ã€ŠAn Unrelenting Lifeã€‹


 Chapter 1

    The office was unabashedly lit. The floor-to-ceiling windows had no curtains, letting all the bright, fall light stream through¡ªspilling over and exposing the tall and immaculate potted plants, a balance perfectly struck between faux and real, the doctor¡¯s chair and her own. It made her uncomfortable. Just like the mostly bare walls and spotlessly clean, near sterile appearance of the room had made her anxiety spike when she¡¯d first walked in. She nervously rubbed her tellingly sticky palms against her thighs that were clad in jeans that begged to be washed.

    Blinking and shaking her head in an effort to shift her focus from the welcome distraction of her embarrassingly unkempt pants, she lifted her face to the doctor who was perched right on the edge, the absolute edge of a clean-lined armless chair that looked like it had just come off the floor of some overpriced furniture store. No doubt a tag would still be attached upon further inspection.

    The therapist barely looked old enough to be out of college. Platinum blonde hair cut in a painfully symmetrical bob accentuated the curves of her cheeks, the smooth, unblemished line of her jaw. Thick, black plastic glasses perched on a nose that looked a little too well chiseled, with lenses so clean they looked invisible. From where she sat, which felt like an oddly far away distance for a therapy session, she couldn¡¯t tell if there were laugh lines or wrinkles masked underneath her perfectly mastered I¡¯m-wearing-makeup-but-it-looks-like-I¡¯m-not look. The doctor¡¯s skirt-blazer combo, her impeccable posture, her hands eerily still as they perched on the keyboard of her laptop ... Pressed, polished, professional.

    All of her observations made her skin start to itch underneath all the layers of clothing she¡¯d worn to combat the relentless chill of October in New York. She was bundled in a faded olive green jacket that¡¯d been with her forever, carelessly shrugged on over a gray hoodie that might¡¯ve been thrifted, or picked up after someone had left it behind at some party or library or dance studio. A dark gray knit beanie was slid on over dull brown hair that was so greasy it hurt. Large plastic glasses were perched on her own unwashed nose with lenses that were thick with smudges and grime.

    Dirty jeans. Feet slid into sneakers that she¡¯d only worn once before when she¡¯d thought she¡¯d commit to going to the gym¡ªthey¡¯d seemed like the best choice for this appointment since she thought it very likely that she may just end up having to get up and run out.

    Commit. Right. That¡¯s why she was here. To commit to herself, to her health. Never mind the fact that therapy had been strongly recommended to her a plethora of times by doctors, friends, colleagues, and anyone with a goddamn tongue. Never mind that it was something she probably should¡¯ve started six months ago. Right after her life had been irrecoverably unraveled, resulting in the only serious relationship she¡¯d ever had destroyed beyond recognition. Her nails were constantly bitten down to the flesh. Paranoia was her new unwelcome roommate. Indifference was as vital to her as the oxygen required to breathe.

    Lost. She was lost. Desperate to cling to some part of herself. The past, present, future her¡ªshe didn¡¯t know what parts she should be concerned about trying to salvage, or focus on nurturing, or adamantly be forgetting. It was from within those thoughts that she finally found her gaze falling on the doctor¡¯s eyes. Or at least the bagless skin underneath them. That was good enough, right? She couldn¡¯t remember the last person she had looked in the eye. It required far too much effort to keep everyone¡¯s gaze separate from the one that had ruined her all those months ago.

    So she took in the pattern of the doctor¡¯s faint freckles¡ªwere they real or precisely placed with makeup?¡ªand tried to let the annoying brightness of the office fade into her peripheral.

    ¡°Now Anna, I understand that this is your first time seeking out any type of counseling or therapy since the incident that occurred six months ago. I commend you for taking the first step in getting help. It¡¯s never easy and can be quite daunting.¡±

    She found her head nodding along absentmindedly as the immaculate doctor prattled on with her clinically approved lingo. The demons were already starting to bubble and boil up under her skin. Wanting to scream and swear and lay out every ugly moment and thought and truth from her life since it had fallen apart. To paint the bright white walls a deep black they would never recover from, if only to see how this perfectly put-together doctor would react. Would she cower with fear? Anxiously document every word with eager eyes as she thinks about her upcoming fame from having dealt with the demons of a girl made demented from the horrors forced upon her?

    ¡°While your story is familiar to me due to the brief survey you filled out a few months ago, I¡¯d like to hear it from you, from the beginning.¡±

    The walls of the room seemed to lean in closer, the pressure around her increasing tenfold. Then the familiar high-pitched ring came into her ears. She forgot how to breathe.

    ¡°You want me to do what?¡±

    There was a subtle shift in the doctor¡¯s posture as she cocked her head slightly¡ªa gesture that shouldn¡¯t have felt condescending, but did. The pressure in her chest started to grow as her anxiety climbed to uncharted levels. Her hands gripped her thighs in an effort to ground herself in the now¡ªsitting in a painfully well-lit office wearing her grungy shell staring down the fact that she thought she was ready for therapy. She reminded herself that the darkness closing in around the corners of her vision and brief flashes of memories seeping into her mind were the very reasons why she was here, panicking in a chair she thought she was ready to sit in.

    ¡°I know of your story and situation through what you told me in the brief online form, but in order to help you and for me to do my job thoroughly, I¡¯ll need you to start from the beginning. Now what that means is up to you, whether it¡¯s sometime before the incident, the hours leading up to it or ¡­ ¡±

    Wrong.

    Eerie reflections from the mirrors in the dark studio. The sharp pain of her gym bag digging into her back. A sweaty hand pushing so hard against her mouth that she thought her teeth might crack, unable to move her head in the slightest. The strong smell of sweat from both herself and from him. The muffled echoes of her own screams that the world would never know. Eyes wild with insanity and hungry with destruction boring into her. The name of the man she¡¯d loved being repeated over and over again as she was shattered into a million pieces. Into dust. Into nothing.

    She kept her eyes as open as her sockets would allow, afraid of what else she might see if they closed, even just to blink. Hyperventilation kicked in as her flight instinct overcame any reasonable thought she might¡¯ve had.

    ¡°I have to go.¡±

    Managing to unlock her frozen joints and limbs, she staggered from the too-stiff chair and got her shaking hands to the handle of the heavy door as quickly as she could.

    ¡°Anna I know this is difficult, but running away¡ª¡±

    The rest of the doctor¡¯s sentence was lost to her slamming of the door. As if closing it hard enough could displace the images and memories slipping into every corner of her mind.

    It was getting difficult to see as her hyperventilating turned into a full blown panic attack. She found herself in a long hallway, with a staircase towards the end.

    Options. What were her options? She couldn¡¯t go outside. She didn¡¯t have time to try and find an empty office or room. She didn¡¯t have the mental capacity to locate a bathroom. So she decided to go towards the stairs as her vision blurred from tears and sobs snaked their way up her throat from deep within her chest.

    Up. She¡¯d go up the stairs and at least get to a floor that wasn¡¯t home to the awful therapist and horribly bright office that she had just left. She¡¯d find somewhere to sit and let this shit happen to her so she could just get the hell out of here and go home.

    Up and up her feet went. Voices floated to her as she passed some floors, while others were just as quiet as the floor she was trying to escape. Before she realized it, her feet had carried her until there were no more stairs left to climb. She turned to find an identical layout to all the floors she had just passed¡ªa long, brightly lit hallway with several offices on either side. But unlike the others, this one had a corner directly across from her with a bench framed by two potted plants.

    In the number of steps it took for her to reach the bench, tears started pouring from her eyes and her hyperventilating had morphed into full blown sobs. Her body assumed the position that had become second nature to her over the past months¡ªarms wrapped around her stomach with her head dipped forward, making it easy for her to rock back and forth in time to the peaks and valleys of her own mind¡¯s attack.

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    Each memory that drifted into her brain had fresh pain barreling through her chest. This was the worst attack she¡¯d had in a while. She had been numb, content to no longer feel any of the fear and anger and sadness that left her exhausted and empty. It also meant she felt no happiness, no contentment, no joy. That was the part of her that had her fancy sneaker-clad feet walking to this office building today. The part that knew she needed to feel good things again. But the demons from the incident all those months ago still had whatever joy she might find held hostage under lock and key.

    During one of the valleys where her breathing tried to find normalcy and her eyes drifted open to focus on anything but the images inside her skull, she found two feet wearing well-polished brown dress shoes in her line of sight as she tried to stare aimlessly at the floor. Through the peaks of her breakdown, she hadn¡¯t heard the person approach.

    Suddenly a new kind of panic surged in her chest. Someone had cornered her here, on the top floor of a building where she sat on a bench by herself. But before the fresh panic could take hold, the next peak of her raw, gutting emotion had her losing herself to her body again. Her eyes clenched shut and the rocking returned. Any concern about whoever was standing in front of her was lost to the gaping void cracked open inside of her heaving chest.

    A void so paralyzing that she didn¡¯t even jump or become startled when a voice spoke softly yet firmly from right next to her.

    ¡°It helps if you put your head between your knees and try to take deep, even breaths.¡±

    It was the unmistakable voice of a man. But the fear inside of herself was already being funneled into the void that had formed in her chest from that night all those months ago. She had no will, no energy, no logic to let the fear of her current reality into her mind. Against all common sense, against every grain of her being, she put her head between her knees and tried to take deep breaths through the forceful sobs that made her back ache.

    ¡°There you go, that¡¯s better. It¡¯s going to be okay. It will pass, it always does. It will be over soon.¡±

    The light tone and soothing quality of his unmistakably British accent was nearly hypnotic. It gave her something else to pin her focus on, something else to consider. Enough of a distraction to draw her thoughts away from what was spiraling out of control in her mind.

    Her sobs became more sporadic as she forced deep breath after deep breath through her dry, swollen lips. Tears had drenched her face and neck, while globs of snot streamed from her nose and dripped off onto the floor. What an absolute fucking mess she was.

    She mastered herself enough to find her voice and croaked out unevenly, ¡°Now that¡¯s just gross,¡± as she observed the small snot puddle beneath her.

    ¡°Eh, I¡¯ve seen worse.¡±

    Somehow an ill-placed chuckle managed to escape from her as she took in just how much of a mess she currently was. A sharp throbbing was beginning to pierce through the space between her eyes and her temples. Her back ached from the powerful sobs and her stomach rolled with nausea and hunger simultaneously. She pushed it all aside for a little longer as she aimed her focus onto something besides herself. Anything besides herself.

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Posed as a question, as if he wasn¡¯t sure if she wanted to hear his life story or just his name. He seemed to make up his mind quickly and continued on without much of a pause.

    ¡°Name¡¯s Sam. I heard you through that door over there. I was just getting ready to leave when I thought I heard someone out here having a hard time. I thought I¡¯d come see if I could be of any help, since I¡¯m pretty well-versed in the art of not having my shit together either.¡±

    Gobs of snot were pouring from her nose. Her face was soaked with tears. Why hadn¡¯t she tucked tissues in her pocket before she left? It was something she always did before heading out¡ªthe few times a month she did actually leave her apartment. She was going to therapy today for Christ''s sake and she¡¯d not thought twice about it.

    ¡°I¡¯m a fucking mess.¡±

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s a fucking mess¡ªdon¡¯t let them you fool you.¡± There was a brief pause, the sound of fabric moving, and then his smooth, rhythmic accent filled her ears once again, closer and even softer than before. ¡°Here, take this.¡±

    A plain white handkerchief appeared in her line of sight as she continued staring down at the shiny tiled floor. She took it from a large hand with skin that looked soft and had slight traces of calluses. The sight of it caused her brows to furrow for a second. What kind of hand had she expected? Before she could dwell on the thought of hands and inevitably end up dredging up more gut-punching painful shit, she straightened her hunched spine and managed to sit up despite every inch of her body protesting.

    She placed her horribly smudged¡ªand now wet¡ªglasses on her lap before wiping her face from top to bottom in one swipe with the pleasantly soft handkerchief. It smelled clean, like laundry detergent faintly mixed with natural musk.

    ¡°I promise you it¡¯s clean¡ªI put a fresh one in my pocket every day, and I haven¡¯t used it yet.¡± How meticulous and old fashioned of him.

    With a shuddering breath, she dabbed her eyes, and then under her nose in an effort to wipe away the last bits of evidence from her first panic attack in weeks. No matter all the other side effects she couldn¡¯t simply wipe away, like her red face, swollen eyes, congestion, headache and nausea that would now follow her around all day as permanent reminders of her fucked up existence.

    ¡°It may never come clean again after all the nastiness I just wiped on it.¡±

    A deep chuckle came from next to her as she took a few deep breaths in a feeble effort to ground herself in the aftermath of her utter failure of a day. She tucked her glasses onto her ears beneath her hat and pushed them back on her nose. Handkerchief still in hand, she assessed herself. Tired, hungry, ashamed. Home. She needed and desperately wanted to get home. To crawl back into what was safe and far, far away from the shrink¡¯s office, the building, the witness next to her.

    Standing proved more difficult than she anticipated with stiff joints and pulsing temples. She stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets and stood from the bench with a grimace as her entire head throbbed in time to her pulse. It was as she turned around that she noticed just how sweaty she was under all the layers she¡¯d donned to fight off the chilly weather. Just add it to the list of things that were already causing her great embarrassment today. She steeled herself for facing Sam and getting herself out of the building, back to the subway and into her bed in as few words as possible.

    What she hadn¡¯t steeled herself for was to be completely derailed from her minimal-speaking plan of action when she finally took in the man who had come out into the hallway, sat down beside her and offered up his help along with his handkerchief.

    A tall, lean frame sat bent forward with forearms resting on perfectly ironed dark blue dress pants, his hands interlaced between them. Her eyes trailed to the silver watch at his wrist that peeked out from the cuff of a suit coat that was mostly covered by a dark gray peacoat. She took in his face last¡ªstrikingly chiseled, handsome features offset with deep set, bright blue, nearly gray eyes that rested on her with a softness that made her want to shift on her feet. The small dents of dimples accented his subtly smiling lips, and the last thing she combed her eyes over were the neat layers of rich brown hair that he wore long and loose, each strand seemingly placed with admirable precision.

    He looked historic, from a time long since passed. It bore a gentlemanly air that she thought only existed when carriages were tugged down dirt roads and ladies wore suffocating corsets that mirrored their own female existence.

    ¡°Thank you, Sam, for helping me. I¡¯m Anna, by the way, and I really need to go now.¡±

    He set his hands on either knee and sat up straight as he looked up at her, no doubt taking in all the nervous tics¡ªthe fidgeting of her hands in her pockets, the tapping of her foot against the floor, the twitch of her cheek as she chewed on it between her teeth.

    She was just getting ready to turn around and take the stairs two at a time to get to the relief of fresh air when he started to speak again.

    ¡°Look, I know you want to get out of here as fast as you can, but if you¡¯re hungry there¡¯s a damn good hole-in-the-wall diner just down the block. I know I¡¯m always weirdly starving after having a breakdown or whatever the hell you want to call them. Anyways, it¡¯s really good if you¡¯re looking for food. It was nice meeting you, miss Anna.¡±

    All she could manage was a brief nod of her head before she turned on her heel and made for the stairs. Everything seemed to blur together as she cleared the stairwells, nearly jogging through the last too-bright hallway and finally pushing through the double doors. The bite of cold air against her burning cheeks caused her to draw in a sharp breath through chalky lips¡ªit dried her mouth and throat and made her eyes water with the shock of it.

    The wind, the cold, the act of walking; the mundaneness of it all filled her head, consumed her thoughts. She focused on anything but what had just happened, and desperately worked to convince herself that everything was alright.

    She managed to distract herself while waiting at the subway station, while riding the train, on the walk back to her apartment. She kept it together as she walked the stairs up to her floor, as she unlocked and relocked all the new locks on the door that seemed to say ¡°defeat¡± with each click, as she took off her boots and coat.

    And as she hurriedly threw the needle onto her decrepit, old record player and tossed herself onto the couch to bury herself beneath too many blankets, it all came apart again. The failure, the helplessness, the endless cycle of grief and loss.

    As she lay there, absorbing not the notes of the music but the grit of white noise, two thoughts came from some forgotten corner of her mind that harbored some semblance of lightness.

    ¡°Try to take deep, even breaths. Everyone¡¯s a fucking mess.¡±

    From the darkness of her dirty apartment that looked about the same as the unkempt shell of a person she¡¯d become, she tried to will herself to take the advice of some New-York-as-hell sounding stranger who had offered her kindness when he had no reason to.

    After what could¡¯ve been hours or days or minutes, the sound of her sobbing faded away into the therapeutic blend of ambient sounds from outside her window and the record softly playing from the corner of the room. Sleep tugged at her eyelids harder than the hunger churning in her stomach. And for another night, she fell asleep without eating, without drinking enough water, without being okay.

    And just like the doctor had asked her hours ago, her mind¡ªwithout her consent¡ªstarted replaying the beginning.

 Last winter

    "Keep to yourself." The three words always echoed through her mind as she waited for the subway train to roll thunderously into the station. She heard them in the raspy, firm voice of the last foster mother she had lived with before moving to the big city.

    She had been a single parent of two when she had brought Anna into her hectic existence. Life had shaped her foster mother into a paranoid, untrusting person. Small town Iowa had suited her, and it kept the fear that lurked deep inside of her relatively quiet. From her, Anna learned what independence and sacrifice meant. Try as she might to pass along her distrust and paranoia to Anna, she managed to observe it from a distance and watch silently as it slowly destroyed her foster mother''s sanity and countless opportunities. It was how Anna learned to live¡ªwatch, learn, take note.

    Being an orphan had made her observant to a fault. Whether she was at school or working or walking down the street or waiting in line for coffee, she scrutinized what people did and let their actions and behaviors linger in her mind for careful consideration¡ªoften leaving her yearning for what she didn''t have, or content knowing her life was simple.

    It wasn''t enough to just stand quietly and wait for the train with her headphones plugged firmly into her ears. Everyone that lingered around her was an unknowing victim of her silent, intensive observation. There was a woman sitting on the bench to her right, eating a greasy burger while slurping from an enormously sized soda. Maybe she could''ve opted for a healthier option. Maybe she was craving it. Maybe it had been a day, and it was what she needed. It was none of Anna''s business, but she couldn''t help but wonder.

    Shifting her eyes to the left, there were numerous people with their heads down, eyes glued to phone screens that illuminated their expressionless faces. Didn''t they spend enough time at work staring at a screen? Did they ever unplug themselves? They were tuned out to everything around them. They didn''t see her, standing and looking at them with her hands tucked deep into pockets of her bulky winter coat. They didn''t see the woman with the burger, they didn''t see the man standing to her left whose dress pants were so tight they left nothing to the imagination.

    An all too familiar sigh pushed past her lips as all the observations and questions left her feeling nothing but more discontent. Her own eyes and temples throbbed due to the absurd amount of time she spent glued to a computer screen every day, and the time she spent at work varied drastically between being distressingly busy and utterly bored. It created a rift somewhere inside of her, somewhere like where her soul might be.

    Praise was nonexistent, and she wanted nothing more than to leave the second she walked through the office doors. She treasured her time waiting for the train in the morning and at night. She liked watching people who were completely unaware of her critical eyes. It made her feel weirdly calm when she was really just being a giant, intrusive asshole. That fact has never stopped her, though. The habit was too ingrained and the consequences were nonexistent.

    She was about to throw a quick glance over her shoulder to see who else was waiting for the train when the familiar rumbling of the ground started traveling up her feet and into her knees. Letting out a deep sigh, she smiled a little as the rumbling grew more intense.

    The approaching train meant she was that much closer to being home. Home meant spending time with her roommate, and said roommate''s attention whore of a cat. It meant having a meal they would cook together while talking over the background noise of the TV. Most importantly, it meant starting to plan her solo routine for the upcoming dance production. Since the moment she sat down at her depressing desk this morning, she had been anxious to get home. As the headlights of the train poured over all the decrepit concrete and preoccupied passengers, she took a few steps forward in anticipation.

    The lights overhead started to flicker intensely just as she began to move. She looked upwards at the curved brick of the tunnel with an arched brow. As the train pulled into the station and started wailing to a stop, everything was abruptly cast in darkness as the lights cut out completely. Suddenly, someone grabbed her roughly by the arm, spinning her around, and kissed her hard. Too hard. They painfully slammed their mouth into hers, causing their teeth to crack together.

    The squeal of the train and the sweet swell of a classical symphony filling her ears combined together horribly, adding another layer of sensory overload to the already awful situation. Before she could sling insults or express her complete disgust, it was over. The asshole who had just assaulted her mouth was gone, and the lights remained off. She spun around, uselessly trying to see something, anything. The doors to the train opened, and people flowed seamlessly on and off, some noting the darkness while others paid it no mind. Her mouth formed a silent "What the fuck?" as she looked around with her brows knit together, using the back of her hand to furiously wipe off her lips.

    No one approached her. No one had witnessed the violating incident that had just occurred. It had been concealed in the abrupt, timely darkness. She managed to take the steps needed to board the train and found a seat next to an innocent looking stranger. Her mind was reeling. Even if she hadn''t had her headphones in, she wouldn''t have heard anything with the howling of the train coming into the station. It must have been some off-the-rails, psycho. Who knew what kind of diseases they might have?

    She brought the back of her hand up to her mouth again and scrubbed it vigorously for a few seconds. She had just been standing, minding her own damn business¡ªwell, for the most part¡ªand keeping to herself. Maybe the person who just decided to smash their mouth into hers had boarded the train. Maybe they were watching her right now. Wrapping her arms around her backpack which now sat in her lap, she pulled it tightly into her chest while holding one hand around the other.

    Music had been flowing through her ears throughout the entire ordeal. Emotional music, at least to her. Music that she was analyzing carefully to determine if she could create a routine around it or not. Now, it was just serving as an over dramatic backdrop to an incredibly bizarre incident.

    She wanted nothing more than to turn to the person next to her and say, "You saw that, right? I''m not crazy. That was crazy." But that was a comfort she couldn''t have. She was left to sit amongst strangers, feeling repulsed and violated. At least everything was well lit now. There could be no more secret shenanigans under the cruel yellow lighting of the train.

    In her best effort to push back rising paranoia mixed with fear, she closed her eyes and directed her focus back towards the music swelling in her ears. With each influx of rhythm, she began to feel her heart rate slow from its manic racing. Her back slowly sank further back into the seat, and all she could see was herself dancing across a stage. Work had drained her, the kissing creep had drained her, and her creativity was draining her. Jesus Christ, could she just get home?

