Hey! Here's another chapter! You guys will either love or hate this chapter! ;)

- Lissa

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Two Weeks Later

"Remember, keep your arms raised," Temp chided, circling me. "Protect your face." As he wiped sweat from his forehead, I swung my leg out high in the air in a precise kickboxing move, which he deflected with ease. This time, I started circling him in hope of dizzying him and taking advantage of his unbalanced state by knocking him down. The day after running from the cabin, Temp offered to teach me self-defense, mainly to help take my mind off of things, which it did. Over the course of the last two weeks, I had learned his weaknesses. He had a major blind spot in his left eye, so he shoved his opponents to the right. He stepped before he punched, he wasn't a flexible person, and his pain tolerance was high, meaning in order to hurt him, I needed to strike one spot repeatedly on him, usually his rib-cage.

His fist flew towards my face and I ducked, instantly landing a punch to his rib-cage. He winced and gave me a haughty look, bouncing on his feet. Ripping the strength from my core, I lunged at him in a desperate attack, all of my punches delightfully accurate. He blocked a couple punches, but I had managed to land one to his abdomen, which clenched beneath my knuckles. With a groan, he staggered backwards and I grinned at him, cockily. "Ha, I'm faster than you."

He smirked. "Ha, I'm stronger than you."

"Are you sure about that?" I teased, dramatically placing a hand over my heart. "Remind me, who was tied to a chair?"

I realized my mistake when the humor vanished from his face and suddenly, he was springing towards me. I lifted my arms, covering my face with my hands and my torso with my scrawny arms. He didn't hold back; he swung at me with all he had, sneaking punches and low kicks to my knees. Sweat dripped from his pinched face and with each strike, he sucked in a deep breath. The adrenaline in my body was replaced with fear and when he nailed my side with his large hand, I released a painful wheeze. Before I knew what was happening, he moved closer, slipping his arm around my neck. Crap. Then, in a matter of seconds, I was on the ground, groaning.

Hovering near me, he shoved his fingers through his brown hair, tilting his head back. Swearing under my breath, I sat upright and glared at him, squinting against the sunlight. "Ow! What the hell, Temp? Just so you know, we're not supposed to kill each other." Wordlessly, he watched as I climbed to my feet, his eyes narrowed, but filled with guilt. With a hiss, I added, "I think my tailbone is bruised now, you asshole."

He tossed his hands in the air. "You pissed me off."

"Okay, I'm sorry," I apologized, sincerely. "But, still - you haven't taught me any of that Kung Fu stuff yet. It wasn't fair to pull something like that."

A grin hinted on his face. "You mean Judo?" I started stretching, helping with the pain in my lower back. When I didn't respond, only grunted when I reached down and touched my toes, he placed his hands on his hips. "It wasn't cool of you bringing up the past. I thought we discussed this, Blue. Everything that happened these last couple of months, didn't happen. We got involved in some dangerous shit and it's best if we just forget and move on. That's what we agreed to, or did I not hear you right?"

I straightened. "Okay, yes, you're right." He gave me a skeptical look and I exhaled loudly, glancing around our shafty apartment, which we wisely paid for with cash. "It's just - you've seen the news. The government is on the verge of starting a war and it's hard to pretend that we were never apart of that, Temp. It may be easy for you to shrug off, but it's not for me. I'm trying, I really am, but I can't stop thinking about the experiments a-and the cabin. . ."

"Isn't this helping?" he asked, gesturing between us.

"A little bit," I muttered, running my fingers through my hair. "I mostly think about it all when I can't sleep or when you're not around. When I'm with you, you make me forget, but when you're gone, it's like I'm being forced down memory lane."

He walked over to the wall, grabbing his water bottle. "But, you're feeling better, right? You're feeling like yourself again?"

I nodded. "Much better." I watched as he tilted his head back and swallowed down mouthfuls of cool water. "I think I just needed some space from everything, you know? Being away from the werewolves - it's what I needed. This is what I need." Biting my bottom lip, I looked around the apartment, surprised with how content I was. Honestly, a part of me missed Ethen, but I knew that at the time, it was better if we were separated. In my mind, I believed we had met at the wrong time and when things were less complicated, maybe it was possible to reconnect. "I like it here, Temp."

Walking over to me, he shrugged. "It's not really a five star apartment - the view sucks, but it's not that bad." He extended his water bottle and feeling dehydrated, I took it from him. When I took a sip, he dragged a hand through his sweaty hair. "I'll be honest, I'm surprised that Amanda hasn't found us yet. That bitch is great at tracking people."

"I think she's more concerned about the war than us," I responded, handing back his water bottle. "So, we're pretty much on our own. Since my family doesn't want to speak with me, you're all I have right now." After leaving the cabin, I had tried contacting my family because I had been reminded of how thankful I was to still have them. But, they didn't answer my calls - it was almost as if they expected me to try to call them from a payphone. "I don't even know if I'm considered a part of the family now."

He hesitated. "You're my family."

"Really?"

