"Mi amor, you've hardly touched your food," Alejandro frowned. He and Heather ate at his white marble dining table Friday night.

"I'm not hungry," said Heather, poking at the sliced empanadas on her plate with her fork. She had carefully cut her food into small pieces.

Alejandro was confused, but he didn't say anything, assuming Heather just wanted to be tidy. But it was weird because Heather had stopped caring about how she looked when she ate around him a long time ago. "Alright," he replied, pushing his chair out. "I will save them later if you change your mind." He picked up her plate.

"Thanks," she muttered.

Alejandro started to worry more as he emptied her leftovers into a plastic container. Empanadas were one of Heather's favorite dishes from his home country. She always cleared her plate and asked for seconds every time he made them.

When he returned, Heather was in the living room scrolling through her phone on his grey couch, her knees up to her chest. He sat next to her, pulling out his phone to check for any missed calls.

Heather frowned. Lately, she had been obsessed with looking up the most popular models online. And now, she came across a picture of herself. She could immediately pick apart everything she felt was wrong with her. The photo was from a week ago, and she hardly noticed a difference from what she looked like a few months back. Is my diet doing nothing?!

Finding nothing exciting or important, Alejandro put his phone down on the end table. "Should we watch a movie? What was the one you wanted to see again?"

"No, I'm not in the mood," replied Heather, anxiously chewing on her lip.

He scooted closer to her. "Love, are you sick?"

Heather quickly turned her screen over. "No, I'm fine. Just tired."

Alejandro eyed her phone. Heather never hid it from him like that before. "What were you looking at?" He asked.

"Nothing!" She said abruptly. "It's not anything you'd care about." Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

Alejandro, thinking Heather was blushing, snatched her phone with a smirk. "I bet it is. Are you researching ways we could have fun in bed?"

"No! Give it back, you disgusting jerk!" Heather climbed over his lap, reaching for her phone.

"Nope." He smiled, holding the device over his head. "I will not let you surprise me like you did a few weeks ago. It's my turn, now."

"Ugh," Heather clenched her jaw. "Don't make me claw your arm off!"

"Your threats do not scare me, mi vida." Alejandro glanced at the recent picture of Heather on the internet. She was modeling in a long, silky blue dress. "Wow, usted es un espectáculo para los ojos doloridos" (You are a sight for sore eyes).

"Just give it back," she begged with a defeated sigh.

He handed her the phone. "Why were you looking at a picture of yourself online when you could simply look in the mirror?"

Heather rolled her eyes. "I was just—I was wondering...do you think I look good in the photoshoot?" She rubbed her arm.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?" Alejandro knitted his eyebrows together.

"How do I look now?"

Alejandro rocked himself forward, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. "You look gorgeous. You always look gorgeous."

Heather stared at the picture. She wondered if he noticed her 10-pound weight loss because she felt no different.

"What's on your mind, mi reina?" Alejandro wrapped his arms around her waist from the side. He rested his chin on her shoulder.

"You're being honest, right? You're not just saying I look good because I'm your girlfriend?" She frowned.

"No, I love you no matter how you look."

Heather groaned. "It's not about love, Alejandro. Am I attractive to you right now?"

Alejandro gave her a weird look. "Yes, you've always been attractive to me, and you always will be. Hermosa, where did this come from?"

"Nowhere," she mumbled.

"Nonsense."

"It was just a thought, ok? Nothing serious."

"Oh, but it is serious if my beautiful girlfriend doesn't think she's beautiful." He began to massage her shoulders.

"I never said I didn't think I was beautiful," argued Heather, leaning into his hands.

"You're heavily implying it by asking me if you look good and looking at pictures of yourself. What makes you think you're anything less than perfect?"

She shrugged, closing her eyes to enjoy the massage. Alejandro gave the best massages—no exaggeration. Heather used to have to pay for a masseuse whenever she went to the spa, but now she got some free benefits.

"Well, I think your body is the most beautiful work of art I've ever seen," Alejandro said.

"You're way too cliché."

He started kissing her shoulders. "Do I need to prove it to you?"

"Mmm, maybe," she hummed.

"I'll take that as a yes," Alejandro whispered in her ear, giving her goosebumps.

"Fine, cabrón" (Asshole), Heather pouted, pretending to be annoyed with him.

