JACKSON

After what happened earlier tonight went down, April wanted to be alone. She didn't necessarily have to say it, but I could tell. So I made up some excuse like I was super tired from my game earlier and wanted to go to sleep, then went back to my own room.

And now I'm lying here in my bed, in the dark, alone. Mark is out partying somewhere and probably won't be back until after I wake up tomorrow.

I wish I wasn't by myself in this bed, though. I want April here. At least, I think I do. I have no clue what to make of my stupid thoughts lately. They won't shut up. And that is something I'm definitely not used to.

I close my eyes and let out a long breath with my hands resting on my stomach. Not that long ago, I had seen her naked. Like, completely naked. I saw her boobs. Her whole body, it was right in front of me. From what I know about her, that was a big deal for her.

It was a big deal for me, too.

I got to touch her in places no one's ever touched before. I made her come for the very first time in her whole fucking life - that was me. Her first orgasm, that was all me.

Why the hell am I finding myself smiling about it right now? Sick fuck.

But still, I can't help it. I can't help but go back and relive everything I just felt lying on top of her on her small blue bed with Taylor Swift watching us from inches away. Her body was so soft and smooth and responsive under me, I think I could've kept touching her all night. I would've, had she let me.

But that's not what she wanted. After I made her come, it was too much. I can only try to understand it, maybe it was too much feeling all at once after a really shitty night with Alex. That would make sense. And I wasn't about to force her to keep going - that'd be fucked up.

She had tasted really… good, though. I've eaten out a handful of other girls, and it wasn't like I didn't enjoy doing it for them, because I did. But with April, the whole act had really turned me on, too. Just seeing how much it made her feel and how much she let herself go, I loved that. I loved being the one who was able to do that to her. The very first, no less.

It definitely inflates my ego.

And now, without realizing it, I've gotten hard lying here thinking about her. Fuck.

I glance around and squint through the darkness to check that my door's locked, and it is. If Mark gets home, I should have enough time to make myself decent before he has a chance to get in, but I don't want to waste any time. Who knows when he'll be back? I'm not about to text and ask. He'd see right through me.

So I just do it. I push the covers back, reach under the bed for my box of tissues and lotion, and wrap my hand around my dick. Even with just that pressure, it releases so much tension that's been building up ever since April took her shirt off earlier.

She wanted me, that much was obvious. I've never seen her that forceful or dominant in the entire time I've known her. She told me I make her feel good, and that's what she wanted to feel. Good. But is that the only reason she wanted to have sex? To get her mind off Alex?

Fuck, right now I don't care. As I move my hand up and down and picture her mouth, I don't care about reasoning. The only thing that's on my mind is the image of her body keening under mine - her eyes shut and her lips parted. She's a goddamn masterpiece.

It doesn't take long for me to come, and I feel guilty afterwards. Should I have been picturing her like that? Is that okay now? I have no idea. Why am I so hung up on this, so confused? It should not be bothering me this much.

I clean myself up and get back into bed, sighing. It's late, but I pull out my phone anyway and shoot her a text. She's probably asleep, but at least it'll make me feel better.

SENT:hey, u doing okay?

I put my phone aside, screen face-down. I don't want it to seem like I'm waiting for her reply, so I stare off into space and try to force my mind onto other things. I'm not sure how much time has passed when I pick my phone back up to see that she's responded.

RECEIVED:yeah. Are you?

Relief courses through my body that she texted back, but I frown when I realize how much I'd been depending on her answer to feel good. Why? So stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

SENT:cool. Jw. thought id text you, i cant sleep

RECEIVED:me neither. but im gonna try. Ill talk to you soon, okay?

SENT: sure. gn piano girl

I sigh and plug my phone in for the night. I feel bad. Even though I didn't, I feel like I forced her into something she wasn't ready for. But it had been her idea, and I didn't do any forcing of any kind. But still, I can't help but feel this way.

