Songs for this chapter are:

She- Zayn

Pushing Away- Kevin Garrett

Heaven Forbid- The Fray

...

My classes felt so long today. Well, they have all week. I couldn't focus after Hardin called to tell me that he is coming just next weekend.

Next weekend.

Next weekend doesn't give me enough time to smooth things over with Tessa and let her get used to the idea of him being here, in her space. He said he can't change it, that he has an appointment here that he can't miss. I can't help but think he's applying for jobs here, why else would he have an un-moveable appointment here in New York? It has to be for a job, or he's growing tired of being away from Tessa. My second thought is that he can't stay away from her long, he must need his fix.

When I reach my building, a loud delivery truck is idling in the middle of the street. The deli below has deliveries at all times of the night. Voices and the heavy sound of doors closing, opening, closing again drove me nuts at first because I was so used to the still silence of the suburbs in Pullman, Washington in the Scott castle on top of the hill. I remember how big that house looked to me as we pulled up in my mom's station wagon.

We had chosen to drive there, despite Ken's many attempts at buying our flights and shipping our stuff. Looking back, I think my mom had too much pride to let him think she was around for anything other than her love for him. I remember the first time I heard her laugh in front of him. It was a new laugh- the kind that changed her face and her voice. The corners of her eyes drew up, her laughter sprang from her and coated the room in light and fresh air. It was one that made everyone around her feel a little lighter.

I felt like she was a different, happier version of the mom I knew and loved. She didn't change much, she has always been a worrier. She worries about my sleeping habits since I moved to the city. She keeps asking when I'm going to find a doctor, but I'm not ready to do most of the practical parts of living in a new city. The doctors and getting a new license are things that can wait. I don't want to drive in this city anyway. The trash comes at around three a.m every night and the loud pounding of the plastic against shrieking metal used to wake me up every night when I first moved here. Perhaps a doctor could give me some advice, but where would I get the time?

Instead, I made the best purchase of my life and got one of those sound machines that play noises of the sea, the rainforest, and the only setting that I actually use- white noise. It helped me tremendously. Tessa likes the noise but she said she grew up next to a railroad track and missed the noise during the night. Lately, we have both seem to be reaching for anything that reminds us of home.

The hallways of my apartment building are empty and silent on the first floor. I wait patiently for the elevator to lower to the first floor and step inside. It's small, only suitable for two medium sized people and one shopping bag. I usually take the stairs, but I ran a little harder than usual this morning before class and my calves are paying for it tonight.

When I step off the elevator and into the hallway on my floor it smells like sugar and spice. Nora must be here and her and Tessa must be making a sweet, floury mess in my kitchen.

Music is playing, the crooning voice of an edgy girl taking a stand for disregarded youth who are the New Americana fills the apartment when I open the door. I take my shoes off and leave them by the door. When I walk into the kitchen, I put the gallon of milk on the counter and Nora thanks me first.

"It's nothing," I tell her, pulling my jacket off of my shoulders and down my arms.

I really need to do something for Ellen for her birthday. She looked even less excited today when I asked her about her big day this week. She's going to be working again, I'm sure of it. She never gets a day off from the store beneath my apartment.

"I was walking right by the store when Tessa text me." I add.

Still, Nora smiles at me.

God, she's even more beautiful than I remember and it's only been a week since I've seen her.

"You missed the most epic baking fail. Tessa added whipped cream instead of whipping cream for the scone recipe," Nora grabs the milk and walks over to the fridge.

I think I like how comfortable she seems to be getting here. I like that she walks with ease through my kitchen, her back straight and her full mouth is slack, relaxed. She opens the fridge and places the milk inside. I look away when she bends over to grab a pitcher full of cold water from the bottom shelf. I try not to let my mind linger on the tightness of her white cloth pants. They aren't quite sweats, but they aren't really yoga pants either. I don't care what they are, her ass looks incredible with the fabric stretched over it, accentuating the pear-like shape of it.

