IMPORTANT: Hi everyone. If you've been following my page, you'd know that I am in the processing of switching platforms from Wattpad to Patreon. (Please save your negative comments until THE END lol, I've read enough of those and I feel like I need to inform people VERY carefully this time). 

1. I've read many negative comments based on things I've previously explained numerous of times because people simply do not read carefully. You will see an end to this version of the story. But in all honesty, my more focused work will be published on Patreon from now on. It's a way for me to take my work more seriously. 

 2. Existing Stories and Chapters WILL REMAIN on Wattpad. I'm not deleting them. I'm not deleting my account. I know the three finished books on this platform are still being read. 

3. You WILL see the END to this story. I cannot stress THIS enough about this book in particular lol. Blueprint was originally going to be 15 parts regardless. I'm extending it on Patreon with new content. But you will get an end to this Wattpad version. There are earlier updates available on Patreon for the remaining parts as well as EXTENDED, edited pre-existing chapters. Some of the more minor edits include: 

- Harry's character is 29 instead of 30 in the Patreon version. 

- some relationships are expanded on; some of the other attorneys are given more context, Addison and Jonas's characters have bigger roles

- H's character is expanded on drastically in comparison to this Wattpad version. 

4. On Patreon I will be compensated for my writing by anyone who subscribes to my books. ($1.99 a month). There's a few reasons I decided not to join Wattpad's Paid Stories:

- You'd pay for "coins" through a little button you see on writers' profiles

- you'd use those coins to have access PER chapter on different books. - depending on how long the book you want to read is, you could end up spending up to $7.99 for a package of "coins"

- In conclusion: If I signed with Wattpad, which is a process I actually do not have the time for, that would be the most likely turnout. You'd have to, essentially, pay per chapter. I didn't like that as it seems ridiculous to have to pay per chapter.

- I wanted to set my price as low as I could. Be aware that the 1.99 in USD (in U.S Dollars) is also taxed for me and the platform + processing fees already come out of that amount. This is as low as I could make it without doing damage to myself. 

5. LASTLY, please understand that I've been on this website for SIX years, since 2013. I was younger and less responsible for things outside of Wattpad and outside of my writing. But things change with time. I'm giving you guys a well-deserved ending regardless, for all the support and constant loyalty. 

It's been a pleasure! This is the last time I'll make an author's note this long lol. I hope to build even half of the amazing community I have on here with Patreon. Thank you, y'all!

- Zeff 

I couldn't bear the thought. Too many feelings were striking right through my chest as I panic, my breath labored, my eyes red, swollen and glassy with a constant stream of tears trailing down my cheeks. Nose running, my hands blindly reach for the envelope that had slipped from my hands. My eyes re-read the first portion of the letter, the fury making my face hot, the tips of my ears burning. I felt the tension headache nearly crush my skull. The sudden urge to slam my fist against the wall overwhelmed me, and I did so with very little hesitation.

The pain radiated instantly, the side of my fisted hand bearing a deep red tint from the impact. I grimace at the temporary shock of the pain, consumed entirely by the anger that made my stomach turn. It made me sick. I had never felt so betrayed. My social interactions were limited as I preferred it that way, and consequently people had little room to gamble with my emotions. My isolation was comfortable. But as I come to find out today, harm is inevitable. If my own mother could take a knife and stab it deep into my spine, and drag it down until she left me paralyzed... What's to stop a complete stranger?

Lips trembling and my eyesight blurred by the ongoing tears, I stand to my feet and feverishly stalk towards my bedroom. The light in my eyes was burning from the fury, and I knew inside of me my whole consciousness had been turned upside down. I grabbed a push pin from my desk and stalked back down the stairs. I opened the from door of our house, exposing myself to the warming winds of the morning. Right into the wood, I slam the letter and push the metal pin right through the material, observing as the letter is hung against the wood securely.

I push my frizzy curls away from my face, pulling the door back open, heatedly slamming it shut behind me. The returning strength in my body was fueled mostly by the absolute rage. Every step and motion I made was whipped the air with my quick wrath. I felt as if the nebulous, clouded naivety of my ideas surrounding the world crumbled and shattered like glass around me. As I wrapped my hair into a tighter, impossibly messier updo, I scrambled to find the suitcases in my closet.