Maybe we just need a break from each other. There's nothing wrong with that. And when we meet back up again, it'll be like a fresh start.

The next afternoon, I'm sitting out in the quad when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Expecting April, I turn around with a smile on my face, but it's not her.

It's my step-sister, Maggie. She's older than me by a few years and lives in this neighborhood, close to her dad. Her dad, who my mom married, and now they have a long distance relationship between here and Boston. It's pretty weird.

"Hey," I say, smiling for a different reason. I haven't seen her in forever, and we get along well. Before I moved in, she showed me around the city and helped it feel like home. "What's up, Mags?"

She sits down in the grass next to me, taking her backpack off her shoulders. She goes to Loyola, which is about a half hour away on the Red Line.

"Not a lot," she says. "Just was walking around the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by your dorm. But I found you here first."

I lay back in the grass, my hands behind my head. "Yeah, just came here to chill," I say. "It's nice."

"You like it here on campus?" she asks, looking around. "Seems nice. Seems you."

I laugh. "It's very me."

"How's soccer?"

"Pretty good," I say.

"You schooling all of them?" she asks, nudging my calf.

"Of course I am," I say. "I'm a stud."

"Cocky ass," she says.

"How's your dad?" I ask.

"He's good," she says. "How's your mom?"

"Good, too," I say. "Obsessed with me, as usual, though. Won't stop calling. I'm like, once a day is more than enough to talk!" I laugh again. "But yeah. She just misses me, I guess. Can't be too mad at her."

"Oh, no…" Maggie says. "Don't be mad at her. She'll get used to it. Are you missing home at all?"

I shake my head. "Not at all. I love being apart from… all that. I like being here, where people aren't like, freaking out over the fact that I'm an Avery."

"Not yet," she chides.

"Yeah, exactly," I say.

Maggie looks around, squinting into the sunlight. "Made any friends?" she says.

I shrug. "My roommate's pretty cool. He's really weird, but I'd call us friends, I think."

"That's good," she says. "It's always good to be cool with your roommate. I know I wasn't that cool with mine my freshman year. I'm so glad I live off-campus now." She chuckles. "Any girls?"

"I, uh…" My voice dies away as I think of how to answer. I like talking to Maggie, but we're not exactly close. She's not the first person who I want to get into the whole April thing with. "No, not yet."

She raises her eyebrows. "Really? I'm surprised."

"Yeah, well," I say, trying to take the focus off of myself now. "How about for you?"

"Well, I've been seeing Deluca again," she says, rolling her eyes at herself. "I'm sure you don't wanna hear about that."

I cross my arms and shake my head; at first I was going to negate her and say that I don't mind, but she already knows. "Yeah…" I say, and she laughs. "Not really."

"I wouldn't either," she says, then her phone rings in her bag. "Oh, shit." She pulls it out and glances at the screen, then rolls her eyes. "It's my dad. I'm supposed to be at the house tonight, dad and daughter dinner. I'm already late, in his opinion." She stands up and hoists her backpack back on her shoulders. "I'm glad I got to see you, Jackson," she says.

I stand up and give her a hug, patting her on the back as we part. "See ya soon, sis," I say, then wave to her as she walks away.

The sun is starting to set and I haven't done any homework, so I decide that it's probably best for me to head off, too. When I make it onto the fourth floor, I see the back of April's head just disappearing into her room, so I call out her name.

"Hey, April," I say.

The door pauses, open just a crack. She peeks her head out, and her eyes are red and puffy.

"You okay?" I ask.

"I'm fine, Jackson," she says, her voice coming out as more of a croak.

"Are you crying?" I ask, taking a step closer.

She wipes beneath her eyes harshly. "I said I'm fine," she says firmly. "I have to go now."

"Oh, okay…" I say, one hand on the wall. "Do you… do you need to talk? Is something wrong?"

"I have to go," she says, and shuts the door in my face.

