There's a leak in this boat.

Someone toss me a rope.

And a headrest for my, headrest for my soul.

- "Headrest for My Soul" by AWOLNation

Katara

By the time we leave the pub, the temperature has dropped even further and I'm grateful Zuko loaned me his hoodie. It's comfortable and warm, and it wraps around my body like a blanket. It smells nice, too, like him, like bamboo and teak wood and a little like woodsmoke. I catch myself wanting to bring the collar up to my nose to inhale the rich scent, but I don't.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" Zuko's voice is quiet in the still night.

I peer up at him to find that he's watching me. I smile. "Yeah, that would be nice."

We start in the direction of Pearl Street. Despite the chill in the air, we're moving slowly, like nectar in a sieve. It's as though neither of us are in any hurry to part ways. I know that I don't want him to leave, and I know I shouldn't feel that way. I have a boyfriend.

But there's something about Zuko that draws me in. I'm a moth to a flame.

I have to be careful. I can be friends with this intriguing stranger, but I can't be anything more than that. I love Jet. It doesn't matter that he's hours away from me, and that things haven't been the same with us since my mom died.

I don't know. It's like he doesn't know how to be with me anymore. He tiptoes around me, guarded and aloof. He handles me like I'm fragile, like I'm a piece of glass or like a delicate flower that he might crush in his hands if he's not careful. He's reserved with his words, like there's a dam on his tongue that filters his words.

I miss the Jet I used to know, the one who was never afraid to say what exactly was on his mind and would tell me not what I wanted to hear, but what I needed to hear. The Jet who stood by his convictions, whose eyes would ignite with a fire as we debated everything from politics to religion.

But that Jet is gone. Now he holds me in his hands like I'm going to break. It's frustrating. I just want him to talk to me. To treat me like I'm a person, not some breakable little thing.

It's not just Jet, either. It's my dad and my brother and my friends. They all treat me that way. I'm tired of people watching me, checking on me simply to see if I'm holding it together or if I'm cracking.

I'm not fragile like a flower. I'm fragile like dynamite. And sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode.

"Is everything okay?"

Zuko's voice breaks me from my reverie. I look up to see him watching me, his brow creased. I realize that we're almost to my house and I haven't said anything since we left the pub. I've been too lost in my own thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking." I smile reassuringly. "I had a lot of fun tonight. Thanks for letting me help you out."

"No, I should be thanking you for helping me." His lips turn up.

"You have." I chuckle. "At least accept my thanks for walking me home and taking me out to dinner."

I bite my tongue between my teeth. The words slipped out before I could stop them, and it's not until after they are hanging in the air between us that I realize I made it sound as if we were on a date.

Zuko's voice is muted in the chilly night. "You're welcome, Katara." The way he says my name sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.

Our feet crunch on gravel and I realize we're already at my house. I look up. The lights are on in the living room and Dad's truck is parked in the gravel. I slow down when we get to the stairs that lead up to the door and turn back to Zuko.

He looks radiant in the yellow glow of the porch light. His eyes are smoldering as he watches me, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.

"Thank you again for walking me home." I smile.

This is the part where if we were on a date, he might kiss me goodnight, or if I were bold enough, I would kiss him. But we're not on a date, so we just stand there looking at each other.

I thumb the hem of his jacket where it hangs against my thigh. "I guess I should give you back your hoodie," I say, but Zuko shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it." The corner of his lips tug up into a smile. "You can give it back to me tomorrow."

There's something in his eyes, a promise of something I can't quite name, but it causes a blush to rise in my cheeks.

"Okay." I look up at him. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah." He clears his throat. I wonder if it's a nervous habit. "What time is good for you?"

"Whenever it works for you," I say with a smile. "I don't have any plans, so I'm free all day."

He smiles back. "Is nine o'clock okay? Or is that too early?"

"That's perfect." I tell him it's fine, but the truth is that I'm not a morning person at all. But I want to see him again.

"Okay. I can come pick you up if you want."

"Yeah, that'll be fine."

We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. This is where we say goodbye.

I force the words past my lips. "Goodnight, Zuko."

"Goodnight, Katara."

I turn and go up the stairs. I pause with my hand on the doorknob and look back at him. He's shifted to stand to the side, and I see him profiled in the porch light. He looks a little lost.

He must sense my eyes on him because suddenly he's looking up at me. The shy smile is back. I smile at him, and then I open the door and go inside.