Garment after garment, random articles of clothing, the stupid flats I wear and the "risky" heels, all packed and zipped into suitcases. I did not wait. I did not give myself a chance to contemplate my mother's reactions or her feelings. She clearly didn't care about my own. Within minutes, I had emptied out all my drawers. The tears were dried against my cheeks, and my nose stopped running. Now all that was left was this absurdly painful headache that encroached around my neck and over my shoulders.

Defeated, I sat the edge of my bed and stared at the three suitcases I had packed, all filled with my clothes. I didn't know where I was going to go, but I knew it was away from my mother. I didn't know if I could look at her in the same light. The respect I had for her was spread so thin, until it diminished into nothing like a supernova as it dissolved across space. I didn't care anymore. No amount of respect could ever repair the trust I once thought I could at least share with my mother.

It was ten minutes later that I managed the courage to call my dad.

"Hey, Athy!"

"Hey dad," I manage surprisingly smoothly. I bite into my bottom lip, forcing myself to inhale deeply so I would not allow my voice to break. My weaknesses were the reason even my mother found it easy to manipulate me, her own daughter.

The man pauses and mutters, "Oh no...what's wrong? I know when you're upset. And whatever it is, we can fix it. What's up?"

"I think I can't live with mom anymore," I respond straightforwardly.

He laughs softly, adoringly at my complaint. "Yeah, why do you think I divorced her?" He humorously inquires, tuning into a more serious side of him when he adds, "I'm just kidding. Why? What happened?"

"Dad...I got into Caltech for physics. I got in," I nearly break, my lips trembling again as I state the reality out loud. "And...she hid the letter from me. She knew this who—whole time..." I sob, fresh, hot tears trailing down my cheeks. My fingers come up to my mouth, nails bitten as I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Honey...no," he whispers tenderly. His next words are so delicate that my heart nearly finishes breaking in half. "Athy... I can't even believe she'd do something like that. I can't even wrap my head around how deeply sorry I am."

"I just... I can't see her anymore. She lied to my face," I cry, bringing my knees to my chest and leaning my chin onto my right knee. My grip on the phone tightens and my breaths waver, loud and interrupted by occasional sniffles. "She saw h-how depressed I was for months. Sh-she took my dream away, d-dad. Am I just that easy to manipulate?" My voice cracks and I squeeze myself harder into my bent legs, my forehead leaning against the same knee now. I shut my eyes, hoped the world around me would disappear, and that I would go with it.

Even he can't come up with the words to say. He sighs heavily and then sternly asserts, "Listen to me, Athy. I'm in New York right now. I'm running the STEM curriculum for Teach for America. I was going to tell you I got the job a week ago, but...In a week or so, I will be back in D.C to move the rest of my things. I'm willing to pay for you to stay anywhere. Whether that be with a friend or I'll get you a hotel with my credit card. I just want you out of that fucking house." The rage finally registered in him. It finally became clear the degree to which my mother has destroyed me.

"Okay," I sniffle gently. My mind instantly went to Harry as an option. Part of me wanted to keep this from him, as it didn't concern him, and neither would he care, if I was being honest with myself. I didn't want to showcase to the world that my mother had fooled me, successfully made me into her pet, and that at twenty years-old, I still was nothing. I was nobody, and not a single backbone in place to defend my own dignity. "I packed my things," I softly tell him.

"Perfect. You got any ideas where you want to stay? I can call up that hotel by Georgetown right now to make the reservation," he promptly suggests, not wasting a beat.

I lift my head, taking a deep breath and trying to find the sense of tranquility inside of me, if there was any. "Um...I can make a few calls first...then I'll call you right back."

"Okay, sure. I'll be waiting for your call, Athy."

"Alright," I whisper half-heartedly, a wave of exhaustion and nausea hitting me simultaneously.

The call ends. I'm left wondering what to do. The hotel my father was referring to was incredibly expensive. That general area was costly, and it was not something he should be spending his money, especially when I can potentially find myself a solution. With every breath, I was cornered by the persistent thoughts of what could have been, and what could have been, where I would be, and how different I could've been if I hadn't felt like a failure for being rejected by the one institution I'd dreamed of since I was little, my father's encouragement and excitement a big part of our bond. My self-esteem took such a hard hit, and I find myself growing angrier and angrier at the collateral damage caused by this situation. Caused by my mother.

I sigh and roll my eyes as I'm forced to search for his name in my recent calls. If he even answers. My teeth bite fretfully into my bottom lip, my eyes shutting as I hear the phone ring a few times. Seconds away from a confirmation on my previous theory, the call connects, and I hear his low, disinterested voice respond, "Yes?"