"My family - they suck," he replied, shaking his head. "Divorced parents and alcoholic sister, all whom hate me. I think the last time I spoke to them was three years ago. My mother called to tell me that she was trying to get my sister into rehab and needed my help. My PTSD was still pretty bad at the time and I wasn't taking my medication, you know." I listened to his story, relieved that he was opening up to me. "But, I went back to my hometown to help my sister, anyways. She looked awful; I still remember how she looked, like she just walked through Hell."

"She was in the basement, drinking," he continued, avoiding my eyes. "We tried getting her to go with us, but she wouldn't leave. She and my mother shouted at each other - I can't remember what made my sister snap, but she did. She threw her beer bottle at me and I don't know why, but my PTSD kicked in. I-I thought it was a grenade or something and I reacted." He took another gulp of his water, his fingers tightening. "I ended up attacking my sister, nearly strangled her to death. Of course, my mother didn't understand why and didn't try to understand - she kicked me out of the house and told me that if I ever returned, she was going to call the cops."

My expression softened. "Temp, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, brushing it off. "Now, I choose my family." He raised his water bottle to me, the corners of his lips lifting. "We're one small, but awesome family, Blue."

I smiled. "Yes, we are."

"I have something for you," he responded, surprising me. I watched as he walked over to the table beside the battered couch, snatching the cheap vase. Giving me his dimpled smile, he tilted the vase upside down and shook a velvet box out. He tossed the small box back and forth in his hands in amusement, before walking back over to me. "It's not a ring - sorry if that disappoints you." I laughed, gently smacking his arm. He opened the box, revealing a beautiful necklace, a diamond 'T'. Raising my eyebrows upwards in awe, he explained, "I know Christmas was a couple days ago and this is late, but I got this for you."

I rubbed my forehead. "You didn't have to - I, uh, didn't get you anything."

"Just you giving this place a shot is good enough for me," he said, looking around the apartment. "And, forgiving me for everything." My heart tightened in my chest and he carefully pulled the necklace out, gesturing for me to turn around. When I did, I pulled my hair up as he placed the necklace around my neck, clasping it. "There."

"A 'T' for Thea - not a 'B' for Blue?"

A baffled expression appeared on his face. "The 'T' is for Temp."

I laughed. "Well, thank you."

He stared at me, peculiarly. "I can't read your thoughts right now."

"I'm thinking about how great this feels," I told him, exhaling loudly. "I'm learning self-defense, I'm sharing an apartment with my best friend, I'm eating three meals a day, I'm sleeping better than I was before. . . I like how things are changing. I mean, if you ignore the war, the werewolves, Amanda, and all of that - it's pretty much a normal life, right?" I shrugged my shoulders, before rubbing my upper arms, feeling the coldness of the necklace against my skin. "Now, I just need to get a job and get a Netflix account to complete the description of a 'normal life'."

"Yeah, this does feel great," he agreed, quietly. "Lets just hope it lasts for awhile."

"Thank you," I repeated, nodding once. "I haven't felt this calm, this safe, in a long time. It's nice to know that you have my back."

"Of course I do," he said, a grin appearing on his face. "I've always had your back - sometimes, it's tough trying not to strangle you, but I'm always here for you. Always have been, even at the facility. I was a hardass, but I was just trying to look after you, you know?" With a smile, I started playing with the necklace around my neck, knowingly. "I just wish - I wish I wasn't always so mean to you. You didn't deserve a lot of what I did or said. Actually, the things that I've said to you in the past couple of months should've never been said."

"No, I needed to hear everything," I told him, shaking my head. "I'm not the one who can read thoughts, remember? So, I need you to be open with me. Tell me your opinions and your feelings and everything. I can't read you, Temp. I won't know if I'm doing anything wrong, unless you tell me."

He hesitated. "Okay, I will."

"Good," I said, clasping my hands together. "So, what are you thinking then?"

"What I'm thinking?" he responded, in disbelief. I nodded, swaying back and forth on my feet in front of him. "Well, I think - I've never been happier. We could literally die tomorrow by soldiers finding us and stomping in here, but I'd be okay with that." I gulped loudly, noticing the truth behind his eyes. "To be honest, I've always wanted to experience that happiness where things can't get any better. Where you have only positive thoughts. Where you spend more time smiling than frowning. Where you feel free. And, I'm experiencing that - and now that I am, I'd rather die than lose that."

"Wow, that's deep," I murmured, looking down. "I don't know if I'm ready to die. I mean, I know talking about death is depressing, but lets be honest - we have death sentences on our shoulders. There's a possibility we may not live until we're eighty." His tongue darted out, licking his bottom lip. "But, I guess that I would want to die if everybody I cared about died. I wouldn't have a reason to keep living, you know?"

He looked at me, thoughtfully. "Promise me something."

"What?"

"If we survive this, I want you to come back with me to my hometown, to my family," he said, his tone soft. "I want to fix things with them."

I raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

"Well, they suck, no matter what," he said, releasing a chuckle. "But, if I survive, God has given me a second chance. He's allowed me to continue living and so, I would want to try to change things with my family. I would like to change a lot of things." He stared at me for a moment, struggling to force a smile. "They might not take me back, maybe kick me out and call the cops, but it's worth a try."