I stand there for a second, shocked. I have no idea what I did to warrant that type of reaction from her, so I think back in my mind. I stopped when she said stop. I left when I felt she didn't want me. I texted to make sure she was okay, and left her alone all day. What more could there be?

I can't think of anything. Maybe she's just having a bad day, and it has nothing to do with me at all. As I walk back to my room, that's what I tell myself. She probably didn't even think about me all day, and I'm being super dramatic about this.

I sit at my desk and try to do some homework, but I can't get her face out of my head. I can't help thinking that it had to do with something I did, even though I don't know what that could be. By the time Mark comes in, I'm past the point of irritated and on my way to pissed, and every little sound he makes is pushing me further to the edge.

"Saved all your homework Sunday night?" he asks, plopping down on his bed.

"Mm-hmm," I say, pencil scratching on the paper.

"Sucks for you," he says. "I didn't have any."

"Good for fucking you," I grumble.

"Jesus," he replies. "What's got your panties in a bunch?"

"Nothing," I say.

He laughs, puffing a few breaths from his nose. "Your woman, it sounds like."

"She's not my-" I cut myself off. To Mark, that's exactly what April is. My argument doesn't work. "It's whatever," I say instead.

"Doesn't sound like whatever," he continues.

"Well, it is," I say. "I don't wanna talk about it. I'm trying to get this done."

"Alright, alright," he says. "I'm here if you need me."

As I try to work, it's eating me alive. I can't concentrate enough to get anything done. I decide that talking about it will make me feel better, even if I have to be vague.

"She's treating me like I did something wrong," I say, out of the blue. "And I didn't. At least I don't think I did."

Mark's head turns to face me where he lies on his bed, twirling his fidget spinner. "Explain," he says.

I sigh. "So, last night…" I begin. I chew the inside of my cheek, then tell myself just to go for it. What does it matter if he knows? He's a decent guy, he's not going to make a big deal out of it. He said he's here to help me, and I definitely need it. "We were gonna have sex. She asked to. It was her idea," I say.

"Nice, nice," he says.

"So, yeah. It was going great. It was hot… she-she's hot," I say. I tell myself I'm allowed to say these things - one, because she's my girlfriend in Mark's eyes and two, because they're true. "I was kinda easing her into it, because, well, you know… she-"

"She's a virgin," he finishes.

"Yeah," I say. "How'd you know?"

He narrows his eyes. "It's not hard to figure out," he says, like it's obvious.

"Okay, whatever," I say. "Anyway, I'm going slow. Making sure she wants it, all that kinda stuff. I legit just kept asking, dude. I knew it was the right thing to do. I didn't wanna push her, I didn't wanna get all in my head, I kept making sure she was ready. And she kept saying yes. So I went down on her, and she came, then she… started crying."

Mark grimaces. "Ouch," he hisses.

I choose not to tell him about the shit that went down with April and Alex earlier that night. It would be way too confusing, and to him it wouldn't make sense. Leaving that out probably hinders my chances of getting accurate advice, but it's just not worth it.

"She started crying, and I told her we could stop. Obviously. I'm not gonna keep going when… no. That's fucked up. And after she stopped crying finally, I could tell she wanted to be alone, so I came back here. I waited a while and texted her, and she said she was okay. But I still left her alone today, just to give her some space, I don't know. Whatever. And I'm so fucking confused because I just saw her in the hallway and it looked like she was crying, and when I asked her why she got all pissed at me!"

Mark rubs his temples and raises his eyebrows. "Fucking shit," he says. "You're all in your feelings, aren't you?"

"No, god, I-"

"You are," he says. "Avery, it's fine. You like your girl a lot, that's a good thing. But the best advice I have is to just… apologize."

"I didn't do anything wrong!" I say, throwing my hands up. "At least I don't think I did. I can't remember doing shit. I thought I did everything right."