Alejandro chuckled, sensually kissing his way up her neck. "You've been milking that word since you learned it, mi amor."

She grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast. "Show me what you love most about my body, cabrón."

"Stop that," he laughed, caressing her boob. "Only I can make Spanish sound sexy."

Heather turned around and crashed her lips into his. Alejandro kept squeezing her breasts, shoving his tongue in her mouth. "I love your boobs," he panted. "And that's just two out of a million things I enjoy about your body."

Heather slipped out of her blouse, feeling more confident. Alejandro noticed that she looked skinnier. Her ribs were more prominent than before, but it wasn't enough to concern him for long. He figured that work was getting to her since he tended to lose weight when stressed. It's a good thing we have each other for relief, he thought.

Heather straddled his hips, giving Alejandro a quick view of her blue belly button piercing. "I love your cute tummy," he continued complimenting her as he ran a hand across her stomach, letting it rest on the small of her back.

"We should go somewhere more comfortable. I know you love my king-size bed," Alejandro purred.

"Carry me?" She smirked.

"Of course, mi reina." He held her bridal style and walked upstairs.

When they reached his room, Alejandro gently tossed Heather onto the golden bedsheets, emitting a giggle from her.

Alejandro took off her jeans and ran his hands up her freshly shaven legs. "Another thing I love about your body—your sexy legs." He lifted her right leg to fold over his shoulder and kissed her inner thighs. "Your skin, too," he murmured between kisses. "It's so soft."

"You know that I lotion myself every night," Heather blushed.

"I know." Alejandro carefully put her leg down and interlocked his lips with hers. "I also love your hair." He combed through her raven locks with his fingers. "And your nose." He pecked her nose quickly.

"I'm surprised you haven't said ears yet," stated Heather.

"I was getting there. Patience, mi amor." He kissed her jawline. "Your light freckles are a gift from God."

"You're so dramatic." She suppressed a smile.

"And your ears are the most adorable ears I've ever seen," Alejandro winked. "I'll do whatever you want me to do. Whatever makes you feel the best about your body."

"Anything will feel good, 'Handro," Heather replied sweetly. She saved that loving, soft-spoken voice for him only.

After they made love, Heather traced the muscles on Alejandro's chest. "I love your body, too," she said.

"I know, amor. My Latin blood keeps you warm."

"Would you shut up about your Latin blood? You've been on and on about it for years."

"No, because I know it annoys you." Alejandro kissed the top of her head.

She buried her nose in the crook of his neck, groaning. "Are you really gonna torture me like this for the rest of my life?"

"Sí, but I'll keep finding new ways." He rubbed her back. "We have at least fifty-five more years, and my family lives well into their 90s, so you may be stuck with me for another seventy years."

"Mmm, I'm fine with that," Heather mumbled.

Alejandro felt fireworks in his chest. Heather was practically throwing hints at him at this point. He had already been looking for engagement rings, but he felt none he saw so far were worthy of Heather's finger. He knew she'd want the most expensive diamond ring, but not something huge in size—she'd definitely complain about it getting in her way. "Me too." He held her securely against his chest, enjoying their intertwined bodies.

After a few minutes of silence, Heather sat up. Alejandro frowned at the absence of her warmth against his body. "Could you brush my hair?" She asked. "I can feel the rat's nest. It's like a ten-pound weight on my head."

Alejandro's smile came back quicker than his frown appeared. "Of course." She hadn't asked him to do her hair in quite a while.

"I'll go get my brush," Heather told him, swinging her legs off the bed and walking into his connected bathroom. She had an extra brush she kept at her boyfriend's house in the top left drawer in case of emergencies.

She came back and tossed the brush to Alejandro, who caught it with ease. "Do you have work tomorrow?" He asked while she got herself comfortable in bed, her back towards him.

"Yeah. From 8:00 to 6:00," answered Heather, pushing all her hair behind her shoulders.

"Whoa, that's ten hours. Long day." Alejandro started gently brushing her hair.

"Mhm. I have to work longer shifts because all these magazine companies want to interview me."

"That must be exciting."

"Believe me; it's not," she huffed. "I have to sit there for hours waiting for the interviewer to walk in, and their questions are, like, so stupid."

Alejandro laughed. "What do they ask you?" He began working on a particularly tough knot, sticking his tongue out.