"I promise," I breathed, grabbing his hand. He seemed startled and stared down at our locked hands for a moment, before giving mine a squeeze. "Well, we're still alive. We're breathing! We have a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs - that's something to celebrate, isn't it?" A mischievous grin crossed his face and I tugged him into the crappy kitchen, grabbing the bottle of vodka from the cabinet. "Lets celebrate."

He laughed. "You don't like alcohol."

"I'm going to make myself like alcohol," I said, grabbing two shot glasses from below. Then, I grabbed the bottle, giving the liquid a shake. "We're going to finish this."

"You're a lightweight," he pointed out, standing across the counter from me. "You won't pass two shots."

"We'll see."

"To living," Temp said, clinking his glass against mine. I smiled and tilted my head back, swallowing the first shot with ease. The alcohol burned down my throat and I jumped in place, excitedly. He chuckled across from me and refilled out shot glasses - once again, I swallowed down the vodka. I knocked down another shot, then another, and another. By the eighth, I was starting to feel the effects; I started becoming a little dizzy. Temp undoubtedly handled the alcohol better and I watched with wild eyes as he walked over to the beaten stereo, turning on some music. I cheered, instantly waving my arms to the beat.

He spun in a circle. "Did I tell you that I happen to be an amazing dancer, Blue?"

"The hell you are," I slurred, pointing at him. "Show me."

He extended a hand, smirking. "Come here."

If I wasn't drunk, I would've hesitated, but I was and I skipped over to him. The tempo was fast, a popular song that I recognized from years ago. When my hand slipped into his, he twirled me in a circle, dipping me backwards as I burst into a fit of giggles. I lifted my arms into the air, swaying my hips, nearly toppling over. When he noticed how hard it was for me to keep balanced, he laughed and pulled me close to him, allowing me to lean against him when needed. The song started slowing down when the chorus ended and I closed my eyes, relaxing my head against his shoulder. He grabbed my hands and pulled them up and around his neck. His hands traveled down my arms and down my ribs, settling on my hips.

Our bodies moved together. There was nothing awkward about it. I wasn't feeling anything at the moment, but the effects of the alcohol. I didn't notice how his motives surpassed friends. I didn't notice the way he looked at me. Heck, I didn't see anything wrong when he started nuzzling my neck, his tongue darting out.

When the song ended, we returned to the counter, pouring more vodka into our shot glasses. For some reason, I was giggling again. Why was I giggling? Temp dumped the vodka into his mouth and looked towards me, his cheeks slightly puffed out. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he beckoned with his finger and I stumbled around the counter, moving in front of him. I wasn't sure what I was doing - and I didn't care. Gently, he grabbed the side of my face and pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was warm. Different. I opened my mouth and the vodka poured into my mouth from his.

I did the same thing with my glass of vodka and he groaned against my lips. I had never gotten drunk with someone before, but it felt great. When we reached the bottom of the bottle, we started dancing again, twirling and laughing.

"You're fun," I slurred into his ear, leaning against him.

His face hovered in front of mine. "You're beautiful."

I patted his cheek, like a dog. "You're too sweet." He laughed, removing my hand from his face, gently. We danced and danced - at one point, I remembered trying to reenact a scene from The Notebook with him. It was horrible from the tripping and slurring of our words. When a commercial started playing from the stereo, I exhaled loudly and tapped his chest, mumbling, "I'm tired. So sooo tired."

"Oh, you are?" he came, a grin on his face. Next thing I knew, he was throwing me over his shoulder and I was hanging upside down, the world spinning. I giggled, lightly pounding my fists against his lower back, even pinched his butt, which caused him to jump. "Hey!" A giggle escaped my lips and he started carrying me on his shoulder down the hallway, both of us laughing. When we reached my bedroom, he collapsed forward onto the bed, squishing me beneath him. "Whoops."

"Temp," I whined, scooting out from underneath him. "You're a potato."

A baffled expression appeared on his face. "A potato?"

"Yes, a potato," I said, nodding once. His bottom lip poked out and he straightened, pushing off from the bed. He folded his arms across his chest and moved to leave the room in a pout, but I grabbed his arm, grinning. "Hey, but it's okay to be a potato. You're my potato. My sweet potato."

He looked at me. "Potatoes are ugly."

"You're a pretty, sweet potato," I slurred, tugging him back to the bed. "Very pretty." Seeming pleased, he crumbled down next to me on the bed, lying on his back. For a minute, I patted his head, cooing him. "Sweet potato. . . sweet potato. . . sweet potato. . ." During this, when I was running my fingers through his soft hair, his eyes slipped closed and he fell asleep, silently. Eventually, when I yawned, I curled up next to him, relaxing my head on his chest without a thought or care in the world. I wrapped my arms around his waist, almost as if he was a large teddy bear, but in my mind, I was hugging a potato at the time.

Then, I fell asleep and at some point during the night, his arm slipped around me and pulled me closer.