"Doesn't matter," Mark says, resting his spinner on his forehead and flicking it. "Say you're sorry anyway. Odds are, you did something. Even if you don't know what it is. And you saying you're sorry is only gonna help your case."

I let out a long breath. Maybe he's right. I'd like to know what bothered her so much before I go apologizing, but I guess I can't have everything. I don't want to bother her again tonight, but I'll see her tomorrow for music theory. I'll have the perfect chance then.

The next day, I get to class early, knowing that she'll be there already and that we'll hopefully get a chance to talk. I open the classroom door quietly and notice April at the piano, playing a piece that I can see is called Metamorphosis 1. She's playing it beautifully, of course, leaning forward with her forehead crinkled as she reads the music.

I don't think she hears me come in. I sit down in my usual seat, kick back, and listen while she finishes. The sound she creates is so beautiful, and I don't know how she does it. I'm sure no one else has ever made music sound this sweet.

When she's finished, I clear my throat. She looks over her shoulder at me, not surprised in the slightest, then turns back to her music.

"I was hoping we could talk," I say, trying to keep my voice even.

"I need to practice," she says. "Maybe another time."

She starts to play again, starting the song all over. "April," I say. "You can't ignore me forever."

"I can for right now," she says, fingers floating over the keys. "I don't wanna talk."

"I'm sorry," I say, and even I can hear how desperate and pathetic I sound. Why am I doing this? What does it matter?

She doesn't acknowledge me. I'm not even sure if she hears me, and I tell myself that I don't care. I stomp back to my seat as some other people start to file in, and luckily today is an individual work day. I wouldn't have been able to take it if it were a group work day.

The only silver lining is that Alex doesn't show up.

After practice that evening, I'm still confused, angry and hurt. Mark can definitely tell something is up when I get back to the room, even after I get out of the shower.

"You and I are going for drinks," he says, getting up and collecting his shoes.

"What?" I say, adjusting the towel on my hips. "I'm only 19."

"I have a fake," Mark says. "I'll cover you. Trust me. And Irish Eyes doesn't even card, so calm your jets. Get some clothes on and we'll go."

I don't have much of an argument. Drinking sounds better than the alternative - which was staying in and doing homework, so I follow his lead. The bar isn't far away, and it's not that busy on a Monday night. There's some trivia going on, but not everyone is participating. Mark and I sit at a booth across from the bar, and he orders us both a beer.

After our drinks come, he leans forward with his elbows on the table. "So," he says. "Did you take my advice?"

I take a long swig, glancing around with a little bit of a paranoia. "Uh, yeah," I say, swallowing.

"And?"

I shake my head. "Didn't work," I say. "Didn't do shit. She didn't wanna talk, didn't wanna listen. She ignored me."

"Damn," he says, snapping his head to one side. "That's rough. What did she say when you apologized?"

"Nothing," I say. "I don't think that's gonna work. She's more complicated than that."

Mark takes a long drink, sighing when he comes up for air. "I don't know what to tell you then, man. This is over my head."

I chuckle to myself. It didn't have to get that complicated for it to go over his head, but at least he tried. "It's alright," I say. "I can figure it out on my own. Figure her out, I mean."

"Yeah," he says, nodding. "I have faith in you."

"Thanks," I say, then look towards the bar. Almost as if on cue, I see the back of a head that I instantly recognize. It's April, and there's a much older man leaning on the bar next to her. I can see his profile - he looks to be at least 35 - and he's got a huge, shit-eating grin on his face.

She's grinning politely, holding the base of her glass in front of her. Her shoulders are tense and her body is closed off with one arm across her lap as she subtly leans away from him.

He's obviously bothering her. This ancient dinosaur with a boner obviously has no place making conversation with a college freshman. I look at the bartender to see if he plans on doing anything, but he's not paying attention.

There's no way I'm going to just sit here and watch her get tortured.

"I'll be back," I say to Mark, and he looks at me with a confused expression. "Just… I'll be back," I repeat.

