Sun streamed through the window, hitting Andrew squarely in the eye. He winced, inhaled sharply, and made to turn away. Then he realized he wasn't alone. For a brief second, he forgot where he was. He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the room in small bits.

The peeling grey wallpaper. The trees swaying outside the window. The dated paintings on the walls. The sofa that looked like it fell out of the seventies. The smell of burning wood lingered in the air and the tip of his nose was cold. Then he remembered.

Molly lay next to him, still asleep. In the cold of the night, she had snuggled up against his chest , hair tumbling across the blanket underneath her. He remembered the storm that raged for most of the night. Beans on toast in front of the fireplace. The way she felt against his body as they had moved together. The way the cold night chilled his body as they settled in to sleep.

He saw that the fire had burned down in the fireplace and the room had gotten cold. He shivered a little as he got up, gently edging his way around Molly. He pulled on his boxers and hustled to the toilet. The cold air brought goosebumps out on his skin and he actually gasped when the frigid water hit his hands under the tap.

He hurried back to the lounge room and pulled a sweater over his head from his suitcase. The embers in the fire came to life slowly when he blew on them. Within a few short minutes, he had a small fire going and his hands began to defrost. He sat in front of it, feeding smaller logs into the fire from the basket on the side of the fireplace. He felt Molly begin to stir behind him and he turned around.

"Jesus fuck its cold!" she gasped as she stretched her arms over her head. "I thought it was supposed to be summer time."

"It is," he chuckled. "But the air here is cooler from the ocean. You said that when we were camping."

"I know," she groaned. "But I never expect it."

"Come over by the fire," he said, tapping the carpet next to him. "You'll warm up faster."

She moved across their makeshift bed and settled next to him, wrapping one of the blankets around her shoulders and pulling her knees into her chest. After a yawn, she looked up at him.

"What's the plan for today?" she asked.

"I figured we'd go out for breakfast - assuming the town hasn't been blown up the coast - and maybe explore the island a bit," Andrew replied. "That sound good?"

She smiled. "Absolutely. Do you know if the electricity's back on yet?"

He shook his head. "Haven't checked." He leaned over and turned the switch for a nearby lamp. It flickered to life. "There you have it," he said. "Back in the twenty-first century."

Another smile lit up her face. "Good. You can turn the heat on while I shower."

He watched her go, a blanket wrapped around her body. Her slim shoulders peeked out above the edge of the blanket and he was briefly flooded with images of his hands and lips on her skin. He was half tempted to follow her, but the day was wasting and he didn't want to spend all of it inside. Instead, he wandered through the house to find the thermostat and cranked the heat.

Pipes rattled as hot water rushed through the house to radiators. He heard the shower running and took the opportunity to change his clothes. He was halfway through pulling his shirt over his head when he heard an appreciative whistle.

A blush rose in his cheeks and flooded down his neck. "What?"

"You're sexy," she remarked. "In a nerdy, geeky, lanky kind of way."

He shook his head dismissively. "Hardly."

Andrew ignored any sex symbol references people made about him. He was just a musician. He wasn't sexy or attractive. He was just...Andy. Too-tall-for-his-school-trousers-Andy. Skinny-like-a-bean-stalk-Andy. Years of people asking him, "How's the weather up there?" had removed any possibility that his height was an advantage.

"Fortunately for you, I like my men as tall as trees and skinny enough to hula hoop a Cheerio," she joked, slapping his ass gently.

He smiled and watched her dress. She selected a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a thick grey knitted sweater. Her hair was tangled and she ran a brush through it hastily before pulling a thick wool beanie over top of it.

"Well don't just stand there," she said as she sat down to pull a pair of hiking boots over thick socks. "Get some shoes on so we can get going. I'm starving."