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    "Are you sure it happened? I mean maybe you were just spaced out or something."

    Laney spoke between the crisp wooden thunks of her vegetable chopping.

    "I''m pretty sure I have enough mental stability to know if someone grabbed me and kissed me. I mean it wasn''t even a good kiss for god sakes. It was too hard, it actually hurt¡ªworse than some douche at a club who''s tripping for the first time."

    Anna glanced up and over to the kitchen just in time to watch Greg throw a sideways glance at Laney. This crappy apartment was originally supposed to be for her and Laney. There had been no "Greg" in the picture when they had signed the lease to this tiny, barely-legal-for-a-living-space apartment in the heart of Manhattan. But for the past year, Greg had been slowly and meaningfully etching out his space in Laney''s life.

    The two were actually planning to move in together, as soon as they found the right place¡ªa change that would be welcomed yet dreaded. Greg was always around to throw in his two cents. He prided himself on being incredibly reasonable and rational, which made him all the more frustrating to be around in times of distress.

    "Ignoring your convenient comparison to drug use at clubs, it seems a little too convenient that this person would be able to time the kiss as the lights went out."

    "What are you implying?""I''m saying that it seems like this wasn''t a spur of the moment type situation. It seems premeditated."

    A huge, audible sigh escaped her lips, paired with an exaggerated eye roll aimed at the empty living room as she listened to the deep-rooted cop knowledge in Greg rear its ugly black and blue head.

    He had recently been promoted to detective, and it seemed as if his need for deduction had seeped into every aspect of his life. Maybe he would deduce that preparing dinner was really a front for money laundering. The possibilities were endless! She wasn''t looking for some grand theory. She just wanted some reassurance that she wasn''t insane.

    "Or maybe it was some punk kid who thought it would be hilarious to kiss someone while the lights were out at the subway station," Laney chimed in as she kept chopping.

    "Now there''s something I can wrap my mind around."

    Laney had finally come to the rescue of reason, and Anna started to feel the relief she had longed for ever since the unnerving incident had happened just hours ago.

    "I mean Laney is probably right, Anna. But I still think you should be more careful. Try to stand by more people and keep those damn earbuds out of your ears. I mean you couldn''t help the lights going out, but at least being a little more aware will help you defend yourself better. Something about the incident just seems a little off to me."

    Her jaw clenched as he continued to preach that she needed to be more careful. "Keep to yourself." All she ever did was keep to herself. Outside of work and the occasional alcohol and drug-laced late-night dance clubs she occasionally attended, she kept to herself. It was times like this when she wished it was still just her and Laney. Or at least that Greg didn''t spend every waking free moment he had at their apartment.

    The urge to fight with Greg that was starting to rise up from her core was no match for her exhaustion. Sebastian, the king asshole of all cats, jumped into her lap and demanded her attention with an annoying meow. For once, he was a welcome distraction from her bizarre evening.

    "Yeah, Greg, you''re probably right."

    Laney''s bright and chipper voice was the one to respond, helping release some of the tension that had rebuilt in her shoulders from Greg''s interjections.

    "Just be careful, Anna. I''ve got an extra pepper spray you can have. Now come help me with the veggies!"

    "Alright, alright. Just don''t pull any funny business like turning the lights off and kissing me."

    "I mean with an ass like that, how could I resist?"

    She gave Anna a playful smack on her rump as she walked past her to the cutting board. A smile crossed her lips as she started chopping away. This is what she had waited all day for, minus so much Greg. The tightness in her body slowly started to unwind and her mind began wandering towards falling asleep while listening to music for her routine. Maybe it was okay to be rattled out of her monotonous, day-to-day existence. It had even riled her up enough to even create some more bold, strong movements for her solo.

    Regardless of its slightly positive side effects, it was still fucking creepy. In the back of her mind, she knew she would probably heed Greg''s advice. Tomorrow was her day off, which meant she would get to log an entire day at her dance company''s theater.

    That meant music, moving, and the companionship of others who truly appreciated and respected the art of moving like she did.

    As the three of them worked to create delicious stir fry amid bouts of easy banter, a smile tugged at her lips and she felt herself beginning to relax again. Eat, sleep, and then dance.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Despite her most desperate efforts, which included counting sheep both forwards and backwards mixed with colorful swearing, sleep slipped through her feeble grasp.

    She stumbled into the arms of three cups of coffee before dragging herself out of the apartment and into cold, bitter air that only made her agitation grow. Her hands pushed deep into her pockets as she tried to use street smart expertise¡ªor rather her lack of giving a shit¡ªto navigate the crowded sidewalk that would take her to the subway station.

    The stench of the city seemed stronger than usual, which caused her nose to crinkle and a silent curse to escape her lips. Amidst all of the crisp suits and meticulously dressed women, there trudged Anna, dressed in all black with a pair of black sunglasses to match. Unintentionally monochromatic, but appropriate.

    She quickly traversed the filthy stairs that led down to the subway while trying to push the sudden surge of paranoia that grew with each step out of her mind.

    Today, she had opted to keep her ears clear of any music, which was already a hefty concession due to yesterday''s strange mishap. The quirky screeches of the station and constant buzz of random noise from people caused her eyes to shift around quickly from person to person.

    She had purposefully planted herself in the middle of the throng of commuters. Usually she picked a spot in the back of the crowd, a place where she could observe without being too obvious. Unfortunately, she was also conceding her second method of entertainment during her commute time.

    On top of already being paranoid, she felt horribly awkward. She shifted her weight anxiously from foot to foot. Her hands wouldn''t stay still. She fidgeted with wisps of her unruly faded blonde hair and with her hood and her duffel bag. Surely she had to just be drawing more attention to herself. Jesus.

    In the midst of all the business people, there was nothing suspicious. The unflatteringly yellow fluorescent lights were giving off a constant, unwavering glow. Not even the slightest flicker occurred.

    There were a few younger kids hanging around one of the benches. They talked loudly, not caring about where they were or who else was around. Not long ago, she wanted nothing more than to be those kids. Aimless, making random disturbances and messes with friends. Instead, she had found her focus, her drive. She craved consistency.

    Every now and then, she would give in to the urge to be anything but an adult and let herself venture to underground nightclubs to indulge in the chaos of a ruleless rave. One of the teenagers caught her staring, and she quickly tried to act casual by easily sliding her line of sight elsewhere.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    Finally, the familiar quaking began to travel through the thick soles of her black boots. The train rumbled into the dingy station, and some of the tension left her body. It was as a smile of relief and victory tugged at the corner of her mouth that someone bumped into her, just as she''d started to step forward toward the edge of the platform where the doors of the train had sprung open.

    With a painful thump of her heart against her chest, she turned to see who was behind her¡ªit would be awfully ballsy of someone to pull a stunt as she stood in the middle of a crowded subway station, right? She held the strap of her duffel bag tight as she quickly whipped her head around to find a fully-fledged NYPD officer standing behind her. Her eyebrows knitted together as she took in the presence of the cop whose height forced her head to tilt back in order to properly see his face.

    "Sorry, excuse me miss." His hand covered part of his face as he spoke, as he had reached up to touch the brim of his old-fashioned police hat to offer her an oddly formal apology.

    All she managed to see was a blur of brown stubble and a fresh cut that ran diagonally across his cheek as he stepped into the train ahead of her, proceeding to stand towards the front of the car.

    With an audible sigh of relief, she took a seat next to a man in a suit with a stain on his lapel, his eyes glued to his greasy, smudged phone. As the train lurched back into motion, she looked up to see the cop quietly surveying the car.

    The officer''s authoritative presence allowed her to greedily plug her ears with her headphones. At least now if something were to happen, one of New York''s finest would be here to intervene. She smiled to herself as she thought of Greg and how smug he would be about her admission to being comforted by the presence of a cop for as much as they irritated her.

    The sound of dark, mysterious orchestral-EDM hybrid music began to roll through her ears, and she closed her eyes to drown out the distracting environment of the subway car and shut out lingering thoughts of Greg and his self righteousness.

    Behind her closed lids, she could see her form dancing across a brightly lit stage. This routine had been bobbing around in her mind for months, and it irked her that she hadn''t been able to flesh it out entirely.

    First, the movement had seemed off, and then she discovered that it was the music inhibiting the movement. Only a handful of seconds into the song, and she was lost within its throbbing electric twangs and brutal imagery. She drifted far, far away from the subway car that was zooming along, making jolting stops. All of this imaginative relaxation was possible because a man in a uniform stood just a few feet away from her, ready to intercept any person that was loose lipped or generally unlawful. What a strange power for a single person to have.

    Then the officer appeared in her mind, right next to the stage. Standing, protecting. An honorable goal she had infrequently encountered throughout her life. His eyes didn''t watch her¡ªthey instead gazed out at the empty auditorium she danced in, ready for anything that might interrupt her and her body as she moved across the stage.

    This sense of protection was due to nothing but happenstance¡ªshe just happened to be boarding the train at the same time as the officer. But she let her mind run with the feeling, and in her imagination, he took his eyes away from the empty crowd of seats and looked at her as she moved through space. She couldn''t help but smile slightly as her mind wandered along, deaf to the sound of the screeching train.

    Rehearsal had run well past the allotted three hours. It was after nine at night when their troupe leader had decided they had had enough grueling practice for one day. Her body was sore, disgustingly sweaty and exhausted. Full days of dance always seemed to get harder and harder for her body to endure. Sitting at a desk most days of the week and then relentlessly throwing herself into dance for nine hours at a time was physically damning.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Snow had begun to fall at an unforgiving pace while rehearsal had drawn on too long. She began to panic as she forced her heavy boots onto her sweaty, swollen feet. It was late. She would need to ride the train to get back home. But by some unspeakable act of god, one of her dance mates offered her a ride. Maybe the panic she felt crawling up inside her had reached her face. She nodded quickly, and with a sincere thank you, they were off into the snow-clogged streets.

    The car ride was mostly quiet with a few short, intermittent quips about the impediment of the snow and thoughts on their rehearsal tonight. She noted her disappointment with not having the solo list released yet for the upcoming string of performances.

    Daniel, a wonderfully centered man who danced fiercely and with incredible purpose, explained how this troupe generally waited until the last week before the first performances to announce whose solos would be performed. A great wave of anxiety and disappointment crashed over her heart. Waiting a few more months to find out who would get the solos was going to be difficult. It would force all of them to push themselves to perfect their routines and craft something with impeccable expertise. That would come at the cost of her sleep and relaxation.

    He dropped her off in front of her building, and she made sure to thank him even though his news about the solos had snuffed out her growing confidence with her routine.

    She masked it well as he gave her a smile and a wave, and she turned to slowly trudge up to her building. Snow crept into the tops of her boots as she climbed the few stairs that led to the hulking, aged door.

    The decrepit door twanged her irritability just enough to let a mumbled "of course" escape from under her breath as she jerked the heavy door open through the inches of thick snow with a little too much force. Her already sore, bruised body screamed at her from the spot on her shoulder where the door had hit. The door wasn''t worth compromising her body any further, but it was satisfying to violently yank it open nonetheless.

    After trekking up six flights of stairs, she was relieved to find the door to her and Laney''s apartment was locked. This meant that Laney, and potentially Greg, were inside and probably asleep or in Laney''s room.

    And that meant she could decompress without being poked and prodded about how her day was or what was bothering her. Turning her key in the lock, she pushed the weight of her body into the door with her hip, and with the squeaking of old wood it stubbornly pushed open.

    Her breath caught in her throat as she saw that their living room not only held Laney and Greg, but another house guest. Three pairs of eyes landed on her. She held the doorknob tightly in her grip as she racked her brain as to who this guest might be. Her eyes traced the cut on his cheek, the brown stubble covering his face. No fucking shit.

    It was the cop from the subway. The cop she had conjured in her imagination. The cop who had put her at ease and allowed her to relax instead of being a bunched up mess of paralytic nerves. She quickly turned away and fumbled to get her keys out of the door. It closed with a forceful shove, and she reluctantly turned to face three sets of eyes again.

    "Hey, Anna! You''re home awfully late."

    "Hi, uh, yeah, rehearsal ran a bit longer than I thought. Everyone got caught up in trying to flesh some things out."

    As she worked off her wet boots and hung up all her layers of warm clothes, she felt her heart rate start to climb with anxiety. The man who had brushed into her this morning, who she had imagined in her own mind, and the man who maybe she thought was cute or handsome was no doubt watching her right now.

    She was an exhausted, dirty and irritated mess. Her patience had been worn down to nothing when Daniel had told her about the solos. Now, making a quick exit to her room and a shower would be ¡­ complicated.

    "Well I''m glad you''re home safe in this shitty snow mess, we were worried about you. Oh! And this is Ben, by the way. He and Greg worked together for a while before Greg got promoted. We were just hanging out and exposing him to some ''old'' movies. Ben, this is Anna!"

    Laney''s words were louder than necessary, no doubt coated in a few glasses of red wine¡ªboth of their catnips. Ben threw her a charming white smile and lifted his hand to offer her a wave.

    "Hi, Anna."

    She managed a small and forced tight-lipped smile of her own, and found it in herself to wave back. Just as she was about to utter her "Well it''s so nice to meet you but I''m really exhausted. Another time!", Ben spoke first.

    "I recognize you. I saw you on the subway today. I''m sorry for bumping into you, by the way¡ªwho would''ve thought we''d meet again."

    And just like that, her patience did not rise to the challenge of entertaining his recognition.

    "It''s okay. No problem, really. Well, I''m exhausted and¡ª"

    "Oh come on, Anna. Just hang out with us for a bit! Did you have any problems at the subway today? No signs of the creepo?"

    A strong wave of anger washed through her, coming to a head in her mouth where her vileness would inevitably be spilled into the room of innocent bystanders. She managed to swallow the fire and keep it to a short, much less harmful response.

    "No, Laney. It was fine. It was nice meeting you, Ben."

    Ben''s eyebrows knitted together in response to Laney''s comment, and she took in that cut on his cheek again.

    "''Creepo?'' That doesn''t sound good."

    His innocent statement didn''t warrant the flood of anger that shot up from her heart and went directly to her mouth. She ignored the chance to leash it and instead let the improperly placed rage out onto innocent, curious Ben.

    "It was honestly nothing. Not a big deal. But I''m sure a good looking, well put-together man like yourself wants to jump to the call and ''get to the bottom of it.'' I have no problem looking after myself. You think you can just use the power of your looks and your cop-charm to make me fall at your knees and beg for your help. Absolutely not! You''re probably some ivy league jock who doesn''t know the first thing about hardship, or women, or anything even closely related to being a sensible, tuned-in human being. Plus, I have a sneaking suspicion that this is another classic Laney-and-Greg attempt at hooking Anna up so she''s not weird and single. Well, gigs up, I''m not interested."

    After letting the last of the drop of molten lava drip from her tongue, she found herself out of breath with clenched fists. She didn''t know where all that had come from. She didn''t know that those words had been lurking around inside of her. Her eyes widened in their sockets as she looked between Greg and Laney. They both were staring directly at each other, and then the floor with grave faces. She looked back at Ben. He was staring right at her. His eyes were soft, almost a little glassy. When he spoke, his voice came out airy and soft.

    "My mom just died of cancer. Greg thought it would be a good idea for me to get out and do something."

    Her knees felt like they were going to buckle. The emptiness of her stomach churned acid into nausea. She exited the room without looking at anyone. Flinging her duffle bag into her room without looking, she went directly into the bathroom and closed the door. She barely managed to turn on the water before sobs cracked out of her throat.

    There was no point in locking the door. Laney knew better by now. Her moods were a force of nature¡ªhurricanes with large eyes where everything was calm and then a brief period of violent winds and heavy downpour. Except there was never a period of good weather. It was just right into the next eye. People were usually left behind in the wreckage. She kept her opportunities close, always being sure to grab them tightly before they were swept into the chaos.

    Trying to avoid seeing her body in the mirror was easier said than done. She caught blurs of her bare flesh intermingled with bruises. Some old, some fresh. Her weight was a little too low. Lack of sleep and over exercising were not a pleasant combination. Add in lackluster eating habits, and it was a recipe for looking ill when she was completely naked.

    Her hair was greasy with sweat and from lack of washing. She only covered her face in makeup when she went out to the too-late-for-anything-good-to-happen dance spots. The water was pleasantly warm by the time she broke from her own stare and stepped into the too hard, too short water stream that ended up hitting her more in the legs than anywhere else. It was still relatively refreshing, and the water mixed with her tears to help her forget that she was upset as she relaxed into the wisps of steam.

    There would be a lot of explaining to do to Laney and Greg. A lot. It piled on top of all her other anxieties and caused a few more tears to run out of her eyes. She tried to let her bones relax, to let her body be truly cleaned by the water. It was futile.

    Tomorrow would be Saturday. A day off from dance, a day off from work. A day for her mind to revel in its disjointed clunkiness. She already knew a good night''s sleep was out of the question. She started swaying side to side, closing her eyes and trying to let some of herself go. This would all just blow over, right? Just a small blip. An honest mistake.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    There was a two person assembly waiting for her at the rickety, round dining room table when she finally gathered up the courage to crawl out of her room the next morning.

    She had hardly slept more than a few hours. She spent her restless night abstractly journaling and listening to potential music options for her solo routine. And now, as she sought out the coffee pot like a desperate piglet rooting for a nipple, Laney and Greg stood in her path to her one source of relief from her neverending restless nights.

    "Well, this is quite the morning greeting."

    "We need to talk to you, Anna," Laney replied in a soft, gentle tone.

    "Can I coffee first? Please. It''s early"

    Greg nearly leveled me with his far from subtle glare. "It''s almost noon. But yes, sure."

    With a rude mimicking facial expression as she turned her back to them and walked into the kitchen, she racked her brain for ways to make getting a cup of coffee last forever. After debating between pouring the coffee out into the sink and claiming it was gone or smashing the pot so she would have to go out and actually get coffee, she determined she would only prove to be more insane than if she just poured a cup, sat down and talked with them.

    She pulled her favorite mug down from the cupboard. It read "Al''s Affordable Auto Repair". It was laughable in more than the fact that auto repair was rarely affordable. It was also light pink with neon green print. It screamed cheap bar or tanning salon even though it really advertised greasy mechanics and crippling car repair despair.

    Pulling out one of their alley-reclaimed, old wooden chairs, she took a seat at the table directly across from Greg and Laney, who sat side by side. There was an unsettling stillness in the apartment. She looked down at her mug and wrapped her fingers around it as she watched the swirls of steam dissipate into the cool, slightly chilled air of the room. She didn''t look up right away as Greg started to speak. Of course Greg would start. Of course.

    "Look, Anna, Ben has been through a lot. We were partners when I used to work the beat. We hadn''t talked in a while until recently, when his mother became ill. He needed a friend, and I was there for him when he needed it. Needless to say it took a lot to convince him to come over last night. He hasn''t really done much since his mother passed. He hasn''t really been himself. But he agreed to come over and he was really hitting a stride until, well, until you came home."

    "It had been a long, long day. I had no idea anyone would be here." Laney took a deep breath before looking up from her own cup of coffee to look Anna in the eye.

    "I know it has been tough with Greg pretty much living here for almost an entire year. We do share this space, and I know we haven''t been the greatest about being considerate. And we have tried to set you up with good guys every once and awhile. But you really went off last night. Ben did not deserve that, Anna."

    With a slight tightening of her lips she nodded and looked between both Greg and Laney. After practically spending her entire life being an adult and taking care of herself, she still was incredibly unsure of how to take care of others. Relationships baffled her. She still didn''t know how she had nabbed Laney.

    "Yeah, I am sorry. I didn''t mean to go off on anyone. Especially not a stranger. And I do feel embarrassed. For you guys, too. I can make things right. I promise."

    Laney smiled at her and reached out to touch her hand, which was still firmly clasped to the side of her warm mug. She knew Anna wasn''t a touchy-feely type of person. But it was who Laney was, who she always had been. Only she could get away with giving Anna a weird, comforting pat.

    "We would really appreciate that, Anna, we would. Just a simple apology."

    Greg nodded in agreement and placed his hand on Laney''s shoulder. She furrowed her brows slightly. It was too early for all this serious talk and touching. There had been a point during her sleepless night where the thought of apologizing had rolled through her mind. It had been considered, but ultimately just a fantasy of being a good, decent person. She sighed as the late-night idea firmly planted itself into reality. Greg finally smiled a little and turned to look at Laney.

    "We actually have some other news too, while we have you here at a table awake and somewhat coherent."

    She took a long sip of coffee and turned her head slightly to one side. This was already terribly suspicious.

    "We''re moving out!"

    Laney just could not contain her enthusiasm. She blurted it out before Greg even moved his lips to make words. Both of their smiles were ear to ear now. Anna even felt a small one tugging at the corners of her own mouth. But what Laney had just informed her of had a lot of other implications. Mostly living alone. And death. And living alone.

    "We won''t be able to move in for another couple of months. The process was intense, and they really wanted to find just the right owners. It worked out perfectly because that gives you enough time to maybe find another roommate."

    "Another roommate?"

    "Well, I know living alone really isn''t your vibe, Anna. You''re like a cat, independent but craves occasional attention. Well, at least some anyway."

    Her brow arched at Laney''s attempt at an eloquent explanation as Anna leaned back in her chair with her mug still firmly between her hands. It only took her a few seconds to connect the dots in her own mind. The power of the coffee hadn''t kicked in yet, and her brain was still trying to lurch into full functionality.

    "Wait, you mean Ben would be my new roommate?"

    "Well, obviously we weren''t going to just let him move in."

    Greg leaned forward onto the table, clasping his hands together in the process.

    "Ben''s lease is up around the same time that we''ll be moving out. Look, I''ve known Ben for years. It''s not like we''re suggesting a total stranger come live with you. We just thought it might be nice to introduce you two to see if it was actually a feasible idea. Clearly that didn''t go well."

    After murmuring a barely audible ''a heads-up would''ve been nice'', she looked down into her mug to find the coffee nearly gone. There were only a few lukewarm sips left, the saddest part of any coffee, but, like a true addict, she would drink every last drop. With a deep breath in and out of parted lips, she brought herself to respond.

    "Okay, well, it''s definitely an idea. I will apologize to him. I honestly do feel like a dick. That''s not me, you guys know that."

    They both gave her the same lipless smile before Laney responded. Their tendencies were becoming eerily similar. Yeesh.

    "Yes, we do know that Anna. Greg can actually give you a ride down to the precinct this afternoon, if that works for you. He''s got some work to do."

    "He''s at work?"