"They ask me about my diet and exercise and what underwear I wear. It's disgusting!" Heather pointed her index finger at her mouth and made a fake barfing noise.

"Underwear? That's a new one. Who asked you that?"

"I don't know, this ugly middle-aged man, I think? All I remember was feeling super uncomfortable the whole time. I think I dissociated so I'd forget his horrifying face."

Alejandro glared, clenching his teeth together. "Dios, I wish I could be there with you when you do these interviews."

"Don't worry, babe. I can handle myself." Heather reached back, rubbing his thigh in assurance. Heather couldn't count the number of times she wanted to go off on someone at her work or an interviewer, but she couldn't say what she really wanted to because she'd ruin any chance of getting anywhere in the industry. Apparently, you had to have good social skills in the business world. Heather learned that the hard way when she was fired from her first job at a local department store after one day.

"I know you can," Alejandro replied. "I just don't want them hurting you on the inside. You know you can always tell me anything." He brushed the now-untangled piece of her hair a few times before moving on to another section.

"I know. And I appreciate that so much." Heather thought about telling Alejandro what she'd been doing for the past two weeks. She felt guilty hiding this from him, but it would break her heart more to see his reaction. She already knew how to get out of it. She could any time she wanted to. Just a couple more weeks to go, and before I know it, I'll have the manager position, she told herself as she did daily for motivation.

"Promise you'll let me know next time someone hurts you?"

"Yeah," she nodded lightly. But what would you do if you found out that I was hurting me?

"Good." Alejandro moved some of her hair over her shoulder. "Done with this half."

Heather touched it. "It's so soft now. Thank you, amor."

"De nada, cariño."

"Alejandro?" She began.

"Mhm?"

"I know you probably don't care, and I don't care that much, but—sometimes I worry about Courtney. She's supposed to meet up with D—the father tomorrow to talk about her pregnancy. I don't trust that guy one bit."

Alejandro raised an eyebrow. It has to be Duncan, just as I suspected. "It sounds like you do care. A lot."

"Shut up! I don't!" Heather argued, flustered. "It's just a thought."

"It's ok. I know you care about your amiga. I think she will be fine. If anything, the father should be worried. That woman is almost as terrifying as mi madre when she calls me by my full name."

Heather giggled. "Am I the only one not scared of Courtney?"

"It seems so. She'll never go after you. I'm convinced that she's a misandrist," said Alejandro. "When was the last time you saw her with a boyfriend? Oh, right, on total drama six years ago!"

"Oh please, she's not a misandrist. She just doesn't trust men. I wouldn't want to date anybody ever again if my boyfriend cheated on me either."

"Good thing I could never even dream of it, then." Alejandro kissed her cheek.

"I wouldn't want to be with anyone else besides you anyways. If I lost you, I'd just become a crazy cat lady," Heather told him.

"You won't lose me. You think I'd want to be with anyone else either?"

Heather slowly smirked. "No."

"Exactamente. Eres tú y yo para siempre" (It's you and me forever).

"I'm so happy I can understand more Spanish now," Heather beamed.

"Me too. I'll write a long note in Spanish on your next birthday card if you want a challenge," he said.

"Go ahead. I bet I could understand every word of it."

"We'll see," Alejandro snickered. "There are a lot of words and phrases in the Spanish language that you don't know of yet." He finished brushing her hair.

"Can I brush yours next?" Heather asked. "I wanna braid it too."

"I would love that, hermosa." They switched places.

As Heather fixed Alejandro's hair, she kept thinking about her secret. He doesn't need to know, she thought. He'll freak out and send me to a psych ward or something. And then he'll say he'll be home waiting for me but leave the country and never speak to me again. ...Ok, maybe I'm over-exaggerating. But he'll definitely think lower of me. He won't want to deal with me anymore.

*~*~*~*~*

Gwen had her right leg propped up on her bathroom counter over a blue towel while she finished shaving. She found it much easier than shaving in the shower because she could see better. Her favorite heavy metal band, The Serpents of Death, blasted from her phone speaker next to her.

When Gwen was barely eleven, her mother had reluctantly bought her and Reaper tickets to a Serpents of Death concert. It was her first concert ever, and she knew all the words to their songs, profane or not. Most kids at her middle school didn't listen to the band, but she hung out with many older high schoolers who did, and they taught her every dirty word and slang in the book.

