( Hello all, sorry for the wait... but thank you for leaving me reviews. They really pushed me to finish up this chapter! I hope it is worth the wait. Also, let me know if you are interested in a chapter from Jordan's perspective.)

It wasn't like it is in the movies. Jordan didn't take possession of me in one quick swoop. Instead, it almost seemed unhurried. Before he had made himself known to me, I felt I was drifting in a sea of my own thoughts. Now, I was captured on a line, hooked, and he was reeling me in. It was as if he knew, that if he moved forward with haste, that I'd slip away. So, he proceeded with caution, by slowly pulling my body into his. And just like that, I was captured and breathless.

It wasn't until then that I realized... we could never be strangers. No matter how many years got between us, our past would always be there to haunt me. Just waiting. Waiting for us to pick up exactly where we left off. We had unfinished business to a conflict that could never be resolved. Our relationship was cursed to spend an eternity in limbo. Neither moving forward nor going back. And right now, all I could do was surrender to his embrace, for it was a small comfort to such a cruel fact.

My thoughts were consumed by this idea of how extraordinary it was that someone could affect another so deeply. But also, how terrible it was at the same time. You see, I felt I was floating in that endless sea and Jordan was my life preserver. Right now, I was tightly secured within his arms, but it was inevitable that his grasp would soon be broken. Fate would swoop in and pull me back under the toxic tide. Again, I would be left with only a memory, which tends to stick with you like a bad dream you can't wake up from. Even so, my forehead was blissfully perched on his shoulder. His coat still smelled the familiar scent of motor oil and smoke, but the aroma of his skin and hair was that of birch mixed with lavender. I knew this was just another memory that would one day eat away at me. Yet, I couldn't help but want more from him.

What is memory anyway? With memory comes this idea of truth. Surely, my truth was different than Jordan's. His account of the past must be skewed and distorted… just as my own account was. I couldn't even lie to myself about that simple fact. I had always romanticized certain truths...searched for meaning in things that were meaningless. If I was being honest, I would have to admit that I was always seeking reason. Anything that would explain or even excuse another's ill behavior. Not just with Jordan, but also with my dad, my friends, and even strangers. The only person who didn't get this mercy was my mother. Perhaps, it was because I felt she was as close to perfect as a person could be. I wanted to find faults in her, even where there wasn't one.

As these thoughts were bouncing around in my head, Jordan had taken my hand and led me back into the club. Without even knowing the words that I, myself, had spoken… Sharon was telling me goodbye. Her expression was filled with both curiosity and worry. I could feel her eyes upon us as we walked out the door. I knew what she must be thinking, but a part of me didn't care.

…

A twenty-four-hour diner… a refuge for many. Such a place is where teens can escape the bonds of childhood and authority at 2 AM. Where the intoxicated come off their choice of drink or drug. A place for the homeless to get warm on a cold night. Also, this fine establishment was the place I unwillingly found myself on most nights. I didn't have the heart to tell Jordan that I worked here.

The sound of the bell, that I had learned to tune out, seemed deafening when we walked through the door. Jordan had barely spoken on the way over. He had always been distant... lost in his own mind. In that way, we were alike. However, I couldn't stop myself from saying my thoughts out loud. Suddenly, I feared the bright fluorescent lights would give away my fatigue, and the rambling began. "So, I kind of got this offer for a copy editor position, but I'm not really sure if I'm going to take it."

I felt like his eyes were looking through me, and my heart began to race. I knew it was just my very vivid imagination, but I couldn't manage to meet his gaze. All that stood between us was a sticky table, a bottle of ketchup, and an empty napkin dispenser.

"Why not?" His tone was soft and calm.

"Well, to start, it's in New York and I still have a year left in school. So, I'd have to finish my degree at another University… Not to mention, I don't even know if I could do both. The job isn't flexible. It's an eight to five kind of commitment. But mostly, it's that- I'm afraid that doing such monotonous work will kill my love for writing." I couldn't take it anymore, I had to look up...had to see if he was listening to me. Jordan wasn't looking at me at all. Instead, he was watching the nighttime sky through the glass window that was marked with both fingerprints and condensation. I couldn't help but stop and admire him. Marvel at the beauty that was Jordan Catalano. He was as mysterious as the vast onyx sky.

"I think New York would suit you, Angela." A small grin pulled at his lips. "But, maybe I am saying that for selfish reasons." At last, his light blue eyes struck me like a thousand arrows, but this time I couldn't look away. "What is it that you do here in Pittsburgh?"

Before I could even answer, the waitress, named Sue, walked to the table and gave me away. "Angela! I never expected to see you here on your night off. What can I get for you and your- friend?" She even threw in a little wink, at which I could have died.

"I'll just have a coffee. Thank you, Sue." As the words came out, I felt myself nearly sinking under the table. Even though I was actually hungry, coffee was the only thing I could think to order. Jordan also ordered a coffee, and I couldn't help but wonder if he still took it black.