    Greg was quick to chime in. "Not officially. He''s just catching up on some paperwork today. He''ll have the time to chat, trust me."

    "Well, alright. If you''re sure. Sounds like a plan, I guess."

    With a forced smile, Anna stood up from the table and went to refill her empty mug. This Saturday was not going at all like she had imagined. She had not been able to lay in bed and pour over more potential music for her routine. She would now have to start functioning, accomplish some laundry and room cleaning before having to leave with Greg. At least going out to the dance club was still on the horizon for tonight. Just one huge, Ben-shaped hurdle, and she was off to drink, sweat, release, and forget.

    She considered the fact that she had to go apologize to a cop for going off on him unintentionally. Well, she guessed if he really was displeased with her and her apology, he could fulfill his destiny and give her a ticket just for being an asshole. Chuckling to herself into her coffee, she took a deep breath and shook her head. When was the last time she had apologized to someone for something? In person? To their face? In a non-sarcastic and sober way?

    Feeling anxious and awkward would have to be the suit of armor she would don today, since the options of avoiding it all together, alcohol, and half-assing it were clearly out of the question.

 Chapter 2

    Life, as usual, had a way of going on without her. It was always incredible to her that days would come and go while she remained so painfully indifferent. Tomorrow would mark a week since her pathetic attempt at seeking help from a ''professional''. The only things she had managed to accomplish in seven days were making half-assed attempts at looking for a job, collecting unemployment and now successfully leaving her apartment to get groceries¡ªor rather her version of groceries¡ªafter a ridiculous amount of pacing and near hyperventilation. Coffee, creamer, a loaf of bread, peanut butter and jelly. To say she hadn''t been the picture of health in the past months would be kind compared to what she''d been doing to her body.

    Using her laughable amount of keys to open the five locks on her apartment door always caused her stomach to churn. It gave her mind just enough time to wander. Wander back to how her life was before she needed five locks to feel safe. Wander back to how her everyday life always came down to those five locks. Wander to how much longer her life would revolve around those five locks. By the time her door swung open, she was nearly hyperventilating again. For the what, fourth time today? Once before leaving her apartment, once on her walk to the store, once in the store, and again just now. At least it was an even number. Wonderful.

    It always seemed like she could never get the door shut and locked behind her fast enough. Time had a way of crawling as she turned all those knobs and slid over chains. She nearly dropped her pathetic bag of groceries as she raced to get them all secured as quickly as possible. The bag hit her kitchen countertop far too hard, skittering close to the edge. She needed to take out her frustration at the same old shit. The cyclical heaviness of her life was always ready to cripple her at any moment. It was a weighted vest, sealed to her tightly, smothering her will to even try and figure out how to be free of it.

    She kicked off her boots so hard they bounced and ricocheted off the wall¡ªthe stark black scuffs along the white paint a testament to just how often she felt completely fucking defeated after returning home from another daunting foray into the outside world.

    As she reached into her jacket pocket to pull out her phone before hanging it up on a hook where it would inevitably sit for another week until she needed enough essentials to deem another trip worthy, her hand came across something unfamiliar.

    It sent her heart rate soaring. How the fuck did something end up in her jacket? Did someone slip it in there? When could that have possibly happened between her trip to the doctor last week and her trip to the store today? She quickly pulled whatever it was out of her pocket to face it. What she held in her hand was a soft white handkerchief. From her trip to the doctor last week. From Sam, the helpful stranger. Hadn''t she given it back to him before she turned on her heels and scurried back to her apartment to hide?

    No. Clearly she had not.

    In her fucked up post-breakdown stupor, she couldn''t even manage to hand a small scrap of fabric to a person who had lent it to her. That person being a damn stranger, nonetheless. As she stood in the ringing silence of her apartment, she faintly heard a bright, reassuring voice in the back of her mind whisper "Everyone''s a fucking mess."

    She stared and stared at the unostentatious piece of fabric in her hand. Like it was a living, breathing thing. Like at any moment it would do something spectacular¡ªdo something outside of simply existing as an inanimate object. As she stared, a thought slowly crept its way up from the back of her mind. A thought from somewhere deep within herself. From her old self. From a person she hadn''t seen or heard from in so, so many months.

    The thought was to get the damn handkerchief back to Sam as a small way to prove to herself¡ªand to him¡ªthat she could in fact be a somewhat decent person. Maybe. Just maybe.

    She''d have to wash it first, of course. After all, she had used it to soak up the disgusting combination of snot and tears coating her face almost a week ago. And it had just been sitting in her jacket pocket, getting crusty and gross. That would mean she would need to do laundry for the first time in ... weeks? A month? God, she had really let things get out of control.

    She looked up from the handkerchief at the thought, prompting her to take in the pathetic pit that had become her apartment. Dishes, glasses, clothes, random bits of garbage. It looked¡ªand smelled like¡ªa one-person frat house.

    A sigh left her lips as she turned her head to find her reflection staring back at her from the mirror by her front door. Smudged, dirty glass showed her enough to know how greasy her hair was even though most of it was tucked under a hat. It showed her how dull and lifeless her skin looked from not washing it. It showed her the bags under her eyes from the constant yo-yoing of either sleeping too much or not enough.

    So maybe she would shower. Maybe she would do some laundry. Maybe she would pick up some of the shit scattered around her apartment. Maybe she would prove to herself that she wasn''t a complete waste of a person who was just taking up space in a city of millions. Even if it meant going out into the world for a menial task that would take hours of pep talking for her to even step foot outside her door.

    If she could convince herself to take even the smallest step away from decimated blast zone of her current existence, she just might be able to find herself walking out of desolation, and into what, she would never be sure.

    <hr>

    It felt something like victory to be pacing anxiously outside of the door where a man¡ªa stranger¡ªhad come out and helped her cope through a panic attack a week ago. Add in the fact that she had showered this morning, done laundry yesterday, and cleaned up her absolute pit of an apartment some, and eaten dinner last night ... She felt as though she deserved a gold medal for simply accomplishing the bare minimum requirements of a functioning adult. A thought which, in and of itself, was always married closely to feelings of pathetic-ness.

    The thought of earning a medal for such common tasks was quickly dispelled by all the things that still plagued her. Like the quick, unsettling cycle of pacing she was currently trapped in. She just couldn''t seem to get herself to stop and park her ass on the goddamn bench and simply wait for Sam to maybe come out.

    The fact that she had needed to give herself a several hour long pep talk this morning about how going out and doing this would be just fine. The fact that memories from her past life still haunted her every time she stepped out of her door, looked at the sky, breathed. The fact that her fingernails were freshly chewed to the flesh. The pathetic list went on and on and on.

    She especially hated herself for thinking that coming back to the building where she happened to run into Sam last week on the same day and at the same time would mean she would see him again. All to return the stupid, meticulously folded handkerchief that was currently tucked away in her jacket pocket.

    The damn thing was even ironed¡ªsomething she had maybe done once or twice in her life with dress shirts she''d had for menial job interviews.

    For the seventeenth time in the embarrassingly short amount of time she''d been there, she checked her phone. 4:04pm. Not that she had immediately checked her phone after her panic attack was over and subsequently left Sam. She could only try to use logic.

    Her appointment had been at 3:45 pm. The doctor saw her promptly, not a minute earlier or later. They had talked for a total of maybe a minute or two before she split the scene and sprinted up the stairs to have a breakdown. She must''ve sat with Sam for somewhere between ten to fifteen minutes, putting him coming out of the door around 3:50 pm-ish.

    And now here she was, pacing back and forth like some kind of anxious dog waiting for their owner to come home. For fucks sake, the least she could do was sit her ass down and wait just a few more minutes like a somewhat ''normal'' person. A normal person who would assume a stranger would have an appointment the same time every week and recount intricately how the minutes had passed a week ago. Jesus.

    As she turned to head back towards the bench, having just cleared the door and now only a few short steps away from just sitting the fuck down, she heard the door open from behind her.

    She turned to find a stream of people beginning to leave the office¡ªwhat she assumed was a therapist''s office, since that''s why she''d been down on the first floor. In all her anxiety and nervousness, she hadn''t even bothered to read the words printed on the glass of the door either time she''d been here.

    Wringing her hands more intensely with each person that came out that wasn''t Sam, she was about ready to just call it quits and head back home to sit in the dark and fall asleep without eating. What a silly, fruitless waste of trying to become a semblance of a person again. As she reached into her pocket to uselessly check the time on her phone before leaving, she heard the same soothing voice she had heard in the same spot a week ago.

    "Well hello there, Anna." His tone was light, glad even, imbued with something that might''ve been shock.

    She quickly dropped her phone back into her pocket and looked up to find Sam walking towards her. An easy smile was spread across his face, mixed with an expression that was tinged with surprise as he crossed the small distance to stand in front of her. His hands were in the pockets of the same coat she saw him wearing last week. Something about him seemed brighter than before¡ªor maybe it was just that she wasn''t having a panic attack and everything about him seemed sharper, clearer.

    The striking features of his face were magnets for her eyes. She took in his contagious smile, the sharp angles of his cheek bones, bright gray-blue eyes, and effortlessly sleek hair that looked better kept than hers ever would. If there would''ve been a time and a place for her to call someone classically handsome, this would''ve been the first and only time.

    He was well-put together in a way that both confused and enamored her brain. Dressed straight out of a magazine. Lean yet well-built in a way that she wondered what his frame looked like without all the cold-weather layers piled on. After taking in his appearance for a moment, much more thoroughly the second time around, she simply reached into her pocket, took out the handkerchief and stuck it out into the air between them.

    "I wanted to get this back to you."

    His eyes met hers for a long moment before he reached out with his hand, his watch-clad wrist catching her eye, to take the piece of fabric from her. She hoped he didn''t notice the shake in her fingers from the lack of eating and the consumption of far too much coffee on an empty stomach¡ªtwo habits that did nothing to help her constant state of anxiety and nervousness.

    She relaxed slightly as his eye-catching lips tugged upward at one corner while he looked over and felt the meticulously folded, crisply ironed handkerchief. It might as well have been a billboard for how fucking insane she was. If she didn''t regret ironing it before, she most definitely did now.

    "Thank you for bringing it back to me, and in much better shape than I gave it to you at that. I got by without it just fine, even though it''s my favorite one. You must''ve known."

    His calloused fingers glided over the crisp edges, feeling the starchiness of the fabric. Sure it was something used for just wiping off sweat or tears or snot, but that didn''t mean it didn''t deserve to be taken care of, right? As if he read her thoughts, he looked up from the white square and took her in.

    Her washed brown hair fell neatly across and down her shoulders from underneath her beanie, her cleaned glasses, her neat and tidy clothing. Not to mention her face wasn''t all red and puffy and fucked up from sobbing. She even went as far as to put on just a touch of concealer and mascara. Even the simple act of  applying makeup had helped her work up the courage to get out the door, thinking to herself that maybe it would be just enough armor to convince people that she wasn''t an absolute train wreck.

    But Sam knew. At least a little. Had some idea of the desolation and despair that existed within her. He may not know the details of what had destroyed her life, mind and heart, but he had bore witness to the stranglehold it had on her. And as his eyes trailed back up to hers, a certain happiness had come over his features after seeing her in such better shape than last week. It caused a blush to spill its way onto her cheeks, making her look down at her shoes and away from him to try and search for words to break up the silence and his observant gaze.

    "Well I''m glad I brought it back then¡ªI had no idea I''d commandeered your favorite one. Hopefully reuniting with it will make up for any distress my taking it would''ve caused." She paused as he chuckled, a rich, velvety sound, and watched as he smoothed it over with his thumb one last time before tucking it away into his inner suit pocket.

    "I knew it would be in good hands, even if you didn''t bring it back."

    Before he could say anything further, she found the words that had been buzzing and bumping around in her brain for the past week bubble up to the surface and come off her tongue in a rushed, haphazard release.

    "Look, about last week. I was just, I was, and I mean, I still am, in a bad way. Or a bad place, or whatever. Not that I was a disaster just last week, I''ve been a disaster for much longer than that. But that''s not the point. Anyways, I''d finally dragged myself to a therapy appointment, and needless to say it didn''t go very well. God knows all the people who have told me and keep telling me I need to go to therapy are still in my head, and won''t shut the fuck up. I just, I feel bad for inadvertently dumping my shit on you. I''m grateful you helped me. Truly. I don''t know how long I would''ve sat there if you wouldn''t have come out. Probably an embarrassingly long time. This is all a very long winded, inarticulate way of explaining why I was such a mess and a rude asshole last week."

    She finished her garbled explanation with a sigh as she forcefully tucked her hands deep into her jacket pockets¡ªas if she could punch through the fabric and pull out all the bullshit from her body and mind and be done with it once and for all.

    "It''s okay, really. I know what it''s like to feel like all kinds of jumbled up shit. And going to therapy isn''t some easy thing that everyone can just do and feel great about. It''s a process, and it''s okay to not be ready to do it. It takes time, and it has to be on your own terms. Nothing about last week bothered me. It''s completely normal to feel that way, and it''s nothing to apologize for or be ashamed of."

    His words swirled and eddied through her head, somehow taming and calming small parts of her raucous thoughts. It was difficult to think of a response that conveyed just how much it meant to her to hear someone say that she was okay as she was. That it was okay not to be perfect or put together, and just be a goddamn mess as opposed to the alternative¡ªbeing nothing.

    She settled for something that was easier, but equally as honest and meaningful in her eyes.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Moving her gaze from the floor back up to him, she found the courage from deep within herself to look into his clear, depthless blue eyes and ask, "Are you hungry? Because I''m starving, and actually feel like eating for once. I''d love to check out that diner you mentioned last week, that is if you''re not busy or have plans¡ª"

    "I''d love to. I''m starving too, actually." He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb back towards the door to what she still assumed was a therapist''s office. "I''m having a bit of a fucked day myself, so food sounds lovely."

    It was then she noticed that redness in his eyes, the tiredness pulling at his lids, the dejection surrounding his smile. How had she not noticed it right away? Was she always so busy constantly wrapped up in her own bullshit that she didn''t fully notice others? Good fucking god.

    With a mental kick to herself and newfound determination to stop being such a selfish asshole, she stuck out a hand towards the staircase that led down to the first floor and offered with a smile, "Lead the way, mister Sam ... ?"

    "Samuel Bailey." He stuck out his hand in the air between them, reminding her of how she met another man just a year ago. A pang struck her heart then, deep and quick. Fortunately it was fleeting, and with a blink, the memory evaporated into nothing more than empty air. With a great deal of effort she hoped didn''t reach her face, she shook his hand.

    "Anna Weston. It''s nice to meet you, Sam."

    "It''s nice to meet you too, miss Anna. Shall we?"

    And down the stairs she went. This time at a normal walking pace with no tears in her eyes, no throbbing in her skull. Trailing behind a person who somehow, by some miracle unknown to her, might just get it.

    <hr>

    The brief walk down the blustery block to the diner was comfortably silent. The silence was mostly due to the fact that the wind was gusting something fierce, and anytime she opened her mouth to try and say something the wind quite literally took her breath away.

    They walked side by side, and as they approached the diner that was perched on a busy corner, he took a few quick steps to get in front of her and open the door. She walked in with her head tucked down against the wind, and got out a quick thanks as she stepped into the small diner''s warmth.

    Her nose was greeted with the smell of unforgivingly strong coffee, greasy breakfast food and the sweet aroma of waffles. It was pure heaven to her hungry stomach.

    It was a seat-yourself kind of place, and Sam took the lead and walked over to a booth tucked against the back wall, his dress shoes clicking rhythmically against the worn tile floor. The booth might''ve been his favorite one, if this was a place he frequented. He offered to take her coat before she sat down, hanging both his and hers on a hook next to the booth before sliding into the old, rather rickety seat  across from her.

    She tugged her hat off, giving her hair a little tousle before settling into the squeaky seat.

    "I don''t think food has ever smelled so good."

    "This place has never let me down. I''ve been here a shameful amount. It''s close to work and not far from where I live."

    "Isn''t it considered treason for an Englishman to frequent a place like this?"

    The quip earned her a smile and laugh, the light, happy sound rewarding her for a successful social interaction¡ªbaby steps.

    "As long as it stays between you and I, I think I''ll be in the clear of the crown. I make sure to double up on my consumption of tea and crumpets as a precaution, should they come ''round with a guillotine."

    She smiled to herself as she forced opened the sticky menu and began to aimlessly peruse the intimidatingly long list of breakfast options.

    "What do you do for work?"

    Without skipping a beat, he replied, his hands folded neatly on the closed menu in front of him. No need to peruse when you''re a regular, she supposed.

    "I''m a lawyer. I came to the States for university as soon as I was able, having saved up for the journey on my own doing odd jobs whenever I could. I went into criminal law, but I''ve been taking on more family cases and pro bono work for the past few years. It''s not glamorous, but I get to help people who need it."

    Her eyes cut over to him over the top of the menu that had all the breakfast basics one''s heart could desire. An expat, man of the law? Her eyes trailed along the expertly tied Windsor knot at his neck before meeting his bright blue gaze. With a considerable amount of effort, she pushed the thought of him doing odd jobs in the English countryside out of her mind and forged ahead with her rusty ability to make small talk.

    "That sounds both admirable and exhausting. Do you like it?"

    "It''s hard as hell, but I love it. Wouldn''t have it any other way. Working double digit days, seeing people go through some of the hardest times of their lives ... Sure it''s tough to stomach sometimes, hard to deal with, but I live for it. Makes me feel like I''m serving a purpose, trying to make a difference."

    The waitress came over to them then, setting down two steaming cups of black coffee. Anna took one last glance down at the menu, made up her mind and waited for Sam to order first.

    "I''ll have the usual, Bev."

    "Egg whites, English muffin and a side of sausage. You got it, sugar. And for your ... companion?"

    A blush flooded Anna''s cheeks as she relayed her choice of breakfast favorites.

    "Omelet with everything but the kitchen sink, side of hash browns and an orange juice, please."

    "You got it. Food will be out shortly, loves."

    "Thank you, Bev."

    Sam handed her our menus with that charming dimpled smirk of his, and then turned to face me, clasping his hands together on the table and leaning forward slightly on his forearms.

    With an eager smile and slight squinting of his eyes, he posed his first question.

    "What do you do for work, miss Anna?"

    She matched his posture, finding it easier to just mimic him rather than attempt to find a natural and not-awkward sitting position on her own. With a deep breath in and out of her lips, she cast her eyes down at her steaming cup of black coffee and accepted her fate. She had agreed to come. She knew in some part of her brain that would mean answering questions, interacting, talking. You know, things regular people did literally all the fucking time.

    And now, now was the time to answer his questions, ignore them, or what¡ªjust get up and leave? She was tired of running away, just like she was tired of constantly fighting herself to do the simplest things. So she resigned herself to honestly respond to his painfully simple question. No lies, no charades, just the truth. What did she have to lose?

    "Well, as of right now, not much of anything. Nothing, to be completely honest. I had a mediocre desk job that I left to pursue a professional dance career. I became part of a dance company but left due to ... some things that happened in my life. Now I don''t know what I want to do, or what I should be doing. I''ve been scraping by, but that obviously won''t last forever. Maybe dry cleaning handkerchiefs is a very particular niche market that hasn''t been tapped yet in the vastness of New York City?"

    A chuckle left his lips as he considered her, and she him. The wind had made his longer hair unruly¡ªstrands were out of place, leading her eyes to his own bright blues. They were so clear, so depthless, shifting in a moment from one shade of stormy day gray to a more sunlit blue. They snagged her gaze and kept it there.

    She wasn''t sure what he would say next. Would he keep asking questions? She could do her best to keep answering, but she wasn''t sure how much farther she could go without completely falling apart. Even answering just one had taken an extraordinary amount of effort and willpower.

    "That your go-to breakfast order, then? Because as somewhat of a breakfast novice myself, I commend you for going big and owning it. "

    With a chuckle of her own, she took a sip of her black coffee and thanked God that he found her another topic. Anything, anything but more questions about her life. Fortunately for her, Sam seemed to pick up on how uncomfortable she still was talking about anything too personal.

    The conversation they had over eating mostly revolved around Sam or lighthearted topics like food, books, movies, their general likes and dislikes. There was easy laughter and a steady, unrushed flow to their conversation that had her more relaxed than she''d felt in months.

    He had just finished telling a story about his first job as a court clerk in the city¡ªhow he''d walked into a beauty salon when he''d gotten lost on his way to deliver a subpoena, and didn''t realize he''d had the wrong address in the opposite end of the city. After the owner of the salon smiled at him sweetly and informed him how far off he was from the address, he ended up getting a free haircut and being horribly late delivering the summons.

    Both he and Anna were enjoying a laugh over it at Sam''s expense when the bell above the door rattled for what sounded like a rather large group of people coming into the diner.

    She shifted her gaze towards the sweet and nostalgic metallic ringing to get a look at the boisterous group, and her stomach dropped as she took in six cops making their way over to a booth at the front of the diner. Right by the front windows, right in her line of sight. It was then the dots started to connect in her mind.

    They weren''t too far from Ben''s precinct. She had no idea if he still worked there or not, or if he transferred or what he ended up doing. But there was a strong possibility that these cops were from that precinct, and that they probably knew Ben, or knew of him. And in turn, they probably knew her, and knew about her.

    The urge to get up and leave was overpowering. Natural. She could feel her legs getting ready to lift up and out of the seat so she could head straight for the door before any of the cops had a chance to recognize her.

    But it was Sam''s voice that brought her back to their booth, back to him and his easy way of talking and making her feel something like normal.

    "As long as we''re already talking about me making an ass of myself, there was a time back home in England where I had gotten a little too full of myself, a little too cocky. I was doing well, keeping up with the farm work, doing my best to be the boss''s pet. You know, all the classic stuff that gets you hated by your fellow lads. My classmates who worked there convinced me it was a thing to wear a suit on your last day of work during your final year at school. Here I was, thinking I was finally being welcomed by my peers, like they''d finally accepted me and didn''t think I was an annoying little brown-nosing prick. Well, I showed up on my last day of work, and found out very quickly that wearing a suit was not appreciated by the boss. And I was shirtless underneath the collared shirt, because I was a lazy teenage boy who couldn''t be bothered with doing laundry. So I did a whole day''s worth of back breaking farm work in a damn suit. And you want to know the kicker?"

    She raised her eyebrows and gave him an incredulous look.

    "Oh god, there''s more? Had you not tortured yourself enough?"

