M A D I E

November Fifteenth

Three

You make me feel

like being lost

is an okay thing to be.

—

Staring at the pile of textbooks and homework in front of me made me feel like my head would explode. I clutched at it, trying to push the pounding and aching away.

"Sometimes all this work seems pointless," I said with a sigh.

Bren laughed, but it was dry. "I've been thinking that for years."

I glanced over at him, attempting to ignore how tan and handsome he looked in front of the beachy landscape. It didn't work, and I pressed my lips together to withhold a groan. Was it just me, or was he growing more attractive with each passing day?

Closing my eyes to get a grip on myself, I searched for the words that would explain how I was feeling.

"In high school...I simply told myself that I was doing everything to get into a good college. But now? I don't know what I'm doing any of this for. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, Bren."

He must have sensed that I was having a mini-breakdown because he closed his laptop, giving me his full attention. A guitar played gently from the speakers on his phone as he looked at me. That was one thing I'd learned about Bren: he liked background music. I wondered if it was a study technique he'd learned from Mrs. White or something else.

"To be honest, I wasn't even sure I would make it to college." Bren leaned forward onto the patio table, and his eyes met mine, intense as always. "I almost gave up. More than once."

"What kept you going?"

I needed to know how to keep going right now.

"Caroline, mostly. A few teachers I had, too." He pursed his lips in thought for a second. "Senior year was the hardest. When I wanted to quit, Caroline would ask me if it was worth the regret I'd feel for the rest of my life if I didn't push through."

"Damn," I murmured.

"Yeah," Bren said, laughing dryly again. "Pissed me off when she did that, honestly. But I was in survival mode half the time. And sometimes you have to keep moving just so you don't sink."

My mouth suddenly went dry, and I reached for my glass of water. Every so often, I forgot everything that Bren had been through, and moments like this put it all into perspective. My parents and I had our differences, but I couldn't imagine losing both of them. Watching it. Reliving it in my head over and over again like I knew he did. Sometimes he tossed and turned at night, and I knew it was his demons keeping him awake.

Bren cleared his throat, and I realized I was staring at him. He licked his lips and gave me a slight smile. "It's okay that you don't know what you want to do, Madie."

Suddenly my dilemma of picking a major seemed so small and insignificant. But I replied anyway, needing to think about something other than Bren's past. "Usually when I mention that I'm undecided, people start asking me about my interests and shit."

I never knew what to say to that. My interests involved playing soccer, watching Netflix, and writing in my journal. Those things didn't align with career aspirations. My parents always said I could do anything because I was good at everything, but they were just listening to a story told by my grades. But they didn't understand that passing classes only translated to earning credentials. Not being good at a job. Or being happy while doing it.

Bren nodded, his lips tilted up to one side. "It's not that easy. Interests aren't what keep us going. They're not what drives us. Passions do, though. But not everyone has figured out what they're passionate about by the time they're nineteen. Some do. Hell, some have it figured out earlier. But others..."

He shrugged.

"Have you? Figured it out?"

That grin of his faded until it became a shadow of happiness. His gaze skated over me, making me feel naked. He always made me feel that way. Like there was nothing I could hide from him even if I wanted to.

"No," he said eventually. His voice was raspy, and he quickly cleared it. "No, I haven't figured it out."

"Well," I said, opening my chemistry textbook, "maybe one day inspiration will strike us."

"Maybe."

Bren's voice was soft, and I figured the conversation was over. Bending down, I stuck my nose into my book, picking up where I'd left off. Covalent bonds, ionic bonds, metallic bonds. On and on. I read the same line three times before Bren's laugh interrupted my attempt at reading.

I looked up to find him covering his mouth with his hand.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, but you always do that. It's so..." He laughed again, but it was muffled. Intentionally muffled. "Adorable."

"Do what?"

"Stick your nose to the page when you read. Do you need glasses?"

Straightening, I pushed my textbook to the middle of the table. "I have glasses."

Bren laughed even harder. "Why don't you wear them?"

"Because I look like I'm about to go to a bad 3D movie!"

He swallowed, easing his laughter. "Do you have them with you?"

I paused before nodding.

His grin faded even more, and he shook his head. "Where are they?"

"I'm not telling you."

Unphased, Bren walked across the patio, ducking into the house. I called after him, but it was useless. He was gone. Tucking my arms across my chest and beneath my armpits, I pouted until he returned, carrying my glasses.

"Found them in your bag in the bathroom."

"Going through my stuff now, huh?" My mind raced while I tried to think of anything else in that bag that he might have seen that would be embarrassing.

"Not wearing your glasses is not going to help your headaches, Madeline."

He held them out to me, but I refused to take them. I wasn't annoyed, even though I should be, especially at the full name drop. An odd sort of warmth spread through me, though. Annoyance at Bren wasn't what kept me from taking the glasses. I just really didn't want to put them on.

"Fine," Bren said, dropping his outstretched hand and sitting in the chair next to mine. His humor was gone, and in its place was a stern but caring expression as he grabbed the legs of my chair and yanked them around, so my whole body spun to face him. I let out a little shriek of surprise, holding onto the armrests until I was sure I wouldn't be whipped around again. Blinking, I found Bren watching me closely, his eyes smiling.

