Pacing is a little awkward in this chapter just to keep things moving, we're entering a helluva story arc, buckle up, queridos! Thank you so much for reading, I am excited to read your reviews and see what you think of where we're headed.

John got to enjoy the rest of the week with his siblings. Even Jem was on his best behaviour. Polly and I finished her essay together and made a plan to get her English grade up this semester. He was sad to leave, but a contentment hung in the air as we said our goodbyes. Martha dropped the three of us off at the airport, giving everyone a final hug, containing herself to just a shoulder squeeze for me.

Once we were home, my brain ignited. I'd be a student again in just over a week. The office would open back up tomorrow. Things were back to their breakneck pace.

I was ordering books from the Columbia bookstore website when John let himself into my office, smiling at me using the new computer. He held a box wrapped in green paper and presented it to me. I smiled at him and took it as he came to sit on my desk.

"Open it." He smiled, resting a foot in my lap, the other swinging freely.

I tore the paper open, revealing a box that held my own pair of noise canceling headphones.

"For when you need to make the world disappear."

I smiled back at him, remembering how confused I'd been the night of the storm that he lay me down, put his giant headphones on me and held me against his chest until the rain stopped.

"It's perfect, thank you so much."

"Merry Christmas, babe."

I rubbed his shin where it sat in my lap and yawned, "need a cup of coffee, you want me to make you some tea?"

"Coffee? Come on, let's go to bed."

"Alright, alright," I conceded.

In bed he let me hold him, I wrapped myself around him, a little too tight.

"You alright?" He asked, adjusting himself in my grasp.

"Fine." My tone curt.

"Alex," he singsonged, "I know you, what's your problem?"

"Fuck, fine... Nervous. Anxious."

"That's okay, I figured. You anxious about school? Going back to work?"

"School."

"Have you tried the breathing exercises from your therapist?"

I rooted in his hair, deeply inhaling the strawberries, I nipped at his ear when I found the cartilage in the tangle of curls.

"Don't wanna breathe. Wanna fuck you."

He giggled and turned to kiss me, "breathe. Healthy coping skills. Breathe… I mean, what happens after that happens."

Grudgingly, I took a few deep breaths, letting each exhale hit his face, making the curls around his face dance. I did feel better… dammit. He watched me relax, hands finding my shoulders.

"See? So much better."

I nipped at his throat, "I hate it when you're right."

He moaned into my touch, I ran my tongue over the vibration in his throat, "don't you have an early morning tomorrow?"

"Stop being right, John." I sucked at his collarbone.

"Okay." His voice was breathy as he pulled at my clothing.

I took my shirt off and watched his pupils blow in the low light, he stripped as well.

"Come here." I grabbed his hips and pulled him lower on the bed.

"Not so fast. You stop it, Mr. Freaking the Hell Out. Want you to lay back and relax. Let me take care of you, babe."

I thought about it, "fine,"

He leaned in close, "I mean, I'll still ride you, just wanna give you a minute to be loved on."

With that he slunk down the length of my body and took me into his mouth, sitting back on my crossed ankles as he worked me over. I brushed his hair back, holding it out of his way in a fist, he batted his eyes and looked up at me. Those goddamned hazel doe eyes, the paint splatter of freckles. I took a deep breath and tried to slow my body down, loving whatever the hell it was that his tongue was currently doing. He pulled off and grinned at me, licking his lips, leaving me sloppy and swollen.

"John, please." I hated begging, probably why he loved it when I did.

"Shh." He cooed, sliding back up my body, poising himself over me.

"Wait, stop. I don't want to hurt you." I put my hand on his chest.

"I took care of business." He sounded so proud of himself.

"Wait, you… oh?" the wheels spun in my head and I spotted the lube lost in the bedsheets, sly little minx.

He gripped my bicep with one hand and guided my shaft with the other, throwing his head back as he took me in. I held his hips and rubbed circles over his stomach, my lip seated between my teeth.

"Damn, you're so big." His mouth popped open into a little 'o', eyebrows coming together once he reached the base, our bodies united.