    "Oh there''s more. I had the balls to ask out one of the girls in my class, thinking she''d be impressed to see me working all dressed up, since I thought it was a thing people would know about, being some kind of tradition for the working, graduating school boys. She showed up at the farm at the end of the day, me shirtless under a suit coat in dress pants thinking I was some kind of hot shit, and well, you can guess what she might have said about going out that night, and where she told me to shove my shit-stained suit as her and the lads laughed their asses off."

    Another hearty chuckle escaped her lips at the thought of him, such a gentle, kind, and goodhearted person from what little she knew of him, being so ruthlessly cocky. She was just about to perch forward on her forearms to move slightly closer to him and make a smart-ass quip when she noticed the booth full of cops looking over in her direction. From the way they were leaning in to be closer together and talking quietly to one another while casting furtive glances in her direction, she knew they knew.

    "We have to go."

    Sam threw a quick glance over his shoulder towards where her eyes were darting around, then looked back to her and gave a quick nod before leaning forward slightly and reaching for his back pocket.

    "We can split, Sam, I''ve got cash¡ª"

    "Don''t worry about it. I''ve got it."

    He pulled out a few bills and tossed them on the table by their empty plates.

    "I can pay you back."

    "You can pay me back by taking me to one of those greasy spoons you talked about, how''s that sound?"

    She gave him a quick and distracted nod as he handed her her coat. She made quick work of shrugging it on while walking.

    Sam started walking towards the exit, putting on his coat as he went and giving Bev a quick nod and thanks before pushing through the door. This time he didn''t wait to hold it open for her as he did when they''d first arrived¡ªas if he knew getting out and onto the street and away from the diner as quickly as possible was all that she needed right now, not an act of gentlemanly manners.

    Eyes pierced into her as she walked through the door behind Sam, and one last look over her shoulder confirmed that all six of the cops were staring at her as they left. Their faces were drawn with serious expressions as they murmured amongst themselves, with no doubt in her mind that they were discussing her and Ben. About what had happened to her.

    Thankfully it was only a few blocks to the subway station that would take her home. Back to her safe, empty apartment. Far away from the diner with those six cops sitting in a booth, cast in the welcoming and warm glow of the lights that offered such an inviting and welcome relief from the early afternoon darkness of daylight savings time.

    Another place that had started out light, enjoyable and maybe even almost happy. Another place ruined by things that happened so many months ago. Another opportunity to try and become some semblance of her old self ruined. All she had wanted to do was try and get to know Sam, try and fully immerse herself in the now, in an old, dilapidated booth at that delicious smelling and comfortable diner.

    But she couldn''t. Not with her past sitting across the room from her, in six all-too familiar uniforms.

    Sam was talking, maybe asking her about what had just happened. Maybe bringing up something they had been talking about before. Maybe just making polite chit-chat to try and take her mind off whatever had just caused her to get up and leave immediately.

    Why was he still here? Why was he still putting up with her? It must''ve been annoying as hell. He must''ve been able to tell that she was always half listening, always half trapped in her own head, dealing with the never-ending onslaught of bullshit that kept getting churned up from her past. He must''ve been able to tell she was so disconnected from the world around them, so out of tune, so out of touch. Why put up with it? Why bother? The questions bouncing around her head made her feel even more like shit.

    She wasn''t sure when she''d started to cry. It could''ve been when she kept thinking about those cops in their uniforms. How much it reminded her of a man she used to love so fiercely, used to dream of and spend every waking second of her days and nights with. It could''ve been when she started to think about how those uniforms felt under her fingertips as she had held the collar in her grasp, bringing her lips to his stubbled cheek for the first time.

    The tears flowed steadily and relentlessly down her wind-bitten cheeks. She felt frozen. Cold. Numb. She just needed to make it to the station, somehow say goodbye to Sam without giving away that she was losing her shit yet again, and she could get home. Get away from the world that she hated continuously trying to be a part of again.

    They rounded a corner, and the train station mercifully came into view. As they approached, Sam still filling the silence with polite prattle, she tried to keep walking and offer up a simple "Goodnight, thank you," but Sam had other plans.

    She felt his hand gently rest on her arm, causing her to reluctantly turn and face him. Face him with tears streaming down her face and a sob dangerously close to escaping her throat after she''d managed to keep it trapped inside for blocks.

    With his hand still resting gently on her arm, he took her in, and his expression crumpled, then grew soft with understanding as he realized she was upset.

    "There''s a bench right over here. Come on, come sit."

    She let herself be led by him as the tears blurred her vision and the sobs shook her body, right down through her legs. He sat down next to her on the bench, exactly like he had done a week ago. Her hands flew up to cover her face as she let the attack hit her in full force, unable to hold it back anymore.

    "It''s alright, Anna, it''s okay. It''ll be over soon. Try putting your head between your knees. Try to breathe. It''s alright."

    She listened to his advice, feeling like she was reliving last week in some kind of weird moment of deja vu. Except this time the wind and cold were making it even harder for her to breathe. She was having a hard time catching her breath in order to try and calm down.

    Sam stayed there right next to her, his leg pressed against hers to offer some warmth and something solid as the ground seemed to crumble away into the pit of her blood-thirsty memories. The force of this attack seemed to come out of nowhere, and had the power of something with a vengeance.

    She guessed this was the price she had to pay for trying to be a functioning person again. To sit on a bench in the freezing cold with a man she had just met. A man who stayed next to her in the biting cold through the entire attack, just as he had before, until it started to ebb and flow into quiet sniffles and infrequent sharp inhalations of air.

    He repeated the same mantras to her over and over again as they sat in the cold and waited for her to calm back down. Patient, understanding, forgiving. It amazed her. And as she finally sat up again, images of Ben still coming and going from her mind, a familiar handkerchief appeared in front of her, held in a steady hand.

    "Here, take this."

    Through sniffles and awkward breaths, she managed to thank him as she took it, then pulled her glasses from her face and wiped off the thick combo of tears and snot that had formed on her face.

    "Maybe one of these days we''ll stop parting ways like this."

    "Maybe. And even if it isn''t one of these days anytime soon, that''s alright too."

    With a deep, somewhat settling breath, she pushed her glasses back onto her nose and shakily stood up from the bench. Everything in her body seemed to scream in protest and ached as she shoved her hands into her pockets and took one last big sniffle before facing Sam, who was still sitting down.

    "I''m so sorry, but I have to go. Thank you, again, for everything. For the food, for talking ... Maybe one of these days I''ll be, I''ll be less ... I''m sorry. I''m so sorry. I have to go."

    Just as she turned on her heel to take the stairs down into the station, Sam called out from behind her.

    "It''s okay, Anna. Really. You don''t have to apologize, not to me. Everyone''s a fucking mess, remember? Be safe, have a good night."

    He was standing now, hands in his pockets, something like worry and understanding drawn across his features that were beautifully illuminated by the streetlight he stood under. The wind was blowing at the collar of his coat almost playfully.

    Some part of her, some beyond broken, scarred and long forgotten part of herself wanted to walk back towards him, pull his jacket closed a little more and hug him tightly.

    Instead, all she could muster was giving him the faintest hint of a smile over her shoulder before taking the stairs two at a time in order to make the next train.

    And as she sat on an old, smelly seat in the decrepit and rattling metal tube, eyes peeled as she watched every stranger with her constantly shifting eyes that were tired, no doubt red, and most definitely swollen, her hands stayed tucked into her jacket pockets.

    And in one of her hands was that starched, white handkerchief that her thumb kept running over again, and again, and again. It somehow helped keep her heart rate down, her breathing even, her emotions in check.

    And as she crawled back into bed after locking all five locks on her door, not turning on a single light and just kicking off her shoes, it was still in her hand. As the exhaustion from the day fully took over her, she ran through a short list in her mind as her thumb stroked and stroked the thin fabric.

    She had woken up at a reasonable time. She had taken a shower. She had washed her hair. She had put on just a little makeup. She had gotten dressed in clean clothes. She had eaten something. She had laughed a little. She had another breakdown.

    And the last little thing on that list was the one that stuck in her mind as she finally drifted off to sleep.

    She had returned Sam''s handkerchief, and she had ended up bringing it right back home. A small, square piece of fabric. A lifeline.

 Last winter

    The car door clicked shut behind her, and she felt her heart rate start to climb against her own will to simply treat this as a quick and normal social duty and move on. Add in the fact that Greg had been singing along to oldies on the radio the whole way to the station, and her nerves were already worn a bit thin.

    She followed him up to the door of the station, burying her hands into the deep pockets of her black, subtly shiny, puffy down jacket. It fell somewhere between the ratty one she usually wore on a daily basis and the one fancy peacoat she owned for if and when she ever did something that required looking polished and put together.

    A whoosh of warm air greeted her cold cheeks as they stepped into the small lobby of the police station. It weirdly felt like being in a library¡ªeverything was made of stone and worn wood. And it was quiet. Eerily quiet. Wasn''t crime always afoot? Shouldn''t there have been civilians lodging complaints at the front desk and overflowing numbers of criminals handcuffed to radiators? She''d been watching far, far too many police procedural reruns instead of sleeping.

    "I''ll go get Ben, he should be out in just a sec." And with that, Greg disappeared back behind the counter.

    All she could muster was an awkward, disjointed nod. It was then, alone by herself and waiting to confront a stranger she''d been an asshole to, she noticed all the coffee sloshing around in her audibly empty stomach.

    There hadn''t been a lot of time to eat between doing her laundry and getting ready. Weirdly enough, she found it necessary to look more presentable than her usual zero-effort appearance. She had thrown on just a little makeup to complement her mostly black attire. By the time she had finished stressing over painting her face just the right amount, Greg was already ready, waiting on her by the door, arms and hands fidgeting¡ªleaving her without a chance to eat.

    So she was left alone in the lobby of the NYPD station, a desk clerk eyeing her as she paced about with a shake in her hands and a distractingly fast heartbeat. She wished she had eaten something, anything, at this point. A piece of bread, a stale cracker. An empty stomach mixed with rising anxiety and caffeine was proving to be a near crippling combination.

    She had managed to delay their departure until early evening, but the extra time did not allow for any extra preparation. Her hair had become an afterthought, so it suffered the most. She had settled for pulling on an old dark red cable knit hat. At the very least, her hair was clean¡ªthat''s more than she could say most days of the week.

    Just as she was making some progress on calming her erratic nerves by looking out one of the narrow stone windows, she heard footsteps behind her on the over-polished floor.

    "Just so you know, I am armed this time around."

    With a roll of her eyes and a deep, coffee-drenched intake of breath, she turned on her heel to face him. He had a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and her lips naturally smirked back, contradicting the bile trying to work its way up into her throat.

    Clad in civilian clothes, the only difference between how he looked now and the night before was the gun clearly holstered at his hip and the badge that hung around his neck. His hands were tucked into the pockets of dark blue jeans, and a tight fitting gray long-sleeve shirt clung to muscular contours of his arms. Why was she looking at his biceps? She quickly realigned her gaze to his green eyes.

    "I promise I''m not here to spew venom at you again."

    "Well that''s a relief. You had a lot to spew at a total stranger last night."

    His directness stung. She found herself adjusting the knit hat on her head and then finally settled on crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her eyes were now glued to the obnoxiously glossy tile floor. People were not her thing. An honest apology was not in her set of minimal, barely functional socializing skills.

    "That was not because of you. I mean, I''ve been stressed out lately and you just happened to be there to take the brunt of it. That''s not to say it was right. Being exhausted and stressed is apparently my own lethal combination resulting in sudden and unwarranted verbal attacks."

    "I''ve been that combination lately too¡ªI get it. I guess I just tend to take it out on the shooting range or on mountains of paperwork. You know, things without feelings. Not innocent bystanders."

    What an understatement. He got caught in the flak of her own illy managed life. She cocked her head slightly to the side as he leveled with her. Suddenly her words were ready with no hesitation. Honesty-coated, truth-telling words.

    "Much more productive than my coping. Something I haven''t quite mastered. Usually that''s what my dancing is for, but even that has become a stressor lately. Anyways, I''m stalling. What I''m trying to say to you, Ben, police officer Ben, is that I am very, very sorry. What I did was incredibly rude and I''m trying not to be that kind of asshat of a person as much as I am."

    He offered her a tight-lipped smile and a nod.

    "Apology accepted. Now, why don''t we take this chance to start over."

    "Start over meaning I utilize my limited ability to be personable to actually interact successfully with another person?"

    "Right. This time avoiding any unintentional aggressive outbursts. Just two people getting to know each other."

    His offer hung heavily in the space between them. She would have rather observed him from afar, continuing to make her own judgments in a group of people at a party rather than being one on one.

    The suggestion seemed genuine. Considering the usual male suspects she was used to hanging around with, she fully expected him to give her a large dose of her own venomous medicine. Greg and Laney had both firmly planted their seals of approval on Ben. Plus, as a potential roommate candidate, she was willing to give their introduction a redo. Apologizing was already firmly under her belt, so hell, might as well attempt to keep stepping in the same basic functioning adult stride.

    With a nod of her head and a small smile, she finally responded.

    "Yeah, okay. Let''s do that."

    With that, he stuck his hand out into the space between them. She stared at it for a couple of seconds before she stuck out her own hand to meet his. It was warm, callused, and enveloped hers fully. Another smile slid onto her lips. What was with all this smiling? The contact of their skin, shockingly enough, did not make her uncomfortable. It was pleasant, a welcome change.

    "Hi, I''m Ben Johnson."

    "Anna Weston. It''s nice to meet you, Ben Johnson."

    "Nice to meet you too, Anna Weston. Now, call me crazy, but it seems like we could both benefit from an evening out."

    "Oh? You forgive and forget quickly. I should verbally attack people more often¡ªI''d have more acquaintances."

    Ben laughed and she found herself still smiling. Didn''t she usually scowl, or at the very least feign indifference? Laney was the only one who really ever made her smile. What was this? Her hand was absentmindedly moving her hair from behind her back to fall over her shoulder with one quick movement.

    "I sense we may have a lot of stress and anxiety between the two of us, and I think a night out would help us both relax a little."

    The only plans she had made tonight were with herself and a sweaty, packed dance floor. A chance to make her problems a distant blur while she drank herself into oblivion in time to the rhythm of throbbing dance music.

    She was trying to think of a way to politely decline, but her mind derailed as she looked at him standing in front of her, grinning with his hands still tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. If he was going to be a potential roommate to ease her financial burden, there was no harm in feeling him out further as a person.

    "Going out and doing things isn''t really my forte, but what the hell. I''ve already apologized today, which is monumental. Let''s do it."

    A crooked smile met me in return, his eyes instantly lighting up above his stubbled cheeks.

    "Let me go grab my coat and we can head out. I''ll be right back."

    As he disappeared back behind the counter, she let out an audible scoff, aimed directly at herself, and shook her head. The officer at the desk didn''t bother looking up from his computer this time. She wondered if Ben would tell Greg as he was leaving with her. Greg would surely think that she was suffering from amnesia or split personality disorder or she had fallen and hit her head on the hard, unforgiving tile floor.

    She was glad she had put in a little extra effort into getting ready this morning. Not that it mattered. Or did it? This was a casual outing between, between what? Two complete strangers who might potentially end up living together? Seemed like a good enough reason to put some effort into appearances.

    Before she could sink further into her own mind, Ben reappeared. A black, slim-fitted winter coat covered his torso now, and a worn NYPD baseball cap was perched on his head. She wondered if he still had his gun on him somewhere. Not that it mattered, but he probably did. The idea of the additional safety, the fact that he could, in fact, provide that level of protection. It added to his roommate potential.

    "You''re still here, that''s a good sign."

    "Trust me, I contemplated sneaking out the window but I suppose they''re narrow for a reason."

    Another laugh from Ben filled the air as he pushed open the door for her to walk through. A gentleman, too? Maybe she really was suffering from amnesia. Or maybe the lack of food, sleep and surplus of coffee was making her hallucinate.

    A thick, hot blush rolled into her cheeks as she walked past him and out into the cold, unforgiving bite of New York air. Doors were usually being slammed in front of her, not being held open. She waited for him to follow and then fell in pace beside him.

    "There''s a bar just a block from here we can go to. It''s sort of a cop bar, nothing too fancy."

    "Sounds like a good place to me¡ªthe less fancy the better."

    The walk only took a few short minutes, but the warm rush of air laced with fried food and hoppy notes of beer that greeted them when they entered the bar was a welcome relief.

    She could''ve sworn that nearly everyone tucked at the well-worn bar or sitting at a high-top greeted Ben as they entered and proceeded to walk towards a table in the back. The bartender proved to be the most prying.

    "And who do we have here, Ben? A lady?"

    "Just a friend, Rick. No need for alarm."

    She found herself blushing again as she walked behind Ben''s tall frame to get to a table. He continued his kindness streak by pulling out a chair for her first, which she took while stammering out a thank you. Two gentlemanly acts? He must''ve been compensating for something. Did he have really smelly feet? A foot fetish? Or was he just that good? That smooth?

    They both took a moment to unbundle. She slid off her heavy jacket and the knit beanie that was covering her head, giving her hair a little shake and tousle in an effort to be somewhat presentable. Ben settled for taking off his jacket, but left his NYPD cap on his head. There was a heavy thrum of conversation in the room, mixed with clinking mugs of beer and bouts of sporadic laughter.

    She crossed her arms against her chest and leaned forward slightly onto the table. The bar scene had never really been her vibe. Taking it in was an odd delight. Before they exchanged any words, Ben raised a hand to the bartender.

    "Two beers and six shots of whatever you want, Rick."

    Her mouth fell open as she took in his request to the bartender, her eyebrows raising as far as her forehead would allow. His two acts of gentlemanliness suddenly seemed much, much less impressive. Another drink-first-ask-questions-never guy? But he seemed so genuine, so respectful.

    "Six shots? Okay, now I''m starting to regret agreeing to this outing."

    "I thought maybe it would be interesting to play a game while getting to know each other."

    "A drinking game?"

    "Right. We''ll start with some basics and then move on to the game."

    "Why do I get the sneaking suspicion that these are get-her-out-of-her-pants shots?"

    "Trust me. These are chill-out-and-have-some-fun shots. Your pants might as well be glued on. Plus we''re at a cop bar. If I pulled any crap I''d get my ass kicked."

    In her experience, drinking had never been the start of anything positive. It led to fights, to mistakes, to hurt feelings and usually to sloppy, forgettable sex. But he looked her in the eye as he spoke, adding a certain seal to his promise of pure intentions.

    "Alright, I trust you. But I am watching you, officer Johnson." She kept her gaze pinned on him, looking for any signs that his gentleman facade was starting to crack and crumble. "So what exactly does the ''basics of getting to know each other'' entail?"

    He crossed his arms onto the table and leaned forward in his chair. With a slight squint of his green eyes, he posed the first question.

    "What do you do?"

    Easy enough. She tilted her head slightly and shifted so her hands were clasped together on the table in front of herself before responding.

    "I''m a dancer. And no, not the erotic kind. The artsy-fartsy kind. I''m currently working with a small dance company in the city. I have a desk job I work a few days a week to make ends meet. Hopefully someday I won''t need it."

    As she was finishing, the bartender brought the beers and shots, which appeared to be tequila. She couldn''t even remember the last time she did shots, probably due to the fact that when she did, her memory blanked. Worrisome, but she brushed the thought aside. They thanked Rick, and she took a sip of her beer. Gloriously refreshing.

    "I would have never guessed artsy-fartsy dancer. Although you''ve been a bit of a spitfire since we''ve met. That''s no small feat, I''m impressed."

    "Well how about you? I mean I know you''re a cop, but is that the dream or?"

    "Currently somewhere between a beat cop and becoming a part of SWAT. Greg''s been trying to talk me out of it. Says it''s too dangerous. I''ve considered moving on all together and going into construction. It''s been on the back burner since my mom got sick. Now that she''s passed, I''m even more unsure of what the hell to do with myself."

    He paused and took a long swig of his beer. She watched as muscles from his shoulders and down his arms flexed beneath his fitted gray shirt. Everything about him seemed so strong, so immovable. Capable. It didn''t seem like he would have any doubts or troubles. That was wrong. Really wrong.

    "How long have you been a cop?" she asked, and then proceeded to take a swig of beer.

    "This will be my seventh year. I joined when I was 22, after a few years of hopping around jobs aimlessly. It was after my dad had passed. He''d served as a cop in our small town his whole life. He died shortly after he retired."

    She looked at him in awe. He was revealing a lot to her¡ªa complete stranger, essentially. He looked back at her, anticipating a response. She couldn''t help but feel that on some level this was a test. Maybe a test to see if she was really just a cold hearted, spiteful bitch. She had been anything but clear and straightforward with her own personality.

    Without a second thought, she responded in what she considered to be an appropriate, honest manner. Grabbing one of the shots of tequila, she slammed it back in one gulp and placed it back down onto the table with a clink. His eyebrows were raised, a smile that seemed to say ''not bad'' spread across his face. His head bobbed in approval.

    "That is very impressive, seven years. Career choices are never easy to make." She paused as she worked through her response in order, taking a moment to lick some of the remaining tequila off her lips. "I''m sorry about your dad, and your mom. I honestly can''t imagine what that would be like."

    "What about your family?"

    Even though in her gut she knew that this would be the follow up question, her heart still dropped. She was never prepared for it. She never knew how to handle it. It always came so close to unhinging her. For the first time since they had sat down, she looked away from him and down at her folded hands.

    With a few quick blinks, she tried to gather her thoughts and articulate a sentence that didn''t convey all of her deep rooted sadness.

    "I''ve been an orphan my whole life. Never knew my parents, or what became of them. I did the orphan kid thing, bounced around to a lot of foster homes, a lot of bad situations that I mostly created. Moved to the city to be a dancer, the artsy-fartsy kind. Dated a lot of toxic men. A lot. Recently even more disheartened by your gender when some creep decided to kiss me at the subway station randomly. But yeah, other than that, I''m the same as you. Trying to figure it out and get by tactfully without too much bullshity heartache."

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    The rush of words betrayed what she knew about herself. Maybe it had something to do with drinking half a beer and a shot of tequila. Maybe it had all been pent up too long. Laney knew some, but not all. She was the only one Anna ever told about her past. With other boyfriends and could-be friends, she made something up. That her family lived far away in the mysterious land of the midwest. Or that they disowned her for her bad behavior. Or that they were estranged. Ben was here, he was listening intently, and he hadn''t tried picking her up with some shitty line in a crowded club. He was here because she had apologized to him for being a self righteous prick. What an odd way for any relationship¡ªfriend or other¡ªof hers to begin.

