"Just get on the bus," I snapped at the freshman who was complaining about not getting to go to her favorite restaurant.

"Bad day?" Jay asked, raising his eyebrows after hearing my comments to the freshman clarinet that had made her promptly burst into tears.

I nodded, "You can't even imagine."

He shot me a wicked grin and whipped out a Double Chocolate Frappuccino from behind his back.  "I know how to make it better."

I sighed and planted a kiss on his cheek. "What did I ever do to deserve this," I teased lightly, grabbing the Starbucks from his hands.

He just smiled and led me on to the bus. I followed in suit, praying that the sugar in this overpriced drink would keep me from killing someone on the way home.

                                                                                              ****

  "Have a nice night," Jay slammed the final car door, inside you could hear the chattering kid talking non-stop to their anxious parent.   

Dale bounced over to me and wrapped me in a hug. "Night Cleo Cleo," he planted a kiss on my forehead," see you tomorrow."

"No one died," Jay trudged back toward me, a satisfied grin on his face.

"Not yet," I joked, linking my arms around his waist.  

"Ok, we need to talk," I stated bluntly after we had been silent for a few moments.

The panic was clearly written on his face, but he allowed me to lead him to the bench outside the band hall doors.

 "Jay what are we.. You half fuck Lindsey then tell me you love me. You write songs for me and then don't speak to me for a year. I want to trust you, but please just tell me what's going on."  I brushed the hair out of my eyes and willed myself to look at him.

"Be my girlfriend.....again," he added in afterthought.

"Look, the thing with Lindsey was nothing," I avoided his gaze, "it was nothing," he said firmly, forcing my eyes to meet his. Tonight the storms in his eyes had vanished, all that remained was a clear night.

"Cleo, she came on to me. I should of said no faster, but I was shocked and angry and I didn't mean to hurt you."

My heart was racing too fast for me to even attempt to create words from the scrambled letters floating around in my mind.

"Besides," he grumbled, hate spilling into his voice, "Dale  has been looking for every opportunity to get you alone."

Rage erupted deep inside me. My mouth opened like a fish gasping for air, "What the hell," I sputtered.

"Don't think I don't see the way he looks at you in practice. The way he touches you," the venom in his words was unmistakable now.  "If anyone should be lectured on trust it should be you."

My mind was on a tilt-a-whirl going  millions of miles a minute, making me feel like the contents of my lunch was about to make a reappearance.  He changed his mood so fast. One second he was apologizing, the next accusing me and making my head spin. We were torture for each other. Hell in it's purest form.  He was my own personal brand of nicotine, burning my lungs, killing me from the inside. But I was hooked. I was hooked on every touch, every breath. I couldn't get enough.

"I am in love with you," I announced quietly. The anger immediately melted off of him. In two strides he closed the gap between us, locking his lips with mine.

"I'm sorry," he whispered when we both decided we needed air, "I love you."

I smiled against him, locking with his lips once again. His hands found my waist and began tugging at the hem of my jeans. I ran my fingers through his hair, getting lost in every essence of his being. 

I slipped my fingers below the waist. He let out a throaty moan as I let my hands explore, free from the chidings my mind.

"Got you," I mumbled in his ear, pulling away from him.  I flashed his car keys right in his line of vision.

"What do you need those for?" he asked, biting his lip in a way that forced me to use copious amounts of self control.

I turned my back on him and started heading for the parking lot, "My parents are out of town, and your going to need some way to get home in the morning."

I could almost hear the click of my words registering in his mind.  He sprinted to the car, grabbing the keys from my hand.

The speedometer didn't dip below 70 the entire ride home.