Dad is sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He's watching an old movie—Top Gun, if I'm not mistaken—and he looks up at me when I come inside. I see his eyes take in the unfamiliar jacket, and then he reaches for the remote and mutes the TV.

"Where have you been?" He poses the question casually, but I can see the curiosity in his eyes. He hasn't been drinking tonight. "You realize it's after 10, right?"

I glance up at the clock on the wall and my jaw drops open. It's almost eleven o'clock. How did time slip away from me? It was just after eight when we left the tea shop. Did we really spend over two hours at Nan's?

"Sorry, Dad."

I move toward the kitchen, but the sound of Dad's feet hitting the rug has me turning back toward him. He's got one eyebrow raised and his elbows on his knees, fingers tented in front of his face as he watches me.

"That's all the answer I get?" Dad makes a tsking noise.

"Well, if you had a cell phone, I could have called you. Or texted. I didn't know when you would be home." I offer him an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

Dad leans back on the couch. "Well, I don't need a cell phone, not with friends who call my landline to tell me my daughter is at Nan's eating with some guy who is not her boyfriend."

I narrow my eyes. If I had to guess who had ratted me out to my dad, it would be Bushi. He had come down from the pub when Zuko and I were almost done with our meal. He hadn't said anything to me, but I had caught his eye.

"So who is he?" Dad prompts.

"He's a friend," I answer. "His name is Zuko. He and his uncle bought Zei's old place. I was helping Zuko paint it today, and to thank me, he bought dinner."

For a moment Dad studies me. "Ah." His eyes fall onto the hoodie. "I see." He meets my gaze. "When did you meet this guy?"

"The other day," I answer vaguely. I slouch against the doorframe. I'm too tired for this conversation, and frankly, too old. I'm an adult. I shouldn't have to explain myself to him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I'd be out. I'll leave a note next time."

That seems to pacify him, and Dad nods. He grabs the remote and I walk into the kitchen and get a glass of water. I walk back through the living room, heading for the stairs.

"Katara."

I pause with one hand on the railing. "Yeah, Dad?"

He looks over at me. "Everything okay with you and Jet?"

I'm a little surprised by his question. My dad has never cared for Jet. He's never said it in so many words, but it's evident in his cool formality when he speaks with him, and the way the corners of his mouth turn down just slightly when he talks about him. And I've never known why.

His lips are downturned now.

"Yeah," I say. "He's coming up next week for spring break."

"Hmph. Is he now? Well, just make sure he has a place to stay, 'cause he sure in the hell isn't staying here."

I let out a silent sigh. "I know, Dad." We have this conversation every time Jet visits.

"Okay. Just checking." Dad nods slowly as he turns back to the TV. "Night, snow pea."

"Night, Dad."

I go upstairs to my room. It's a little chilly in there, so I dig out a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and trade my jeans for them. I unhook my bra under my shirt and slide it out through the sleeve of my shirt and Zuko's hoodie. I allow myself to do what I resisted doing earlier and bring the collar of the hoodie up to my nose and take a deep breath, drinking in the smell. Then I grab my book and settle under the quilt on my bed, but then I think of something. I grab my phone and send Zuko a text.

K Hey city boy. Text me when you get home safe.

I smile to myself as I open my book and drop back into The Hound of the Baskervilles.

I've been reading for ten minutes when Zuko texts me back.

Z Made it home. Only had to fight off one group of thugs. I think my pride is the only thing that's wounded.

I chuckle and type out a response.

K I'm sure your pride will live. See you tomorrow.

A few minutes pass. I imagine him unlocking the door to the loft and stepping into the dark space. The loft smells like jasmine and oranges. I can see him going to his room and dropping onto his bed because I know he must be as tired as I am, his muscles aching and stiff from moving furniture and brushing a roller over the wall for hours, and checking his phone for my text.

My phone vibrates again.

Z Hope my hoodie keeps you warm til then. Goodnight

A girlish smile creases my face. It's stupid. These feelings are stupid. I shouldn't be sitting here smiling at my phone like some lovesick little girl, and I definitely shouldn't be curled up in bed wearing the hoodie of a guy who isn't my boyfriend.

Part of me wonders what's wrong with me. I've been dating Jet for over two years, and I've never so much as looked at another guy. I try to tell myself that it's just because Zuko is so new. He's a break in the monotony. He's a sunrise after a long night. But that doesn't necessarily make it any better.