"Hi," I unevenly inhale.

"Hi, Athena. I'm a little busy right now with a few colleagues," he readily alludes to his lack of interest to continue this conversation right now, so I better have something worthy to say. "Quite honestly, if it weren't you, I wouldn't have answered," he objectively adds then.

His comment doesn't make me blush or shy away. I'm simply unmoved and lacking so much energy or enthusiasm to care. "I need a big favor. You can say no, of course. It's just...a lot has happened today," I begin to explain to him, delicately and filled with uncertainty.

"What is it?" He presses flatly, unimpressed. The rashness and haste in his tone was indicative of how no favor could be too much for him to handle, and it was excruciatingly alluring. It pulls people in, and I can see the power it has right away. His impatience was present as well, but I didn't make the mistake of overlooking the underlying dominance and coolness.

My hand reaches up to rub against my temple, and I extended my legs, hanging them off the edge of the bed and sitting up to prepare myself to give him a briefing of the events of this morning. "I got into my top school, full-ride scholarship and everything. I found the letter today. She hid it from me and never said a thing," I summarize, pressing my lips together as once again, I'm bordering tears. I let him piece the rest together. "I just need to get away from her," I manage to whisper, a reappearing, painful sensation in my throat.

There's a pause before I hear him exhale. "What do you want me to do?" Harry's voice is blatantly curious now, no sense of compassion, but at least he wasn't dismissive. In the background of our phone call, a faint conversation is heard, far behind him somewhere. I assumed he had walked away from the people he was meeting with in order to respond to my call. When I'm silent, unsure of how to phrase my favor, Harry perceptively and carefully inquires, "You need me to send a driver to your place?"

"Yes. Please," I quietly reply, gratitude filling my voice.

"Okay. I can't have any involvement in this, you understand. From your mum's perspective, she can't know. Yes?"

I nod responsively. "Of course... thank you..."

"I'll give Johnson a call. I need you to write down what I'm about to say, alright?"

Frowning, I curiously mutter, "Okay..." Pulling my phone from my ear, I place it on speaker and quickly go into my 'Notes' apps.

"His license plate number is AC3240," he slowly, carefully describes. "The car model is a black 2016 Mercedes-Benz GL-Class. It's an SUV. If you don't know what it looks like, look on the web for it. I need you to make sure that's the vehicle that is picking you up before you even step outside, understood?"

My eyes narrow at the screen of my phone as my thumbs swiftly type out the information he cautiously spelled out for me. His need for me to be so vigilant and watchful was odd, but I simply manage a questioning, "Okay..." The phone is pressed against my ear as I remove it from speaker phone mode.

"Okay. I'm going to be gone for much of the evening. Just sit tight. Text me when you're about to arrive and I'll call then to give you two passcodes in place of the keys. One opens the garage door of the building, the other opens my place. You know where that is," he lowly whispers, the pace of his words quicker than usual.

"Mhm...," I hum gently, feeling inquisitive of how painstaking the measures he takes are, but I do not question him any further, knowledgeable of the reaction I'm going to get.

"A'right, there's also upgraded security in the building. They'll know you're coming. Call me," he reminds me sternly, before hastily hanging up the phone.

I pull the phone from my ear, gazing at the screen, hesitant to stand. I remember something Addison had said about Mr. Yung's security team and remembered that at the time, Harry didn't have any. Suddenly, however, he's acquired a team of his own. My eyebrows draw together, eyes squinting absentmindedly at nothing in particular. I simply sigh and try to relax, shoving the pain of today's discoveries further back into my head. I remember I have to give my father another call and lug my luggage downstairs.

Dauntingly, the idea of never speaking to my mother came over me. I felt some degrees of sadness, but it was nothing, useless in comparison to the vast amounts of fury, rage, wrath. I was tempted to never speak to her again, but I knew that was far-fetched in some ways. At some point we'd have to talk about it, but nothing good could come out of having that conversation in my current state. She didn't deserve to explain herself to me until I've had my own space. And if I had to pathetically ask Harry for his help, I'd gladly prepare a bag of my personal items if it meant that I could avoid her for a week or so.