Gwen grew up faster than most kids, thanks to her older friends and her absent dad. She had her first kiss at twelve, near the end of sixth grade. She and an eighth grader kissed under the bleachers during P.E. and got caught by their coach, who sent them both to the principal's office. They got detention, and the boy never spoke to Gwen again.

In eighth grade, at only thirteen, Gwen let her 17-year-old senior in-high school friend feel her up when they were supposed to be watching tv in his basement. He made her promise not to tell anyone, and she didn't, even though she knew something was very, very wrong.

Gwen still thought about it today, although it didn't bother her as much as it used to in high school. That was only the first of her many mistakes regarding men. If only little Gwen knew what was to come. Would she even be proud of who she was as an adult? Probably not. If Gwen despised herself now, little her wouldn't like her, either.

Antonio had brought back all these shameful memories. Gwen couldn't stop beating herself up for what she did with him last week. For a day or two, she considered locking herself in her house until she could control herself, but she knew that was illogical. She had a job now, and it actually required getting out and talking to people—the only con of working at The Night Owl. The pros, however, outweighed it greatly.

A bright knock on the door scared her half to death. The pizza's here already? She wondered as she quickly wet down the towel and washed the shaving cream off her legs.

Gwen got on her robe and scampered out of the bathroom. She hid behind the door in case the delivery person was still there and poked her head out. Her eyes turned into saucers when she saw a tall, blonde guy. "—Geoff?! What the hell?!" She shrieked.

"Hey, G," he beamed widely. "I have a surprise for you!" He held a giant box in his hands.

"Um—uh..." Gwen looked from him to the box over and over again. She didn't budge from behind the door. "Could you give me just a minute? I'm sorry; I'm not all the way dressed yet."

Geoff blinked. "—Oh! Oh shoot, I'm so sorry! I should've told you I was stopping by! I'll leave this by your door if you want—"

"No!" She responded quickly. "I mean...you can if you want, but you're also totally welcome to come in. I just need to fix myself up!" She turned her face away, embarrassed that he saw her without makeup.

"Alright. I'm not busy," he smiled.

"I'll be right back, ok?" Gwen put on a superficial grin as she awkwardly shut the door on him. Fuck! She rushed back into her bathroom, quickly applied concealer, face powder, eyeliner, and mascara, then threw on one of her many black t-shirts and ripped denim jeans.

She quickly opened the door, praying that Geoff didn't run off. To her relief, he was still there, looking at his phone. "Ok, now you can come in," she laughed sheepishly, stepping back.

Geoff nodded and walked in. "Sorry that took so long," Gwen said. "I just got out of the shower, and I ordered a pepperoni pizza, so I thought it was the pizza guy, but it was way too early to be the pizza guy, so, yeah..." her voice trailed off.

"No need to explain yourself," Geoff replied. "It's all good. My fault for showing up unannounced," he chuckled, holding his hand up.

"Why'd you just—show up?" Gwen asked with a short laugh.

"Well, I wanted to surprise you with this paintbrush set, but it looks like I surprised you in a different way."

"It's fine," she smiled reassuringly. "I don't have much going on this evening. I was just planning on hanging out alone and watching tv shows."

"Oh, want me to leave?" Geoff pointed his thumb back towards the door.

"No, Geoff. I already said you could come in," Gwen laughed. She glanced at the box. It read: Paintbrush Galore! Two hundred paintbrushes in one set! "Wow...you take everything I say at work seriously, don't you?"

"Of course I do! You said your brushes were getting all messed up and stuff, so I went and got you this yesterday."

Gwen crossed her arms. "Geoff, stop spending money on me. I'm sure you have plenty of other things to spend it on."

"I do spend some on myself, but I like giving my friends gifts all the time." Geoff didn't mention that he also loved watching Gwen's face light up every time he got her something. Seeing her happy was his new obsession.

"I'll take it to my art studio," Gwen grinned, lifting the box from his arms. He watched her walk into the room, unaware of the dreamy smile plastered on his face.

Geoff snapped out of it when Gwen came back. "Do you wanna watch tv with me?" She asked. "I like to flip to a random channel sometimes and watch whatever's on."

"Sounds good. So—do I sit on the couch or the chair? Do you have a special spot?" Geoff aimlessly looked around.