A sudden realization hit me like a surge of water. I hadn't completely processed his words until that moment, and perhaps it was too late to dig into them… but I couldn't stop myself. I felt like I had discovered some sort of hidden clue. One, that he had willingly offered. "What did you mean selfish reasons?"

His hand moved to rest on his chin, and his thumb was positioned just below his upper lip. Just as he was about to speak, Sue came back with two cups of coffee in white mugs. After placing them on the table, she reached in her apron for a handful of those little cold packs of creamer.

Jordan watched as I put two creams and one sugar in my coffee. "You've changed, Angela Chase."

His words caught me off guard, and I nervously watched the white cream blend with the hot black liquid in swirls. "How do you mean?" I hid behind my cup as I took a sip, and couldn't help but be worried about what he might say.

"You use to take your coffee black with-"

"Three or four sugars..." The palm of my hand moved to hide my growing smile. "Well, I only did because you use to make coffee for me and that's how you liked it. You introduced me to so many new things, Jordan Catalano." I teased.

He reached over and took my hand away from my face. "I'm sure you have that backward." And just like that, we were connected by flesh again. His calloused fingertips grazed down the full length of my hand, and he gently caressed my palm with his powerful touch.

When you think about it, touch is such a strange sensation. Yet, it is a thing that people just do. It's this basic human need, like breathing. Feeling another's touch can be calming, alarming, or even intrusive. Such a feeling can bring you to ease or make your heart race. I was certain that Jordan's touch somehow did both of those things.

"So, are you just in town visiting?"

"Yeah, my band is playing at that club tomorrow night. I thought I'd just go and check it out…"

"Where are you staying? I mean, I know that you and your dad don't exactly…" You know that feeling when you realize that you are saying the wrong thing, but you still have to make it to the end? I know that feeling, all too well. Often, I had wished I could stop myself before I even started. "Well, get along. Sorry- it's just that I was wondering how close you were to me or the old neighborhood. You know my parents sold our house a few years ago? After their divorce... So, someone else is there now." I couldn't stop myself once I started. My words just continued to get heavier and heavier. "Please, say something," I thought.

"No, I'm not staying with my dad. I haven't spoken to him in awhile. I didn't realize that you knew all that… How did you?"

"How couldn't I?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry to hear about your parents. I always liked your mom, Patty. I spoke to her on the phone once. I mean- after I left. She was nice."

"Spoke to her? About what?"

"You. I know I left kind of suddenly. I just wanted to make sure…"

With haste, my words intervened. "To make sure of what?"

"That you were-ok."

"I can't believe this. She never told me." It was just like me to blame my mother, and not the truly guilty one.

"I asked her not to."

"Then, I can't believe you." It's simply devastating when a beautiful moment turns bad. Sometimes a conversation can get so derailed that it's impossible to get back on track. Often, I would try to think back to the words that had turned the sweet moment sour. I liked to imagine what would have happened if things had been steered a different way. Perhaps then, our night would have been perfect, but it hadn't. Jordan and I had never taken the easy straight course. Our way had always been full of sharp turns and dead ends. Though it was the last thing I wanted to do, my hand pulled away from his and I stood. "Did she tell you that I wasn't? That... I wasn't ok? Did she tell you, Jordan? The truth, I mean."

He nodded.

"I should go."

"Angela… wait."

My back was already turned and I headed for a quick escape. I didn't see him throw down a twenty dollar bill; nor did I see his troubled expression, those deep blue eyes as wide as the open sea.

"Angela...stop." He nearly yelled when he rushed out the door.

I couldn't help but do as he commanded, for I never liked to hear Jordan in pain. It was hard enough for me to believe that he had emotions. At times, all I wanted to do was witness them, be it, good or bad.

"At least let me give you a ride back to your car." Jordan huffed.

"I rode with Sharon." My voice had grown cold.

"Great, then I'll take you home."

"Fine." Before I knew it, I was settling back into that old Plymouth. Red ran just as good as the day Jordan had let me drive it. The very thought made me a little jealous. It was clear that Jordan had always taken exceptional care of his car. I couldn't help but wonder why he didn't take the same care with me? I suppose it's a silly thing to be jealous of an inanimate thing. Therefore, I had to remind myself what this car must mean to him. It was an escape from his old life, absolute freedom. I recalled the boy with the unraveling shirt sleeve. Growing up, he didn't have the love that I did. In my heart, I knew that was why he had left. Now, I noticed that his shirt was perfectly intact… no longer coming apart. At that, all my anger faded and I felt happy for him. "Hey- I'm sorry for taking off back there. I just think we have a lot to talk through."

"Does that mean you're going to invite me in?"

"We'll see..." This thought of having him in my apartment made me feel anxious. It wasn't so much being alone with him as it was being exposed. By that, I mean, he was totally open to witness who I had become. My apartment was left in its usual order, not the way you present it when you have company. Not like, when you spend all day cleaning and pretend it's always that way, but also claim that it is messy. It seemed a little unfair, that he'd see me so bare. Yet, I didn't even know which city he lived in. "Jordan, where do you live now?"

His eyes glanced over as if to witness something. "New York."