I lost count of my half-full whiskey glasses after I finished the fourth.

No words were exchanged. It felt weird being here; it felt weird being in such close proximity with Luca.

It had been so long since we were in the same room together like this. And now, the days seemed to pass in a blur with feelings of such intense...dislike towards him.

Dislike. Never hate. Though drunk me would say differently, I could never hate Luca Blackburn.

"You'll get full days back at your job, you know." Luca spoke after awhile, his voice surprisingly soft, "as soon as your director gets the word, you'll be back to forty-hours a week."

"And miss breaking into people's houses? Never." I didn't mean to smile, especially after all the events tonight, but my lips had a tendency to act on their own.

He didn't reply - a small smile lingered on the corner of his lips as he pulled out another bottle of whiskey. It wasn't expensive like the first; no, this was a memory. This was a memory in which we were too broke to buy anything nice, but simply wanted to drown our feelings.

I consciously smiled. "And here I thought that you'd be too good for Jim Bean." I started to sway my legs, the tingling feeling indicating I was getting drunk. Fast.

Luca made his way over to me, not bothering to look up from his phone as he stood in front of me and placed his empty hand palm down on the counter next to my thigh. I wanted roll my eyes. I really, really fucking wanted to. "Don't act like you don't know me, pretty girl."

I rolled my eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere. Especially with your eyes glued to your fucking phone."

He tapped his phone to turn it off, then put it in his back pocket and looked at me like he hasn't seen my face in years. Oh, fuck. "Chaya..."

I kept silent as his hand ended up on my thigh, our eyes locked as his touch reached new limits it shouldn't of. I couldn't stop him, though, for I lost all control of any protest that was left in me.

Could I blame it on being drunk? The adrenaline rush that happened not too long ago?

My phone began to ring somewhere next me. Just as I went to reach it, it was shoved further away. "Look at me."

I began to regret sitting on the marble counter top. I did it only to defy Luca, to show him that his new lifestyle didn't mean to shit to me; but now, I was prey waiting to be eaten.

I turned my head back towards his, and that was all the permission he needed to attach his lips to mine.

I should stop this. I should end this now.

But I can't.

I missed this too much. His fingers knotted in the hair on the back of my head, exposing my neck to fulfill his hunger. I let out a sigh between breaths, which Luca took as a signal to keep going. His hands moved to my waist, digging into my skin while he softly bit at the skin of my neck.

I needed to feel Luca here; I needed this moment to fill the ache that my heart felt for so long. I was desperate to keep this moment going.

I wrapped my legs around his body, pulling him closer as I knotted my own fingers into his hair.

"Chaya..." his voice was a growl, making a hunger in my lower stomach explode. Fuck.

He picked my body off the counter top as if I was weightless, his lips reconnecting with mine as he took us down a hallway. He nudged open a door with his knee and swiftly put us on the bed.

I need to stop this.

His lips began to dip lower, reaching my collarbone. His hands were now at the hems of my shirt, a desperate attempt to try and take it off.

I can't do this.

I rolled our bodies over so I was on top of him and mustered all the self dignity I had to roll off the bed and land on my feet. I turned around to face a window, feigning interest in smoothing my outfit so I wouldn't have to face Luca. "No."

"No?"

I was suddenly angry that my cigarettes were left in the kitchen. I spun on my heels and began to walk away, my wrist getting caught in tattooed hands before I could exit the door way. "Chaya..."

Whiskey courage suddenly filled my chest to the brim, and I finally looked into his eyes. "You're supposed to be fucking dead."

"We went over this, Chaya," he spat, getting off the bed. "I had to do this."

"You had an option!" The loudness in my voice surprised me. I was angry. "I fucking hate you."

"You wanna do this? You sure?" A cocky grin spread on his lips. "I didn't want to leave you. But as everyday passes, I'm fucking glad I did. You couldn't handle this."

Spit began collecting behind my teeth. I was having trouble reminding myself I graduated college and didn't spit on people anymore in fights. "I think I handled almost getting shot just fucking fine."

"You can't handle shit without getting emotional, and that's your problem."

Before I could breathe, before I could stop myself, I did it. I fucking spit at Luca Blackburn.

His eyes went wide as he touched his cheek. The room went silent, and the only thing that filled the air was the tension. Finally, he spoke. "You shouldn't of done that."

In the blink of an eye he had my body pressed against his in a corner of the room. His hand on my chin and his thumb and index finger slightly squeezing my cheeks, he smirked. "Do you think I let people punch me? Spit on me?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. All my whiskey courage was now gone.

"I didn't want you to get fucking hurt. They would've ate you alive before I made a name for myself!" His voice was now loud, booming across the whole house. "I did this for you, Chaya. Don't you ever forget that."

"For my safety?" I let out a sarcastic laugh. "In case you forget, I could've died tonight helping you with your weird fucking job. Don't humor me, Luca."

He didn't say anything back at first, he just kept his gaze intently on mine as if my eyes had every answer he needed. "I never wanted to involve you in this. You were my only option."

I wish that didn't hurt my heart. "If you didn't need me because of my profession, would you have ever contacted me again?"

His silence spoke more than any words could. I finally understood.

"I fucking hate you, Luca Blackburn."