I leaned up, resting on my elbows, neck craning forward to kiss him.

"Come here, amante, I got you." I scooted us against the headboard, sitting up, him still straddling my lap, rocking just slightly for friction, his knees bent under him.

His hands found my neck, tipping my chin up to kiss me.

"I love you. I want you. I need you." He pressed our foreheads together, rocking his hips more urgently.

"Te necesito." I tightened the grip I had on his hips, the flesh there going from its fawn colour to white, and drove him down harder onto me.

"So amazing. So sexy." He panted, forehead dropping down to my shoulder.

"I love you, John Laurens." My voice was more of a growl than I'd anticipated, but it brought me joy as the sound caused him to arch into me.

He used his knees as leverage and bounced up and down my length more desperately, the headboard now rapping against the wall. His hands raked through my hair, one sliding down to cup my cheek, his touch still so delicate, so loving, even with his face contorting in pleasure. I took him in hand, working him over in time to the rolling ocean tide of his hips, he sat firmly on me and swung his hips in a figure eight. Tiny cries sneaking out of his throat, I felt his muscles contract, his orgasm following moments after, ricocheting into mine. We cleaned ourselves up and curled back into one another.

"I'm feeling way better now." I told him, combing through his soft hair with my fingers, delicately working the tangles loose.

"Still, you won't be able to do this every time that you feel anxious."

"I want to." I told him.

"It might be weird to just have sex with me in the middle of class."

I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Alex." He admonished me.

"Just saying, be kinda hot, wouldn't it?"

He conceded, "maybe just a little."

The next week flew by, I settled back in at work and got ahead on my projects - both for work and learning everything I could about the cases we'd be reviewing in my classes - locking myself in my study, waking up a few mornings still in there, bent over a notebook, blanket draped around my shoulders by John before he went to bed. This was one of those mornings. I woke with a start to him rubbing my back, he handed me a cup of coffee.

"Shh, it's okay, babe, but you need to get up. We both overslept, it's seven, you have class in an hour."

"Fuck." I bolted out of the chair.

First day, already late, fuckfuckfuck. Of course, metaphor for my life, I'm wasting my time, my money, why am I even going to school?

He sensed my thoughts from how they dressed my face, "hey, stop, go get dressed, I pressed your good jeans and a button down last night, figured you'd wanna look sharp on the first day."

I kissed his cheek, "my hero."

I, of course, nicked myself in the mad dash to shave, never more grateful to keep my goatee, saved loads of time shaving. Pulled my hair back into a low messy bun, out of the way, not quite 'lawyer professional', but it would work. John leaned against the door frame, tea in hand and watched me get ready.

"You're gonna be great, and, hey, proud of you."

"Thanks." I nodded, running my teeth over my lip.

"Come here," he put his mug in my hands and unbuttoned my shirt, "missed one, I gotcha."

I blew out a breath and watched his hands work, tucking in my shirt as he fixed the buttons. He patted my chest and I stepped into my Vans.

"Thank you." I kissed him again.

"Go kill 'em, see you tonight." He took his tea back and squeezed my hand.

"Love you."

"I love you, too."

I was out the door, pushing the elevator button too many times, checked the time on my phone, 7:23, I should just make it. They'll all notice how late you are, judge you, forget the relationship with that professor. I pulled a deep breath in through my nose, expanding my chest and let it out slowly, feeling my pulse slow. The elevator took me to the ground. As if by magic the train was on time and it was smooth sailing down to Columbia. I smoked my morning cigarette as I entered the courtyard and found my classroom. I was in my seat by 7:56. See, it's fine. Everything is fine. The room was filled with nearly a hundred students.

The professor, a brown man - well done, Columbia, look at you being all racially inclusive - took his place behind the podium, his tall, straight-backed appearance gave him a commanding aura. The lights gleamed on his shiny bald head.