She's wearing a baseball style long sleeve shirt, where the arms are a different color than the body and her dark blue sleeves are pushed up to her elbows. Her thick, dark hair is pulled up into a high ponytail and her socks have little cartoon bacon and eggs printed on them. The skin of her stomach is showing, but I refuse to look, knowing I won't be able to stop. Nora walks over to the oven and pulls out a tray of biscuits, or maybe they are scones? I think she said they were scones. I typically don't care for them, Grind sells only incredibly healthy scones that taste like olive oil covered grains baked into wheatgrass bread. Not for me.

My mom ruined me with her ability to bake like a pro since I can remember. My mom's house was always full of sweets, which is probably why I was a pudgy kid. I have to work a little harder than normal people to be able to eat the things I like. It took me a while to realize that, but I'm glad I did. I remember how it felt when the assholes at my school stopped having a reason to make fun of my weight, not that they didn't find another reason to treat me like shit, but I felt lighter, mentally and physically and I started gaining confidence, something I never had growing up.

"The dough fell flat," Tessa tells me.

Nora turns to Tessa. "Yeah, after they burned."

The two of them have been in the kitchen everyday this week but I've been hiding in my room, trying to get my coursework done and sleeping after hours of work. Even in my dreams I hear the displeased customers voices as they stare at the menu board on the wall, "Uhm, do you have like Frappucinos here? Like Starbucks?"

I only worked three hours tonight, but this week has exhausted me. As tired as I am, I don't think I want to hide in my room tonight. I want to talk to Tessa, and even to Nora. I hate the way my chest tightens when she looks at me, the way her eyes always catch mine. I'm making a choice to be social tonight. It's nice for me to engage with people, even if it's just the two of them.

Nora takes the scones off of the hot pan and places them on a cooling rack. They smell like blueberries. I sit down at the small three-person table and watch Nora move around the room. She picks up a plastic bag full of yellow icing and twists the end, creating a puffy triangle of creamy icing. She places a small metal tip on the pointy end and squeezes the icing on top of each scone.

Nora says something about adding icing to scones and making them better, but I'm too busy trying not to keep my eyes on her, not even for a beat too long. I'm also trying to decide if I should stay out here with them. I don't want to be in the way.

"How was work?" Tessa asks me.

She dips her fingers into a bowl of thick batter, speckled with blue chunks. Blueberry, maybe? Her mouth opens and she pops her finger into her mouth.

I look over at Nora who's rolling up the sleeves to her shirt. The material looks like it's been cut with scissors along the bottom to reveal the bottom four inches of her stomach. I usually wouldn't mind it. Not one bit. I can't imagine that anyone would, unless they are tortured by the temptation of her while knowing nothing can come of it. Her skin is a few shades darker than mine and I can't tell her ethnicity by simply looking at her. She's a mix of something beautiful and unique.

I can't tell what it is specifically, but the almond shape of her grassy eyes is striking, her dark brows and thick lashes shade her high cheekbones. She's wearing that shirt, it's not wearing her, like every trendy outfit I've seen her in. Her exposed hips are full and the way her white cotton pants cling to her ass is hard to look away from.

Did I already notice that?

I allow myself a few seconds to look at her, really look at her. It won't hurt just to look for a second or two. She's so oblivious to my stare, to my longing to run my fingers along the bare skin along her back. My thoughts take me there, to a world where Nora is laying next to me, my fingers paving their way across her tan skin. I would love to see her fresh out of a shower. Her hair would be wet, wavy at the ends, and her skin would be dewy, her dark lashes even blacker against her skin when she blinks.

"That bad, huh?" Nora questions.

I shake my head. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't respond to Tessa's question about my work day. I tell her it was the same, busy and fast-paced. The first few weeks of college are a busy time for coffee shops, even across the bridge in Brooklyn.

"Not too bad though. I still really like it there," I tell her.