Agitated, I quickly lug all my things to the front door. I spend most of the time it takes the driver to arrive making sure I would not have to return for anything. A horn goes off from outside, and I stop my current counting and checklist to hastily tiptoe towards the window, pulling the curtain apart to look at the vehicle parked right in front of my house. A man steps out of the correct model, dressed in a black suit. He was much older, greying hair buzzed. A tall man, with a trimmed beard and a stoic facial expression. Standing by the car, he patiently waits for my arrival. My eyes peak over at the license plate of the car, reading it and gazing down at my phone to see that they properly match.

Sighing, I push my front door open. The man gazes over at me with little responsiveness facial wise, and instead walks forward until he's at my front steps. I watch him carefully, apprehensively, before moving to actively get my luggage outside of the house. At the front door remained the letter that was pinned to the wood. I saw it in my peripheral and struggled to ignore it.

"Hello," his flat, monotonous voice greets. "I'm Fredrick Johnson. But Johnson is just fine. I'll help you with your bags. Mr. Styles allotted exactly fifteen minutes for the call that you've arrived at your destination. So please, we must get going."

Again, I'm bewildered by the details and the careful specialization in every single component to a transaction. I'm stunned momentarily, staring at Johnson with a perplexed frown, but he grabs my luggage effortlessly and prompts me to follow him. Pushing past my slight concern, I grab the doorknob and shut the door behind me, a rough noise airing out by the force used. The letter pinned against the wood moves slightly, though it remains where I'd like it to.

In the SUV, Johnson says very little to me. His driving is rapid and with precision as he seems to know exactly where to turn, what lanes to switch to, and what lights to avoid. He's an incredibly good driver, and while I examine the route we're taking, he gets me to Harry's building within the time allotted, with much of it still remaining. It was a quick drive, which I don't remember it being, but this is definitely a professional driver unlike Harry, who drove at a fast pace as well, but he was more relaxed, calm, and less pressured to arrive at a certain time.

A few security guards stand at the main entrance of the building, men I hadn't seen last night when Harry brought me over. I rack my brain for a recent memory, depicting whether I had seen them when I left this morning or not. But I couldn't come to an answer. My observations are cut short when I realize I have to text Harry I've arrived. I call him again as Johnson pulls up into the garage space, and Harry answers within four rings. "You've arrived?" He readily responds.

"Yes. Just got here."

"Okay. Johnson's going to bring up your things. Only you'll know the passcodes so he's only taking one trip up," he elaborates. "Tell me when you're ready."

"Mhm, okay."

I stand outside of the vehicle after Johnson had opened the door for me. The parking garage is filled with cars I hadn't seen before. Mostly black, except for cars I'm sure belonged to Harry. The rest were possibly ones that belonged to his new security team. I remember he had told me he didn't fully renovate yet, so maybe he just recently officially moved into the building. I'm astonished by the magnitude of Harry's wealth, and genuinely begin to wonder the raw numbers in his profits. That was clearly none of my business, and in the end held no value other than monetary.

Johnson leads the way towards the garage door that leads into the building. As I'm following, over the phone, Harry quietly murmurs, "Are you okay?"

"No," I answer simply, honestly. There was no point in me hiding my emotions anymore, as I've done much of my life. There were no restrictions. All those times I had told myself I wasn't worthy because of the extent of my failures were now fading away. I didn't get rejected, in reality. I simply allowed myself to believe that I wasn't good enough. Harry is unable to respond to my honesty as I've approached the door. "I need the passcode for the garage door," I interject softly. Johnson respectively stands behind me, his distance notable as it blinds him from seeing the numbers I input. My eyes note a small camera at the corner of the garage, just above the door.

"It's 4-9-3-7-0-0-5," he says slowly. "You might want to remember that."

My fingers follow his commands, and lock clicks before the light by the dialer turns green. I twist the handle of the door, and it opens with no resistance. Feeling bad for the weight Johnson was carrying, I hold the door open for him, which he quietly thanks me for. The door shuts behind me as both him and I walk towards the elevators. Trailing slightly behind him, I respond to Harry who remains on the phone, surprisingly patient. "Okay, I'm inside. And I promise you I didn't remember that at all," I tell him flatly.

"Hm, you should."

"Good to know." My tone is quipping and less cautious than it usually would've been if he was advising me on something. I blame the amount of energy that was drained out of me by the events of the morning.

In front of his door, Johnson stands aside again. Once more, my eyes trail to the ceilings, pinpointing the security cameras placed in the corridors. I hadn't noticed them last night. He gives me the passcode that opens the door to his place, and adds, "Nobody else knows these passcodes except for a few people in my security team, myself, and now you. Don't share those, Athena." It was a warning.