"Good morning, students. I'm George Washington, your professor. You're all here because you have fire. No one wants to practice law from a place of passivity. You are taking on this journey either because you fear change or because you want history to turn its attention to you for creating change. It's not my place to influence which side of the table you sit on, and frankly, it doesn't matter, my job is to turn you bright-eyed and bushy tailed - though don't think for a minute I think it's genuine, I remember how much caffeine it takes for grad students to look like that - young people and turn you into lawyers with sharp tongues and quick minds capable of doing your job, following the law to a T, and defending your clients."

I liked him.

"On your desks you'll find a copy of the syllabus, we will follow this to the letter…" he continued to lay down the groundwork for how the semester would go.

"Now, you've all read the Mississippi Supreme Court Case Davis V. Vaughn, let's discuss the situation in which a part acting in loco parentis can trump natural parents. You, second row, glasses."

A gawky man stood up, "uh, well, when there aren't any real parents left?"

The professor shook his head and pursed his lips, "let's try this again, can anyone appropriately define the term 'in loco parentis' and give its history?"

I stood, a little too quick, the professor leaned against his desk, "okay, you," he gestured to me.

"Sir, Alexander Hamilton, in loco parentis is defined as 'acting in the place of a parent', while it, obviously, is a Latin term the use in legal context originates from late 19th century England at the Cheadle Hulme school for orphans, and has been adopted in law in America to define the role of non-natural parents acting as guardians for orphans, wards, or other children placed in their care in the event that the child's natural parents are not present, unknown, or deceased." Like if they die in the fallout of a hurricane and a cousin the child barely knows whisks them away from their broken home to go live in New York City, I added mentally.

"Mr. Hamilton, that is the correct answer," he turned his attention to the gawky student, "you've learned something from your classmate, you should be grateful for that. Hopefully, next time you are called upon you can produce a thoughtful and intelligent response."

I smiled to myself, suck it. The rest of the class went off without a hitch, I took notes with reckless fervor. Finally, the professor dismissed us. I filed out of the lecture hall with the rest of the row, getting bottlenecked through the aisle. Finally, we spilled into the hallway, I felt a tap on my shoulder, "they'll just let anyone in here." The voice was so familiar, it chilled me, I knit my brows together and spun on my heel.

"Angelica Schuyler?"

She looked just like she had in high school, a touch more refined, in a salmon pantsuit, hair pulled back. She grinned at me and held up her left hand, showing off a ring.

"Angelica Schuyler-Church. I'm married now. Hi, Alexander." She hugged me. Conflicting emotion tore through me like a bullet, everything about her so familiar, so homey, but so painful in the same breath.

"Wow, congratulations… how-how are you?"

She let me go and linked her arm around my elbow, guiding me deftly down the crowded hallway.

"It is so good to see you. What have you been up to stranger?"

"I, well, I'm a journalist-"

"Of course you are." She smiled at me.

"I'm, I have a, I live with my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend, huh? That's good. Good for you."

"What about you, law school?"

"Yeah, me and John, my husband lived in London for a while, had a baby, Catherine, but I missed New York, so we came back. I want to help women fight for equality, you know go all Ruth Bader Ginsburg on 'em."

"John's my boyfriend's name."

"Small world." She laughed.

Jesus Christ, how many John's can there be? Are there no other names?

We were in the courtyard, it had begun to snow while we were in class, I turned to face her and lit a cigarette, she shook her head at me, disappointed to see that that habit hadn't died.

"How is she, Angie? Is she happy?" I pulled hard on the smoke, hoping for a good answer.

"'Liza?"

"Yeah."

"She's… she's good. Works a lot. I think she's lonely, but you know Eliza, she'd never let anyone know it. I think she'd like to see you, Alex. It's been a long time, but maybe the closure would be good for you both. You know, I've missed you, too. You were my best friend. I hate how things happened, I hate that our dad moved us upstate. You didn't do anything. You were good to my sister, things just got messy. Things are often messy."

Another hard drag on the smoke, "does she live in the city?"

"Yeah, we all moved back here, Peggy's in college in California right now. You know Peggy, always on some crazy adventure."

