She takes off her shoes and crawls up onto my bed. I try to ignore that she is, in fact, sitting on my bed, because this fabulous idea of mine is proving to test every molecule of willpower I have. I quickly think of every non-sexual thing I can think of to calm my hormones: grandmas, Will in a bathing suit…Jen–yup, that does it.

I kick my shoes off into the compact closet and apprehensively approach my bed. “It’s okay, Brooks; you can sit on the bed with me,” she says as she flattens her hand on the duvet, signaling me to sit beside her. I don’t hesitate, practically bounding onto the bed.

We both settle back against the headboard, but I make sure to keep my hands to myself. I remain diligent for the entire film. I don’t pay attention to most of the movie; I’m enjoying just watching her lose her sadness in the comedy. I unwind to the sound of her laughter. Occasionally I feel her head on my shoulder, and I remain as still as possible so that she won’t realize our contact and move. Her touch leaves a streak of fire across my skin, and when she takes it away, my body feels the loss, yearning for her warmth once again.

When the movie ends, we both stretch and look to one another for the next step in this unforeseen evening of ours. “Are you feeling a little better?” I ask tentatively.

She rests her hand on mine. “Yes, thank you for being here, Brooks.”

I brush a piece of her hair behind her ear, similar to the way I did the day we met, but this time she doesn’t take her eyes from mine, nor does she shrink away. “I’m hoping that one day you’ll see that I’ll always be here.”

We sit in silence for a moment, neither of us taking the offensive. I refuse to take advantage of this situation and push her towards being physical; she would only regret it, and all the progress I’ve made would be lost. Making the decision for us, I pull away from her. “So, what would you like to do now? I can get another movie, we can talk about what was bothering you, or I think Will may even have some playing cards somewhere.”

“I think I’d like to talk about why I came over here,” she says. “First, I’m going to need a few drinks. Why don’t you get some water, and I’ll pour a few more shots?”

My eyes narrow. “Are you sure? You don’t seem like much of a drinker; I don’t want you to get sick or anything.”

“You’re right; I’m really not. I think two would be my limit.”

I laugh, shaking my head, and move towards the hallway to get the waters. When I return, the shots are poured, and Vivian is sitting on my bed once again. I place the waters on my desk and take my shot from her. I quickly throw it back, wishing I had some kind of chaser for it. I wasn’t really prepared for company; I was lucky to even have the alcohol. Vivian does the same with her drink and hands me her glass.

“Let that one settle and you can have another in a little while,” I tell her, setting the glasses on the desk alongside the waters and climbing back onto the bed. “Okay, now tell me what’s going on. It was horrible seeing you cry earlier.”

Vivian pulls her knees to her chest, and hooks her hands together around them. I want her to open up to me, not hide within herself, so I grab her hands and pull them away from her legs. I lie down, pulling her with me so that we are facing each other. We each tuck an arm under our heads and let our bodies acclimate to our closeness.

“You’re not at all what you were like the entire first month of school; what’s up with the change?” she asks.

“I’m not the same,” I answer. “I wanted to be with you, but you never gave me the time of day. I finally realized that how I was acting was pushing you away. I may not be the best guy in the world, but I could never intentionally hurt you, Red. I just wish you didn’t hate me so much.” My eyes divert to the duvet that I’ve been picking at, embarrassed that I admitted that all to her.

“I never hated you, Brooks.” My eyes fly to hers.

“You don’t need to lie to make me feel better; I know that you detested me.”

She sits straight up and places her hand under my chin, forcing me to look up at her.

“I need you to understand something, Brooks. I never hated you, ever. I liked you from the minute I found you in my bed, but I didn’t trust myself around you, so I avoided you. You overwhelm me, and it terrifies my very being to think of what would happen if I gave in to you. I saw how you were with other girls, and I wouldn’t walk away unscathed and in one piece like them. You would break me.”

I sit up and wrap my legs around her, pulling her to me. “I wouldn’t break you, Vivian. I want to be the guy that mends the piece of you that is already cracked. All I want is the chance to have that honor, no matter how difficult the job might be.”

She tries to turn away from me, but I lightly palm her cheek and bring her gaze back to mine. “What fractured you, Red?” She shakes her head and then leans into my hand, closing her eyes to absorb my touch. “I’m not ready yet,” she whispers with her eyes still closed.

I pull her face to mine and rest my cheek against hers; her scent of lavender and vanilla envelopes me, and I want nothing more than to drown in her. “Is it the same thing that upset you tonight?” I whisper in her ear. She doesn’t move away from me; instead, I feel her nod and wrap her hands in my shirt. “Would you like to know what damaged me?” I ask, and she nods again.

I turn into her, delicately kiss her cheek, and then run my nose along her creamy skin until I reach her forehead, planting another feather-light peck. I then pull away, take her hands away from my shirt, and lace my fingers with hers. Feeling my absence, she gradually opens her eyes.

“I’ve never met my real father. He took off before I was born. Then when I was two, my mom got married and had a whole new family with my stepdad. He adopted me, but really, it was more for appearances than anything. Recently my dad started writing to me, wanting to meet. I just don’t know if I even want to know him. I’ve always been someone’s afterthought; no one has ever picked me for me. The attention that I get from girls, it makes me feel wanted; for once I have the control to choose, instead of always being last pick.”

“Brooks, you’re not my last pick. That control you seek means you have the power to crush me. You and I are not all that different.”

“I don’t believe that; you’re so much better than I am. You’re good and pure and loyal, all the things that I pretend like I am. But I’m a fraud; all of this tough shit and arrogance is all just a show.”

“You’re not a fraud; you’re just trying to survive. I get that.” She takes a deep breath, pulls her hands from mine, and shakes them out. “Okay, here it goes. When I was little, my father was killed. The man who was responsible went to prison. After it happened, my mother packed my sisters and me up and moved us back to her tiny hometown, trying to forget that it ever happened. To this day, she refuses to talk about what happened. I’ve heard rumors about it, and the things my father was into that possibly got him killed, but she refuses to talk about it. She has gone overboard trying to shelter us, keeping us from the outside world. It took a lot to even get her to let me come to school here.”

I entwine our fingers again, attempting to show her my support. Hearing that her father was murdered and that he was possibly into some kind of trouble before his death certainly surprises me, but I pass no judgment. “Is that why you were crying?”

She nods. “I called home to ask one more time about my dad. I thought maybe I would use it for my English paper. I mean, I wasn’t sure I wanted to throw all that drama out there for Vauldin to read, but I at least wanted the option. I thought maybe writing it down would be therapeutic for me.”

“You know, there would be case files that are public record if you really wanted to know the story. If you wanted to find out, I would go with you.” I’m not just offering to be nice, or because of the moment. Being this close to her, feeling her, she has bewitched me, and I would go to the ends of the Earth for her.