    His eyes had grown softer as she spoke, but he remained silent. As she finished talking, she waited anxiously for his response. Her heart raced at the thought of him turning into every other guy who she encountered. A guy who didn''t want to deal with the hard things. A guy who wanted to smoke, fuck and have her be okay with him sleeping with other women and feeding her lines he knew her ears needed to hear. After a few painful seconds of silence, he reached up to turn the hat on his head so the bill was in the back. He then proceeded to chug the rest of his beer.

    Looking on with surprise spreading across her face, she felt a surge of, of what? Happiness? After clanking the empty beer glass down onto the table, he proceeded to slam the three tequila shots lined up in front of him. Her mouth fell open as she looked on in shock. It was clear that he understood the gravity of what she just told him. She was about to commend him thoroughly for his actions, but he spoke first.

    "Rick! Two beers!"

    A huge, roaring laugh erupted from deep in her chest. He started to laugh himself silly too, the both of them lost in a mix of shock from honesty and listening. She managed to get words out around her breathy, dwindling laughter.

    "Wow! Well color me flattered. You definitely didn''t need to do that, but the sentiment is greatly appreciated."

    "If the spitfire is going to be that brutally honest with me, I''ll drink a thousand shots."

    "You''re well on your way to being incoherent, I think."

    "That''s why we need to even it out a little now!"

    Rick was shaking his head as he dropped off another two beers. Ben gave him a firm pat on the arm, maybe a little too firmly, and thanked him.

    "This is supposed to be a fun, relaxing evening, and now that we know a little bit about each other, let''s loosen up. We''ll play a simple question game. You drink if you''ve done it.''"

    "Oh god ... alright, alright. Let''s hear it."

    Ben leaned forward onto his arms and eyed her with a mischievous grin spread across his face. She leaned in slightly to meet him. Something about the stubble all over his cheeks made her want to reach out and feel its scratchiness. She calmed her inner teenager and easily smothered the urge.

    When he finally came up with a question, his surprisingly sweet, alcohol coated breath hit her square in the nose.

    "Have you had a pet?"

    "Not once. Not even a fish. Taking care of things isn''t one of my strong suits."

    He scratched at his stubble with one hand as he thought of another question to try and get her to drink.

    "Have you ever been arrested?"

    She rolled her eyes with a sigh and shot back one of the two remaining tequilas sitting in front of her. It went down surprisingly smooth. Her buzz was climbing fast, and she could feel herself loosening up from her crippling stress.

    With his eyebrows raised in surprise, he reached up to adjust his hat. "No shit! What for?"

    "Breaking and entering. One of my douche sack ex-boyfriends stole my wallet from me, so I broke into his apartment to get it back."

    Ben shook his head and took another swig of beer.

    "You are full of surprises! Good for you, though. That guy was clearly a piece of shit." The disgust that filled his face at my omission dissipated as he took in the drinks laid out before me with thoughtful intention. "You''ve got one shot left. If I don''t get it on this next question, I''ll shoot it."

    She shook her head at him in disbelief.

    "You are insane. And clearly more proficient at drinking than I am."

    He clapped his hands together and rubbed them together as he thought of his next question. She was actually hoping he''d get her on the last one. She wanted that shot, she wanted to take another step further from the struggle of everyday existence.

    "Have you ever verbally abused a cop?"

    "You shit."

    With another clap of his hands and a huge roll of laughter, he leaned back in his chair to watch as she finished her last shot. It went down as smooth, just as she expected it would. As soon as she finished, she pointed a finger at him from across the table.

    "Now I get three chances to make you chug the rest of your beer!"

    He nodded in approval and motioned with his hands for her to bring it on. She had eagerly been holding onto the questions in her mind. He was too nice, too good looking, too cool. There had to be some flaw, some blemish in his past.

    "Have you ever used a corny cop pickup line?"

    He feigned hurt by bringing a hand up to his chest, his face wounded.

    "Oh come on now, I''ve got standards, Anna! Not once. Next."

    She squinted her eyes at him as she thought of her next question.

    "Have you ever done drugs?"

    "You do remember that I am a cop, right?"

    "You weren''t always a cop!"

    "Nope. Not even before I was a cop. You''re gonna strike out!"

    Her last one. It had to get him. There had to be something. She had to go big. Way outside of questions they had already asked. The tequila and beer had coated her weak set of nerves and feeble courage with a strong suit of go-for-it armor. Suddenly the question rolled into her mind, and she subsequently let it roll off her tongue without thinking twice.

    "Have you ever been caught masturbating?"

    And there it was. He looked down for only a moment before he picked up his three quarter full beer glass and chugged it all. She had never, never, laughed so hard in her entire life. Tears were streaming down her face. She couldn''t breathe. Ben just sat there and shook his head with a tight lipped smile. Others in the small bar looked over at them, two drunken idiots navigating a reckless, crash course in getting to know each other. She couldn''t believe that she was there. In a cop bar. With a cop.

    The night rolled on, her thoughts becoming more slippery by the second. Her words started to plow into each other like cars unsuspectingly catching black ice. She loved the green of his eyes. Did she tell him that out loud? He kept smiling at her, his cap still backwards on his head. It was douchey, but she liked the sentiment of it, the honesty of why he had turned it around. Were these words she was actually saying? The lights of the bar began to blur. Her stomach began to churn against itself. How would she get home?

    <hr>

    Sunlight started to sear through her eyelids, and she groaned through an incredibly hoarse throat. She flung her arm up to cover her eyes, only to hit herself forcefully in the face instead.

    "Jesus Christ," came out in murmured defeat and annoyance at her own lack of control over such a simple movement.

    With her other hand, she reached out to feel what was next to her. A coffee table? Was she on the couch? She felt a pair of sunglasses and greedily shoved them onto her face. Her head throbbed viciously with every small motion. She managed to flip herself over on her side while wrapping one of her arms around her stomach. The smell of the exhale through her dry lips was pure booze. Her stomach churned.

    Someone shuffled into the room. She heard it, but chose not to acknowledge whoever it might be. She had a sneaking suspicion that whatever she might''ve said would''ve been far from pleasant. At least this time her venom would have some legitimacy.

    "Anna? Anna. Anna."

    Persistent son of bitch.

    "What?" It came out a deep, raspy and pathetic utterance. It could''ve been worse. Much worse than that one word. She lifted up the sunglasses to crack open her eyes to the world and the morning for the first time.

    As she blinked the room into hazy focus, she started to make out Ben, or rather the shape of Ben. He stood towards the end of the couch, just having come from the hallway. He was in a white undershirt. White undershirt? She blinked a few more times. Yes, there Ben stood, with his ridiculously well maintained physique. A sad laugh escaped her chapped lips as she dropped the sunglasses back over her pulsing eyes. She reached up to further block out all light and semblance of the world by placing her hands over her eyes, thoroughly ignoring the genuinely confusing, nausea-inducing morning.

    "Go away."

    She heard a small chuckle and then the sound of coffee being made. Her ears and heart perked up just ever so slightly. A small bit of redemption for aiding and abetting her into this crippling hangover.

    "Why am I on the couch? What happened?"

    An audible sigh escaped Ben''s lips as he launched into a mercifully quiet explanation.

    "Well, I thought it was probably time to leave the bar when you started laughing and literally could not stop. You kept on wanting to touch my biceps, and my face too, so I figured you''d probably had enough."

    She groaned while shaking her head back and forth.

    "No, no, no."

    "Yes, yes you did. Anyways, I got you outside as you tried hanging off of me like a jungle gym. While I was hailing a cab, you ralphed all over the sidewalk. Don''t worry, I held your hair as best as I could. Somehow you kept on laughing while you puked. Truly impressive."

    "Oh fuck me."

    "Needless to say I felt pretty horrible for letting you get to that point. But I got you into the cab where you laid down on my lap. You actually did really good in the cab. A lot of groaning mixed with an occasional chuckle. I got you up here after you started arguing with yourself¡ªthat was interesting¡ªand you insisted that I stay here. I tried taking you back to your room, but you demanded that I sleep in there. You passed out on the couch instantaneously, and I followed orders and went to your bedroom. And that gets us all caught up to now."

    "Laney? Greg?"

    "They were never here, they must''ve stayed at Greg''s last night."

    The gurgle of the coffee pot masked the series of muttered swears that left her lips, directed only to herself. Drunk Anna apparently was less filtered around attractive men than she remembered. Touching his face? His biceps? Apparently alcohol eliminated my physical boundaries. Usually she just watched her boyfriends drink themselves into rages. Her sobriety would clean up their messes, deflect their punches and allow her to lay into them herself.

    After a soft whoosh of air and a tap on the top of her head, she slowly removed her hands from her eyes to see Ben sitting in front of her, perched on the coffee table, offering her a steaming mug of coffee. With more distressed groaning, she made the effort to at least sit up enough to be able to hold the cup in her hands and sip it without spilling¡ªit proved to be pathetically difficult. She knew her muscles existed, but every movement filled her with nausea and searing head pain.

    "This is not how I make friends. I don''t make friends."

    "That is definitely not how I make friends either," he paused, sipping from his cup before moving his head in a questioning way before continuing. "At least usually not the good kinds. It has been a long, long time since I''ve drank that much."

    "We had fun, right? It was worth it?" Fuck if she knew since she couldn''t remember anything past the first few hours at the damn bar. It felt fruitless to ask him since he didn''t seem like the type to say he had a terrible time even if it was the truth. He''d sugar coat it, but the bullshit would be obvious.

    "I know I certainly did. Like I said before, I think we both needed some time to cut loose."

    She considered her pathetic physical state, her aching skull. Truthful Ben was still here, sitting in front of her. Sipping coffee from one of her mugs, looking out the window and squinting at the bright winter light. It had been fun. Genuinely. It had pulled her from her deep rooted spot in her comfort zone. She had smiled, she had laughed. They had talked a lot about who they were in a general sense. A foundation for maybe the first real friendship she had ever had with a man.

    "I''ll admit, I did have fun."

    "I''m glad. I was thinking you might be ready to throw more verbal fire at me this morning. I knew coffee would help tame the beast."

    She sneered at him over her mug. He certainly wasn''t wrong.

    "Well, it''s Sunday. I shockingly have the day off with no plans. What about you?"

    After a few sips of coffee she felt comfortable taking the sunglasses off of her face. There was no doubt in her mind that she looked like shit. She could feel the shit. Her eyes were swollen and her skin was tight and dry. She brought a hand up to her forehead and thought about what the day had held before yesterday so unexpectedly unfolded as it did.

    "Supposedly I''m going to work on my solo routine today, get caught up on household crap, and think about organizing some of my important files."

    His eyebrows raised at the ambition and general unpleasantness of her list.

    "But given my current body and mind condition, I would settle for anything less worky, thinky or adulty."

    He diligently placed his mug beside himself on the coffee table and leaned forward onto his jean-clad knees with his forearms. There was a brightness in his eyes that seemed impossible due to the amount of drinking they both had participated in last night. She did everything she could to keep her scowling face focused on his eyes and not on the deep lines of muscles that dominated his arms¡ªshe was only human. And he did have a stupidly in-shape body that made her abs hurt just thinking about doing that much damn exercise. But focus. Focus was key.

    "How does this sound: greasy breakfast, shooting range, movie night here. Greg and Laney already had one planned, so I figured you might prefer participating this time instead of yelling at me."

    She swished her coffee around in her mouth as she contemplated her response. Ben screwed up his face and looked more than slightly disgusted.

    "That was nasty."

    "It''s like coffee mouthwash, wakes up the gums!"

    He stared at her, his face appalled.

    "Okay, that was gross. I''m obviously not used to being around people, can you tell?"

    "I think I can look past it? For now, anyway. If it happens again, we''re definitely having words." With a crooked smile, he took another sip of his coffee before returning his questioning gaze to her.

    "Well, what do you think? Can you handle another day of people? And being out in the world?"

    She bopped her head back and forth for a second and then decided that having plans made for her was better than tending to her actual list of adult responsibilities that made her grouchy just thinking about them.

    "Alright. I will shower and compose myself as best I can and then will need more coffee before we go."

    With that, he stuck his hand out into the small space between them. She shook it firmly and started assessing the current shambles of her body to attempt to stand upright. As she slowly made her way down the hallway to the bathroom, she heard whistling coming from the kitchen. She thought to herself, with a slight smile on her lips, that this was all very, very different.

    <hr>

    Guns had always seemed unreal to her. She understood the capability that they possessed, the nature of their power. But they always seemed distant. In movies. On TV. Casually slung on a cop''s waist. Holding one in her hands seemed incredibly bizarre. She felt ridiculous. This was something other people did, actors, cops, villains. Not her, anyone but her. But here she stood, head slightly less pounding, belly full of loaded hash browns and coffee, pistol in hand.

    "The key is to keep your arms engaged, focused. Not locked. Whatever you do, don''t lock your arms. There''s recoil, so you have to be prepared for it. Like when you''re waiting for your feet to find the floor again after a jump. Prepare for impact."

    "You''re speaking a lot of words to a still mostly hungover person. Are you sure I should be doing this?"

    "You''ll be fine. Granted I''ve never brought anyone to the range before and never taught anyone but myself how to shoot, but I think you''ll be okay."

    Something like bemusement and shock crossed her face as she considered his admission.

    "Well after those reassuring words I definitely feel better now. What could go wrong!"

    He smiled widely and motioned with his head towards the paper target downrange.

    "Just squeeze off one shot, see how it feels. If you feel alright, shoot off the whole clip. If you don''t like it, then stop."

    With a deep breath, she shook her head and pointed the pistol downrange. She felt ridiculous. Like she had just casually put on a lab coat and was ready to diagnose a real person. An imposter. Ben took a few steps back and looked on in anticipation. She tried to mimic the countless stances she had witnessed on screen throughout her life. A surge of false confidence washed over her as she squeezed the trigger on the weighty pistol.

    Much to her own surprise, she managed to shoot the white blank space of the paper target, just a little left of the head. Just as Ben was starting to speak, she squeezed off the remaining bullets in the clip in quick, short bursts.

    She managed to shoot the actual silhouette of the person on the target a whopping three times. She stuck out her lower lip and nodded in approval. She turned around to face Ben, making sure she kept the gun pointed downward and towards the range. What an embarrassing rookie mistake that would''ve been.

    "Not bad, huh?"

    "I guess it felt alright then!"

    "It was more comfortable than I thought. Must be all that 007 Goldeneye I played as a kid paying off."

    He raised an eyebrow and laughed. As he stepped towards her, he reached out and took the gun from her hands with firm intent and slammed another clip into the pistol. She stepped back and folded her arms against her chest to see how mister hotshot cop would shoot. He took his stance, which came quickly without any adjustments. It looked natural, like how someone would start casually walking down the street. He waited patiently for a new paper target to appear, and then fired off his entire clip at an even, steady pace.

    All of his shots were in the chest, all but one. One went clean through the forehead. She nodded slowly and took in the accuracy of his shooting.

    "Well now that''s totally surprising coming from a seasoned cop."

    "Always good to practice, you can never be too prepared."

    She grabbed one of the other clips from the table next to them and reached forward to take the gun from his hands. He resisted her tugging and looked down at her, raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth in O-shaped surprise.

    "Look at you trying to take a gun from a cop. Someone''s a little eager."

    While smiling, she looked him in the eyes and tried to make herself a little taller.

    "You did drag me off of a perfectly good couch while I was in the first few critical stages of hangover hell. Although you did feed me a delicious breakfast and fill me with coffee, I still think I deserve more than one clip''s worth of shooting."

    He released the gun and moved his hands up to a surrender position.

    "Minus the use of the word ''dragged'' you may have a few valid points. Seems like the coffee and food is finally waking up that spitfire in you again."

    She playfully punched him in the arm as he walked past her to resume his position against the wall. While she would have never stepped foot in a shooting range of her own volition, she found herself enjoying the new experience with an open mind. Generally she disapproved of guns and the havoc they were wreaking throughout the country and on the streets, but having someone teach you to shoot was a way to appreciate the power without being victimized by it. It felt something like confidence¡ªthe confidence to choose. The power she could understand intrinsically to protect.

    Just as she was about to load the clip and begin finding her position, Ben spoke from behind her.

    "Before you shoot, Tex, how about a bet. If you can shoot him in the head, and I mean in the head, no white at all, you don''t have to see me tomorrow. If you miss, well, I think you know what that means."

    With a nod she pushed the clip into the gun and cocked it back.

    "You''re on, Johnson."

    "Fire away, Smith and Wesson."

    After an eye roll she could''ve sworn felt audible, she took the most comfortable stance she could find, the one that made her feel most in control and steady on her feet with her arms raised. Adrenaline was already pumping through her, which made the second round of shooting easier to slide into. With an exhale, she squeezed off the clip more quickly than she had before. She lowered the gun to find that she hadn''t missed any of the target. One of the shots was just inside the black outer edge of the head.

    "Well look at that. Looks like you narrowly escaped a terrible fate."

    She turned and gently placed the gun down on the table and pointed a finger at Ben''s chest.

    "Looks like I get to sleep in and be a recluse all I want tomorrow." She couldn''t stop the huge grin that spread across her face as she gloated, victorious.

    "I should''ve known the spitfire would be a good shot."

    Glancing down at her watch, she noticed it was already getting close to dinner time. She looked up at Ben and placed her hands on her hips, feeling a bit more authoritative after having just shot a gun, albeit amateurly, for the first time in her life.

    "Well, it''s somehow already almost five¡ªshould we head back for dinner with Greg and Laney?"

    "Sounds great to me. You''ve proven that you''re a natural sharpshooter."

    She scoffed at his last remark as they started to shed their gun safety gear. He spoke again through the layered sound of both of them peeling off velcro.

    "One thing, before we go. Can I ask you about something?"

    She didn''t skip a beat as she started taking off the kevlar vest Ben had strapped onto her earlier. She barely got the word out without laughing with glee.

    "Shoot."

    With a quick smile and eye roll acknowledging her horrible pun, he crossed his arms against his chest and leaned his back against the wall.

    "When you blew up at me when we first met, Laney had mentioned something about you being bothered at the subway station. What happened, exactly?"

    For the first time since this morning, she felt herself grow uncomfortable. She stopped amid taking the kevlar vest off and started to wring her hands in front of her chest. It was a legitimate question. What harm could come from telling a cop about the strange incident? Ben had proven that he was not some douche jock meathead, and she felt no reservations telling him about that day.

    "Ah. Well, I was waiting for the train one morning as I was heading to the dance studio for rehearsal. I had my earbuds in, like I always do, and was standing in the back of the platform where there were less people. I like to people watch. The lights started to flicker, and suddenly the station was completely dark. Someone grabbed me by the shoulders, turned me, and slammed their mouth onto mine. They kissed me. Hard. Too hard. It was disgusting."

    She took a moment to pause, letting the images from that bizarre day replay in her mind. She took a breath, then continued. Ben''s brows were knit together, his eyes on her, listening intently.

    "It was just so random. I haven''t had a boyfriend in ages, and none of them would be up and functioning that early to stalk me at some subway station. I don''t even know if it was a stalker. Like Laney said, it was probably some punk ass kid who thought it would be a funny prank. I just, I''ve spent a lot of my life trying to not be paranoid about people. I''ve been around my fair share of people suffering from the crippling fear of others. It was just, it was random and bizarre."

    Ben stood up straight, his arms still folded. He took a small step towards her. She continued talking but moved her eyes to the concrete floor. This truth telling was making her feel vulnerable. Ben made her want to tell him how she really felt. Like some good would come of it. Maybe it was because he was actually listening instead of wanting to move on to something else more lighthearted. Or jump to grand conclusions like Greg.

    "I hate feeling that way. I''ve become so observant of people, so aware. And then something like that happens, and it just shook me. I hate being that person. That next day when you were in the subway car with me, I felt safe. You were there, and I was able to relax because I knew that, that if anything were to, if anything were to¡ª "

    Tears had started to roll out from her eyes, onto her hot cheeks. She never allowed herself to be upset in front of Laney or Greg. She needed them to think that she was constantly stubbornly independent without skipping a beat. The last time she had cried in front of anyone had been when she took the train from the midwest to New York City. Tears to wave a bitter farewell to her old life, tears to wash it away and try to welcome something better.

    Adrenaline and the remnants of a hangover were apparently the correct combination to her emotional vault. As she reached up to wipe away her tears and attempt to put back on her stubborn-and-independent face, Ben stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

    Her breath caught in her lungs in a rush of surprise. The hug was tender, careful. He was measuring her response. At first, she felt the need to pull away, to stand alone as the strong woman who she tried so desperately to be every day. She never got hugs. She never wanted them. They were usually half hearted and reeked of booze or weed. This one was different.

    His arms were solid and warm. The smell of detergent and faded cologne lingered on his shirt. She liked the way his head felt pressed against hers. As he started to rub her back with one hand, more tears escaped her tired, still hungover eyes.

    She let her arms wrap around his broad shoulders. They were bigger than she thought they would be. The longer he hugged her, the more relaxed she became. She felt small quivers and sobs escape her lips and disappear into his chest. He spoke softly into her ear as she continued to unload some of her anxiety and fear in the form of tears.

    "I''ll make sure that you are not bothered again. I want to make sure you always feel safe, just like that day on the subway."

    She nodded into his chest and let out a small chuckle.

    "What? What''s so funny?"

    "It didn''t hurt that I thought you were pretty cute, too. Also I think our velcro is stuck together."

    He laughed, a rumble that traveled through his body and into hers. He gently pulled away from her embrace, velcro screeching. Placing one hand on her shoulder, he used the other to wipe tears away from her cheeks with his thumb.

    "You have nothing to be afraid of, not with me around. Okay? I''ll make sure that station is covered with blues every day of the week."

    She nodded and started to wipe off her own face.

    In an attempt to regain some of her composure, she reasserted her frustration.

    "Trust me. If the son of a bitch is going to do it again, I will not hesitate to sprawl him out on his ass."

    "Make sure you verbally assault him too, I''m lucky I recovered so quickly and got to know your real charm. Otherwise I still might be a shell of a man."

    She made a false lunge at him as if she was going to hit him, and he didn''t even flinch in the slightest.

    "All right Rocky, let''s get out of here huh?"

    With a nod and a sniffle, she started to walk forward toward the exit. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she felt herself relax into his side. Not all people could have bad intentions, right? They couldn''t all be malicious and have selfish motivations. Ben felt different, and she didn''t trust her feelings all that often.

    For right now, she took it for what it was worth. For what she knew. Ben had accepted her honest apology. He actively listened to her. He made her laugh. They were having fun. If it was going to blow up in her face, an end result which life had taught her well, this part, the refreshingly good part, made it seem at least worth tagging along for the ride.