"You said she works a lot. Eliza, I mean, what does she do?"

"She's a teacher at Graham Windham," Angelica beamed, "she runs programs for the foster kids."

My heart sank and smile shot across my face, head spinning at how dizzy the two emotions felt, "she have any kids?"

"Not of her own, she loves each of those foster kids like they were hers, though."

I nodded, "she find anyone?"

"Not really, no. I think she's happy enough, though. Look, Alex, I'm glad you're happy, she is, too, really. Let me give you my number."

I handed her my phone and put my number into hers, "it was good to see you, Angie."

"Good to see you, too, friend."

She hugged me again and we went our separate ways, I rode the train to my office in silence, mulling everything over.

"How was your first class?" James patted me on the back as I hung up my coat and scarf.

"It was… interesting." I conceded.

"Oh?"

"Ran into an old friend. Never thought I'd… Anyway, got that project in, so hit me with something new."

"You got it, check your email."

I nodded and got to work. The story I was writing taking up much of the brainspace that I'd devoted to my encounter with Angelica. I pushed it off until it was time to leave.

"Have a good night, Alexander, happy first day of grad school." James said as he locked up the office behind us.

"Thanks, James, see you tomorrow."

I got home and found that John made us dinner, ravioli in vodka sauce, he kissed my cheek and handed me a cocktail.

"How was your first day?" He asked while buttering a piece of bread.

"It was good, I think I impressed the professor…" I tore at the crust of a piece of bread, not sure whether or not I intended to actually eat it.

"What's the matter?"

"I, uh, well you know Eliza, the girl I-"

John tipped his head to the side, "-yeah?"

"Well, her sister is in my class, weirdest shit. But she stopped me after class. It was weird, but I don't know, good to see her, we were really close."

"That's kind of cool that she's in school with you."

"She wants me to see Eliza."

"Hey! That's a good idea, babe. Give you some closure."

"That's what she said, too."

"I think you should."

"We'll see."

I managed to eat some of the food that John made, it was delicious, always was when he cooked. After dinner, I went to my study to work on some homework. Lost in papers, I barely felt my phone buzz with a phone call. I didn't recognize the number, but I picked it up anyway.

"Hello?"

"...Hi, Alex." Her voice was soft, she sounded nervous, but somehow still so soothing, so reassuring.

"Eliza."

"Angelica gave me your number. How are you?"

"I'm… I'm okay." I lit a cigarette and rolled my chair over to the window.

"Angelica told me about today, I'm glad you're going to be a lawyer still. You always wanted to be, you were so good in debate."

"Yeah. How are you?"

"I'm okay, too."

"That's good. Angelica thought maybe you'd want to see me?"

"I do, if-if that's okay, if you want to, I don't want to-"

"-no, Eliza, I'd like to see you. When?"

"I'm free tomorrow, lunchtime if you want to meet?"

"Okay. I can, yeah, that's…"

"Central Park?"

"Our bench?"

"I'll see you there at noon."

"Okay, good to hear from you."

I hung up and let my cigarette burn down to my fingers. I went to the living room and found John watching a movie. I sat beside him, dropping my head on his shoulder. He snuggled against me and I breathed him in.

"You okay?" he asked, pausing the movie.

I nodded, feeling the pressure build until a tear rolled across the bridge of my nose and dropped onto the neckline of his t-shirt.

"What's wrong, babe?"

"She called me."

"Who?"

"Eliza." More tears fell.

"Yeah?"

I nodded again, not trusting my voice.

"Well, I think that's good, love." He kissed my head.

I picked my head up and pawed at my face, "she wants to see me tomorrow. You don't mind, right? I promise it's not, like a thing."

"What? No, of course not. Go. It will be good!" He thumbed away tears. I hated him seeing me like this. Like such a pussy.

"Okay." I drew blood from my lip and sucked it away.

"Come here, babe." He wrapped his arms around me and I melted, not consenting to my body's response, letting it take over, letting myself feel safe and warm in his grasp. He kissed my hair and whispered his adoration in my ear.