"No, sit wherever you want," she told him. She plopped down on the couch, and Geoff awkwardly sat near her. Oh man, why am I acting so weird around her?! She's just my friend—a gorgeous friend who I want to get closer to...

"Geoff?" Gwen interrupted his thoughts. "Do you wanna pick a movie or show? Or should we just pick randomly?"

"I say we just pick randomly. It's more fun that way," he answered.

"Alright." Gwen pursed her lips. "Hmm...I pick channel 37." She pressed the numbers on the remote.

"37. That's a perfect number," Geoff nodded. Why did I say that? He mentally facepalmed.

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, then laughed.

He focused on the tv, too embarrassed to even apologize. A pregnant woman appeared in a commercial for maternity clothes. "Oh wow, I can't believe Courtney's pregnant. Crazy stuff, dude."

"—What?" Gwen looked at him, eyes wide. "Courtney? Pregnant?!"

"Uh..." Geoff tensed. Man, I've gotta stop running my mouth! "Yeah," he sighed. "I don't think I was supposed to tell you that, though."

She sat crisscrossed. "How did you find that out? Did she tell you herself?"

"Nah, Duncan told me. Fuck—" he covered his mouth.

"Wait...so Duncan's the father? Duncan?"

"We should talk about something else!" Geoff chuckled nervously. "It's none of our business anyway!"

"You're right. I'm just shocked. I thought she hated Duncan as much as I did. Apparently not," Gwen smirked, turning her attention back to the tv.

"Yeah, well, about that...they don't exactly like each other. The whole thing was an accident."

Gwen turned back to him. "I thought we were gonna stop talking about it," she laughed. "But an accident? Courtney and unplanned pregnancy? No way."

"I know. It's hard to believe. I hope everything goes well. I think they're supposed to talk about it tomorrow," said Geoff.

"Duncan's actually willing to...?" Gwen stopped herself, remembering that he and Geoff were friends. "Yeah, I hope so too."

The commercials ended, and the current movie came on. A brunette woman sat at an outdoor restaurant with a man who looked like her boyfriend.

"That's so weird," Gwen commented.

"What's weird?" Asked Geoff.

"Their outfits. I mean, what's with her pink blouse over a white shirt like that? No one wears that stuff," she laughed. "And the patterns on her undershirt? What even is that? Tiny cats?"

"I don't know. Good question, though," Geoff laughed with her. "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that shirt," he pointed to the man on the screen, who wore a green button-up t-shirt with orange polka dots on it.

"Ugh, I hate rich people. They wear the weirdest shit, and it's really expensive, so they're basically being ripped off."

"Not if they like it, I guess. And hey, they're getting paid to act! That's pretty awesome!"

Gwen gave Geoff an annoyed look, but he was too busy staring at the tv to notice. He still never gets angry. How is that possible?! She shook it off. That's just him. Maybe he's happier because he pretended to be all his life. That has to be why!

She focused back on the movie. The man and woman were now standing up, yelling at each other. "You don't get to tell me what to do!" The woman snapped.

The man grabbed her roughly by the arm. "We're leaving. Right now. You just love sucking the fun out of everything, don't you?"

As he dragged her to the parking lot, the woman cowered. Gwen flinched. The embarrassed looks the woman gave other people were all too familiar to her.

Gwen felt the phantom sensation of Blake's hand on her arm and started rubbing the area. "You know what?" Her voice cracked. "This movie's boring. Let's switch channels!" She quickly grabbed the remote and switched the channel up—38.

Geoff looked at her strangely. "Boring? I think the action was just getting started, but ok," he shrugged.

"Yeah, um...I don't wanna watch someone get beat up by her boyfriend."

Geoff noticed a far-off look in Gwen's eyes. He saw her body trembling slightly. "You cold?" He asked.

Gwen could feel his eyes on her. She knew he wouldn't leave her alone until she said something. "No, I'm just—it's just..." she sighed "...one of my stupid exes used to—grab my arm like that. It reminded me of him. I'm sure the guy in the movie's worse, though!" She forced a laugh, praying that Geoff would laugh with her and move on.

But as one would guess, he didn't laugh at all. "—Your ex did that to you?"

She sunk into the couch cushions. "Yeah, but I'm fine now. Let's just leave it."