 Chapter 3

    Seven days had a way of repeating themselves in an unforgiving, brutal manner. Although the past fourteen days had been punctuated with things she hadn¡¯t even come close to even attempting in the past six months.

    Last week she had found herself showering, cleaning, and taking care of herself physically, at least. This week, she was doing more of the same. Trying to get her life together by keeping clean, taking care of herself and a new endeavor that scared the shit out of her more than anything: reaching out to someone she hadn''t spoken to in months.

    Someone who had so desperately tried and failed to help her through all the dark, horrible things that she couldn¡¯t have helped Anna outrun no matter how hard she had tried. The person who had helped bring Ben into her life, the person who tried to keep him in her life, the person who blamed herself for him leaving her life.

    Laney.

    Her best friend. Her biggest supporter, her only confidant before Ben. The person who understood her past, knew who she was and where she had been, and where she had been trying to go. Someone who she had shared laughter, tears, fears and dreams with. Someone who she had cut off from her life in one cold, unforgiving second.

    Memories of the phone call flitted through her mind. All the yelling, the crying. The venomous words that had no doubt cut her friend so deep, that she may never forgive her for saying them. They hadn¡¯t spoken since that conversation. Laney hadn¡¯t texted, hadn''t called¡ªjust like Anna had told her to.

    And now, her phone in hand, thumb hovering over the call button, Anna was about to do what she had thought about dozens and dozens of times over the past months. Call Laney. Reach out. Try. Try and do something. Stop being such a piece of shit and just be a fucking decent human being.

    With a quick and deep inhale of breath through her lips, she pushed the button. She held the phone in her hand in front of her as it began to ring. 2:07pm. It had taken her an hour of sitting on the floor in her bathroom to finally push the goddamn call button. And with each ring that filled the silence of her empty apartment, her heart raced.

    Of course she wouldn¡¯t answer. Why the fuck would she want to talk to Anna? After all the hurtful things she¡¯d said and done ¡­ She had every right to never let Anna back into her life again. Why let someone back in who was volatile, so at the surface and always ready to¡ª

    ¡°Hello? Anna? Is everything okay? Anna?¡±

    She nearly started hyperventilating as she heard Laney¡¯s familiar voice come across the speaker. The phone was shaking in her hand, and she nearly gave into the urge to drop onto the floor like a scalding hot piece of metal. But she didn¡¯t.

    She had to press the phone into her ear hard to get the shaking to subside even a little.

    ¡°Laney? Hi. It¡¯s Anna. Everything, everything is ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Oh Anna, hi. It¡¯s so good to hear from you. I haven¡¯t heard from you in ages, and when I saw you calling just now, well, I just thought the worst and, I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re okay.¡±

    She wasn¡¯t okay, but that wasn¡¯t the point of her call. It wasn¡¯t to unload more of her shit, to cripple poor Laney further with Anna¡¯s piles and piles of never ending grief, frustration and sadness.

    ¡°No, no, everything''s fine. I¡¯m okay. I¡¯m, I¡¯m sorry I haven¡¯t called since, since¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Anna. Seriously, it''s fine. I understand, I really do. As much as I can understand. It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m just glad you called. Really, really glad.¡±

    And so the conversation went on, mostly pleasantries about Laney¡¯s new life with Greg. How they were finally getting settled into their new place. Getting new-old furniture, painting, making plans and living life. It was enough to make Anna want to hang up the phone, lay on the floor and cry herself to sleep.

    But she listened. She listened, and asked questions and tried to laugh when she could. She tried her best to be that person she¡¯d been all those months ago, before everything changed.

    But Laney wasn¡¯t stupid. There was no doubt she saw through Anna¡¯s flimsy as fuck facade. Maybe it was why she finally stopped talking about herself, and turned the conversation to the one place Anna was hoping it maybe wouldn¡¯t go.

    ¡°So how are you, Anna? How have you been? Really?¡±

    With a sigh, she quickly tried to pull something together that was half truth. Something that wouldn¡¯t make her start sobbing on the phone.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been ¡­ I¡¯ve been okay. Really. I tried to go to therapy. That didn¡¯t go well. Haven¡¯t gone back since. Well, I¡¯ve been back to the building, but not to go to therapy.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Then why have you been back?¡±

    Ah, shit. She really should¡¯ve practiced talking in the mirror before attempting to talk to her best friend without letting some dumb piece of information slip that she would inevitably have to explain.

    ¡°Uh, well, I uh, actually met a guy there. Not in that way. He just, he happened to be around after I left my appointment and I was ¡­ I was having a hard time. He just helped me through it, and I¡¯ve been back once to return something to him. That¡¯s all. Just a nice person.¡±

    She could almost see Laney, nodding her head along slowly with a critical look and squinted eyes as she had countless times before when Anna had tried to explain something very impactful in her life with her usual nonchalant bullshit.

    ¡°He sounds like a really nice guy. I¡¯m glad he was able to help you, I know how hard everything has been on you. The thought of you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is that Anna on the phone?¡±

    Oh, Greg. How she really, really hadn¡¯t missed him. Not at all.

    She heard shuffles of static as Laney tried to muffle the parrot in the background and responded to him.

    ¡°Yes, Greg, it is. Can you just give me a second please?¡±

    ¡°Tell her I say hi, that I worry about her. Ben is always asking about her¡ª¡±

    ¡°GREG. E-NOUGH. I¡¯ll. Talk. To. You. When. I¡¯m. Done.¡±

    But it was too late. Just hearing his name, hearing half a sentence about him, it was enough. She had to pinch herself and bite the inside of her cheek hard to keep the tears and thoughts and memories from spilling into her mind. So pinched and bit so hard, she was sure she drew blood in both places.

    ¡°God, I¡¯m sorry Anna. You know Greg. He can¡¯t seem to keep his two cents to himself or his mouth shut when someone ELSE is on the phone. Anyways, I¡¯m so glad you met someone who is able to help you in some way. That¡¯s why you¡¯ve been back, right?¡±

    With a painful swallow and a few quick blinks, she composed herself in a  matter of seconds and was able to respond without creating a telling pause.

    ¡°Uhm, yeah. Something like that. I had to return something of his, and then we just grabbed a bite to eat. Nothing crazy. Just, you know, trying to do some normal people stuff. It''s something, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Of course it¡¯s something. It¡¯s great! You know, if you¡¯re interested in trying something else that falls into the category of normal person stuff, we¡¯re throwing our first party at our new place. Just to celebrate and kind of have a last hurrah before winter is officially miserable. I know it¡¯s a lot to ask, but it¡¯s next weekend so you have plenty of time to think about it.¡±

    ¡°Oh god, Laney, I don¡¯t know¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know, I know. Just, just think about it, okay? Just consider it. I¡¯ll completely understand if you don¡¯t come. I will. Maybe you can invite the guy who¡¯s been helping you out? Just a thought.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, a thought. I will think about it, Laney, I will. Just don¡¯t get your hopes up, okay?¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t, I won¡¯t. I promise. I¡¯m so sorry Anna but we¡¯ve got an appointment we need to get to and I¡¯ve gotta go. Thank you for calling, Anna. It¡¯s ¡­ It¡¯s so good to hear from you. You have no idea. Please don¡¯t be a stranger. Please.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, Laney. Promise. I¡¯ll talk to you soon.¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Okay, Anna. We love you.¡±

    ¡°Bye.¡±

    The silence of her apartment burned into her ears after having Laney¡¯s bright, chipper voice fill her head for the first time in months.

    Hearing the word ¡°love¡± leave her best friend''s mouth nearly broke her heart in two. Laney had a hard time telling people she loved them, and before Anna had gone through hell, she had never heard it leave her friends lips. Anna had heard it more than a few times since, and it wasn¡¯t lost on her just how powerful of a gesture it was every single time.

    She loved Laney, and had no problem saying it before her life had unraveled. But the last person she had told those words to was out on the streets of the city, dressed in uniform, clutching onto a piece of her heart that she wished she could just have back.

    It was still too soon to utter those words to anyone. Even Laney. It went without saying that Anna loved her best friend. Maybe Laney knew that now, maybe she didn¡¯t. Maybe she really needed to hear those words from Anna. But she wasn¡¯t ready, not yet, and maybe not ever.

    She leaned her head back against the cool, tiled wall of her ridiculously tiny bathroom and considered Laney¡¯s offer.

    A party. With people. And expectations. And Greg.

    Her stomach churned and her hand went up to her forehead to rub her temples.

    The thought of inviting Sam only added to her anxiety and nausea.

    Then she remembered the day. Thursday. She quickly looked at the time on her phone. 2:55pm. Just enough time to make it across the city to the therapy building. Or whatever it was.

    She really did not want to sit in the silence of her apartment the rest of the day, left alone with her thoughts about the party and Greg¡¯s mention of Ben. It looked like a nice enough day outside. The sun was shining, the temperature cool but not freezing like it would be in just a few weeks when snow and slush became the everyday norm.

    It¡¯d be nice to get out, to get on the train. Plus, she¡¯d washed and ironed Sam¡¯s handkerchief earlier in the week¡ªready yet again to be given back to him, hopefully for good this time.

    She¡¯d grown weirdly attached to the soft piece of plain fabric. She¡¯d had to force herself to clean and fold it up neatly again. The urge to keep it by her bed and hold it when her mind started to unravel was strong for some strange reason. But she¡¯d listen to the rational part of her brain, and decided it¡¯d be best to clean it and tuck it away into her jacket pocket for some potential and improbable future outing.

    And it seemed as though today would be the day where she would in fact go out again. She stood up, body stiff and sore from sitting on the floor, and walked to the door to grab her coat and slip on her boots.

    She¡¯d leave the conversation with Laney and her empty apartment behind, if only for a little while, and go see if someone who had put up with her emotional bullshit would maybe want to put up with some more. And maybe even convince herself, and him, to go to a party with her next weekend and continue to deal with her emotional bullshit.

    <hr>

    It felt odd to be reliving the same order of small events once every week. She couldn¡¯t remember the last time anything in her life had been that consistent. Sure this excursion in particular wasn¡¯t exactly planned out¡ªbut that had been an achievement in and of itself. She didn¡¯t have to spend hours just trying to convince herself to leave her apartment. She just did it.

    And compared to her last outing, she felt much, much calmer. Her usual anxiety and general nervousness still swirled around inside her, churning up any and all feelings of general awfulness at the slightest reminder of something from her past. But sitting on the bench and waiting for Sam to come out felt ¡­ okay.

    Not great, not horrible, but okay. She leaned her forearms against her knees, hands held between them as one foot moved up and down¡ªthe only visible sign of her anxiety. She maybe didn''t look as presentable as she had last week, but most of her clothes were relatively clean, along with hair and a face that were freshly washed again.

    The door to the office opened, and she watched anxiously as the usual batch of people streamed out. Sam was one of the last ones through the door, and he was clad in a distractingly well-put together outfit. Crisp navy dress pants, a stark white collared shirt tucked under layers of a three-piece suit perfectly accented with just the right shoes. Whether he was coming from somewhere that required him to be that dressed up or he had yet to go, she didn¡¯t know. She watched intently as the first thing he did was move his eyes around the hallway, and then towards the bench¡ªas if he was looking for someone.

    ¡°Anna. What a lovely surprise.¡±

    A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she stood up and tucked her hands into her pockets, conveniently taking out the handkerchief and holding it out into the air between them¡ªjust like last week.

    ¡°I¡¯m really not very good at getting this thing back to you.¡±

    His own smile widened as he reached out and took it in his hands, feeling it between his fingers before looking back up at her.

    ¡°I¡¯m just glad it¡¯s serving its purpose so well. I think it¡¯d be bored now hanging around in my suit coat all day anyways.¡±

    She chuckled as she watched him tuck it into the same inner pocket of his suit coat before sticking his hands into the pockets of his perfectly ironed and creased dress pants. Blinking a few times to break her mind¡¯s enamor with his striking, distracting appearance, she cleared her throat and found it in herself to speak.

    ¡°Are you headed off somewhere, or ¡­ ?¡±

    ¡°I had court earlier, which required me to look particularly put together and presentable today.¡± He looked down at himself, arching his brows in what she could¡¯ve sworn was a bit of self annoyance, before bringing his eyes back to her. Everything in his countenance softened, a smile appearing at his lips. ¡°Seeing you after a hell of a long day is a very nice surprise.¡±

    She nodded along absentmindedly, the thoughts in her mind still distracted by her conversation with Laney, and the main reason why she¡¯d come to see him.

    In her periphery, she saw Sam trying to stoop to her height to get a better view of her face as she looked nervously down at the floor, trying to figure out how to ask what she wanted to ask.

    ¡°Everything alright? Something on your mind?¡±

    With a heaving sigh, she fiddled with her hands deep in her jacket pockets and picked a spot on the floor to look at, since facing Sam directly seemed to be more decency than she could currently muster.

    ¡°Earlier today, I talked to a friend, a really good friend, who I haven¡¯t talked to in what feels like forever. It was good. Weird, but good. She asked me if I¡¯d want to go to a party at her new place next weekend. Well, not super new, they moved in like a year ago, but they¡¯ve finally got it put together and nice, and they want to have a get together before winter comes and everything gets all miserable and nasty.¡±

    He nodded along as she spoke, and as she paused before the meat of what she really was getting after, he took his chance to interject.

    ¡°That¡¯s really great, Anna. I¡¯m sure she was glad to hear from you, too. Catching up with friends is always a good thing, and it sounds like she¡¯s excited to see you.¡±

    With what little social energy she had left to muster for the day, she finally moved her gaze to his and let the question out in a rush to fill the air between them.

    ¡°Would you want to go with me? I know we don¡¯t know each other all that well, but I really don¡¯t think I could do it alone, and you¡¯ve been so great, and easy to be around, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°I would love to.¡±

    It took her a few seconds to register that he¡¯d actually said yes. After blinking up at him for a few moments too many, she managed to find her voice again.

    ¡°Really? You¡¯ll go?¡±

    ¡°Really. I¡¯m pretty much living to work these days, so this is the perfect opportunity to get out and do something fun for once. I¡¯m truly tickled that you consider me to be party-worthy material. And I can assure you I do own clothes more casual than this, I promise.¡±

    Tension melted away from her shoulders and back as she found herself chuckling again.

    ¡°Honestly showing up in a full three piece suit looking ready to prosecute anyone at any given moment might help my cause. Maybe it will take the shock out of my sudden appearance at a social gathering if you loudly make bad lawyer jokes and tell dramatic courtroom stories.¡±

    ¡°I beg your pardon, but I¡¯ve agreed to be your plus one, not your personal court jester.¡±

    She laughed at the thought of him showing up as half clown, half lawyer. It really would help take the focus off of her and her reemergence back into the world.

    ¡°It means a lot to me that you¡¯re going. I really appreciate it. I promise they¡¯re good people, and it will be no more awkward than making small talk at any other social gathering.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯ve been told I can really lead the line of conversation without objection and win over any social situation with my peers.¡±

    Her exaggerated eye roll at his god awful jokes had him laughing as he looked down to check the watch on his wrist, his dimples on full display.

    He cocked his head as a curious expression came across his face, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at her.

    ¡°Have you ever been to a cabaret?¡±

    She must have looked truly bewildered, because he quickly launched into an explanation before she could ask him if he was feeling alright.

    ¡°There¡¯s a bar I like going to that has a cabaret feel, but is more of a piano and jazz club than anything. Really relaxed and mellow, nothing rowdy. It¡¯s one of the places I like to go after long days. I was just thinking it¡¯d be a good night for it, and in the spirit of asking for company, you¡¯re more than welcome to come if you¡¯re interested.¡±

    Calling Laney, heading out of her apartment without a three hour pep talk, asking a new acquaintance to come to a party with her ¡­ Hell, why not just casually add going to the cabaret to that list?

    She made a show of contemplating by moving her head from side to side and appearing to be deep in thought.

    ¡°I¡¯m not really dressed for an evening out, if it¡¯s a fancier place. ¡±

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s casual. If they accept me in my obnoxiously overdone lawyer attire, they¡¯ll accept you dressed like a completely normal patron.¡±

    Well, what else was she going to do? Head back to her empty apartment and turn on the TV so she could ignore it for hours on end and get lost in her own head?

    So she opted to shrug and gave him an easy grin that she hadn¡¯t felt on her face in ages.

    ¡°Lead the way to the cabaret, Sam.¡±

    And with that, he returned her smile and started making his way towards the stairs. She followed behind him, feeling a lightness that had escaped her for far too long. It seemed as though she was getting the smallest bit of clarity from the fog she¡¯d been drifting in week, after week, after week.

    Unpredictable breakdowns, calls to estranged best friends, breakfast with an expat lawyer, a trip to the cabaret ¡­ What a strange few weeks it had been. But something like comfort washed over her as they stepped out into the chilly air of the New York evening and headed towards the train station¡ªlike the comfort she felt from a meticulously folded handkerchief that was just a pocket away if she needed it.

 Last winter

    ¡°So Ben, how exactly did you convince Anna to go out? I¡¯m extremely confused. Was her apology that amazing? Did you trick her somehow? Was there food involved?¡±

    She rolled her eyes at Laney¡¯s facetious questions. Oh how she knew this would be coming. For once, she was spending time with someone they deemed ¡®normal¡¯ and ¡®nice¡¯ and ¡®gentlemanly¡¯. Granted she did, in fact, deem him those things too, and she was equally if not more shocked by her own outlandishly normal-ish behavior.

    ¡°I figured we could both use a night out since we were both a bit tense from life¡¯s ¡­ quandaries. Turns out I was right. Today was a total fluke. Although you may be right, Laney, I might¡¯ve persuaded her a bit with promises of a greasy breakfast, abundant coffee and guns.¡±

    Greg raised his eyebrows, nearly choking on the bite he was chewing, and Laney let out a booming laugh that was propelled by a bit too much wine.

    ¡°I mean really I just felt so bad that I yelled at Ben without reason and am just treating him to a disillusioned weekend of me actually acting like a person who goes out and does things spontaneously.¡±

    ¡°Now that sounds accurate.¡± She couldn¡¯t help but shoot a look at Greg, who was always a little too eager with his jabbing humor.

    ¡°Well that¡¯s great that you two have had some fun these past few days. God knows you both need it.¡±

    Ben and herself nodded in agreement while looking at each other. She felt a blush coming on, and found the timing to be perfect to start clearing plates from the table.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this cleaned up and get a movie started, huh? Who knows when this spell of me liking people will suddenly snap!¡±

    Laney shooed Greg and Ben off to the living room as we cleared the dishes, bringing them to the sink to split the duties of washing and drying. Laney tugged on her elbow as she started rinsing off plates.

    ¡°Do you like Ben, Anna? Do you?¡±

    ¡°Oh god Laney, come on¡ªaren¡¯t we past these middle school questions?¡±

    ¡°You are glowing, your uterus is practically the sun!¡±

    ¡°Jesus, Laney! Lay off the wine. He is nice. He is funny. I like him as a person. Do not push your luck with me.¡±

    ¡°Okay! Okay! I was just curious, jeez. But as a small side note you¡¯d be stupid to pass up that body. Straight stupid.¡±

    Her mouth dropped in awe as Laney exited the kitchen, a devious smirk spread on her face, and plopped next to Greg on the couch. Ben was sitting on the loveseat by himself, which left her either sitting next to him or on the armchair, alone. There was no doubt she wanted to sit next to Ben, but part of her wanted to spite Laney and her overzealous and annoying matchmaker attitude.

    She dried her hands off on a towel and turned the lights off as she walked into the living room. Grabbing a blanket off of the back of the armchair, she sat down in it victoriously. Laney shot her a look, and Anna smiled over at Ben, who smiled back.

    ¡°Fire it up, Greg!¡±

    It was Laney¡¯s night to pick a movie, and as usual, she picked one of her all time favorites that Anna had seen too many times over their lengthy friendship. Breakfast at Tiffany¡¯s. Although she was not at all interested in the movie, she feigned interest in watching. Ben watched closely, claiming he had only seen parts of it and never in its entirety. They all made a good show of gasping and berating him for dishonoring such a classic film, complete with popcorn throwing and booing.

    Laney and Greg were asleep within the first half hour, keeping their near perfect streak of never staying awake through a whole movie. Ben, on the other hand, had his eyes glued to the screen the entire time. His legs were casually crossed on the ottoman, looking quite comfortable in his jeans and black shirt, beer in hand.

    She had been chewing her lip, fighting against the craving for the same closeness, the same warmth they¡¯d shared earlier when they had hugged. As she confirmed that both Laney and Greg were sound asleep by waiting for their chorus of snoring, she took her chance to grab her blanket and carefully tiptoed over to sit by Ben.

    As she briefly broke his line of sight to the TV, he looked up at her with a smile.

    ¡°Well hey there.¡± His words were hushed, a bit raspy.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get cocky. You look warm and comfortable. And you do smell nice.¡±

    He raised his hands in a gesture of innocence and replied, ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±

    She curled up against his side so she could feel his every inhale and exhale, and he lazily rested his arm around the back of the couch. Her heartbeat was borderline painful as it slammed into her chest. She had never been this nervous, this anxious about someone else¡¯s presence, someone else''s touch.

    As they continued watching the movie, she was slowly able to calm her ridiculous heartbeat. That was until at some point, the arm that Ben had on the back of the couch had started to rub small circles on the front of her shoulder with his thumb. Her heartbeat shot off the charts in a matter of seconds. Ok, this was getting ridiculous. He was a man. Just a man.

    The movie wound down to its final scene, her favorite seen. Paul tossing the ring in Holly¡¯s lap, the desperate search for Cat, the kiss in the rain. It was all so romantically real, so wonderfully chaotic. Its imperfections made it tellingly honest. As the credits rolled, she turned her head slightly to look up at Ben. He looked back down at her, nodding in approval. She could tell he was tired, with bloodshot eyes and heavy lids, but he had made it to the end.

    ¡°You approve?¡±

    ¡°I do. It was a great movie. A lot of dialogue which is a nice change of pace from constant explosions.¡±

    His sleepiness was starting to get the best of him. She couldn¡¯t help but smile at how dopey he looked.

    ¡°What¡¯s up, smiley?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re so tired. How are you going to get home?¡±

    ¡°Home? I am far too comfortable to possibly get up and go out into the cold. That¡¯s madness.¡±

    He mumbled every word, his eyes slowly working towards being closed. Her foolish heart rate rising yet again, she debated what she should do¡ªGreg and Laney were still asleep. They had no proof that she and Ben had ever sat next to each other and, dare she say it, cuddled. She must have jinxed herself as she was thinking, because Greg started to move just as she was about to get up and flee the scene.