I take off his hoodie and throw it onto my desk chair. But not before I bring it to my face, inhaling the scent of bamboo, teak wood, and spice one more time.

Zuko

By the time I walk up the steps to the loft, I'm feeling oddly detached from myself. It's like watching a scene from a movie: boy meets girl. Girl is way out of his league. Boy falls for Girl. Girl has a boyfriend. Drama and angst ensues.

I just want to know how it ends.

Of course, I don't know if there's going to be drama and angst. But knowing my luck, it's probably inevitable. I know that Katara has a boyfriend, and I'm going to respect that. But it doesn't mean a guy can't hope.

I don't understand it. I've never felt so strongly for someone so quickly. Even with Mai, it took years for me to feel something beyond friendship, even though she had been pining for me since we were kids. With Katara...it's different. It's like one of my mom's sappy romance books.

My life has become a Nicholas Sparks novel.

I go into the bathroom to take a shower. I'm sweaty and I smell like paint, and I don't want to smell like that when I pick Katara up tomorrow, even though I'm going to smell like that by the end of the day. It's stupid; I shouldn't be trying to impress her. She's a friend. A very pretty friend. Who has a boyfriend.

I turn the water on, hot enough to fill the bathroom with steam. It curls in the air and fogs the mirror. I empty my pockets and strip out of my clothes, depositing them in the hamper. I check my phone and try to pretend my heart doesn't pick up its pace when I see Katara sent me a text a few minutes ago.

K Just one, huh? Sounds like you got lucky then :) And I'm sure your pride will live. See you tomorrow.

I chuckle. I can imagine her in her room, ready for bed but waiting up to make sure I got home safe. I wonder if she's still wearing my hoodie.

And with that thought in mind, I text her back.

Z Hope my hoodie keeps you warm til then. Goodnight.

It's only after I send the text that I realize that might be too flirtatious. But it's too late now, so I hope that Katara knows its all in good fun and she can interpret it however she wants.

I step into the shower and let the hot spray beat away the ache in my shoulders. After I clean up, I stay there until my skin is pink from the heat and I feel like my feet are back on the ground. I step out and wrap a towel around my waist before I check my phone.

Katara hasn't texted me back, and I try not to feel disappointed. For all I know, she fell asleep while waiting for my response.

I'm about to go to my room when my phone starts buzzing in my hand. I look down with a frown; no one ever calls me but Uncle, and he's most definitely still snoring in the next room.

My sister is calling me. And it's midnight.

I answer because I think something might be wrong. "Azula?"

"Hello, Zuzu. How's the coast this time of year?"

I scowl. She sounds like her normal self. Which means everything is fine, and she's calling me because it benefits her in some way. She's probably calling to rub it in. Ha-ha, the company is mine now. You're out of the way and one day, Dad'll make me CEO while you live amongst the commoners. It is so Azula; I nearly laugh out loud.

"Fine," I reply tersely. I leave the bathroom and duck into my bedroom. "What do you want?"

"What, I can't call up my dear brother and see how things are going? I haven't spoken to you since you left."

"And is that such a bad thing?" I grab a t-shirt and a clean pair of pajama bottoms from my dresser and toss them onto my bed. "Again, why are you calling me?"

She sighs dramatically. I can picture her sitting on her king-size canopy bed in the luxury apartment in her silk pajamas, her face covered in some weird clay mask as she watches the latest episode of Riverdale with a bowl of cherries beside her.

When Azula answers me, her voice is flat and cold. "You need to talk to Mai."

I snort. "That's why you called me? Seriously? I thought someone died."

"Something has died. My patience. Mai is being an absolute bitch, and I'm about to snap. You need to fix it."

I roll my eyes. Azula is so dramatic. "I've tried to talk to her. She won't answer my texts."

"So call her, dum-dum."

I bristle at the nickname that she has used since we were children. Somehow, it's even more grating than Zuzu. Probably because most of the time, I am a dum-dum, and I hate it when Azula is right.

I roll my eyes. "Do you really think she's going to answer?"

"If she doesn't, then you need to come up here and fix this, Zuko."

Her tone is sharp, commanding. It's that fire that my father has always seen in her that he has never seen in me. Azula is a force to be reckoned with; a natural-born businesswoman. She has the guts to do what it takes to run a successful business. Apparently, I don't.