I don't bore them with the details of the nozzle on the sink breaking off, spraying water all over Aiden. I can't say that I didn't laugh when he wasn't looking. He was so pissed that his hair got messed up, which made it all the more humorous that it was his idea to toy with the nozzle anyway, claiming that he knew how to fix the leak. Draco failed again.

Tessa tells me that she picked up extra shifts for the next two weekends and I know she's itching to know when Hardin is coming so she can keep her distance. I should tell her that he's coming next weekend, but I'm going to wait until Nora goes home so Tessa can have some time alone to get used to the idea and figure out how to avoid him.

If the two of them don't end up married with stubborn, shaggy haired children, I will lose all my faith in love. I've watched the light in Tessa drain with each day she's in the city while hearing Hardin thrive under the influence of his group and the ears and advice of his therapist.

I hate the word therapist. It adds such a heavy, adverse stigma to someone who spends their life attempting to heal others.

It's not appropriate to talk about your therapist at the water coolers at your day job, but spreading gossip about your co-workers lives is completely acceptable. It's odd at best, but it's not my fight. It's Hardin's and he's fighting like hell.

"Have you heard from your mom?" Tessa asks me.

Nora moves comfortably around the kitchen again. She washes the cooling racks and wets a sponge to wipe the countertops clean while I tell Tessa that my little sister is using my mom's belly as soccer training.

"She swears that little Abby will be first pick of the MLS SuperDraft." I tell them. My mom says her body aches and aches at night, making room for the baby growing inside. She isn't complaining though, she's marveled by the changes her body can make at her age and she's eternally grateful to have a healthy, typical pregnancy.

"You lost me at MLD Super-something," Nora chirps, her lips quirking up to one side, she's amused. Slightly. Her eyes always seem to have a touch of boredom, like her life prior to this was much more exciting than what she's doing now.

"Sports. You don't watch any?" I ask Nora, I know Tessa doesn't.

Nora shakes her head, "Nope. I'd rather cut my own eyes out and eat them."

I laugh at her very detailed and slightly morbid reply.

"Well then," I reach for a scone that she already covered in icing and she stops my hand just before I grab it.

"You have to let the icing settle," she explains, her hand is still on mine.

"Just like three minutes," Nora adds.

Her hand is so warm on mine. Why isn't she letting go?

And why don't I want her to? I was supposed to be forgetting about any sort of attraction I have to her, I was supposed to get used to my spot in the friendzone. It seems pointless to keep asking myself these stupid questions about why I feel this or feel that, but it makes me feel slightly more in control of myself to do it.

I need to constantly remind myself to stay in the friendzone. It's hard to do that when she's sitting here, wearing this, looking at me like this, touching me like this.

I glance down at our hands, hers darker than mine and my eyes catching her seem to remind her that she shouldn't be holding my hand like this, friends don't hold hands.

Tessa's phone rings and Nora jumps at the sound. Her cheeks flare and I want to reach for her again, but I can't.

"It's my boss. I'm going to take this," Tessa says, swiping her thumb at her phone.

She glances at both of us, as if asking if we are okay to be left alone. Nora gives Tessa a small smile, her eyes saying what her mouth can't.

            With every step that Tessa takes down the hall, the air grows thick. Nora keeps herself occupied by pulling a pan from the counter into the sink. She turns the water on and grabs the bottle of soap from the counter. She squeezes the yellow liquid onto the pan and begins to scrub. I don't know if I should just stand here awkwardly while she washes the dish, or if I should just go in my room and spend the night alone, again.

            I pull out my phone and scroll through the last few text messages. I have a text from Posey, a meme about Baristas. A quiet laugh rocks through me and Nora's shoulders tilt toward me. She seems to stop herself before she completely turns around. She grabs the bottle of soap and squeezes again. Little angry bubbles float around her and I notice that she's still scrubbing the same pan as she was.