He did as she asked and tugged on a pair of worn out Vans that had seen better days. When they both had coats on, they ventured out into the blustery morning. The storm had done a number on the nearby trees, knocking branches down and scattering leaves and twigs across front lawns. The houses were sturdy and barely had damage at all. They had to have been to survive on the islands this long. A limb had landed on top of a farmer's fence, smashing it in two. He looked up and nodded at them before returning to clearing it.

"I think I saw a small bakery up the lane yesterday," Andrew suggested. "I say think because I'm not sure I'd have recognized Jesus himself if he was stood next to me in that rain," he added with a chuckle.

Molly smiled. "I'll say this for Ireland: you sure know how to put on a storm."

He took her hand and they walked up the muddy road toward a small hamlet of buildings in the distance. The air was crisp in his lungs and the sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs nearby rushed in his ears. Molly's hand in his made his heart race and he was glad for his gloves hiding his sweaty palms. Even after all the time they had spent together, she still made him nervous as hell.

"Up there!" he exclaimed when a narrow, squat building came into view.

He led Molly into the door and held it open for her. The cafe was mostly empty, save for an elderly couple reading the newspaper and sipping tea in the light of a window in the front corner. The smell of bread baking and coffee brewing made Andrew's mouth water. They placed their order and took a table along the brick wall opposite the counter.

He slid his coat off and put it on the back of his chair and sat down opposite Molly. "After breakfast, maybe we could walk down along the cliffs? The sun's out so it shouldn't be too cold."

"So long as I don't get blown off the edge," she agreed. 

The barista appeared with a tray of plates and coffee cups. She placed a cup and plate in front of each of them before returning to the counter.

"Why is it that most of our relationship has revolved around coffee and pastry?" Molly asked, stirring two sugar packets into her cup.

Andrew smirked as he took a sip from his own cup. "Just lucky I guess."

"I don't think I'll ever look at coffee shops the same way again when I get back to LA," she admitted.

"Why's that?" he asked, selfishly hoping her reason had something to do with him.

"Because all of the coffee shops there are nothing like the ones you have here," she explained. "They're all about the industrial hipster atmosphere and selling organic free-trade coffee that was eaten and shat out again by cows in Columbia. Don't get me wrong - I'm all for fair labor. But it just seems like everything in LA is a big production and so fake. Here, you know what you're getting. There's no pretense."

"You keep talking about how LA is dirty and crowded and pretentious. Its almost as if your subconscious is trying to tell you something," he hinted with a smile. It was pointless, he knew.

Molly smiled. "I can't use a degree in law from America in Ireland," she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

He wanted to say so much more, but he left it instead. They'd had the conversation already and he had no desire in beating a dead horse. They drank their coffee in comfortable silence, occasionally commenting to each other on something that came to mind. When they were done, they stood, put their coats back on, thanked the barista, and ventured back out into the chilly morning.

Clouds raced across the sky and a strong breeze blew against their faces. He hung back on the pretense of tying his boot, allowing her to wander a few paces ahead of him. He pulled his phone out and took a photo of her, hair blowing in the breeze, the sun hitting her raven tresses creating highlights and low lights as it peeked between clouds. Even from the back, several paces away, he'd have recognized her anywhere. 

"Hang a left," he called, catching up to her.

He took her hand and allowed her to steer him toward the cliffs as the hamlet dissolved behind them. The ocean grew louder as waves crashed against the rocks beneath them. They came to a stop along the barren stone edge of the cliff. The ocean stretched out before him like an endless mirror full of whitecaps and rolling waves. The sea spray was so great that it reached up to the top of the cliff, dampening the ends of his hair and giving the tip of his nose a bit of a chill.

"Let's sit," Molly suggested. "I'm starting to get vertigo."

He sat next to her, his legs dangling over the edge with hers. "Its all so wild here," he remarked as another strong breeze blew through his hair, nearly taking his hat with it.

"Any song inspiration?" she asked, kicking her feet against the rocks.

"Plenty," he responded. "But I've had plenty of inspiration all summer long," he added, tucking an arm around her shoulders.

