. I work out the kinks in my neck as I chew, observing the bruise that's formed on the back of my left leg from it getting banged up against one of Negan's drawer handles.

I can't tell you how thrilled that fucker was to have me close the door to his office this afternoon when the basketball team left. I had to throw away my stockings, because he ripped them by accident, if you can believe that, when he hastily pulled them down for me.

It pains me to admit this, but the man is good. I won't ever give him that satisfaction of knowing, physically, or verbally. I have to keep my teeth sharp, otherwise Negan would just chew me up and spit me out. He looks the type, so better I devour him before he does me. Eat, or be eaten, you know?

I tear into my third piece of cold cheese pizza. I'm tired as all hell, but I can't go to sleep until Dwight gets back with my car and keys. Pip saunters into the kitchen, making his way to me, and snaking his tail affectionately across my dangling ankles. I pet him with my foot for a few minutes, until I'm done eating.

I hop off the counter and immediately feel lightheaded and nauseous. I take a dizzy step forward and then swing around for the sink, vomiting. Fuck. I empty my stomach into the sink.

"Shit." Dwight curses behind me.

"What are you doing?" I groan at him, gripping the counter. "You just enter people's houses?"

"The door wasn't even closed all the way," He scoffs, "And I had to give you back your keys."

"Yeah, well-" I hurl again before I can finish. My clump of curls are held back by Dwight, until I'm done. "Thank you."

"Sure."

I flip on the water to wash down the puke and then let the garbage disposal take care of the rest. Next, I cup some water to my mouth, spitting it out after swishing it around.

"Did you walk all the way back to my car?"

"Yeah." He nods.

"Do you want some water, or something?" I ask, going into Jolyon's bathroom for some mouthwash "How about some coffee and a menu?"

"I'm good," Dwight rasps, either not hearing my attempt at a joke, or simple ignoring it, "It wasn't too far a walk."

"You sure? You sound a little hoarse." Without an answer, I spit out the mouthwash and barefoot it back into the kitchen.

I pick a glass out of the cupboard and turn the sink on. When the glass is three quarters of the way occupied with water, I shut the sink off. I turn around to see him lingering in the doorway between the kitchen and front door.

"Here." I offer him the glass from where I stand by the sink.

D looks from my eyes to the glass, in contemplation, and then back to my eyes. He then cautiously approaches like I'm some kind of witch, luring him in.

Dwight takes the glass of water from me. "Thanks."

"My pleasure." I watch as he drinks down the water from the glass until it's all gone.

"Here." He hands me back the glass, wiping his upper lip.

"Thanks." I flip on the sink and get a splash of water. I drink it gone and then set the communal glass in the sink. My sight goes back to him. "Well, I guess you should head home."

"Yep."

I exhale. "Thanks again for bringing me home and tell Sherry I had a good time."

Dwight nods. "I will."

"Okay, then," I clear my throat, "Formalities covered."

He nods his head, quietly, again. "Yeah."

"I'll walk you to the door, so I can lock it."

"I left your keys on the table."

"That's fine." I grin bleakly, tiredly, as I trudge over to the door.

I open the door, letting in a chilly wind. Dwight fishes out his own keys from his pocket, glancing down at the floor.

"Goodnight." I say.

"Night."

Just before he fully exits, I gently pause him with my hand on his arm. "D, wait."

He looks my way with eyes just as worn out as mine. "What?"

"Can we forget about what happened at Lorelei's?" I ask.

Dwight moves his arm, sighing. "I don't think so, Pip."

"It was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing."

"Yes, it was," I beseech, "It was late and we were both tired and-"

"I still have feelings for you, Pippa." He interrupts, frustrated.

I stand, stunned by his confession; mouth agape and speechless. My eyes blink, heavy and docile as I try to make sense of what he just said.

"You do?" I finally rasp out.

"Yeah, I do." He confirms, barely audible.

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Why do you think?" Dwight scoffs, stepping out out my home and onto the porch. "I gotta go, I'll talk to you later."

I slam the door and lock it. I return to the kitchen where the gin's at, not bothering to get a glass. Then, I slink to the living room and lay down on the couch, fighting back an aching throat and rising tears. Pip leaps up and curls into a ball on my stomach, as I close my eyes.

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