    ¡°Oh Laney, the movie is over. We gotta get going. Come on.¡±

    Ben cracked open one of his eyes and looked down at her. He made a threatening face and mouthed ¡®Don¡¯t move¡¯. With a firm punch into his leg, she sprang up and started to fold the blanket back over by the armchair. Ben reeled into an upright position and shook his head at her, a smile on his face.

    ¡°Wha? Oh, jeez, it is over. God what time is it? We¡¯re supposed to go back to your place, Greg.¡± Laney looked frazzled as she slowly came back into the grasp of reality.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, we still can. I¡¯ve got my car here. We need to get to packing up some of my stuff tomorrow morning. I¡¯m up, I¡¯m up.¡±

    Ben stood up and straightened his clothes out, following in line behind the groggy couple.

    With a few more minutes of shuffling about and grabbing a few miscellaneous things, Greg and Laney finally said their goodbyes.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be okay by yourself, Anna? I¡¯ll be back tomorrow night, I think.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Laney. I¡¯ll be fine. I have functioned alone before. Now get going you two, before you fall asleep standing.¡±

    With that they were out the door, waving goodbye to both her and Ben. Shutting it behind them, she turned to face him, standing with his hands in his pockets. She hadn¡¯t really thought this far ahead. There had yet to be a goodbye between them. Their meetings had blended into one another without a definite end. She grew more flustered as the silence grew louder. Ben managed to fill the space with his sleepy voice.

    ¡°This has been nice. I had a great weekend.¡±

    Shaking her head with her arms crossed her chest, she replied softly, nearly a whisper.

    ¡°This is insane. This is not something I do.¡± She realized she was talking more to herself than to him. His reply was sleep coated but sincere.

    ¡°Like you said, I¡¯m warm, cozy, and I smell nice.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad that you forgave me. And I¡¯m glad that we got to try it again.¡±

    ¡°Me too. Now, I better get out of here before I end up passing out where I stand. It¡¯s bad enough I¡¯ll be dead on my feet tomorrow for work.¡±

    She nodded and anxiously brushed her hair behind her ear with one hand as she opened the door for him with the other. Just as he started to walk past her and through the door, he paused. Reaching down for her hand, he brought it up to his lips, placing the lightest kiss on the back of her fingers. It looked like he was reaching for words, trying to put a sentence together. He settled for something simple.

    ¡°Goodnight, Anna.¡±

    And then he walked down the hall, hands in his pockets. She listened as the door to the building opened and closed with a heavy thud. Stepping inside the apartment, she closed the door behind herself. The clinking of the locks being turned and chained seemed to echo throughout the apartment. She didn¡¯t know what to do with herself. Her fingers still tingled from where Ben had placed his tender kiss.

    She had never experienced something like this before. All of the men, and a few women, who she had liked or been interested in just wanted sex. Sex always came first. She found herself wondering what it would have been like if Ben had stayed instead of leaving. She never literally slept with anyone. She was always too restless. Sleep constantly eluded her and her unrelenting thoughts.

    Now, as she turned off the lights in the apartment and padded quietly to her room, she felt anxious, but content. She didn¡¯t feel the need to stay up. Tiredness washed over her as she changed into a loose t-shirt and an old pair of ratty shorts.

    There was not one part of her that was entirely sure what to make of Ben. This was uncharted territory. She kept waiting for him to make a move on her, to get the sex and then grow bored and move on quickly, giving her the emotional whiplash that she was all too familiar with.

    As she laid down in her bed and looked up at the ceiling, slowly succumbing to the heaviness of her eyelids, she felt like she was in a different universe, an alternate reality. It took no time at all for her eyes to close, and she felt herself relax into whatever this was. It was comfortable, it felt safe, and it was something she had never experienced before. She had a lot of questions for herself, for Ben. But her mind quieted, and she let herself relax into her soft sheets and the comfort of her bed.

    Sleep found her there, underneath the charm of  a man she hardly knew, but who had made her feel like a version of herself she never knew existed. She held onto the memories of the past few days tightly, fearing they would slip away from her in the middle of the night. The goodness of it all made her heart swell, bringing her into sleep without so much as a single toss or a turn. An unfathomable version of herself.

    <hr>

    Sunlight pierced her eyelids, and she gave her limbs a deep stretch, welcoming the morning with a bit of gratitude for once. She blinked a few times and listened. Nothing greeted her but the piercing quiet of the apartment. Bringing her hand up to her forehead, she felt slightly ashamed. Did she honestly think that this, whatever it  was with Ben, was sustainable? That it would last? The distance between the night and the morning felt like thousands of miles. The surge of comforting assurance she felt last night as she fell asleep eluded her now.

    She rubbed her face fiercely with her hands and flung the covers off herself with an annoyed grumble. Sliding her feet into her beat-up slippers and pulling on her fluffy gray robe, she shuffled into the kitchen to brew her miracle juice. It was as she was filling the coffee pot with water at the sink that her eyes snagged on Ben¡¯s NYPD hat, sitting auspiciously on the coffee table in front of the couch.

    A smile came to her face as she walked over to the couch and sat down. All she could do was shake her head side to side in disbelief. A sigh left her lips as she looked around the apartment. Was this a convenient plant, or a genuine accident? It gave her a reason to see him again. She would allow herself time to adjust, to see how she honestly felt without him around. Even sitting there in the silence of the apartment, she craved hearing Ben¡¯s voice. Maybe a smart quip or a suggestion of something to do for the day. It felt good so far. Unpredictable but good.

    Springing up and off the loveseat, she quickly made her way back into the kitchen to grab her first cup of coffee. Sweeping  into the bathroom next, she looked herself in the eyes through the mirror. The dark bags were still apparent, but there was a smile on her lips that would not disappear. She suddenly felt motivated to get going and get to the studio to practice her routine. To work out all the kinks and tweak it towards perfection. It would be a space to allow her to focus on something other than the confusing and simultaneously exhilarating side effects of Ben.

    She was excited about the possibility of seeing him again. There was no doubt in her mind that she was actually looking forward to seeing him, but she was so much better at keeping to herself. Over the past couple of months, she had mastered functioning alone and had really come to terms with the fact that when she did date, she was destined to date heartless, womanizing men. She didn¡¯t believe in her capabilities of handling this kind of relationship. A functioning, positive one.

    A wave of anxiety rolled through her body as she stepped into the hot shower. When she closed her eyes, she focused on envisioning her routine, her movement through space. She sighed when she managed to succeed, seeing herself move across the studio space with grace and intention. It didn¡¯t take long before Ben appeared, in uniform, standing by the stage. This time, his eyes lingered on her much, much longer before he looked away with a painfully dashing crooked smile¡ªfull of mischievousness and charm.

    <hr>

    As the cab door slammed shut behind her, she started to second guess herself. It was around six at night by the time the yellow taxi had pulled up to the block before the police station. At first, she thought she might want to try getting a hold of him before she came, in case he had already left or had plans, but her nerves got the best of her as usual. She had a loose plan in her mind of what she was going to do, what she was going to say. But plans rarely meant much to her actions when push came to shove.

    She¡¯d decided to go see Ben after practicing her routine at the studio. As she sat on stage, sweating and out of breath among her colleagues, the decision just sort of happened. Yes she wanted to see Ben today. The hat gave her a flimsy excuse, transparent as a window, but an excuse nonetheless.

    She second guessed herself only about a thousand times as she got ready at her apartment, but ultimately stuck to her initial impulse. She had to leave a note for Laney, in case she came back looking for her at the apartment. ¡°Went to see Ben. Be back later. Stop squealing, you idiot.¡±

    Snow had started falling earlier this afternoon, and big, fluffy chunks were still swirling from the darkening sky. She looked up at the streetlight to see a bright beam of magical white flakes. She smiled at how pretty it was, at how elegantly each flake danced around each other. Deep down, she loathed the pretty white stuff surrounding her. It crippled every part of her commute, and she hated being wet and snowy. But for the moment, she appreciated its simplistic beauty and tried to refocus on what she thought she was going to say to Ben.

    Just as she was about to take the stairs up to the station, an officer stepped out of the passenger side door of a squad car parked in front of the building. It took her a second and a few more steps to verify that it was in fact Ben, but squinting through the thick falling snow and darkness, she knew it was him. Just fucking do it.

    ¡°Anna? Hey!¡±

    ¡°Well hi.¡±

    With a wide grin, he started walking towards her, eyes squinting against the fat wet flakes falling rapidly around them. He must have been out on a patrol, because he was decked out in full uniform¡ªbig dopey hat and all. Her heart did a little flip flop as she took in the officialness of his appearance. Uniforms always had this weird effect on her, and at least she was forewarned that he was armed. Why was she thinking about him using his gun? Good God, did intimacy and affection really freak her out this much? Get a grip, for god¡¯s sake. Get. A. Grip.

    ¡°What are you doing here? In a snowstorm, at that! Everything okay?¡±

    She gestured towards the NYPD hat she was wearing on her head. With a bashful smirk, she peeled it off of her head, letting all the wonderful trapped heat escape into the cold blowing air.

    ¡°Everything is fine, and you look very ... official. I¡¯m sorry, it¡¯s just so distracting that I need to say something about it in order to move on.¡± She made a show of gesturing to him from head to foot with her hand before continuing on with her rushed words that felt hot on the tip of her tongue. ¡°And don¡¯t think I made a special trip to come see you. Seriously. Obviously you need this hat to function. It¡¯s not a big deal.¡±

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    He approached her, stopping just a few short inches away, the snow blanketing and coating them in thick white fluff. He cocked his head to one side and hooked his thumbs on the front of his utility belt. They were so close together¡ªhe had stopped just before the curb of the sidewalk. It gave her a few inches on him, which made her feel even more anxious and less in control over what she was planning on saying.

    She extended his hat out towards him, and he took it with a smile.

    ¡°I thought you might keep it as collateral.¡±

    ¡°I considered it. But that hat you have on now is ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t hate on the official NYPD uniform, now. Here, is this better?¡±

    In one fluid motion he swapped out the hat he was wearing for the baseball cap he had left on her coffee table as a maybe unintentional way to bring her back to him without needing any real reason. She bit her lip and nodded in approval. He took a small step forward and looked up at her with a smile on his face. All she could do was smile back. All her carefully planned words were escaping her. The thought out wording of every sentence to explain her apprehension about all of this had slipped away into the frozen air without a trace.

    ¡°What¡¯s up, smiley?¡±

    She looked down at her chunky black boots to avoid his gaze and tried to deal with the fact that he¡¯d asked her point blank what she was thinking. With a sigh and a shake of her head to get the wet snow out of her hair, she looked back down into Ben¡¯s eyes and found some of the words that had been milling about in her mind all day.

    ¡°This is all very new to me. This isn¡¯t my thing, not in the slightest. I don¡¯t date gentlemen or genuinely nice guys. I date guys who take money out of my wallet and who tell me I should dress sluttier. I come with a lot of stuff.¡± She nearly tripped on the last word, knowing the implications it presented. With a swallow and another quick breath, she trudged ahead and managed to finish her silly little monologue.

    ¡°You¡¯re just too damn nice, and I really don¡¯t want to hurt you or scare you away. You¡¯re seriously putting a damper on my plan to be an ornery man-hater for the rest of my life. I have a cat already. I don¡¯t even like cats."

    ¡°I think society will thank me for derailing that plan. And I think you¡¯ll thank me, too.¡±

    She cocked her head to one side and looked down at his still smiling face.

    ¡°Look. I¡¯m just saying that you¡¯ve been warned. This is uncharted territory for me. Zero experience. There will probably be a lot of awkward high-fiving and inappropriate butt touching.¡±

    With a laugh, he looked down at his shoes and then back up at her. There was a softness in his eyes as he lifted up one of his hands in a high-fiving position.

    ¡°I, Ben Johnson, acknowledge the fact that I have been formally warned about random butt touching and awkward, unsolicited high fives.¡±

    Instead of reaching up to plant a firm high five on his hand as her knee-jerk reaction, she carefully laid her hands on either side of his collar and lightly placed her lips onto his stubbled cheek. The smell of his breath was minty, and it mixed with the cold air to send an electric shiver down her spine.

    Her heart responded in a series of painful thumps. A sudden rush of heat spread through her cheeks and seemed to shoot straight down into her chest.  As she moved her head back to gauge his reaction, his eyes conveyed a bit of shock with excitement, and his hand was still in the air waiting for a high five.

    ¡°You still owe me a day of doing what I want to do.¡± She spoke in more of a whisper than before, laced with a bit of a rasp that gave away just how affected she was by her little kiss.

    ¡°The night is yours. I¡¯m there.¡± His eager response had her biting the inside of her cheek to keep her stupid smile from being too big and too revealing of the happiness this moment was giving her.

    ¡°Now, based on my past, I think this is the part where you quickly grab my wallet and start running.¡±

    Ben responded by stepping up onto the sidewalk, restoring the natural order of their heights. With his mid-high five hand, he reached up to spin his hat around so it was backwards. Her hands slid down from his collar to rest on the front of his kevlar vest. One hand over his badge, the other over his last name. He leaned in so that their lips brushed together when he spoke.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t your past.¡±

    Her heart hitched in her chest, the only sound in her ears their breathing and the swirling, heavy silence of the snow.

    Lips brushing together, eyes nearly closed, she let out the words that pushed against her chest with every wild beat of her heart.

    ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡±

    ¡°We all are.¡±

    It was wet, snowy, frozen, and a little snotty, but it was their first kiss. It wasn¡¯t booze laced, there was no throbbing music, there was no one yelling ¡°just fuck her already¡±. It was minty and mostly teeth due to her incessant smiling. One of Ben¡¯s hands reached behind her waist and pulled her into him further. His other ice-cold hand made its way to her burning hot cheek. She felt herself starting to give more until the whistles of other people caught her ear.

    Ben pulled away, breathless, and looked at her for a moment before turning his head to the gaggle of cops that had just exited the station.

    ¡°Nice work, Johnson! Straight from work, right to pleasure.¡±

    ¡°Keep moving, fellas.¡± He turned back to look into her eyes as he yelled back to his cohorts.

    She offered the officers a wave with one of her hands and couldn¡¯t help but laugh. The officers waved back, some offering salutes, and strode off into the parking lot, some of them making more whistles as they departed. She turned her head back to Ben who was still smiling back at her.

    ¡°So, are you actually done working or ¡­ ?¡±

    ¡°I am, actually. Let me get changed and we can get out of here.¡±

    ¡°How about drinks? I think I need one after all of ¡­ this!¡± She made a motion with her hands in the limited space between them.

    ¡°You can pick the place since this is your neighborhood.¡±

    ¡°Done and done.¡±

    He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, soft and lingering.

    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get inside. You¡¯re freezing.¡±

    They walked past more cops as they headed into the station, his arm around her shoulder.

    ¡°So Ben, who is this beautiful lady?¡±

    ¡°Boys, this is Anna.¡± He looked down at her as he spoke, a big stupid grin still spread across his face.

    ¡°Anna, nice to meet you. Welcome to the NYPD.¡±

    ¡°Well thanks, glad to be here.¡±

    Ben led her into the station and back to his desk. An overwhelming wave of intimacy rolled over her, like she was meeting his family for the first time or looking through one of his childhood photo albums. He could¡¯ve left her in the lobby, but instead he brought her to his desk. The feeling pulsing through her chest now was stronger than when they had kissed. It was disorienting.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back in  a couple minutes, don¡¯t go anywhere now.¡±

    ¡°Depends, are there other hot cops here?¡±

    He made a sarcastic face at her and then disappeared down a hallway. She took inventory of his desk while he was away getting changed. There were only a few photos: a family picture including Ben¡¯s parents and two siblings, a picture of Ben and his mother when she was sick in the hospital, and a picture of Ben with the New York Giants cheerleaders. His grin was the biggest with his mother.

    All the other desks had stacks of paperwork on them, no doubt waiting to be tackled on Monday morning. She kept forgetting it was Sunday. There were a few desk lights on, but everyone must have been out working. The streets of New York had to be way more exciting than mountains of monotonous paperwork. Even she had to agree with that logic. She never understood the appeal of desk work. Or a regular nine-to-five. Sure, she did it a few days a week, but every week for the rest of her life? She just couldn¡¯t fathom it.

    In the silence of the room, she took a deep breath and exhaled through her mouth. Her hands reached up to either side of her face. She needed to make sure she was still intact. That she hadn¡¯t just flown at supersonic speed into some alternate universe. Closing her eyes tightly for just a second, she opened them to find herself still in the middle of a police station, waiting for Ben. She laughed to herself and leaned against Ben¡¯s desk for support. Was this the corner she had been waiting to turn throughout her entire love life? Is this what Laney kept telling her about? Or was Ben a paid actor? She couldn¡¯t be sure.

    He reappeared then, freshly showered judging by his slightly damp hair and being back in his street clothes. She was still leaning against his desk, her arms holding her up with her butt resting against the top. Ben walked over to her, put his hands down around either side of her waist, and kissed the top of her head. She couldn¡¯t help but start to laugh as he pulled away.

    ¡°Am I funny to you?¡±

    ¡°One kiss and you are unstoppable.¡±

    ¡°You are a very beautiful woman. I have kiss fever now.¡±

    With a playful punch in his chest, he feigned injury and then offered her his hand. Another gesture that was utterly alien to her. Cash tips for the night before were the only thing put in her hand by previous assholes. More heat radiated from her cheeks. That was going to need to stop. Quickly. They walked through the station hand in  hand, and were just about to step through the door into the cold night when the sergeant at the front desk got Ben¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Hey, Johnson. Some guy was looking for you earlier¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? Who was he?¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t say. He was here not too long ago. Just wanted to know where you were. Told him we don¡¯t disclose that information. He seemed a little off.¡±

    ¡°Huh. Well let me know if he comes back again. It might be someone trying to get info on an arrest or case. I¡¯ve handed out my card more than a few times this week.¡±

    ¡°Will do, Johnson¡ªbe careful out there. Miss.¡±

    She nodded back to the sergeant before they stepped outside into the still heavily falling snow. Ben was eager to tuck her under his arm and guide her across the street. She turned her head in an attempt to look up at him¡ªall she could see was the stubble on his cheek and one of his bright green eyes.

    ¡°So some guy just came around looking for you? Seems a little odd.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the thing about being a cop. You meet a lot of people while you¡¯re out there trying to keep the peace. Not all are good, and not all are bad.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re obviously so painfully handsome, I mean you can¡¯t just smile and wink at people and then poof! They¡¯re not angry anymore?¡±

    ¡°Trust me. Rookie Ben tried. Let¡¯s just say I got sick of the ass kickings fast.¡±

    ¡°Poor rookie Ben.¡±

    They reached a door that led into a rather fancy looking restaurant. Part of her had secretly been hoping for another hole-in-the wall cop bar. A place with classic rock playing on a shitty, barely functioning jukebox and the smell of stale cigarette smoke. A place where cops went to exchange war stories and grab a beer after shifts.

    The wild runnings of her imagination were further derailed when Ben held the door open and a huge stream of warm air greeted her wind-burned cheeks. The smell of garlic and herbs were strong as they approached the hostess, causing her stomach to let out a loud, churning gurgle. Food. At least there was the promise of delicious food at this almost unbearably crowded and intimate restaurant.

    ¡°Table for two?¡±

    Another phrase that would not have sent a normal person''s heart slamming into their ribs. But hers took off again, racing away at the thought of a man taking her to dinner. A guy had once told her that the only woman he would take out to dinner was whatever bitch he would end up marrying. At the time, she was hoping she would end up being that bitch.

    ¡°That would be fantastic.¡±

    She followed behind Ben, her hand loosely in his, as they weaved through the crowded bar area. Couples, friends and coworkers were chatting away and laughing, enjoying drinks that warmed their bellies on this snowy winter night. The hostess led them to a table by the fogged front windows. A little drafty, but nothing a glass of wine couldn¡¯t fix. And hopefully it would help check her nerves, too.

    As Ben thanked the hostess, he pulled out the high stool and waited for her to sit down. Another gesture she had never known before. It had to stop somewhere, his gentlemanliness. Dating had always been like stepping around on a floor covered in shattered glass. She just kept waiting for the intentional trip that most guys gave her, and the resulting fall that would lead to a bloodied, incredibly hurt version of herself. She took her seat with a smile, rubbing her hands together to try and get some warmth back into her fingers.

    ¡°You know, now that we¡¯ve kissed, you don¡¯t have to keep up the gentleman charade.¡±

    ¡°The gentleman part comes naturally. Package deal.¡±

    ¡°Well color me impressed.¡±

    Ben offered her a quick wink and then raised his hand to grab the attention of one of the many flustered waitresses.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the beer on special, and ¡­ ?¡±

    ¡°Glass of red wine. Oh and breadsticks please. The cheese-filled kind if you have them.¡± The waitress gave a polite nod and headed off to fetch our drinks. Ben leaned forward onto the table slightly, arms crossed in front of himself with a grin spread across his cold flushed cheeks.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad I kissed you when I did.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on, a little garlic never hurt anyone.¡±

    ¡°Just my libido.¡±

    They shared a smile and she rested her cheek on one of her palms, her elbow on the table. Ben remained leaning on his folded arms, eyeing her with a bright and steady gaze. Too many questions were bouncing around in her mind. Part of her was deeply interested in learning more about Ben. Another part wanted to test this seemingly too put together man. Then there was the urge to stand up and ask where exactly the pranksters with the hidden cameras were.

    ¡°So how many girlfriends have you had?¡±

    He raised one of his eyebrows but didn¡¯t hesitate with his answer.