"Cute," she chuckled. "Are you writing a new album then? Or just doodling around?"

"Bit of both. I'm always writing," he explained. "My label would rather me write a whole new album but I'm not sure I've got enough for a full album yet. Maybe an EP. I'm not sure."

"Are any of the songs about me?" Molly asked slyly. "I'm just joking. You don't need to tell me what any of them are about," she added hurriedly.

He watched her for a second before speaking suddenly. "Will we keep in touch...after you leave?" he asked.

His sudden change in demeanor jarred her. "I - I'm not sure if that's a good idea. My phone only works in Ireland, so my number is different back in LA."

"Why wouldn't it be a good idea?" Andrew pressed. "We could text or call each other occasionally. Just to check up on each other."

She stiffened. "Maybe...yeah. I wouldn't want to be a distraction for you though."

"You wouldn't be," he assured her, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

"Andrew..." she started. "Please listen to me. Don't make this into something its not. Please," she pleaded softly.

He felt thorns grow around his heart, encasing it like rapid-moving ivy crawls up the sides of old cottages. Except, instead of pricking those that tried to hurt him, they pricked his heart, puncturing tiny holes all across its surface, allowing pain in. His masochism was growing by the day, but he couldn't stop it.

Anger began to bubble inside him, starting at a low simmer as they stood and started walking back toward the cottage. He kept his hands to himself, not wanting to create any further tension between the two of them.

Why is she so reluctant? He thought. Why is she so set on things ending in a few weeks?

He began to doubt himself, and their relationship. Maybe she had a boyfriend after all and she didn't want him to find out. Or maybe she just wanted something fun - a distraction for the summer - and he had served the purpose. Whatever the reason, he had gladly participated, knowing the end would come.

You dumbass, he cursed himself. You don't get to be angry with her for agreeing to things as they were back in May. Be pissed at yourself, you great idiot.

His internal monologue distracted him for most of the journey back to the house. He didn't realize he had been silent for fifteen solid minutes until Molly spoke.

"What are we going to do now?" she asked.

Andrew's anger in himself had reached a boiling point and he acted on impulse. He grabbed Molly by the wrist, pulling her roughly after him up the lane toward the cottage. He ignored her protests and questions as he unlocked the front door and pushed her inside ahead of him.

"Andrew! What the fuck?!" she demanded as he slammed the door.

Ordinarily, he wasn't the type to be this forceful but his frustration about Molly's unwillingness to continue their relationship after she returned to America had reached its head. If his words couldn't convince her, perhaps his actions would instead.

"Shut up," he said, pulling her to him and kissing her roughly.

He felt her stiffen slightly before melting against his chest. Her mouth opened to him and he pushed her back against the door with a thud. He felt the air rush out of her body as he pressed himself against her. He tugged the hat off of her head and flung it to the floor before he started in on the zipper on her jacket.

"Andrew what-," she asked between kisses.

"Stop. Talking," he growled, yanking her jacket off of her arms.

He ripped his own hat and jacket before pulling her across the entryway into the front room. She looked at him with a mixture of surprise and mirth, as if she was contemplating her response to his demand. He wasn't sure how he'd react if she pushed back too much; it was against his basic beliefs to force a woman to do anything. Fortunately, she chose to oblige him and pulled her sweater over her head.

He smiled to himself and pulled his own sweater over his head before pressing himself against her again. Her hands came up under his t-shirt and he gasped as cold flesh met hot. The shock sent an electric current through his body and he yanked her t-shirt off, not caring that it got caught on her hair. She hissed, but it was silenced by his mouth on hers. All he wanted was to be close to her, as if allowing any distance between them would somehow increase the chances of her changing her mind.

He kissed her as he frantically tugged her shirt over head, only pulling away to lavish attention on her breasts. They were framed and presented beautifully in a dark forest green bra. Andrew smiled against one as he slipped his long fingers under the fabric and freed it. He ran his finger tip  across the nipple, enjoying the way it hardened under his touch. She sank back onto one of the sofas when he brought his mouth down over top of her breast, sighing at his touch.