"I'm not driving four hours just to have Mai slam the door in my face."

"Coward."

My temper is rising. I clench my jaw and try to reign it in. I don't want to raise my voice and wake Uncle by accident. I swallow hard against the fiery lump rising in my throat. It is an angry dragon, waiting to spring forth and attack. I won't let Azula goad me into it.

"I didn't want this," I hiss, keeping my tone low. I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder and drop my towel. I quickly yank on my pajama bottoms. "I didn't have a choice."

"Yes, you did, Zuko. You most definitely had a choice. And you chose wrong. These are the consequences of your actions. Now you have to live with them."

My teeth are clenched so hard my jaw is aching. My free hand is curled into a fist, my fingernails digging into the fleshy part of my palm. Azula always knows where the chinks in my armor are, and she'll hit them mercilessly until I surrender.

"Whatever." I pace the floor of my room. "Either way, Mai broke up with me—"

"What's new there?"

"—and maybe I'm tired of fighting for her!" The words burst out of me, my volume rising to a near-crescendo, before I clamp my teeth against my tongue until it smarts. I squeeze my eyes closed. I've just given Azula more ammunition.

Azula chuckles. "What an interesting development, Zuzu."

"Shut up," I snap.

"Have you told Mai that?" To my surprise, Azula's tone isn't malicious or cold. She sounds...genuinely curious. And that makes me suspicious.

I narrow my eyes. "Well, no. Not exactly." In fact, the texts I've sent her over the last few days don't really talk about what happened. We made it safe. I miss you. I'm sorry. And each one was answered with a silence has that said more than our words ever have. "Like I said, she's not talking to me." I let out a breath. I want to get out of this conversation, and I know I've screwed up. Azula will tell Mai everything. So even though I don't mean it, even though I don't want her to, I say, "She'll come around."

Azula clicks her tongue. "Oh, don't be so sure about that, Zuzu. Maybe she's tired of fighting for you, too."

I bark out an incredulous laugh. "When has she ever fought for me? I mean, come on, Azula. As soon as I screw up or make her unhappy, she runs away. She's never fought for this, for us, not once, in the five years we've dated."

"Hmph."

"What?" I demand to know.

"Do you love her?"

I blink. "What?"

"I asked if you love her, dum-dum." I can practically hear Azula rolling her eyes.

I open my mouth, the word yes on the tip of my tongue. But it's reflexive, like reaching for a hot iron when it falls off of the counter. If I grab it, I'm going to get burned. I close my mouth again and swallow the word.

Azula is getting impatient. "Well?"

"I don't know," I murmur.

Azula scoffs. "You've been with her for five years, Zuko, and you don't know?" She laughs. The sound is jarring and cruel. "Maybe I ought to devote my time to helping her get over you. You don't deserve her."

"Screw you, Azula."

Azula lets out a sigh. "I tried to help you, Zuzu. But clearly, you don't want my help. A stupid decision, really, but we've done this dance since we were kids, haven't we?" I grit my teeth. "Look, you need to figure things out with Mai. She's so miserable and cranky that even Ty Lee can't be around her. She says Mai is 'murking up' her aura, whatever that means."

I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. "I'd love to figure this out, but like I said, she. Won't. Talk. To. Me."

"I can fix that."

It's my turn to sigh. The last thing I want is for my sister to be meddling in my business. Azula's 'help' always does more harm than good.

"Whatever," I say. "Is that all? I want to go to bed."

"It would be nice to hear a thank you."

I snort. "Thank you for what? You haven't done anything." Azula lets out an indignant sound, but before she can answer, I go on. "Just have Mai call me, okay?"

"Fine."

"Fine."

The line goes dead, and I drop onto my bed. I let my phone fall onto the duvet before I rake both hands through my hair, and a frustrated growl erupts from my mouth. It's not quite the dragon, but it's close. Azula has a way of getting under my skin. She also has the uncanny ability to do that on days where I'm actually happy.

I slip under the covers, but my thoughts are too loud. I can't believe I confessed to Azula that I don't know if I love Mai or not. I've never spoken the words out loud. I've barely admitted it to myself. I've always just gone along with whatever Mai and I were, never really thinking about it beyond the fact that Mai was fun to sleep with and hell to fight with.

This is going to come back and bite me somehow. I just know it.