"Gwen—"

"Geoff, I said leave it," she snapped. After the silence came, she felt guilty. What am I doing talking to him like this? "Sorry. I didn't mean to go off on you like that. I don't wanna go into detail about it." She stuck her foot between the cushions.

"Ok, I understand," he replied softly. "I just want you to be ok, that's all. You can talk to me about anything anytime."

Gwen mustered a weak smile. Then, she took a deep breath. "His name was Blake."

Geoff instinctively scooted closer to her, fully alert.

"I don't even know what I saw in him. I mean, I thought he was hot, but he talked down to me like I was the devil or something. I guess I felt stuck with him because he had more money and promised to get us out of this apartment."

"Wait, he lived here with you?" Geoff creased his eyebrows.

Gwen nodded. "Yeah. I could pay my own rent still, but I was barely surviving. Looking back, that's so pathetic." She rubbed her forehead. "I was so determined to make it big with my art. I was fine with anyone living with me as long as they provided some form of financial help. And I mean anyone."

This was true. Before Blake, Gwen had another guy living with her. He was a stranger at first, then he became her boyfriend after just two weeks of meeting each other. He stayed until they broke up. Gwen ended the relationship because he kept insulting her outfit choices.

"You shouldn't settle for guys like that," Geoff told her, shaking his head.

"I know. It's like—It's like I have this weird habit of liking who I shouldn't. I'm working on it, though. I really am." Gwen didn't even believe herself.

"Well, I just think you deserve so much better. You're really amazing and hot—I mean...ha, you know..." his face turned bright red.

Gwen's cheeks were on fire. "You really think I'm amazing? It's not some fib to make me feel better?"

"No! Of course not! Gwen, I have the most awesome time with you. You're super fun and cool, and you always make my day when I see you." Geoff bit his tongue to keep himself from saying anything else. If I speak again, I might just embarrass myself to infinity!

Gwen twirled her hair. "You make my day too. But I'm sure you get that all the time."

"Yeah, but it means something more coming from you."

Gwen's heart raced. It was like someone was pounding a drum inside her chest. She found herself scooting even closer to him. "That's...genuinely so sweet," she replied breathlessly. His blue eyes drove her crazy, especially how he looked at her.

Geoff couldn't help but glance at her lips. She wore a much lighter shade of lipstick than usual—it looked more like lip gloss to him. Lost in her eyes, he slowly leaned in.

Just as Gwen started leaning in with him, a knock on the door startled them. Gwen held a hand to her chest. "Oh my god, the pizza. Almost forgot about that." She got up, swallowing to ease the thumping in her ears.

She gave a curt "thank you" to the delivery guy and set the pizza on the kitchen counter. "Ok, so there's some ranch and marinara sauce in here if you want any with your pizza," she told Geoff, wanting nothing more than to hide her face behind the cardboard box.

Geoff stood up, blush still evident on his face. "Yeah, I'll take some marinara. It's been my favorite since I was a kid."

Gwen let out a breath, releasing some of the tension in her body. "I'm more of a ranch girl. There's already enough marinara on the pizza."

"You can never get enough," he chuckled.

Everything Geoff said or did suddenly made her sensitive, but in a good way. His laugh echoed through the air, and his smile permanently engraved itself in her mind, making her feel insane because now she wanted to giggle like a schoolgirl.

Gwen got out paper plates and stuffed a hot, steaming pizza in her mouth to prevent her giggles from escaping. It burned her tongue, but she stayed strong. The ranch cooled it down some.

Geoff took a tiny bite of his pizza and jerked away. "Ow, way too hot right now! I gotta wait a few minutes." He sat his plate down. "—How do you eat it like that?"

Gwen shrugged, stuffing more into her mouth. She kept replaying their almost-kiss on that the couch, thinking about what could've happened if the pizza guy hadn't shown up. We would've gone too far, regretted it, and then I'd end up ruining him. That's the only way this could possibly end.

After a couple more minutes, Geoff started munching on his pizza. The two of them were silent, occasionally glancing at each other and turning away when the other looked.

Once they finished eating, they awkwardly got back down on the couch, sitting just as close as they had been before.

The current program playing was a cooking show. Gwen, mesmerized by the chocolate fountain on the screen, dozed in and out of sleep for a few minutes. The smell of pizza lingered in the air, making her feel even more comfortable.