"Did you wear this on purpose?" he asked with a grin as he used his teeth to move the fabric away from her other breast.

"N-no," she stammered.

Andrew ran his hands across her abdomen, stopping at the waistband of her jeans. He tugged them over her hips and growled when they got caught on her boots. He yanked each boot off of her feet and launched them across the room before taking her jeans off completely. Her underwear matched her bra, but he didn't spend much time admiring it before he slid them off over her legs and tossed them over his shoulder.

"What brought this on?" She gasped as he ran his tongue across her skin.

"I told you to stop talking," he growled, nipping at her ribcage.

She snapped her mouth shut and let out a low moan. He moved his mouth over her abdomen, stopping just short of her pelvis. He smirked against her stomach as she let out a frustrated sigh. His fingers danced over her breasts before settling against her throat, wrapping themselves around it perfectly. He felt her tense slightly underneath him when he brought his other hand to her core.

"Fff-uu-cckk," Molly whined, unable to contain herself.

He slid two long fingers into her body, more forcefully than he intended. She gasped and arched her back against his hands. He smiled wickedly down at her and continued to thrust his fingers in and out of her. Molly gasped and wrapped her fingers around his wrist at her throat. Her finger nails dug into his skin, making him hiss in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"You like that?" he hissed in her ear with a sly grin.

"Please don't stop," she begged breathlessly. "Don't stop."

He continued, watching her face as he brought her to climax with ease. Her eyes shut tightly and her mouth popped open as waves of pleasure rolled through her body. Andrew's patience had run thin and he was tired of giving her all the attention. He stood up and yanked his tshirt off, throwing it to the floor. His hands went to his belt buckle and seconds later he kicked his underwear and jeans off to the side.

"Get over here and suck me," he demanded, pulling Molly up by the wrist.

She landed on her knees at his feet and obediently opened her mouth, taking his cock in easily. His head fell back as she sucked, rolling her tongue over the tip repeatedly. He grabbed the back of her head, burying his fingertips in her hair.

"Suck," he ordered, gripping her hair tighter.

Molly sped up, gagging repeatedly. Andrew groaned and swayed on his feet as the edges of his vision blurred. She grated her teeth across his length and he hissed loudly. He dug his nails into her scalp, pushing his cock further into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. Her fingernails dug into his thighs in a slight panic until he pulled back a bit.

"I can't fucking wait anymore," he growled, pushing her down to the floor and flipping her onto her stomach in one fluid movement.

She gasped as he slid into her from behind. He gripped her hips as the carpet bit into his knees. Molly let out a low whine when he sped up, slamming into her with a feral quality. He felt her start to shake underneath him and then suddenly her knees and elbows gave away and she collapsed slightly. He had to slide his arm under her hips to hold her up. He could feel himself on the edge and it was tempting to jump. Molly was nearly limp underneath him, breathing heavy, so he went for it, emptying himself into her with a loud growl.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. They lay like that for several minutes until their breathing slowed. A sheen of sweat had formed over their skin and a chill was starting to set into the room. Molly started shivering and he pulled her against his chest, kissing her forehead. He fished around for a blanket and pulled it up over top of them.

"Where did that come from?" Molly asked, putting her head on his chest.

Andrew chuckled and played with her hair. "Just felt like it, I guess."

"The wordsmith is at a loss for words," she smirked.

"No," he said, shifting to look at her. "I just wanted something...different."

"Are you sure you weren't taking your frustrations out on me?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He shrugged, feeling a blush rising up his neck. "If you think so," he said, brushing her question off. "I'm gonna go clean up."

He stood and walked down the hallway to the toilet. As the shower ran, filling the room with steam, he felt a pair of hands slide around his midsection. He relaxed back into her form as her lips moved across his bare back. For the moment, he was truly happy.