Last Chance (Mojito & Raivh)

Ava easily fell asleep around four in the afternoon. Tears staining the silk of her pillow. The cellphone on her bed vibrating a few seconds before the high pitch sound of Super Mario pierced her slumber and the silent atmosphere of her home. A gasp from her pink lips signaled her awakening. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The clock on her side table read six twenty three. "Oh my gosh...." she scrambled to get out of her bed and fixed herself up in the bathroom right quick. Her emerald eyes gazing back at her reflection in the mirror. Brushing off the pizza crust crumbs from her white wife beater and denim shorts. The white cotton of her bra hiding the prized precious mounds that men tend to see more than her face. Nothing back breaking but nothing not too small. She was almost late to his house. He had been packing for a while and she hardly got to see him in that time. Tonight was movie night.

She hurried down the stairs and slipped on her Van sneakers, snatched up her keys, and locked the silent empty door behind her. Walking down the street to her life long friend's home. He was the only guy she could always rely on. They had been friends since the sixth grade. She slipped her wretched cellphone in her pocket before knocking on his door. The night wind air messing with her straight ebony locks as she painted a smile on her lips. This was suppose to be a relaxing night. Two best friends crashing before the television watching a few movies, and snacking on junk food. Ava wanted to get in a few more good memories out of Bryce before he left. She was staying in town and attending the International Culinary Institute of Art while he would be leaving the country. He had put up so much crap for her. He's seen her at her worst. She slept over a few times. Just the occasional pass out and leave in the morning routine. Her parents were on their Anniversary Cruise and they happened to love Bryce.

Packing was something he hated doing. He’d hated it when he’d moved to this town in the sixth grade, and nothing had changed. Tossing clothes into bags, junk into boxes, he bound and taped containers up, scribbled his name on them, and carted them to his van in the garage. It was a large green vehicle, an old Dodge, and the only reason he’d bought it was so he could lug his equipment around. Now, all the good it would be doing him was getting from his house to the airport, where he would shove all of his belongings on a plane and pay a ridiculous price for shipping them. Hearing his mother shouting his name, Bryce slammed the doors to his van shut and wandered back inside the house, clearing the steps in one jump, an easy feat. Jogging into the kitchen, his socked feet slid over the tiles, and he went crashing down to the ground and sliding into a cabinet.

“Bryce Anthony Miller!” his mother hollered, gasping from her place in front of the stove. She was stirring something in a pot. Rising to his feet, Bryce gave her a shamefaced grin. His mother huffed. “What time is Ava supposed to be getting here? It’s almost seven, why don’t you go out and see if she’s headed up the street.” He knew it wasn’t a suggestion. His mother never made suggestions, just commands that he was required to obey under hers and his father’s roof. Making his way to the door, he pulled it open just as she knocked.

“Hey,” he said, wearing a lackadaisical grin. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his favorite pair of old blue jeans, he stepped aside to let her in, and then shut the door. “Mom’s making dinner, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Chicken breasts and mashed potatoes!” his mother, Emma, shouted from the kitchen. Her lips were pursed and her eyes were narrowed, daring her son to say anything bad about her cooking.

Leading her to the stairs, he shuttled down into the basement and flipped on the lights to get everything set up. Most of his movies were packed, but he’d left a few out to choose from tonight. Thumbing through the five or so titles, he decided on Season of the Witch. “You know it’s almost winter, right? Fall’s just about over.” He glanced at her as he shoved the disc into the player. Crossing over to the couch, he flopped down in the corner, remote in hand. “You’re crashing here tonight, right?”

Ava laughed softly as her ears recognized the sound of his mother and her 'suttle' tone. "Hey Bryce." She smiled and waved to his mother. "Hi Mrs. Miller!!" As a guest the girl waved contentedly to her hostess from the evening. With a laugh she asked Bryce as they descended the stairs, "What did you do Bryce Anthony Miller? I heard it from outside of the door." A cellphone and a set of keys was plucked from her pockets and placed on a nearby table. "It's never good when a parent says your full name." Ava plopped herself onto the opposite end of the sofa and got comfortable. "Are you really questioning what I wore over to your place?" Emerald eyes rolled at the idea.

"Yes mom, I know fall is almost over."The words were dripping with acrimony as she slipped off her shoes at the base of the sofa. "Yeah I'm crashing here. Your mom said yeah, of course. I accidentally watched Paranormal Activity 3 yesterday and ...well...needless to say you have yourself a roomie for the night because Ava Amelia Lock is not going back there until sun up." She gave him a false evil look and crawled over to his side of the sofa and poked him in the chest, "Try to pull one stunt to try and scare me and I will SO tell your mother....oh yeah...I went there." Ava bit back a smile before retreating to her own side of the sofa.