Gwen was exhausted. All week, she had run errands nonstop and worked. She didn't mind working at The Night Owl, even though it messed with her circadian rhythm, because she got to spend more time with Geoff. She didn't want to talk to anyone else there.

Finally relaxing, she lay sideways. Her head ended up on Geoff's right shoulder, but she was too tired to notice.

Geoff, on the other hand, was wide awake. He tensed at first, then smiled affectionately at her. Should I wake her up? He thought. She looked so peaceful and adorable in her sleep, so he chose not to.

Geoff waited through two more commercial breaks to get up. He gently held her head with his hands and frantically looked around for a cushion. A small black pillow lay propped up on the other end of the couch. Ok, you can do this, dude. He stretched his arm and grabbed the pillow by the corner, nearly missing it. "Whew, there we go," he sighed as the back of her head hit the pillow.

"Mmm," Gwen turned over to the sound of his voice.

Geoff covered his mouth. Oops. I said that out loud. Please don't wake up! Luckily, she kept sleeping. He relaxed his shoulders, smiling at her. She needs a blanket!

He tiptoed into the guest room and opened the closet. "Thank god," he whispered when he saw piles of blue, purple, and black sheets and pillowcases. Geoff would've carried Gwen to her bed, but he didn't want to invade her privacy. He knew he didn't want anyone seeing his room if it was messy.

Pulling out a fluffy black blanket, he crept back into the living room and placed it over her curled-up body. "Goodnight, Gwen," he spoke softly, fighting the urge to kiss her forehead.

Geoff had never seen Gwen so vulnerable. He wanted to stay and keep her safe in his arms. Instead, he walked out the door, imagining her waking up and running outside in the cold to tell him to stay.

*~*~*~*~*

The next day, Courtney sat at a window table at the FineLine Café. She had ordered a plain black coffee and a bagel with cream cheese. She anxiously trilled her nails on the table, waiting for a man with a mohawk to walk in, possibly order a coffee, and sit across from her.

Courtney wondered what type of car Duncan drove. She pictured a black Kia Forte with a spray-painted skull with crossbones on the driver's side. The car would probably be beaten up, too. Duncan was never the best driver, she remembered. He'd always cut between cars on his motorbike, making her curse and scream at him—that asshole.

A familiar black and blue motorcycle pulled into a parking spot near the window. No way... Courtney thought. Duncan took off his helmet, revealing himself. He still has that same motorcycle.

Courtney bit her lip as she watched him tread across the sidewalk to the entrance. A bell rang at the top of the door. "Hi, how are you?" The cashier asked.

"I'm good, thanks," Duncan replied with a polite nod. His eyes wandered the café. Courtney wanted to disappear and postpone this meeting. She wasn't ready yet. She still needed to—

"Oh," Duncan murmured, heading towards her.

Fuck. Courtney averted her gaze to the wooden table.

"Hey," Duncan said. He sat in the chair across from her.

"Hi," she replied quickly, now staring at the corner of the table. I wonder if any servers run into these, she thought.

"So," he folded his hands on the surface, "what's the plan?"

Courtney lifted her eyebrow. The way he worded his question bothered her to no end. "Are you really going to be this casual about it?" She replied.

"What do you mean? I asked you a simple question."

She laughed sarcastically into her hand. "Right, because having a baby is a simple problem."

"I never said that," Duncan responded. "You're putting words in my mouth."

"You know exactly what you're doing with that apathetic tone of voice," Courtney argued.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking ab—"

"Here's your black coffee, ma'am," the waitress diligently placed a white mug before Courtney.

Courtney's expression completely changed when she looked at the woman. "Thank you," she smiled.

"Of course. I'll have your bagel out in just a moment."

"Wonderful."

The moment Courtney turned around, her courteous demeanor vanished. "Duncan, I can't have a civilized conversation with you until you show me that you care about this—like you should."

Duncan's jaw dropped slightly. "Like I should? What are you on about? Enlighten me, how should I act in this situation since you're so perfect all the time?"

She scoffed. "You should apologize to me for your inappropriate behavior at the bar a few weeks ago!"

"Ha! Is this a joke?" said Duncan. "You realize we were both drunk, right?"

"—Yes, I know that. But you're the man in the situation. And I know you have a higher alcohol tolerance than I do." Courtney blew on her drink.

