A/N: Thank you for the follows and reviews already! I'm stressing to try and make this story worth all of your time, but I can only aspire to be half as great as the writers already on here.

Here's Chapter 2!

Hanna was right; I needed to make my presence known. It's been damn long enough and I'm exhausted. I'm sick. I'm done being the other woman. I've put myself through so much for Paige. I've come so far from high school and yet I feel like I've gone right back to that little girl I used to be – insecure and afraid to be alone. All for what? Someone who doesn't love me … who'll never love me … who doesn't know how to love. It's all too clear to me now. I've wasted so much time. So much damn time.

Today marks two weeks since I've seen or heard from her and I'm not waiting another day. If I was going to take the initiative, I needed to do it now. I start a new text message, "Why haven't you called?" I rapidly sent it before regretting I did so.

It's one of the very few times I've contacted her first. I sound a little more desperate than I originally was aiming for, but it's only a fair question for me to ask. I also know the risks of someone else reading the text before her, but at this point, I couldn't bring myself to care. I make myself busy in the meantime. I pace around my room, straightening little things that don't need to be; rearranging pictures and books and knick-knacks that sit on top of my dressers. All things that shouldn't be touched because I'll only move them again soon when I realize I don't like the new arrangement. Every now and then, I'll glance at my phone as if it's possible that I had received a text without any sound going off. And then it hits me – like those cartoons that have a light bulb appear above their heads when their thought has fully come to them – here I am waiting ... again. I sigh in defeat, plopping down on my bed, and stare at the ceiling. This is such bullshit. And almost as if my frustration had been sensed, my ringtone goes off.

"Ball is in my court, remember?"

I scoff and roll my eyes at this unspoken agreement, whom I have no one else to blame for but myself. Paige's cockiness is what upset me the most, yet also what attracted me to her in the first place. I sure know how to pick 'em. Or maybe I never really had a choice.

"And now it's in mine. Be here in 30 minutes or game over."

I toss my phone to the side, fairly confident that my threat would be enough to get her here. Therefore, I continue fixing up: placing candles on all sides of the room, lighting each one and filling the air with my two favorite scents: vanilla and lavender. I take a quick glance in the mirror only to be disgusted with what I see. I change into jeans and a long-sleeved v-neck thermal, spray a bit of vanilla perfume on, toss around my hair to try and give it volume, and apply some concealer for the bags underneath my eyes. Slightly more satisfied with how I look, I begin to pace again, thinking of all the things I want to say to her. All the things I should've said to her months ago. I think of how she's going to react to what I say, what her reactions will escalate to, and how this will effect everything we've come to know as "normal" ...

"You're adorable when you're upset and go after what you want."

In my peripheral vision, I spot her leaning against my doorframe with her arms crossed. I spin on my heels to face her, catching a glance at my clock to see that she had made it within 20 minutes. I wasn't aware of how quickly the time had passed.

"Paige ... you're here."

She knitted her eyebrows together, "Did you not think I would be?"

She glided across my room in just a few strides, grabbing my hips and pulling me hard against her. I didn't look at her and before I could formulate the right response, she started to speak, "I've always trusted you not to end what we have, but now you've stated your case and I'll tell you this: I'm not ready for game over."

With that, she cupped my chin in her hand, lifting my face to her, and pressed her lips to mine. Our past few encounters were rough and unemotional, but this was different. Her kiss was tender, gentler than before, and I immediately melted into it. Did my minor threat really work? I deepened the kiss, sliding my tongue into her mouth, taking advantage of this rare moment. She lifted my shirt; we briefly broke contact so she could bring it over my head. But, as it fell to the floor and she leaned into me again, my senses came rushing back.

"No, no, no. This isn't what I called you here for. We need to talk and not screw around", I stated, bending down to pick up my shirt and put it back on.

I could hear her breathe in deep through her nose, clearly annoyed with how abruptly I stopped her from going any further. An amused snicker shortly followed, "Emily. We don't talk."

"Exactly!", I exclaimed, raising my voice and changing the mood faster than I thought I would, "We don't talk … that's the problem! For the past year and a half, I've just been some girl on the side for you. I revolve my life around you; I drop what I'm doing, right then and there, when you call just so you can get yourself off and leave. What is your girlfriend still not doing her job at pleasing you? Is that why you still run to me?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about", she spoke through her clenched jaw.

I stare her right in her dark eyes, seeing the reflection of the lit candlewick in them, "No, Paige, I do. I'm not as oblivious to this as you think. You wanted me to keep quiet for this long, well, this is what you get for expecting that of me. I chose to stick around, hoping you'd eventually commit to me; you didn't. Now, you have no other choice but to make that decision, yourself, once and for all."

I swear, as she stood in silence, I could feel the tension start to suffocate us. She scanned my face then finally commented, "I always have choices."

"Fuck you", I spat and she smirked at my unintentional pun, "Can't you ever take anything seriously? I'm trying to have an adult conversation with you and you treat it like the topic isn't even worth your time."

"Because it shouldn't even be up for discussion."

I back away from her, throwing my arms up in exasperation, "You know what? You're right. You're so right. Thank you for giving me all of the answers I need."

She closes the distance between us again, bringing her lips to my forehead. My blood is still boiling; I want nothing more than to push her off. But a part of me, no matter how irate, allows her to stay there.

"We're done here, Paige."

"… We're never done, Emily."

This is going to be so much harder than I thought.