“I ran inside and slid into a cabinet.” The grin on his face was anything but ashamed in front of his friend. “Yeah, I’m really questioning what you’re wearing,” Bryce mumbled as he stared at the remote and pressed play. Turning his head, he stared over at her as she leaned forward to put her shoes on the ground. “Because every damn time you end up sick, I get sick, too.” As much as she was typically over and staying the night, there was no avoiding catching a virus if either one of them had one. He shook his head at her when she said she’d watched Paranormal Activity 3. He wasn’t sure how that horror franchise, with its cheap production and bogus effects, made it to the big screen, let alone sold tickets, DVDs and Blu-rays.

Feeling the couch shift, he glanced from the menu screen to her, and backed against the arm of the couch as she jabbed him in the chest. A smirk spread over his features, already thinking of ways to make her scream. “Go ahead, tell her.” He shrugged and got to his feet, unzipping and shrugging out of his jacket. He tossed it over her head and laughed. “I’m out of here in a month, anyway. What’s she going to do? Tell me I can’t catch my plane? Hell no, I’m out of this house bright and early Tuesday morning.”

Sinking back down onto the couch, he turned and placed one socked foot in her lap, the other on the back of the couch beside her head. There was a devious glint in his eyes, and he wiped his foot on her cheek. “Do my feet stink yet? I’ve been wearing these socks for the past two days.” Chuckling, the couch shook with the uneven rise and fall of his chest, and he pulled his right foot down and let it flop on the couch, toe poking her hip. He didn’t bother moving his left foot, the heel of his foot resting against her inner thigh. The movie started playing, and he turned his attention to the screen.

There was no way in hell she was going to admit to taking a shot of dayquil before coming. She cracked a smile at his score of confidence. "You wouldn't say that in front of your mother, would you?" Her words dripped with daring intent. "Do you really question what your mother will do? Like the time she took your door off of its hinges and stored it in the garage because you slammed it one too many....Ugh!!" She struggled beneath his nasty foot swatting as though it would help. "Geez...Bryce you are seriously the brother I never wanted some times!!" She took the small throw pillow tucked at her side and whacked at him with each word. "You....will..cut...it ....out!" A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips as she place the pillow back where it was and sat back to watch the movie. She loved watching Nicholas Cage in almost any movie he made .

Ava would be on edge all night knowing that Bryce would probably try to scare her for his own sense of fun. Her hands wrapped around the throw pillow as emerald eyes watched the story progress. Ava could smell dinner all the way down stairs and knew his mother would be announcing it. Her stomach growled, revealing how hungry she was.

Only grinning each time she hit him with the harmless throw pillow, he shook his head. He was having fun pestering her. It wasn’t until after the movie got interesting that he sat up with his feet on the floor, legs bowed out. Staring at the screen, he barely heard his mother when she called down that dinner was ready. Still, he remained seated where he was, and after a minute or two more, he paused the movie and got to his feet. Standing in front of Ava, towering over her seated form, he grinned. His arms launched forward, hand wrapping around the underside of her knees and yanking her toward him so that her back was on the couch.

“Hungry?” he asked. “I could hear your stomach growling over the movie.” He was situated between her thighs, her knees at his hips. Dropping one of her legs, he reached out and patted her stomach, teasing her with his lopsided smirk. “Let’s go get something to eat and then come back down to finish the movie.” Releasing her, he ran off, thundering up the stairs until he reached the kitchen. He slowed, not wanting to go sliding and crashing into the cabinets again.

Arms stretched themselves above her head and eyes halfway closed as Bryce paused the movie on behalf of her stomach. Half a smile painted itself upon her pink lips as she was dragged halfway off the sofa, held temporarily captive by her overnight roomie. The act was no surprise to her. She rolled her clover green eyes and continued to slide from the sofa , in a lazy fashion, until her knees felt the carpet beneath her. Quickly she hoisted herself to her feet and bolted up the stair, just to slow down at the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway and took in the smell of dinner with a look of approval. " Il sent bon." She uttered with a french accent. "It smells delicious." One extra class Ava took every year in high school was French. Freshman year, she had plans to go to France and expand her culinary expertise when she was able.

Ava went to the cabinets and began pulling out plates and silverware. "Thank you for letting me stay the night Mrs. Miller." She gave her hostess a quick hug before returning to the task at hand." Mom gave me permission to burn that dvd that dad left in the dvd player. Apparently she isn't sleeping all that well since he had her watch Ghost Ship before they went on the cruise. " She giggled as she took the supplies to the table and took a seat. "So mon ami incompetents ... you are fleeing the country. Will you be building a new alias for yourself? Psyched to meet new girls?"

When Bryce heard Ava enter the kitchen, he glanced over his shoulder, only to hear her spout something in French. With a shake of his head, he set about grabbing cups to place around the table. She knew he couldn’t understand what she was saying, and he had no doubt that was why she spoke the language around him. Having taken no foreign languages himself, he had every intention of using the aid of the translator he and his crew had hired. France was one of the best places around the world for an independent filmmaker to kick-start his career, but Bryce had no intention of living there. From what he had heard, the French were a rude people who hated Americans, and the Eiffel Tower wasn’t all it was cut up to be, but it along with the Louvre were two of the few attractions worth seeing.