            I take a silent step toward her and look into the sink. The pan is clean, no cake residue left on it's shiny surface at all, only a thick coat of bubbly, unnecessary soap. Her long fingers work at the already clean pan and I take another step closer to her. My foot catches one of the legs of the wooden kitchen chairs and she jumps at the noise.

            "So, how have you been? Anything new?" I ask like I've never spoken to her before and like I didn't just trip over the chair.

            Nora's shoulders lift with a deep breath and she shakes her head, her dark ponytail waves back and forth with her movements.

"Not really," is all she says and her hands go back to scrubbing the pan. Finally, she rinses it and lays it to dry on the wire rack next to the sink.

            Where is Tessa? I wish she would come back and break the awkward air in the kitchen.

"How's work going? Do you still like it there?" I just can't shut the hell up.

Nora shrugs again and I think I hear her say, "it's okay."

            "Are you mad at me or something?" My mouth says for me. Mad at me? Am I five asking Carter if he's mad that my mom accidently ran over his toy in the driveway?

            Before I can stumble over more words and make things even more awkward between the two of us, Nora turns around to face me. The curve of her throat seems to be pulsing, her chest rising and falling in a slow throb. My chest is on fire, a hollow feeling that doesn't belong here, not because of a stranger.

            "Mad at you? For what?" There's sincerity in her eyes when she speaks to me, her lips are pouty and she's waiting for an answer that's harder to give than I can give in a few seconds.

            I rub my hand over the back of my neck, thinking, thinking, thinking, always thinking.

            "Everything? The Dakota thing, the kiss, the-" Nora opens her mouth to speak and I stop mid-sentence to let her. She leans her elbow against the counter and her eyes focus on me. She's staring hard and in this moment I wish I knew her well enough to know what she's thinking, how she's feeling. I can't read her, no matter how hard I focus.

I'm usually good at studying people and their behaviors. I can usually tell when someone is feeling something, even the things they don't want to say out loud. It's that they don't want to say. It's about the quick movement of their eyes on the opposite side of the room or the subtle shift of the weight of their body.

            "I'm not mad at you at all. It's all been a little messy, yes," something about the way her voice catches at the end of her sentence makes me uneasy, like she wants to say more, like she's holding back. I have never wanted nothing more than to hear the parts of her that she keeps hidden.

            She reminds me of some sort of secret, the closest thing to discovering a true life mystery, one that's difficult to decipher and even harder to solve.

            "Landon, the reason why--" her voice is interrupted by the creak of sneakers on the clean tile floor. The white sneakers touching the floor belong to a pair of tight covered legs. The body is thin, wearing a sparkling tutu and black body suit. Dakota's eyes scan Nora, standing only inches away from me and she seems to mutate into something bigger, something darker and stronger.

            Dakota's shoulder's square and she pushes her chest out slightly, demanding attention.

            "Dakota," I instinctively step toward Dakota and away from Nora.

            "So this is where you went?" Dakota says.

I'm confused for a moment before I realize that she's not talking to me. She's facing Nora now and Nora's eyes meet mine.

"No, I was just here with Tessa,"

Dakota cuts Nora off midsentence. "I told you to leave, not to come running to him."

Dakota's voice is rising like an angry tide, ready to swallow my tiny Brooklyn apartment.

            "I told you to stay away from him, he's off limits. We agreed," Dakota's eyes are slits and Nora's are wide, seemingly still surprised to see Dakota in the kitchen.

            "I better go," Nora reaches for the hand towel from the counter to dry her hands off. She does so quickly and Dakota and I stand in silence as she leaves the kitchen without looking at either of us. The front door opens and closes in less than twenty seconds and I didn't hear her say goodbye to Tessa. I didn't even have a chance to follow her. I briefly wonder if I would have followed after her and how Dakota would react if I did.

(I'll update again on Wed. My best friend is getting married in Florida this weekend and I'm the matron of honor and I've never even been to a wedding, wish me luck! haha I'm so excited to be with all my friends though :) Have you been to a wedding or ten? )