I walk up to the bar with purpose, getting a hint of what the guy is saying before I speak up.

"Yeah, I have a houseboat in Belmont harbor," he says. "If you came, I'd take you out on the lake, show you all around. Great views. You'd love them. I-"

"Hey, babe," I say, winding an arm around her shoulders. She jumps and looks back at me, her facial expression changing a million times in a second. First she looks scared, then shocked, then confused, then finally… relieved. "Who's this?"

"This is… uh, this is Robert," she says. "Mr. Stark."

Nice, calling him Mr. something really should knock him down a peg. I smile and squeeze her closer, and she leans into my chest. "Oh," Robert says, laughing nervously. "You… uh, forgot to mention you had a boyfriend."

"Oh," April says, holding the hand of mine that's draped over her arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lead you on."

"Whatever," Robert says, then grumbles something under his breath before stalking off.

I unwind my arm from her instantly, and she digs in her purse for a few dollars that she puts down on the bar. She gathers her things and starts to get up, but I block her way.

"I have to go," she says.

"Why're you here?" I ask. I make eye contact with Mark across the room, and he nods knowingly. My guess is he's not the type to mind drinking alone, because I don't plan on going back to him.

"Does it matter?" she asks, maneuvering past me and leading the way out of the bar.

I follow her out onto the sidewalk and surprisingly, she stops walking. Out here, it's much cooler and quieter, and I instantly feel calmer than I did inside.

"Thanks for getting him away from me," she says.

"He was a creep," I say.

"What were you doing there, anyway?" she asks.

"I'll only answer when you do."

She sighs and adjusts her purse. "I had a bad day," she says. "Today and yesterday. I just felt like… it would help, I don't know. I've seen it in movies." She pauses. "It didn't."

"Didn't help me, either," I say. "But seeing you was pretty good."

She screws her mouth up in a frown and starts to walk away, but I catch up with her easily. "What is up with you right now?" I ask, my tone borderline aggressive.

"What is up with me?" she asks, flipping around right before a crosswalk. "I don't think you're the one who should be asking that."

I'm so confused. I literally have no idea what she's talking about. "I, uh… okay," I say. "Clear things up for me. Why are you mad? Was it something I did?"

She crosses the street and I match her stride. "Was it something you did," she murmurs, then turns to face me once we're on the sidewalk again. "I know what we're doing isn't real. I know that. I know it's 'fake dating' or whatever. But still, Jackson, geez. I'm a person with feelings!"

I'm lost. I feel like a complete idiot, but I'm still lost. "I'm… I don't know what you're-"

"I saw you hugging that girl on the quad!" she says, her voice rising. "Yesterday. I saw you hugging her, after all that we did on Saturday night-"

It all comes back to me. Maggie. She saw me hugging Maggie. And that's why she's been so goddamn mad.

"You just wrote me off after you got me in bed. I didn't think you were mad that we didn't go all the way, but I guess I thought too much of you. Because you just go and-"

"April," I say.

"Start hugging other girls left and right! And-"

"April!" I say.

"What?" she snaps.

"That was my step-sister," I say, a smile inching onto my face. I can't help but feel relieved that that's the reason she's so upset. Over a big misunderstanding. This is something I can fix. "Maggie is my step-sister. My mom is married to her dad. There's nothing…" I stop talking to smile again. "There's nothing going on between us. She's my family, dude."

April's face blanches. "She's..."

"My sister," I say. "She came to visit me, catch up for a sec. I didn't know you were there. I would've introduced you."

"Your sister," she says, dumbfounded.

"Yeah," I say, still grinning. "It wasn't anything weird."

"Oh," she says, crossing her arms. "Oh. Well. Now I feel like an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulders as we start to walk again. "You're just jealous, that's all."

"I am not," she says, all defensive. "I'm not. I just… I was hurt that you'd go from you know, being with me, to just… moving onto the next girl." She looks down at the ground. "I didn't think you were like that."