“You’re welcome,” Bryce’s mother said with a smile, just as her son passed by to grab a carton of milk from the refrigerator. He poured three glasses, and then sat down himself to wait for his mother to serve dinner. When Ava sat down, he glanced over at her.

“The only word I can pick out of that gibberish is incompetent,” he stated, knowing that she meant it in jest. Still, he launched his foot toward her chair, nailing it in the leg. His mother glared at him, quickly snapping that if he broke the furniture, he could pay for it. Bryce shrugged, focusing on Ava’s question about him meeting girls over in France. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You better not get any of them pregnant,” his mother said, eyebrows raised as she set food on each plate. “Don’t even think about having sex with a girl until you’re on your feet with a respectable job. And I don’t mean this filming business, either.”

Bryce took a bite of his chicken. “Chicken’s dry mom,” he commented with a grin. “And don’t worry; I’ve got plenty of condoms.” The look his mother gave him was anything but amused, and hearing the phone ring, she got out of her seat to go answer it.

Moments later she was walking back into the kitchen. “Bryce, I got a late night call and I have to go in. They’re short-staffed.” Looking to Ava, she smiled. “Ava, if you don’t want to sleep on the floor in Bryce’s room, you can have my bed.” Bryce snickered, continuing even when his mother shot him a questioning look. “Something to say, Bryce?”

“Nope,” he returned with a grin. “Have a good night at work, mom.”

After the front door closed, Bryce picked up his plate and headed for the basement. “Come on. Let’s go start the movie again.” Walking down the stairs, he rounded the front of the couch and flopped down, fork and plate in one hand, glass of milk in the other. He set the milk on the floor and the plate on the middle cushion while he hit play on the remote, and then pulled the plate back into his lap to finish eating. It was a quiet few minutes while he ate, chewing and swallowing, and when he was done he slid his plate, fork, and glass to the side of the couch and slouched against the seat.

Ava laughed to herself as Bryce walked the thin line with his mother as she sipped at her cool milk and cut up the pieces of chicken before touching anything else. "You can be such a pig, Bryce." Her eyes stayed on the contents of her plate as she stabbed a piece of chicken and consumed it as her crazy friend mentioned condoms. Her emerald eyes tore away from the plate and looked at Mrs. Miller as she announced her departure and the new available sleeping arrangements. At the same exact moment that Bryce's mother gave him a questionable look, Ava gave him a look that dared him to say what he was going to say.

"Thanks Mrs. Miller." A smile painted itself upon her lips as she continued to eat until the sound of the front door closing reached her ears and she stood up just as Bryce spewed his idea. Plate in one hand with a fork balanced on the side, and a glass of milk in one hand, Ava made her way down the stairs and sat on her side of the sofa. Her glass of milk was place on the side table and she bent her legs to her side and picked the remnants of her food off of her plate.

Her plate was cleared and her glass empty after a few minutes. The plate and glass were set on the side table and she Leaned against the arm of the sofa with her feet still at her side. Her lips parted in a silent gape for a quick moment when she watched the witch turn into her true monstrous form. Ava loved the movie. She loved movies with Nicholas Cage.

"Je l'ai aimé. Je ne sais pas pourquoi j'ai même la peine de demander. I'll be right back." Ava grabbed her cellphone off of the side table and looked at the time. Ten twenty-seven. She stretched her arms above her head before she stood up off of the sofa and grabbed her plate and glass and placed hers on top of Bryce's and carried them both, along with the glasses and took them upstairs and began rising them before loading them in the dishwasher.

When the movie was coming to a close and Ava reached for her cellphone, checking the time, Bryce shifted in his seat and turned his head to look at her. There was a frown on his face. “English, Ava. I didn’t take French,” he grumbled. The movie continued to play, rolling through the last few scenes and exorcism of the demon. Exhaling, Bryce furrowed his brow, watching his friend stretch and as she gathered their plates, forks, and glasses from dinner and head for the stairs. He didn’t understand her immediate need for the room to be clean, never had. He paused the movie, wondering why she couldn’t have waited for it to finish, and pushed himself to his feet. He could hear the water running upstairs, followed by the sound of the dishwasher opening and glass clinking.

His footsteps were slow and easy coming up the stairs, and when he reached the top he stopped, observing her as she loaded the last of their dinner dishes into the machine. “You want anything for dessert?” he asked, shuffling into the kitchen and pulling open the fridge. He scanned over the items before shutting the door and squatting down to check the freezer. Producing a container of cookies and cream ice cream, he walked over to where she was and set it down.