"Sorry," he muttered, but a smirk was evident there. When I remained momentarily speechless, Bren tried handing me the glasses again. "Put them on for me."

For him, maybe. But I didn't like the frames on these glasses or the way they looked on me. They were outdated and childish, and I had been meaning to get new ones but never had enough money.

Sighing and clucking his tongue, Bren used his free hand to brush my hair out of his face. The pads of his fingers skimmed over my cheek while doing it, and the simplest touch caused an explosion of heat within me.

"Bren," I whispered, close enough to feel his breath caress my skin as he carefully pulled back all of my hair. "What are you doing?"

His melty brown eyes met mine briefly before they dropped to my mouth and lingered there until he cleared his voice, snapping out of a momentary trance. I shivered at our proximity, at how he made me feel.

His words from that night in the rain bounced around in my head.

If it were up to me, I wouldn't just kiss you once, Madie. I'd kiss you every goddamn day.

My gaze lowered to his mouth, mimicking him. I watched as he pressed his lips together and wondered—

"I'm saving you from another headache," he said, pulling my gaze back to his as he slid the glasses onto my face.

"I don't have a headache because I'm not wearing my glasses. It's because Quinton–"

A dark cloud passed over Bren's face, and I cut myself off, unable to say it.

"The glasses will help, though," he finally muttered. "Wear them, Madie."

So I did. I blinked through the lenses at this moody boy I'd grown attached to, watching his clenched jaw melt until he wore an odd, tilted smile.

"Even cuter than when you have your nose glued to the page," he said.

"Oh, shut up." I grabbed my textbook again. I had no interest in reading more about covalent bonds, but I was definitely interested in hiding my hot, red face.

"I'm serious, Madie," Bren said, so quiet that I almost didn't hear him. I tried so hard not to look up at him, not to expose my heart more than I could take, but it was useless. I peeked.

Bren's eyes traced my face, glasses included, as my gaze met his.

"You are..."

He shook his head, breaking off.

And I couldn't work up the courage to ask him to finish it.

We studied most of the night, and I hated to admit that my headaches were held at bay until much later than usual. But I still went up to bed before Bren, needing to lie down. I hated how it felt like I didn't do anything, yet I was still exhausted. Living was just exhausting sometimes. Existing was just exhausting sometimes.

I wanted to sleep, but I didn't want to be alone. When I was alone, memories flashed through my head. Pain and bright lights. Dim lights and fleeting thoughts. Everything in between.

I didn't like being alone, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard Bren coming up the stairs. He made a throaty noise when he walked into the room. I turned to look at him to find him leaning against the door frame, arms over his black shirt. Those lean muscles were flexing as he chewed on his lip.

Bren walked around the beach shirtless a lot. And though I appreciated the view, those weren't usually when I found my mind wandering to the other memories I have of Bren half-naked. No, it was times like right now that flooded me with heat. Because of the way he was looking at me.

"That shirt was like ten bucks at the store, you know," he said. "I can get you one."

Oh, shit. I'd forgotten that I put on his shirt again to sleep in. It wasn't planned or more purposeful than simply wanting something comfortable. And maybe something that smelled like...him.

Snuggling into the pillow, I peeked up at him. "No, thanks. I like this one."

He stalked across the room, throwing his shirt off like he did the first night he came in to find me wearing his clothes. Jumping into bed, he threw an arm around me before murmuring in my ear.

"Good. I like it on you."

I wondered if he would like it off of me. More importantly, I wondered if I had enough courage to find out.

But then Bren let go, and I peeked back to see that he'd fallen against the pillows, back onto his side of the bed.

"Bren?" I asked after a moment of hesitation.

"Hm?" He glanced up at me, his expression a bit dazed.

I bit my lip, uncertain. "Come back. Come back over here." When he didn't move, I added, "It's nice when you're close to me, but I feel like you're avoiding it."

With a sigh, Bren pulled on the ends of his hair before scooting over again. "Like I said the other night," he breathed in my ear, tucking me back into his arms, "you drive me wild. Ever since that day in the water, I don't know how to be close to you without feeling like I'm going to lose control."

My breath hitched.

I wanted that. I wanted him to lose control.

We were on our sides, facing the massive windows. Our reflection was clear as day. It was a dark, starry night, and the background of the ocean was barely visible behind our figures in the window, the bedside light illuminating us. I saw Bren's head hover above my own, bent down, studying me.

"But god, do I like it when I'm touching you," he confessed, and my cheeks flooded with heat, undoubtedly flushing. His head tipped up, and our eyes met in the reflection. I found myself dreading the moment when he would inevitably break the connection and pull away again, leaving me alone. So I said the one thing I could think of to make him stay.

"Then touch me, Bren," I whispered. "And don't stop."

—

November Seventeenth

Five

I've felt you before.

I've felt you everywhere.

But you've never touched me before.

And now I want you to touch me everywhere.

🖤

thanks so much for reading.
xoxo Amelie