"So what? I didn't remember shit when I woke up the next morning, same as you."

"But I hardly ever drink!" Courtney pouted, crossing her arms. It was so unfair. The one time she wanted to have fun in years was ruined. She knew it was her responsibility, but shifting more of the blame to Duncan was easier for her to do. This was expected from Duncan, she told herself.

"Ok?" Duncan said, giving her a questioning look. "Not my problem that you wanted to get wasted that night."

"Well, It would've never happened if Heather hadn't left me!"

"Can you say—out loud—that you made a mistake? I've already admitted it to myself. I fucked up. It happens. You're not invincible."

"That's so easy for you to say when you're not the one carrying a developing human in your uterus for nine months!" Courtney snapped. "The consequences for my mistake are so much higher than yours! That's why I think you deserve most of the blame."

Duncan threw his hands up and let them slap his thighs. He wanted the conversation to be over with, so he knew what he had to do. "Fine. I'm sorry. I take full accountability for this. If you don't want to carry a baby for nine months, get an abortion. I'm cool with that."

Courtney balled her fists. "You think it's so easy! You can just throw the word "abortion" around whenever you want, like it's picking between two of your favorite desserts!"

"I don't know what else to tell you!" Duncan raised his voice. "Nothing ever fucking pleases you!"

"Don't start with that—"

"Ma'am, your bagel," the waitress interrupted, flinching. "And could you two please lower your voices? We have a few other customers trying to eat right now."

"Of course, ma'am," Courtney gave her a big, superficial grin.

This wasn't the first time a staff member had asked Courtney and Duncan to quiet down. While dating, they argued at a restaurant about Courtney's dead-set concentration on her PDA.

That PDA led to so many fights that they ended up getting banned from a restaurant. Duncan had stormed off, threatening to drive off and leave Courtney to call a taxi, but he didn't. They didn't speak the entire way home until Duncan parked next to Courtney's house. As usual, she talked Duncan into apologizing, and they made out in his car.

The waitress walked away.

Courtney glowered at Duncan. "I hate when you say that."

Duncan sighed, mentally exhausted. He didn't remember having a headache this bad when he was seventeen. "Say what?"

"That I'm never satisfied. That's not true."

"Of course, you would think that," he muttered. "Courtney, this is the situation we're in right now. We have three different options."

"What the hell do you mean?" she asked. "Three options for how you will apologize for what you just said?"

"No, I'm done talking about that. That's not important." Duncan fixed his posture. "Let's talk about what we came here to talk about."

Courtney fixed her eyes on her swollen belly. "Ok,"
She replied quietly.

"Like I said, we have three options for how we're gonna handle this. How far along are you?"

"Four weeks."

Duncan swallowed. A month. How did almost a whole month pass by this quickly? "Ok, well, have you ruled anything out?"

"—Abortion," she answered. "It seemed great to imagine my life after it's done, but it wouldn't really be over. I'd still remember everything that happened in the last month. There's no point."

He nodded. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. I don't want to raise a child right now, either. I'm working so hard in law school. My life will be destroyed if I keep the baby."

"So adoption's what we'll do," Duncan concluded, relieved.

"I guess. It's the only option left besides time travel, but that's not possible in this day in age," replied Courtney.

"Believe me; I wish it never happened just as much as you did."

Courtney took a bite out of her bagel. It tasted bland. She figured that her anxiety ruined it. "Are you coming with me to my doctor appointments every four weeks?"

"If you want me to," he said.

She held her mug up to her mouth. The hot, bitter coffee steam filled her nostrils. "Yeah, I want you to come," she answered, her voice slightly muffled by the cup. It wasn't like Courtney wanted to spend more time with Duncan because that was the very last thing she wanted to do. She did, however, want him to share the burden of going to pregnancy checkups.

"Alright. Just let me know the dates and times, and we'll meet at the doctor's office. In the meantime, we can look for some adoptive parents. I don't want that kid in the foster system," Duncan told her.

"Of course not," Courtney rolled her eyes.

Duncan pushed his chair out. "I guess I'll see you for the next appointment, then."

"Yeah, you too."

As Duncan got back on his motorbike, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew how taxing it would be to find the right parents with Courtney's high-maintenance attitude. It's gonna be a long eight months.