“Heard anything more from asshole?” Bryce shot her a glance, pulling open a drawer to retrieve two spoons. Handing one to her, he plucked the lid from the ice cream container. There were only a quarter of its contents left. “Or has he finally decided to back off.” A sarcastic grin swept over Bryce’s features, remembering the day he’d had the pleasure of decking Ava’s recent ex in the jaw. The guy had fallen hard and fast. Taking a bite of ice cream, he swallowed it before scooping out a second. His green eyes were on hers, studying her slender face.

A crease formed between his eyes, and he dropped his spoon into the ice cream container. “Do you want a pair of sweats or shorts to sleep in?” he called over his shoulder, padding from the kitchen, to the living room, and down the hall to his bedroom. He pulled open the door and flicked on the light, pulling his shirt over his head and letting it land in a heap. Unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, he let them fall to the floor and jerked a pair of sweats up to his hips.

The cleaning was programmed into her by her parents. She finished up the dishwasher, closed the dishwasher door, and washed her hands before accepting one of the spoons. "When have I ever turned down dessert? " Cookies and cream was her second favorite ice cream, right behind cookie dough. Her spoon took a dive into the tub of ice cream then delivered it to her lips. The side of her body leaning against the countertop.

She took one more scoop before answering his question. "He's trying to get back with me.His trusty sidebar slut dumped him because of the damage you inflicted on his face. I'll give you my new number later." Her smile was now replaced by a smirk as she took another scoop of ice cream. "Shorts please. " As Bryce wandered off she washed her spoon in the sink and placed it in the drying rack before she consumed the rest of the ice cream.

It was just now dawning on her that she never really thanked him for what he had done to her ex boyfriend. She placed both hands onfhe edge of the counter an hoisted herself up sat there. Legs dangling over the edge of the cold granite countertop.

Her new number explained why he hadn’t been able to get a hold of her. “Alright,” he shouted, scrounging around in his room for a pair of shorts. He found a pair on his bed and snagged them, giving them a quick sniff to see if he’d warn them recently and more than once. Judging by the lingering scent of dryer sheets, he knew he hadn’t worn them at all or only once. Before exiting the room, he flipped off the light and then wandered back into the kitchen to find her perched on the edge of the counter. A knot in his throat tightened when his gaze fell to her bare legs, and he quickly put on a smirk.

“Don’t let me find out while I’m in France that you went weak and decided to get back with asshole,” he teased, pulling the shorts onto her head, tying the strings, and mussing up her hair. Static electric sparks popped and he laughed, leaning back against the counter beside her. His eyes slid to her ankles and traveled up her calves and thighs. When he spoke again, there was seriousness about him. “I mean it, Ava. I don’t want to hear some bullshit excuse that you’ve fallen in love with that guy, or any guy who would try to hurt you.”

Shifting, he pushed away from the counter and grabbed the empty bucket of ice cream. “I’ll be pissed,” he muttered, chucking the container into the trashcan, before he turned and placed his hands on her hips. Green eyes met hers, and the mischievous spark returned. Lifting her from the counter and setting her down on the floor, he stared down at her. “Now I remember when I wore those shorts. I went commando that night.” He grinned and slid his hands into the pockets of his sweats.

Ava stared at her lap, lost in thought. Both hands still at her side, holding onto the counter top. Her mind slowly drifted back and a comfortable smile grew on her lips at the sight of her friend bringing her a pair of shorts. A smile flashed as she snatched the shorts from her head, knowing that he wouldn't have done such a thing. The first time he had done that she was punching him over and over on the floor, with little effect, until he confessed the truth and stopped laughing. Wearing half a smile she placed her arms on his shoulders and gave a soft sigh of reluctance.

"I promise I won't get back with him or any other douche bag remotely like him." For a minor serious moment she gave him a quick hug. "Thanks for doing a number in his face." Daringly she placed a kiss on his cheek before escaping his clutches and running from to the kitchen, down the hallway and into the bathroom. After flicking on the light she locked the door and unbuttoned her shorts. The denim falling into a pool of fabric at her feet as she adjusted her black lace panties before slipping on Bryce's shorts. She picked up her shorts and folded them and leaving the bathroom after turning the lights off.

It was now her turn to dawn the mischievous grin as she wandered over to his room and turned on the light. Walked over to his bed and laid on top of the sheets. Obviously faking sleep as she laid on her stomach and placed her head on top of her hands as she closed her eyes, fighting back one seriously fierce smile. He could sleep in his mother's room and she could sleep here. She could smell the Joans River perfume seeping into the hallway from moments before. That thought helped her smile subside.

Ah, there it was; that smile of hers that broadened his own until his lips parted and he chuckled, knowing he’d been found out. When she spoke, he listened, grunting when she wrapped him in a brief embrace and kissed him on the cheek. “No problem.” He inhaled, capturing her scent, the moment her soft lips made contact with the stubble that covered his jaw. Before he had a chance to grab her, she was off, running down the hall and disappearing into the bathroom. Shaking his head, a lopsided grin on his face, he flipped off the kitchen light and wandered downstairs to turn off the television.