It sounded like a I should be flattered, but as Johnson bid me goodbye and left my luggage by the door once he saw I was inside, my mind was elsewhere. I stood in the spacious living space, the area so silent, a needle hitting the floor would undoubtedly catch my attention. The environment gave off an illusion of grandeur, luxury, and wealth. I knew the first time I had seen it that this does not come with little effort, but now, seeing it again after this morning, it stood in a different light. He could have anything he wanted really, if this was just fragment of the scope.

"Athena."

"Oh," I realized he was still on the phone. I move to shut the door and lock it, speaking into the device. "Yeah, sorry. Just got distracted. I'm here now."

"Good. I have to leave to take care of a few things. We'll talk when I get back."

"Yeah, okay. I guess...I'll just sit tight," I repeat what he said earlier. "I have to make a phone call, anyway."

There's a momentary pause, and then he says, "I was thinking about giving you something."

"A life?" I deprecatingly joke, taking a few steps where the sunlight from outside meets the shadow the wide, glass windows provided. The sunlight hits my face, the glow warming my skin, the light baring into my hazel irises, lightening the hairs of my eyebrows and the curls messily done into an updo.

Harry doesn't hesitate when he speaks. "You have that. Everything you do from this point and on, that's yours to decide. To plan. To live. I can't tell you what to do with your life, Athena, but you should know this one thing...it's yours."

His words almost make me tear up, the sunlight that hits my pupils amplifying the sting of my tears. I squint, blinking away the emotions. "You don't have time to be lecturing me right now," I whisper, alluding to the business he seems adamant about returning to.

"It's not a lecture, love. It's just a fact. Like I said, we'll talk when I get back."

. . .

There was nothing to do at his place. It was a beautiful place, of course, and massive in length and width. I lounged by the pool that was its own room, a glass encased area with the sun pouring in from every single angle. A high ceiling, marbled floors, and a long pool that reached about ten feet from the very middle to the end. The room was hot, and possibly on purpose, as the pool itself was cool. I pulled my skirt further up at my thighs and just sat against the edge, swaying my legs slightly back and forth. There was a tranquility inside of me, and I had little energy left to fight my sadness. I let it drown me. I let it take me and float me along. A few tears fell as I inhaled, shutting my eyes and taking in Harry's words from before.

Maybe the power I had been looking for was more accessible now than before. I wanted some control over my life, as most of my life, either my parents (mostly my mother) or some authority figure had exercised theirs over my own. I didn't have much of a chance to plan and execute my own ideas on the basis of my own feelings. It was like the world had been functioning and maneuvering without waiting to stop and ask me what direction I wanted to take. I'm sure the world doesn't work like that, but the universe must for others, as they seem to have so much power over their own choices. I could have that if I chose. But what could it cost? Every action has an equal or opposite reaction.

The sun sets over the clouds, and the beautiful red, orange, pink, and slightly purple hues gradually peak into the room. I was so focused, I watched as the colors transferred into the light. Losing track of time was comforting. For a moment, from the height at which I sat, looking outside, the world seemed to just stop. I had no idea what was going on down there, and I didn't care. I was lucky for this moment of true serenity. While my eyes lacked their usual curious luster, and my body felt the energy inside be stripped out with every exhale of my breath, I thought about absolutely nothing and everything at once.

"You found the pool."

My head whips back, body moving so I could observe the figure that now stood several feet behind me. A blood red button-up dressed his torso, the fabric rolled up at his elbows, exposing his strong forearms, and the watch on his left wrist. Black pants and dress shoes accompanied the shirt. His hair was not brushed back, but it was left hanging by his cheeks. Standing there, unsurprised and watching me with a curious squint, he readjusts his jaw and swipes his thumb across his nose before taking a few steps forward. He nears the edge before he kicks off his own shoes, promptly placing them by the sitting lounge a few feet back. Once again, he turns to me and bends to roll his pants by his knees. Something that trivial looked so normal on someone who never broke a sweat in any situation. Except for when we engaged in our favorite activities.

I turn around again to face the sky, a glass wall away from the freshness of the air outside. From my peripheral, I see him take a seat next to me, close enough that his knee brushed my own. I knew in any other context the contact would initiate my excitement, but I had none of that inside of me right now. My lack of responsiveness is not due to my shyness or my inability socialize with confidence, but now more the opposite. Because I didn't care to answer. I didn't feel like I had to.