"I'm not," I say. "I loved our night on Saturday. I haven't really stopped thinking about it, as sad as that is."

She looks up at me, her eyes shining under the yellow glow of the streetlamps. "You haven't?"

I shake my head, and she smiles at the ground. We walk the rest of the way home together.

April and I don't jump right back into our old dynamics easily. Our class on Wednesday is a little strained and awkward, and she's busy with church choir practice, so I don't see much of her for the rest of the week. So on Saturday for my soccer game, I'm pretty sure she won't come. I don't blame her, either. The weather has gotten cold, and if I didn't have to be out here on the field carrying this team's weight, I wouldn't be here either.

I'm on the bench when the game starts, and I can't help but glance over my shoulder just to check if she's there. There aren't many people in the bleachers, and she's not one of the few. I don't let myself feel disappointed, though. I turn back around and watch my team make stupid mistakes that I'll have to fix in a few minutes as I try to keep my mind off her.

I'm called out onto the field before halftime, and I jog out with enthusiasm. I don't think I could've handled sitting there watching the game go to shit any longer. One of the first things I do is get the ball away from St. Xavier, who we're playing against, and kick it into their goal.

Once I do, I hear a familiar scream. I'm sure my whole face must light up when I look towards the bleachers, because I see April sitting there in a thick hoodie, winter gloves, and a bright pink hat with a pompom on top. I can't stop staring at her, cheering her head off all bundled up. She came. She didn't miss it. She's here.

I keep going, telling myself that now I have to play my best. She's watching, so this has to be good. I won't play anything less than great for her. I score a few more goals before the half, and when the whistle blows for us to take our break, she's already heading down the bleacher steps.

I meet her on the track, wiping sweat off my forehead as I drink from my water bottle. "You came," I say, as she hops down to stand in front of me.

"I did," she says, winding both arms around my waist. "And you scored."

"Those were for you," I say, pulling her even closer after tossing my water to the ground.

"Show-off," she says lightly, then puckers her lips out all cute. "Good luck kiss. I want you to win."

My heart swells. I hope literally everyone is watching us right now. I press my lips to hers and my stomach jumps when I do - it's only been a few days, but I missed kissing her so much. There's not another feeling like it.

"Hey," she says. "I wanted to say I was sorry. For jumping to conclusions, acting horrible to you-"

"Forget about it," I say, kissing her again.

"I'm just glad we're back to normal now," she says, slowly shifting her weight from foot-to-foot.

"Me, too."

"Go kill it," she says, waving me off as the whistle blows again. "I'll be up here!"

I can't stop smiling as the game starts again. Now, I'm barely thinking about the game. All I'm thinking about is her and the way her soft lips felt against mine.

I score another goal, and smile proudly up at her when I do. Without looking, I start to run away from the goal and back towards the ball, but feel a big collision before I can get far. Suddenly, I'm on my back, chest heaving, blinking up at the white, cloudy sky.

The whistle blows for a foul, and I hear footsteps pounding towards me. I close my eyes for a while then open them wide as I try to reorient myself. It's not as easy as it sounds, though. The world is spinning and I'm not sure if I can get up.

"Is he okay?"

April's voice. I turn my head a little and see her Ugg boots standing at eye level, then she kneels down at my side.

My coach asks me if I can sit up, and the ref supports my shoulders as I do. The on-site trainer shines a light in my eyes, and nods to herself. "Could be a concussion," she says. "He needs to go get checked out."

Fuck. A concussion, all because I was thinking about April and her soft lips when I was supposed to be playing soccer. Typical. Just my luck.

"A concussion?" April says, as my coach helps me to my feet.

"Could be," the trainer says. "You coming with?"

"Of course I am," she says, and my smile is back.

I definitely have a concussion. Surprisingly, before now, I'd never had one before in my life. I'm pretty sure if my mom found out, I'd be dead and never be able to play sports again. So I don't plan on telling her.