When he returned upstairs, knowing she was no longer in the bathroom because he’d heard the door open and close a second time, he glanced down the hall to discover his bedroom light was on. Wandering to the open door, he peered in and narrowed his eyes. “Ava, I know you’re not asleep.” His green eyes lingered on her for a moment, watching her back rise and fall with each breath in. Scanning the ceiling, his hand found and turned off the light, leaving them in complete darkness. Slowly, he shuffled over to the bed, stepping around boxes and random items scattered about the floor.

“Ava,” he whispered, hitting the end of the bed once before launching himself up into the air. He landed beside her with a muffled thud as the bed bounced, jostling them both. There was no concealing the broad grin he wore that spread from ear to ear. “I hope you’re comfortable.” Eyebrows arched, he pushed off the bed and moved so that his torso was crossed over hers, chest against her back, pressing her into the mattress. “Because I’m not moving.” Turning his head so that he could see her face, he laughed, the sound reverberating from his chest to her back.

Her defense broke little by little as her friend announced her poorly concealed lie. It was his move. As the lights when off, her eyes shot open. Taking in the sounds as he shuffled through the cluttered floor. His oh too familiar voice whispering her name caused her to instinctively brace herself for what could possibly come. She laughed out loud as she was bounced upon the surface of the bed then pinned like a wrestler. Her lips parted in a smile as she wreathed beneath his body.

"Bryce, how dare you wake a sleeping woman." Her body continued to use up energy to move until a loud sigh signalled her defeat. " Didn't your mom say that you could sleep on her room and I could sleep in your room? " A laugh escaped her lips after she spouted her lie. Even in the dark she faked a pouty face. "Bryyyyyce...you're gonna crush my poor pancreas like this." A free hand searched for his face and cupped his cheek. "Pleeeeeease...." Clearly someone wasn't sleepy.

“Sleeping woman, my ass,” Bryce chortled, applying more of his weight onto her until she ceased her writhing. The grin on his face was a toothy one, devious. “No, I don’t think that’s what she said.” Shaking his head at her pouty expression and as she dragged his name out, he shifted, lifting a little more of his weight off so that he could prop himself up on an elbow. “The only thing I’m crushing is the liar out of you.” Chuckling, green eyes closed, he opened them when he felt her hand slide over his cheek.

He swallowed. “Ava.” Her drawn out please overwhelmed his voice. Exhaling, he pushed off of her and pulled her onto her back, the mattress moving as he did and creaking all the while on its old springs. After a few seconds of shifting around, he settled down on top of her, his chest to hers, one leg parting both of hers. His breath poured out his nostrils on a low sigh as he pressed a soft kiss to the tip of her nose, and then a firmer one to her lips. Prying himself away without haste, he stood up and snagged a shirt off the floor to pull on over his bare chest and stomach.

“You can sleep in here,” he murmured, padding to the door. “I’m going downstairs to crash on the couch.” Stubbing his toes once, he cursed and exited the room. The door scraped over the carpet as he pulled it closed, leaving her alone in the darkened room. Shuffling down the hall, he descended the stairs with heavy footsteps and walked to the closet to grab a pillow and blanket. When he settled down on the couch, he pulled the blanket and pillow over his head, arms folded and locked over them, muffling each “Shit” or “Fuck” that he uttered.

Her laughter mingled with the sound of the springs as she won their little battle. Emerald eyes rolled, accompanied with half a smile upon her lips as her friend pinned her to the bed again. The kiss on her nose was sweet, the kiss to her lips was another matter. For a moment she had lost all thought. The moment she felt his weight lift she sat up and listened as he left the room to sleep on the sofa. Reality seemed to just be setting in. For a few more minutes her mind dwelled on what had just happened. Replaying it over and over in her head.

What bothered her the most was the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about it. "What the hell Bryce." Her lips whispered to the darkness of the room as she fell back onto the pillow with a soft grunt. A froth of ebony curls spilled onto the contrasting white pillowcase. It would be a little less than an hour before she would drift to sleep. Her heart painfully began to beat within her chest as she had another nightmare. It seemed that a change of settings was not the solution to solve her sleeping problem.

In the dead of night she sat up in bed gasping and clutching the sheets to her chest. "Holy crap..." these were the only words she could manage to say. Breathing seemed to be getting in the way of her even trying to speak. She raked her fingers through her hair as the glowing of her phone caught her eye upon the floor. It must have fallen when she woke up. Her nerves were rattled and a deep breath was all she could prescribe herself. There was no way she was going to go and wake Bryce up for this stupid little matter. A reluctant sigh later, she picked up her phone and sat Indian style on top of the bed.

