He is so beautiful. I never see him calm and he rarely ever sleeps, even less so since Shayla's death. Yet here he is, curled on his side, eyes closed, perfectly tranquil. I scoot forward an inch so that I can kiss his nose. He doesn't stir, he's deep even breaths continue. I don't want to get up for work. I want to take his arm and put it over me and snuggle into his chest.

"I love you," I say into the air. "I love you. I love you. I love you." I couldn't have felt more cliché. I love him, but I can't get close enough. It irks me, but I know it's my own fault. I hold myself back. It's been this way for years. I wrote him letters in college, but never told him anything. Now, after Tyrell, after Billy, I'm too scared.

1010011010

I come home from work and there is a little fire in the microwave again. Microchips. "Elliot?"

"Hmm?" He looks up at me from his seat on the sofa. He follows my gaze to the top of the fridge. "It's alright."

I sit down next to him and stroke his forehead. He's lying and I want to lie back because I'm not sure if it will be. I don't know what I'm doing. I kiss his lips, but before he kisses me Flipper vomits.

"Shit," he sighs.

"Sit, sit," I order. "I've got this." I begin wiping up the puke with all the paper towels I can find, but I'm still closer to the mess than I would like. "Elliot…"

"What is it?"

"There's blood in the vomit," I tell him.

"Shit," he grabs his hoodie and then his phone rings. "Shit!"

He seems frazzled so I reach out to stop him. "I can take her."

1010011010

The lovely vet lady took some x-rays of Flipper's abdomen and then displayed them for me. "Is she micro-chipped?" she asks.

I shrug. I hope not, then she'll realize Flipper is not registered to a one Tara Moss, nor an Elliot Alderson.

"Does she normally eat trash?" she tries again.

Another riddle. "She's a rescue. We've only had her for a couple months. But she's been fine for those," I half lie.

The vet points out the mass inside of Flipper on the x-rays. "Good news, it's small so it'll pass on its own. But it's big enough she is still gonna be puking all over the place. I would crate her for a few days; monitor her."

"My boyfriend and I both work," I explain, hoping for an alternative to the monitoring part of her suggestion.

"Do you guys have a friend who could watch her?"

Shayla. I almost went an entire day without missing her. "We'll find someone," I lie.

1010011010

Walking Flipper home, I'm practically running. I need to get back to Elliot. Working a real job for the past three weeks, and he's stopped skiving off; I barely ever see him. I miss seeing him all the time. My phone rings and I know it can't be him because he doesn't talk on the phone. Another shared trait.

"Hello?"

"It's Angela. Can we talk?" says the other voice.

"Now's not the best time."

"I'm coming over. Now."

"I'm not home!" I try to tell her, but she has already hung up.

And despite the few things I already said on the phone, I find Ange waiting outside of the door. It is a bit of a haul from the vet's office to the apartment. "Well I told you I wasn't home," I grumble.

"I thought Elliot might be," she admits.

"What is it?" I groan and unlock the door.

She launches right into the case she's bringing against Colby and her plan and what she has on him. Elliot returns and sits down on the sofa next to me without a word. I hold his hand and Ange just keeps on talking. He pulls me closer, nearly onto his lap, and Ange just keeps on talking.

We are interrupted by another phone call. "What?" I demand. Elliot is finally here with me and my sister won't leave so I can't fuck him and now someone else wants to talk to me.

"Tara?"

It's been years since I had heard that voice. I was under the impression he had deleted my number. I had certainly deleted his. I jump off the sofa and rush out of the apartment for some privacy.