(Twelve)

I walked into her life and saved it without thinking.

Now, she's walking around mine.

She skirts the edge of the room, fingers trailing, eyes searching—for what, I don't know. I shouldn't let it bother me. I wanted her here. But her fingers keep on touching and her eyes keep on looking. I feel wide open.

You'd think I'd have hidden away my past, but here, in my own space, it's out on display. Photos, awards, journals, memories, and reminders. Her fingers will flick through and find me hidden inside books and magazines. It's only a matter of time.

"Is this your sister?" She leans to get a closer look of happier times.

"Yeah … Ally."

"Huh. She kind of looks like you. You've got the same smile. Does she live here, too?"

"No, she lives with her husband. How did you end up in Seattle? With him?" I add on the last bit before I can stop myself.

"I came here after my dad died," she says, her mouth twisting out of shape, showing me her grief before she fixes it. "To get away from reminders he was gone and mistakes I'd made. Sam had already moved to the city … I was struggling and he was a familiar face, so I guess I fell back into old ways."

"You love him?"

"I love our memories." She turns back to my photos, her doors slamming down, until she's back to opening mine. "You ever loved anyone?"

"That's a hard question to answer."

"Why?"

"It's too vague."

"You want me to be more specific?"

"No."

She fires again. "So, have you?"

The hollow wounds in my chest throb. "Yes." I try not to rub at the ache, deflecting back to her. "And you?"

"Sometimes, I'm not sure."

I order a pizza while she curls up on the couch, her curiosity tamed for now. I didn't think the logistics through when I asked her to stay. One bedroom, one bed.

"You can use my room," I say, choosing to sit in the armchair instead of the bigger space next to her.

"I can't do that. I'll sleep here." She gestures to the couch.

"No, it's fine. You take the bed. I don't sleep much, anyway."

She smiles. "That makes two of us." Her words tie another knot between us. Mutual sleep deprivation to add to the rest.

The hours ahead of us stretch further. We get closer and closer. Her hands find my knee when she laughs, arms brushing as we watch TV, eyes lingering as we flirt, then back to the beginning when it gets too much and one of us steps back. My self-control is at snapping point by the time the pizza arrives.

"So what do you want to do tomorrow ... about your place?"

She slides her plate away from her and wipes her hands on a napkin, wiping her smile away, too.

"I need to go back."

"Why?"

"I need to get my stuff, and I need to talk to Sam."

I can already see the way this is going to pan out. I saw it happen to Alice a dozen times before she found Jasper. They think he'll change. That he'll care enough to try. They don't—they never do. I didn't.

I rub my hand down my face. If I can't save her from things inside her home, I can at least protect her from outside. "I'll fix your door first."

"You don't have to."

"Yes, I do." I stand and tidy away the trash so she can't argue with me, deciding to take it down to the garbage cans rather than dump it in the kitchen. I need to clear my head. I need a smoke. I take my time, getting more pissed off with the whole situation as the minutes pass and the nicotine filters through my veins. I pretend I'm not jealous that our game of push and pull now has other players.

She's waiting in the kitchen when I get back. I don't try to be nice. "You should get some sleep."

She pulls her hands into her sleeves, wraps herself up against the change in my temperature. "Okay. Can I at least get a glass of water?" A frown follows as she hones her sharpness to match mine. "Then, I'll get out of your way."

I nod. "Fine. Glasses are in the second cupboard along the wall. I need to grab some stuff from my room." She's already got her back to me.

Leaving her with the tap running, I grab some sheets, shoving a pile of books under my bed, clothes in the hamper, get my gym stuff for the morning. I'm making all the right moves. But it feels like a charade. If her hands and eyes wander any more, I won't stop them. And I'll be back in this bed, her clothes discarded on the floor with my good intentions.

I find her waiting for me, her face hardened. "Why do you keep helping me?"

I walk past her and throw the bedding on the couch. I can't reply because there are too many answers, and she won't like any of them. None of them are that I'm a knight in shining armor.

"It's late. Get some sleep." I sit down, my back to her, watching the flickering TV but only listening for her.

She doesn't listen to me. "I'm not tired."

"Well, I am."

She comes to stand in front of me, her hands clenched. "Why do you flip and change like that?"

I lean my head back to see her. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean. One minute you're here and the next you're gone. You ask me to stay, then you act like I'm imposing on you. You tell me you don't want to know me, then you do. You avoid me, then you're always there … You didn't let me jump."

Her anger is too bright, and I want to shield my eyes. "Why didn't you jump before I got there?"

"I … because … I—" She slaps her hands down against her thighs. "I don't know." Her eyes are shining with tears. "Don't ask me that."

"Why not?"

"Why didn't you drink yourself to death?"

"I tried." The force of this truth surprises us both.

My honesty pierces a hole in her anger, and she starts to deflate. She says my name. It's drawn out with a sigh that softens its corners, like it means more to her than it does to me. She reaches out and traces the collar of my T-shirt. "I'm glad you didn't try hard enough."

I wrap my fingers around her wrist. I want her to stop—she doesn't. She climbs onto my lap, and I don't push her away, but I keep hold of her wandering hands. She needs to keep them to herself.

"Edward," she says again. This time, it's different. It's not a plea. It's a wish I shouldn't grant.

"You don't want this." I'm so full of contradictions; my voice is already stained by the lust that's bleeding all over her. We're covered in it, and as it seeps into my body, she rocks against my reaction, her fingernails leaving scars on the inside of my arms. I hold the space from my lips to hers, but even from here, I can taste her.

"You don't want this," I say again. I want her to hear everything I'm not telling her. They're the most important things I've never said.

I increase the pressure on her wrists as she starts to move closer. But I'm just holding off the inevitable, knowing it'll feel that much better when I finally give in. Her lips find their destination against my ear, stinging like a bee. "Don't tell me what I want."

Then she pushes against my chest and stands. I reach out for her, too far gone to care, but she steps back. Her body is aflame but her eyes have gone out. "Goodnight, Edward."

I can't sleep. I don't think she can, either, but I don't check on her when I leave at the first glimpse of sunlight. The gym is already open, early risers letting off steam. I put my head around the office door, but Riley's not in, so I head to the back to change.

There's only one person in the locker room, but it's more crowded than it's ever been. Em, collapsed and sweaty on the benches, opens one eye when he hears me. I unzip my hoodie and hang it in the locker with my bag and keys, waiting to see how it's going to play out. I half wonder if he's slept here.

He speaks first. "Still alive, then?"

"Yep."

"Still seeing the girl?"

"No," I say, then correct myself for the sake of our unravelling friendship. "Yes, but not like that."

He sighs, and when I turn, he's closed his eyes again, his arm flung over his face.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me that this girl is just a friend, nothing more than that."

"She's not." I answer the first part of his question, leaving the rest to his interpretation. Only, he can read me as easily as the logo on my T-shirt.

"You know you can't do it this way, E. You need to take a step back. Don't let the old you take over. He's a dick and doesn't know what's good for him."

"I know what I'm doing."

He shakes his head, pressing his lips together. He knows he doesn't need to say the words building behind them. I've heard them all before. He disappears into the showers without responding.

I have two choices: I need to walk away or I need to step back and think. I've never been one to take things slow, and I don't think she is, either. I need to get her out of my system, and there's only one way I know how.

AN: Hi everyone. It was fab to hear from so many of you last week and to know that you're hanging in there with me. What are we going to do with E?

Since Kim, Choc and Cat weaved their magic, I have been adding bits here and there and making up the punctuation as I go along. Sorry girls.

Love to them and everyone reading.

See you next week. Have a lovely weekend.

Sparrow. xx