Surprisingly she found herself wishing that Bryce were here. Her green eyes glowed in the reflecting light of her cellphone. The wallpaper displaying a picture of the two of them acting crazy when they were younger. "Damn you Bryce..." These words were mumbled but still audible to anyone paying attention. She would never get to sleep at this rate.

For an hour Bryce lay on the couch with that pillow over his head, cursing both inwardly and outwardly. He’d kissed his best friend. He tried reasoning that it was because he wanted to freak her out, joke with her a little bit. His jaw was clenched so tight that he couldn’t swallow, and when he could swallow, he couldn’t breathe. By the time he jerked the pillow and blanket away from his face, tossing the pillow into the entertainment center, he was red-faced and his nostrils were flared out with each breath he drew into his lungs. His green eyes flickered to the staircase, wondering how he was going to look at her in the morning, let alone speak. His mother would catch on that something was amiss.

Sitting up, he propped himself against the armrest of the couch. It must have been two or three hours he sat there, just staring at nothing in particular, before he glanced at the stairs again. Then at the clock; the red numbers read 1:24. Breathing deep, he rose to his feet and crossed quietly to the stairs, climbing them two at a time without making much noise. When he reached the top, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and it only grew louder and more persistent as he padded down the hallway to his bedroom.

He was shocked to see her awake when he opened the door, or rather, hoping she would have been asleep. “You’re awake,” he breathed, leaving the door propped open. He walked a little ways into the room and stopped a few feet away from the bed. Forcing a grin over his face, he slid his hands into the pockets of his sweats, avoiding eye contact. “Bad dream?” The casual façade dissipated quickly, and a knot formed in his throat.

“Ava, I,” he began and furrowed his brow, turning toward the door as if to check and make sure it was still open. Swallowing, he let his eyes meet hers. The darkness shrouded most of her face, making it easier to look at her. “You know I didn’t mean anything by that kiss, right?” Laughing, he continued. “It was a joke. I thought you’d get pissed, but the look on your face. You were so fucking confused.” His heart was hammering away at his chest, hoping she’d take his lie and run with it.

Flopping down beside her on the bed, he scooted back against the wall. Being closer to her, he could see her face better, could make out expressions. “So, what woke you up? Did you think something was going to drag you out of here?”

The heart that had slowly begun beating at its normal pace nearly jumped out of her throat when his voice sounded in the darkness of the room. "Damn it Bryce...." The palm of her hand made a feeble attempt to still her pounding heart. Unknowingly she had slammed her cellphone shut. At this point, she couldn't have been more grateful for the dark as blood rushed to her cheeks. Ava was busted and a low little grunt of defeat was his answer. She couldn't have been more happy and yet so nervous at the same time that he was even here to begin with.

As usual her instincts had her biting on her lower lip as he brought up the kiss he gave her from before. Half a smile took up her face as she knew something was off with Bryce. The painful heart beating beneath her chest threatened to burst from her cavity, but this time it was for a completely different reason. "Yeah...I had a bad dream. Someone had snuck through my window and killed me without a single person waking up." Her eyes stared at the outline of her cellphone in her hands. She had deliberately delayed answering his first question as she mulled over her own thoughts.

"Bryce." She softly sighed his name in defeat as she placed her finger beneath his stubbled chin and placed a lingering kiss upon his own lips. "There, now we're both equally confused." Her lips were but a hair away from his own when she spoke. She rested her head upon his shoulder casually, almost as though nothing had happened. "Why are you still awake?" Her hands were starting to get a little clammy out of nervousness. Despite her body being so damn tired, her mind was racing a million miles a minute, making it impossible for her to even close her eyes. Concentrating on her breathing was making it a bit hard to talk. The occasional heart lodged in your throat wasn't helping either. Why was he having such an effect on her all of a sudden?

“I figured,” he muttered when she finally admitted that she had, in fact, had a nightmare. His eyes were glued to the cellphone in her hands as well, unconsciously avoiding eye contact. “Not a chance.” He laughed at the summary she’d given him of her dream, and when she said his name, his gaze was impulsively and inevitably drawn straight to hers. She kissed him, her lips warm and lingering, breath mingling with his, and he nearly choked in response. Tense and shifting as she rested her head on his shoulder, he sat there in silence and didn’t respond immediately after her question as to why he was awake. Something in her breathing had changed, and the hushed atmosphere of the room allowed him to hear her every inhale and exhale.

Raising his eyebrows, he lifted his shoulders in a light shrug. He could smell the sweet aroma of her hair and skin, wafting in and tickling his sense of smell. “I got up to take a piss and thought I’d come check on you,” he lied, licking his lips. The taste of her lips still lingered on his, and he cleared his throat, letting out a long breath into the dark. Glancing down at her legs, he slid his hand under her knees and pulled her lower body closer to his as he shifted toward her. His thumb brushed over her kneecap and the material of the shorts she’d borrowed slid up her thigh an inch or two. Cheek resting against the top of her head, he lifted the same arm up and placed it around her shoulders, his other hand still tucked in the pocket of his sweats.