"It's not the end of the world, Athena. Just in case it feels like it is," he tells me tenderly.

My eyes blink and I sigh, bringing my hand up to run my fingers and their knuckles across my cheek. Again, I didn't say anything for a moment. "Yeah," I say, my voice raspy from the hours of silence. "I know it's not," I assure him gently. I still face the view of the sunset, refusing to miss a second of it.

I can feel his eyes gazing the side of my face. The red, even from my peripheral, was a beautiful color against his lightly tanned skin. The green in his eyes struck me with greater astonishment when I take the risk of taking a glance, just in time for when he mutters, "I can understand if it does feel like it. For a while."

My eyes watch the sky again. A bitter smile curves into my lips as I shake my head, huffing very slightly. My hands grip the edge once again, listening to the delicacy with which the water moves and flows through the filters inside the pool and back out onto the surface. "I don't know what I feel anymore," I admit sincerely. "I was furious. I was... defeated. Now I'm just...here."

Harry doesn't say anything. I think he understands there wasn't really anything he could tell me that I didn't already know. Maybe practical advice on where to go from here, but I didn't want a solution right now. I wanted to know whether I could do it, whether I could find it in myself to not let this defeat me. Whether I was strong enough to let go of the 'what-ifs'.

"My own mother found it easy to manipulate me. To lie to my face...despite the tears and the weeks of pain I went through. I...I let myself take the hit to my self-esteem. Because I thought... I wasn't good enough to go after what I wanted. I let it get to me, and she saw what it did...and...none of that made her rethink her choices," I nearly choke, hating the tightening in my throat, the tears that now stung adamantly the surfaces of my glassy, red eyes. My hands reach up to my face, wiping away the fresh, hot tears that spilled down the pinking skin of my cheeks. "I can't believe it..." I whisper then, swallowing the painful lump in my throat.

He watches me wipe my tears, intake a wavering breath, and my chest rise. His eyes examine the side of my face, and I wanted to know what he thought. Even if he was so private, I wanted to know what he thought about my situation. As my tears subsided, I turned to look at his face, our eyes locking. I knew mine were puffy, red, and swollen from the amount of times I've cried. My nose red, cheeks pink. His green ones stared at me; his facial expression neutral if it weren't for the warm light that hit his face when the sun peaked again from the clouds. His dark eyebrows draw closer, and the usual coolness of the green in his irises warms as he squints. The hairs lighten across his face, the brown of his cheek-length hair rises a few shades in the spectrum.

"It's not you," he finally says, his voice direct and demanding not to be questioned, but his tone laced with a tenderness that I appreciated. "I get that it meant a lot to you to get into that school, but, you're here in Georgetown, credits ahead everyone else your age. At an internship usually reserved for graduates — and I actually had very little say whether you got in or not, before you use that excuse. That was all George Masik. He saw your application and loved it. I just happened to agree."

I bite the inside of my cheek when he pauses and adds, "You're focused. Analytical. You look at things from multiple angles and try every single one before you make a decision. I think your cautiousness, the patience you have and move with, is the most impressive thing about you. I think because of that; you can thrive anywhere. That school saw it, Georgetown saw it, Masik saw it. Everyone sees that in you. There's no reason for you to need the reassurance if you can just recognize that about yourself. There is power in everything, and you can see that. Some people go for the shiniest things too soon because it looks better than the pile of rubble. There is gold and there are diamonds under that rubble, Athena. And you have the eyes for them."

My chest rises with a shaky inhalation of air and I instantly whine, "Stop...you're going to make me cry more."

A faint smile curves into his pink, heart-shaped lips. My heart jumps into my throat when his arms reach over, and I'm suddenly forced to lean into his body as he holds me, my legs entwining slightly, my wet feet soaking his pants, but I didn't think he cared enough for them. He pulls me further up and I end up seated on his lap. My legs draped across his at a perpendicular angle, the bottoms of my feet leaning onto the edge of the pool. I ring my arms around his neck, my face close to his, our eyes locking. The disappearing sun begins to dim the natural that coated the room, and instead automated lights turn on. I glance around the room and huff, knowing I should've expected that.

"You feel better now?" He whispers against my lips, his eyes never leaving mine.

Shrugging, I whisper back, "Just a little."

"This won't stop you," he promises. "I know you've got more fight in you."

"How do you know?"

"Because I have eyes for you."

n. The extended version of this chapter is available on Patreon! (link can be found on my profile)