I got all the treatment I need from the doctor and I'm not allowed back in the game for a few weeks, until I'm cleared. I'm dizzy, a little sick to my stomach, and very sensitive to light, so April's kept them low.

She said it was best we go back to her room and not mine. Mine is a mess and Mark is too loud, she said, and she'll take care of me.

I didn't put up a fight.

So now, with only her twinkling lights on in the corner, we're both in our pajamas. I have on my gray sweatpants and a DePaul t-shirt, and she's wearing soft blue pants with snowflakes on them and a black camisole. Her hair is braided to one side, resting on her shoulder, which I can see perfectly from where my head is on her lap.

On the bed, she's sitting with her back against the wall and my head on her thigh, gently running her fingertips over my scalp and forehead as my eyes threaten to close. I work hard to keep them open, though, if only to look up at her face.

"You really took a hit out here," she whispers, tracing my eyebrows with her pointer fingers. "How's your head feeling?"

"Okay," I say. "The ibuprofen helped."

"That's all you get for the rest of the night, mister," she says, placing her palm flat on my forehead. "I don't want you to get addicted."

I laugh and close my eyes briefly. "Yes, doctor," I say.

"At least you guys won the game," she says. "Was it worth it?"

I open my eyes back up and look at her - the subtle pink of her lips, her long, black eyelashes, and her glistening green eyes. "Yeah," I say. "It was."

"Well, there you have it, then," she says, moving her hand from my forehead down to stroke my cheek. "You should get concussions more often."

"I really should," I say, blinking slowly.

We're quiet for a long moment; a moment where my eyelids grow heavy and she stares calmly at the opposite wall, still caressing my face.

"Do you want to sleep here tonight?" she asks, glancing down at me. "I want you to be comfortable. I don't want anything to irritate your head."

The corners of my lips pull upwards. "I think that'd be best," I say. "You don't mind?"

She shakes her head. "I mean," she says. "We've already proven that we can fit all night in a twin bed."

"Right," I say. "And this one's probably cleaner than mine was."

"Very true," she says, giggling. "Okay, then it's settled. You'll stay." She nods affirmatively. "Until you're better, you should stay until you're better."

I cover her hand that's on my cheek with my own. "It could take weeks," I say.

She makes pointed eye contact with me. "Until you're better," she says again.

"Okay," I agree. "Until I'm better."

She bends at the waist and kisses me, her lips sideways over my own, lingering before pulling away and sitting back up.

We sit in another calm silence until she speaks again. "Do you want me to… sing something?" she asks. "Or maybe the sound will aggravate your head. I don't have to."

"No," I say, leaping at the chance. This is the first time she's ever offered, and no matter how tired I am, I would never pass this up. "It won't bother me."

"You sure?" she asks. "The noise? I know you're sensitive to noise."

"Your singing isn't noise," I say, closing my eyes.

"Okay," she says, and I can hear her smile without seeing it. "Any requests?"

I tap my chin as I think. "Know anything by the Arctic Monkeys?" I ask.

I can practically hear her eyes roll. "I only know one," she says. "And it's kinda cheesy."

"I don't care," I say. "I like them. Go ahead."

"Okay," she says, clearing her throat. "Don't judge me, okay? I almost never sing in front of my friends. It's more of a… public thing."

"You'd already be singing by now if you stopped making excuses," I say, my voice slurring because of my sleepiness.

"Okay, okay," she says, then starts to sing. "Baby, I'm yours… and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky… yours, until the rivers all run dry. In other words, until I die, baby I'm yours."

I smile as she continues to sing. Her voice is so sweet and as soft as a whisper, ghosting through the room as she gently skims her hands over my head. I couldn't be more relaxed or at peace right now if I tried, and it's all because of her.

I fall asleep with my head on her lap as she sings, letting myself drift off while feeling completely safe, taken care of, and loved.

Baby, I'm yours.