“You should have borrowed a jacket, too. Your skin is freezing,” he teased, cracking a genuine grin. Her hair sifted under his cheek as he moved, lifting his head from hers. Sliding to the edge of the bed, he leaned forward and snatched the jacket he wore around everywhere from the top of a packed box. He draped it across her front as he settled beside her once again, mindful to cover her bare arms and shoulders.

After a moment had passed, his arm around her once more, he chuckled. “So, you think I’ll find a French girl to bring back home in a few years?” he asked, head against the wall as he stared at the film equipment he had yet to pack, fearing it would ruin his camera to be out in the cold garage all night. There was a hint of a smile on his face. “How do you say ‘I love you’ in French?”

Ava found herself using Bryce as a heating device. The warmth emanating from his skin was calming and soothing. Even the warmth of his lips lingered on her own. There was no obligation as he shifted her over closer to him. The closer the better....for some reason. He was always tending to her in one way or another at quiet times like these. Her head lifted from his shoulder for a moment as he shuffled to fetch his jacket and drape it about her shoulders and covering her arms. Her lips cracked half a smile at his sweet gesture. "One....it's called a blanket. Two...I was born in Alaska. Three..." Her body could no longer deny the shivers now making their way down her body as she snuggled closer to her friend. "Thanks."

A soft smile escaped her lips at the thought of what mischief he would get into in another country. A candid smile grew on her face as her emerald eyes continued to stare into nothingness, head resting on his shoulder as thoughts formed into words. "Knowing you...you would so bring back a girl. At least to tap your mother's nerves, if you could." This was a moment she would definitely keep with her. The arm draped about her shoulders was more than comforting. It was kind of romantic in her feminist mind.

" Vous êtes une vache sale." Ava nearly bit her lower lip off at such a lie. "Don't say that to your mother or a cop." Her smile gave her away. "Just kidding...." She placed a kiss upon his cheek and whispered the truth to his answer in his ear. "Je t'aime Bryce." Secretly she meant it. The goosebumps dancing across her skin weren't from the chills of the air, but from the touch of his skin upon her lips. She took a deep breath as she sat her head against the wall. "Like I said...don't use the first one, you'd be calling whatever girl you pick up a cow. No matter how accurate it may be. " She grinned to herself at the thought of the hairy little slut traipsing about and what his mother would do if she ever met her.

He chuckled. Ava knew him best. Just the idea of ruffling his mother’s feathers made any day a great one. His gaze drifted to her when she began speaking in French, and he furrowed his brow. “Holy shit,” he muttered, shaking his head. There would be no way he would remember that. Any girl he met would have to speak English, or be hot enough and well enough into him to avoid talking. Then he caught her smile, and he narrowed his green eyes as she unveiled that the slew of French she’d just tossed his way wasn’t even the phrase he’d asked about.

“Bitch,” he said in jest. A grin on his face, his arm shifted, causing one side of the jacket to slip from Ava’s arm. His fingertips slid over smooth, cool skin, and his ears heated when she kissed his cheek, her breath flitting into his ear as she whispered a much simpler phrase to him. That one, he was almost positive was French for ‘I love you.’ Retracting his arm, he rested both at his side as she spoke, telling him what he would have said if he would have taken the first translation she’d given him seriously.

“Hm,” he grunted with a slight laugh that made his chest jump. “Is that how you’ve always seen the girls I’ve dated?” Rolling his head to the side, he looked at her, an amused grin on his face. The bed shifted as he did, leaning away from the wall and reaching for the cellphone she’d been holding when he’d entered. “Is your background still that picture from freshman year?” Flipping the small device open, he peered at the screen and laughed triumphantly, having guessed correctly.

After a moment, he set it in his lap. “Je t’aime, Ava,” he said, jaw flexing as he swallowed. His green eyes were on her phone, staring down at the picture until the screen faded to black. Licking his lips, he took a deep breath reached for her phone again, closing it and returning it to her. He searched her face, repeating his statement. “Je t’aime, Ava.” Shaking his head, brow knitted into a crease, he turned his upper body and slid his arms under her, lifting her up and into his lap.

Chest rising and falling in heavy breaths, the beat of his heart was swift when his lips found hers. It was too fucking late to be kissing her. He’d had years he could have kissed her, yet he chose to tell her he loved her now when it didn’t matter anymore. She was going off to culinary school, and he was going away to France.

Pulling away after the first soft kiss, he looked into her eyes. His pupils were dark, dilated to absorb enough light to see her face. “Is it alright if I kiss you?” he asked, murmuring against her mouth. Jaw taut, the hand on her arm tightened its grip, fingers pressing into the side of her breast. “And I mean kiss you, Ava, not like earlier or just now. Until you can’t breathe or pass out."

She laughed in admittance. Every girl she had ever watched grace his arm was a simple slut in her eyes and he was just another victim on a long list of suitors. Her smile reflected the happiness she felt when they had taken that picture. The simple sound of his laughter rung clearly in her ear and eased her twisted aching heart. The first string of words jump started her heart until it felt almost painful. Her mind fought to see what jest he would throw after such words. A soft little cry escaped her parted lips as he hoisted her into his lap. This was far from what she had expected.

Her breathing grew jagged and uneven. The jacket falling to the surface of the bed. The coolness of the air caressing her exposed flesh only to be washed away by the warmth of blood now rushing just beneath her skin at his touch. Heartbeats later she forgot how to breath, after one more kiss she felt no need to breath. Her hands glided up his chest and arms wrapped around his neck.

This all would have made more sense if they were drunk. The only thing she could see herself getting drunk off of were his damn addicting kisses. Why now? It was one hell of damn temptation to wave at this time. Her mind flooded with well over a dozen 'what if's' in the time it took her to even comprehend what he had asked of her. The heat of his lips still lingered. She wanted a taste of him. A simple kiss was no longer enough. Logic and hunger fought and logic lost.

"I love you Bryce...what do you think?" One arm slid from around his neck and the palm of her hand cradled the nape of his neck. Her heart matched her uneven breathing. She possessed his lips with a damn breaking passion she had never felt with anyone before. The warmth and delicious taste of him, probing the secret behind those lips. All thought washed away: His trip to France, her culinary career, and their inevitable time apart.

A flicker of a grin passed over his lips when she spoke, and the moment he felt her palm against the back of his neck, her ragged breaths pressing him onward, he intercepted her kiss. His lips parted and he opened wide, any control he had before misplaced. Her mouth was as sweet as honey, better even, and it was her flavor that encouraged him to delve deeper into their kiss. Tongue rasping over hers, he shifted, and without missing a beat had laid her back on the bed. The weight of his body pressed her gently into the mattress, and when he pulled his mouth away from hers, he caught her eyes.

There was excitement in his the gaze he gave her. Fear. Love. Lust. Straddling her leg, hips pressed against her, the bulge at the front of his sweats undeniable, obvious, his mouth returned to hers. His tongue traced over her lips, her gums, before retreating so he could place another tender kiss on her lips. Shifting over her, he unconsciously brought his hips into alignment with hers, and the moment he felt the heat of her core pressed against his growing erection, he ground into her.

“Shit,” he cursed, nostrils flared as he tore away from her. “I’m sorry. That’s too far. Not somewhere we want to go.” Breathing heavily, he stood a few feet from the bed, still very clearly aroused as he paced. “Well, it is. Has been.” He glanced to her, eyes wild. Every muscle in his body was wound tight. Swallowing, he tried to even out his tone as his eyes flitted erratically about her face in the dark. “Am I scaring you? I don't...fuck...” His shoulders shook with an anxious laugh. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had sex with a girl, and he doubted it would be his last. But the girl was Ava, his best friend; the concept was more than strange, and yet his balls ached just imagining her body writhing under his.

Her mind drifted into a dream like state. The weight of his body pressing her to the mattress. His swift maneuvering without even parting lips. She savored his taste, his touch, his scent. All her senses grew heightened. She sighed awingly at his gaze as she felt the first stirrings of dampness collecting the a heated pool of liquid between her legs. The contents of his sweats pressing against her leg only confirmed that he hungered for the same sweet release. Her tongue jousting with his, drowning her in his intoxicating taste. Instinctively her body arched as she felt his hard on grind against her hidden desire. Her eyes closed at body shuddered at the unknown feelings now surging through her body.

Her eyes partially opened when her chest could finally take in more air as he got off of her. Her mind was still in a bit of a daze. She sat up and raked her fingers through her hair trying to clear the fog from her head. Her breasts rose and fell with each heavy breath. It was a bit hard for her to even speak. She shook her head at the thought of what they had almost done. He was leaving in a month, for who knows how long. Every inch of her body longe for his touch. Every contour of her body. She shifted herself onto all fours and crawled over to the edge of the bed.

She could never live with herself if she didn't find out where this moment led to. What the outcome could have been. Ava had feelings for him. She would be advancing her feelings in this manner, but the possibilities would eat at her. "No strings attatched. A free for all. You're leaving for another country. I dont know when I will see you again. One of us may be married by then. We may never get this opportuity again." In the end there would be no broken hearts. Deep down she knew there were other outcomes. Ones she dare not think of. "I'll be heading home in the morning anyway." Her argument wasn't the best, and she wasn't even completely thinking with her head at the time. "Take me Bryce..." Her emerald eyes held her hunger and curiousity. A wonton desision based on desire.