    ¡°Girlfriends? None since I¡¯ve been a cop. Young Ben was a lot better at holding a steady relationship than present Ben. A lot of women find out you¡¯re a cop and that turns them into weird she-beasts.¡±

    ¡°None? Seriously? Your balls must have turned blue and fallen off a long time ago.¡±

    With a laugh and a shake of his head he took a swig off of the beer that had just been brought to the table by the waitress. Anna gave her wine a quick sniff before taking a sip. Bitter to surprisingly sweet. Wonderfully appropriate.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say I wasn¡¯t meeting women. Just nothing serious. The occasional one night stand here and there, some lasting longer than just a night.¡±

    ¡°Wow. I did not have you pegged as the type.¡± She took another sip of wine, weighing this freshly revealed information. Focusing on the remaining wine in her glass, she  felt a surge of apprehension swell in her gut. He was being honest. If he really wanted to fool her into bed with him, he wouldn¡¯t come forward as a sleaze-bag. Right? Unless he was just that confident. The thought of that was beyond appalling.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen a lot of stuff as a cop. A lot of things that I thought I would be able to handle back when I was still in the academy. I was wrong. Once you see your first domestic violence dispute, your first sexual assault scene, your first child abuse case, your first homicide, you start to question your ability to protect people. At least that was the case for me. Relationships seemed pointless. I could barely handle seeing people who were victims. The emotional stuff really got to me. Here I am seven years in and I¡¯m just starting to try and really believe in myself again. My off-duty self.¡±

    Sharp guilt panged at her as he spoke. She always assumed the worst. For all the judgment she passed on others, she never once put herself in anyone else¡¯s shoes. She was always too busy defending her own beat up, worn out, falling apart shoes. Of course Ben had experienced a lot of heinous crimes. She managed to swallow back her assumptions and hesitantly reached across the table to lightly place her still-cold hand on top of Ben¡¯s.

    He looked up from his beer and gave her a small smile. She traced small, delicate circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. A knee-jerk reaction. It was a way she had comforted Laney thousands of times. This was the first time she had ever used it to comfort a man. The honesty in Ben made her want to reach out, to try and tap into her own version of her off-duty self.  She couldn¡¯t bring herself to look him in the eye. Instead she kept her gaze on their hands, a slight shake in her body, still trying to comprehend that it was actually her hand caressing his.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry my hand is still cold.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t mind.¡±

    Her voice got small as she let the next words spill out of her lips. She wanted to match his honesty, or at least try. So she said what she was thinking. Something no man, outside of damn stubborn Greg, had ever wanted.

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine what you¡¯ve been through, Ben.¡±

    As her eyes finally shifted back to his face, his gaze moved back down to their hands as he spun his beer bottle around in the other.

    ¡°It¡¯s not something I like to share. I always thought I would be the tough guy. The guy who has seen it all and still takes on everything. A girlfriend. A family. My own mother¡¯s illness. I¡¯ve been wrong about a lot. I spent most of my time as a rookie bouncing around between psych at the station and binges at bars. There were times when I hated myself for being weak, for not being who I thought I should be.¡±

    She stared back at him, his eyes still downcast at his beer. She struggled to find the words she knew he needed to hear. They were in her somewhere, buried beneath years of selfishness and self righteous judgements. Underneath all those men who never let her in, and always left her stranded in more ways than one.

    ¡°I¡¯ve only known you for three days, Ben. That¡¯s not a long time. But somehow, I already know you are the most honest, understanding and sincere person I¡¯ve ever met. I¡¯m serious. You have already done and sacrificed a lot for this city. Whatever you decide to do, you¡¯ll still be a great man.¡±

    She gave his hand a small squeeze as she finished speaking. He finally moved his gaze from the table and looked her into her eyes with a smile.

    ¡°Thank you. These past few days have really been amazing.¡±

    ¡°Before you came along, I was well on my way to becoming a spinster. People have never been my strong suit. Let alone a male. Let alone a cop. Let alone someone who doesn¡¯t have a nasty club drug habit or a weird thing for hands.¡±

    ¡°I swear you should be the poster child for dating gone wrong.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s definitely not something I¡¯m proud of, but I have an endless vault of dating atrocities.¡±

    The waitress brought the bread over to their table, and suddenly Anna was reminded of the vast emptiness in her stomach. Cheesy, garlicky goodness smothered her senses as she eagerly grabbed one of the hot pieces of bread. As she happily munched on the delectable carb- and dairy-loaded delights, Ben reached around behind his back and brought out his wallet. She raised an eyebrow as she watched him pull out a business card.

    Wiping off her hands on a dark green linen napkin, Ben wrote something on the back of the card and slid it across the table. She picked it up and saw that it was Ben¡¯s business card from the station. It gave his work phone, email, and fax number. She flipped it over to find his home address and his cell phone number.

    ¡°You must be pretty serious if you¡¯ve officially given yourself nowhere to hide. I mean now I can fax you.¡±

    ¡°If I start getting prank calls or singing leprechauns, at least I¡¯ll know who¡¯s behind it.¡±

    ¡°Damn! You sussed me out before I even had a chance to begin.¡±

    She continued eating as she contemplated the business card which she now held in her hand. Most phone numbers guys had given her over the years were either disconnected or made up. Being around men who were accountable or reachable had taught her to believe little and question most everything. The card was real. She wasn¡¯t sure what it meant to him. She knew that for herself, it was an unfamiliar gesture of deliberate seriousness.

    Wiping her hands off on the linen napkin again, she placed it on her lap and folded her hands together in front of herself on the table. The card was still laid out on the table next to her hands. Ben took another swig of his beer and then leaned forward on his forearms. He was smiling. She felt like he was spending a lot of his time smiling at her. It would take time to convince herself fully that his were not masking poisonous intentions.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t know about this, Ben.¡± She sighed, her eyes flitting back down to the tabletop briefly before looking back at his handsome face. ¡°This weekend has been unreal. Just bizarre. Nothing about it seems remotely possible. I mean it¡¯s all been amazing, I honestly don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever felt like this before. But it''s all been contained to this weekend, you know? Tomorrow is Monday, and then we are back to being boring, everyday ourselves. I have this strange feeling that this is just a flash in a pan.¡±

    He took a moment to look down at his hands before he looked back up at her and spoke softly, with intent.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t had a weekend like this before either, Anna. This is all new to me, too. There isn¡¯t much I can do but tell you that I¡¯ve never felt this way about anyone before. I want to know where this goes. I feel good about it. I don¡¯t want this weekend to be a blaze of glory that just fades away. I want to try and see where it can go. To be with you, to get to know you. I want to prove myself to you. What do you think?¡±

    As he spoke, he had become increasingly more animated. His eyes moved around from her, to the table, to looking out the window at the snow-blown streets basked in the yellow glow of the street lights. She could tell that his nervousness grew with every word he spoke. Now he wrung his hands together in front of him, looking at her and anxiously awaiting a response.

    ¡°I think this is insane. Absolutely insane. I think I¡¯m either dreaming or in a coma. I don¡¯t get happy. I don¡¯t get functional. I don¡¯t get normal, let alone you. I don¡¯t know this Anna, whoever she is. But, as impossible as this all seems, I do want to try. I wanna see where this goes too. Let¡¯s try.¡±

    With a huge grin he lifted his hand up into a high five position. He even went as far as to point with his raised hand with his free one. She gave it a satisfying smack, and he raised his glass in celebration.

    ¡°To where we are now, and to where we are going.¡±

    She shook her head slightly, and with a breathy chuckle, they clinked glasses to salute the unknown. As they both drank, there was a commotion unfolding at the front of the restaurant. They both turned towards the yelling. The hostess was threatening to call the cops if someone didn¡¯t leave.

    ¡°Hold on, I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    Ben placed his hand on her shoulder as he walked past their table and approached the hostess. Before Ben reached her, someone abruptly exited the restaurant, slamming the glass door open into the wall, and was now walking down the sidewalk. Whoever it was paused right in front of where she sat. They had a jacket on, a hood covering their head and a scarf masking their face. Their hand reached out and rested on the glass. It was only for a few brief seconds before they continued walking, their hand sliding across the entire length of the window. Their fingertips left a smeared path on the fogged glass.

    A lump formed in her throat at the bizarre sight, an uncomfortable shiver gathering at the back of her neck. She was still staring out the window when Ben came back to the table. Blinking with a slight shake of her head, she turned back to him. His brow was furrowed as he took another sip of his beer.

    ¡°What was that all about?¡±

    ¡°Apparently some guy came in and demanded to know where the ¡®happy couple¡¯ was. The hostess said he looked homeless. No doubt he was probably high or drunk and just having some kind of episode. He left before I could get eyes on him. I told her to call the cops if he shows up anywhere near here again.¡±

    There was a moment after he finished talking when she considered telling him about how the man had stopped outside, how he had put his hand on the glass. But it didn¡¯t come to her lips. Instead, she pushed it back down with her other keep to yourself moments. She wasn¡¯t cripplingly paranoid like her last stepmother. That is not how she would start something new, not by dredging up parts of a person she had been in the past.

    ¡°Maybe next time we¡¯ll have to get farther away from the precinct.¡±

    He rested his chin on his hand with a sigh and gave her a crooked smirk. Anxiety was still rattling through her bones from the strange behavior of the man who had disrupted the restaurant. The fog on the window still bore the marks of his fingers. She forced her focus to Ben¡¯s face, his warm smile, his stubble-covered cheeks. her own smile quickly returned to her face as they exchanged looks. She took a long sip of wine and settled into her seat.

    ¡°So let¡¯s hear more about younger Ben. I mean, I need to know how present Ben came to be.¡±

    Ben¡¯s huge, toothy smile returned to his face as he hunkered down to start a story. The dinner rush ebbed and flowed around them, swaths of people leaving and entering the restaurant. In the midst of it all, there they were. Two people starting to build a relationship¡ªsomething that was raw and imperfect. Nothing about them felt even or balanced out. Each of them grew out of completely different experiences.

    But they did share common ground. They both saw something in each other. Where one of them lacked, the other thrived. It kept their conversation going that night. It kept them asking questions and sharing laughter. It made them stop for a moment to offer understanding or apologies. They were just drawing the outline, creating the border. There was so much to cover before they started to fill in all the blanks, to color in the middle. It kept them coming back for more, it carried them into spring.

 Chapter 4

    If her soul had a physical form, the cabaret would have been it. Everything about the space seemed to speak to her personality and general ¡®her¡¯-ness in one way or another.

    There were heavy, layered curtains that hung on every inch of the walls that served no purpose other than to bring more richness and texture to the space. They weren¡¯t covering windows to block out the sun¡ªthey were simply there to bring more darkness to the dark.

    Vintage round tables spotted the large open space in front of the stage, while cozy and intimate booths lined the walls with button tufted backrests and faded velvet upholstery. Everything looked and felt worn, used and aged. From the carpet to the vaulted gold foil ceiling to the shaded wall lamps.

    It was incredible. And she loved it. It was a blur of red with the shine of gold and the endless depths of black thrown in. Even though she and Sam had only been sitting for a handful of seconds, she knew she could easily spend hours in the place and still not be ready to leave. It felt so inviting, so comfortable, so muted and dulled and relaxed.

    ¡°I love this. It¡¯s stunning. I can¡¯t believe it took me twenty nine years of life before stepping foot into one.¡± She shook her head to further convey her disbelief. ¡°Wow.¡±

    He gave her a crooked grin as he settled into his seat, resting his arms on the round table they had chosen in the middle of the room, and took a look around himself.

    ¡°It¡¯s kept me company during some fairly shitty times in my life. Cheap bottom-shelf booze, incredible music and never crowded¡ªespecially on a Thursday night like tonight where we¡¯ve got the whole damn place to ourselves. It¡¯s a peaceful paradise to wallow in any brand of problem.¡±

    She nodded along in agreement, her eyes taking in how Sam looked in his long-sleeve white dress shirt and suspenders, sporting his usual laid-back demeanor. The waitress pulled her from her thoughts as she stopped at their table and asked for their drink order.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take an old-fashioned, and the lady will have ¡­ ?¡±

    She couldn¡¯t remember the last time alcohol had touched her lips. And if she spent too long dwelling on it, she probably would remember and decline a drink. But what the hell¡ªshe was out at a cabaret with a lawyer. She¡¯d order a drink.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have the same, thanks.¡±

    Sam gave a nod of approval and further settled himself into his chair before cocking his head and narrowing his eyes at her.

    ¡°So we have plans to go to a party next weekend, and you know a little about me, and I hardly know anything about you. That feels like something we should probably rectify.¡±

    She made a good show of exhaling an over dramatized sigh as she shrugged off her coat and got herself comfortable in the slightly rickety, yet comfortable chair.

    ¡°I had a feeling we couldn¡¯t just go on seeing each other once a week, me returning your handkerchief to you, us going out and having a good time, me inevitably having another breakdown before parting ways, and me still ending up with your damn handkerchief.¡±

    He laughed easily and ran a hand through his hair as the waitress came by with their drinks with nothing more than a quick smile and a nod.

    They both took sips of the amber liquid before continuing on with their conversation. A sip that both settled and unnerved her at the same time. The taste of the alcohol overwhelmed all of her senses at once. It brought her back to times and places she instantly pushed down and out of her mind. The warmth and familiarity of it was soothing, and seemed to tame the anxiety and nervousness that was constantly gnawing away at her insides.

    Sam continued where they left off, giving her a moment to rub her lips together and move her tongue around her mouth to get reacquainted with the taste and bite of liquor.

    ¡°You know as much as I¡¯ve come to enjoy and look forward to our little cycle and routine, I think it would do us both some good to try and fine tune it with some improvements.¡±

    Nodding along in agreement was the only form of response she offered. She wasn¡¯t sure where the hell she should start. Should she just launch in on her own personal struggles? Should she go back to the first day they met and try to explain the absolute disaster and fuckery that was her first attempt at going to therapy? Or should she try and explain why a booth full of cops was enough to make her literally flee a diner and have a breakdown in the middle of a sidewalk?

    Any choice seemed god awful to her, and if she was going to have to do it, she¡¯d rather he just chose for her.

    So as she stared down at her glass and fiddled with the straw, using it to push around the orange rind and ice, Sam audibly took a breath and posed a question at a slightly lower volume than he¡¯d spoken with before¡ªas if he knew how delicate the conversation was, ready to shatter with the slightest change in pressure.

    ¡°What happened last week? With the coppers, at the diner?¡±

    Ah. The more innocent of the two questions, at least in her mind, and probably in his. It didn¡¯t directly relate to therapy, and was probably the most confusing out of the two scenarios.

    Rubbing her lips together nervously, she took another much longer sip from her drink. She kept her eyes on the half-filled glass as she started to talk honestly to the person who had been such a surprisingly crucial part of rebalancing her life in the past few weeks.

    ¡°My ex-boyfriend was a cop. It wasn¡¯t until I saw the group of them come into the diner that I remembered exactly where we were, and how close it was to his precinct. I guess I really didn¡¯t want them to recognize me, and potentially pass word of it back to him. Not that he¡¯s volatile or anything like that, it¡¯s just, well, we didn¡¯t exactly separate on good terms, and I just really don¡¯t think I could handle even thinking about a hypothetical situation where I would have to talk to him, let alone see him.¡±

    Out of her periphery, she could see Sam nodding along as she spoke, his gaze still fixed on her downcast face. He wasn¡¯t deterred by her soft, quivering voice and uneasiness. He gently kept prodding her along, getting her to continue talking by asking simple enough questions.

    ¡°I feel like he might have something to do with how we first met outside of my therapist¡¯s office?¡±

    Another slow nod of her head and tight pursing of her lips. Jesus fuck why did it still hurt her so much to talk about Ben? Why?

    It took another long sip of her old fashioned to lubricate her senses into a more relaxed, numbed state, so she could continue on with letting Sam into the debris field that was her life. The beautiful music from the piano served as an eerie yet appropriate backdrop to their conversation. It seemed to eb and flow perfectly with the pauses and words they shared back and forth.

    Between the numbing warmth of the alcohol and melancholy lilt of the music, the words were slowly coaxed out from her brain, past her teeth and into the air. It was at the risk of making them real again, of allowing them to become real, spoken aloud, giving them form so they could hurt her again. A painful lump formed in her throat, but she trudged ahead.

    ¡°You would be correct to make that assumption.¡±

    She swallowed hard as she considered the implications of what was about to come off of her tongue and into the space between them. They were words she had not spoken to anyone since that life-ruining night all those months ago.

    But something about being in the near empty cabaret with Sam, a person who had so selflessly helped her time and time again these past weeks, a person with not the slightest clue of who she was or what had happened to her, made her want to say it.

    To finally say the words that haunted her day after day. Words that never slept, never left her alone, never gave her a second of peace. But they were hers to share, and here and now felt like an okay time to just let them out of her skull, if only to see if it helped her feel any little bit better. The most she had to lose was him walking out, shutting her and her misery down. It wouldn¡¯t be a shock¡ªit would be expected. Losing was familiar. She would be able to bear it.

    With a quiet voice and the stilling of her hands on the cool glass of her drink, she lowered her head further and slowly started to release some of the pressure from inside her over-stressed body.

    ¡°Six months ago, somebody assaulted me as I was leaving work late.¡±

    She paused, letting the words sink into the air around them. The walls of the room seemed to lean in further on her, but not enough to send her off into panic. She focused hard on keeping her breathing even, on leashing the nerves and shame that surged up inside of her chest.

    The alcohol was certainly helping the words slip past her usually tightly sealed lips. Good or bad, she didn¡¯t know yet. She just focused on keeping her shit together for as long as she could. As long as she was able to talk, she would.

    Sam only sat and looked at her with an intent and open gaze. She couldn¡¯t tell if he was breathing or not¡ªit felt like the whole room had held its breath, even though it was empty.

    ¡°The guy forced me back into my dance studio as I was trying to lock up and leave, assaulted me, and left me. I think he had been stalking my ex and I for months, because of someone who had been harassing me outside my building and leaving notes under the main door.¡±

    More silence met her ears as she took a breath to try and calm her hammering heart and still the shaking that had crept into her fingers, causing the ice in her glass to create erratic clinks. Without needing another sip, she finished the last piece of the greatly abbreviated tale so she could have it out of her after all those months. A watered down, bullet-point version, but a version nonetheless.

    ¡°I survived, or some of me did, and they weren¡¯t able to find the piece of fucking trash who did it. He won¡¯t be held accountable, won¡¯t be punished. It didn¡¯t help that my ex was in denial about the whole thing and thought we could just go back to being how it was before it happened. Wanted me to go back to how I was before. Needless to say, it¡¯s what caused our relationship to end very abruptly.¡±

    As the last sentence left her lips in what she felt like was a near whisper, she picked up her glass, bypassing the straw, and chugged the last half of her drink. It was easy to raise her empty glass, get the attention of the waitress, and get another one on its way to her.

    Sam sat, unmoving and still looking at her. His eyes were now a little wider, his mouth just slightly agape. The ending of the song from the piano player and resulting silence of the bar seemed to spur his brain back into motion.

    He blinked rapidly and leaned forward on his arms to get closer to her as he whispered, ¡°Anna, I am so unbelievably sorry. That doesn¡¯t even cover it, I know, but, I am so, so sorry.¡±

    She nodded with pursed lips and finally looked up at him as she said, ¡°It¡¯s fucked. Plain and simple. The whole fucking thing. It¡¯s two thousand percent fucked in a way I still can¡¯t understand. And its been six fucking months since that piece of shit unraveled my whole life.¡±

    The waitress was an angel clad in an old, rather ill-fitting uniform as she dropped off another old fashioned in front of her. Anna quickly brought it to her lips and took a long, hard swallow of the strong amber liquid that burned her esophagus the whole way down, its sweet numbing effects sliding in to join the churning tide of her stomach.

    Talking about how that night came to be all those months ago was like having someone stand on her chest and pull apart her ribs in one bone-cracking motion. And to top it all off, she couldn¡¯t even bring herself to mention fucking Ben¡¯s name. Pathetic.

    In an effort to keep her mind from spiraling down and down and down into all those feelings and memories, she folded her arms across her chest and leaned forward onto the table to try to keep the rawness concealed, keeping her eyes glued to Sam¡¯s drink on the table as she spoke again in the tone that was her new normal¡ªindifferent, disconnected and monotone.

    ¡°So that¡¯s why the cops at the diner set me off, and why I was such a wreck the day we met after my failed first therapy session.¡±

    They sat in heavy silence for what felt like eternity. The slow, jazzy piano music was gnawing away at her eyes and her insides. Each note seemed to pull forth another memory from the raw crater in her chest.

    She and Ben getting drunk and handsy at a restaurant after she found out she had won the solo spot in her dance troupe¡¯s spring show. She and Ben planning their first getaway vacation for the summer. She and Ben having, slow, lazy weekend days to just move between eating, sleeping and having sex. She and Ben slow dancing on her birthday in the middle of Central Park.

    Each memory played out around her as they sat in silence. Vignettes of ghosts that blurred and morphed together one after the other. Before she could fall into the sprung trap full of warm feelings and perfect days that sucker punched her heart so hard it physically hurt, she lifted her head and cocked it at Sam, her hair spilling over her shoulder in the process.

    ¡°So what led you from an island an ocean away to become a lawyer in the great U.S. of A.?¡± And just like that, she was swimming up and up and away from the depths of her sadness, of her brokenness.

    Her eyes finally moved back to Sam¡¯s face, watching as he matched her posture by leaning back onto the table and letting that easy smile slip onto his face. It didn¡¯t quite meet his bright blue-gray eyes as he sighed, moving his gaze down to his own near-empty drink.

    ¡°You know, I was just about to prattle off some bullshit lie about how I always knew I wanted to be one of the good guys, working to make sure the scales of lady justice were kept even and true. But after all the truth-telling you just did, that wouldn¡¯t be fair to you at all.¡±

    She looked on at him, her brow creasing as she considered the implications of his near lie. The fact that he even told her he was going to be dishonest was refreshing. It pointed to a moral compass he attempted to abide by, which was more than she could say for most people she had known. She waited patiently as he fiddled with his drink, what little dim light there was shining off of the watch on his wrist.

    ¡°I was a troublemaker back home when I was young. Getting involved with the wrong crowd, getting into stuff that would get me in trouble. My first run in with the law, seeing how it broke my mother¡¯s drug-addicted heart, I knew I was staring down a choice. I wish I could say I got on the straight and narrow right then and there, but unfortunately it took my mother¡¯s heart giving out after getting clean to get me to see the light. After a year or two saving up and seeing firsthand how much darkness and cruelty exists in people on the streets of London, I wanted to be the one putting them away. Make my mother proud. After I traveled overseas and got my JD, criminal law nearly sucked the life right out of me. I got out before it took me under, and I¡¯ve been working family cases and taking on pro bono work for just over a year now. I¡¯m still adjusting, still trying to figure it out. It isn¡¯t easy, and I still don¡¯t know if I¡¯m doing right by my mother, by me, by where I grew up and what I saw there.¡±

    Each word hit her harder than the last. His story was unbelievable. To think that he had put himself, had put his whole heart out there to try to do right by his mother and himself, and he still wasn¡¯t sure if it was enough. And for him to pursue a career so fiercely, to try and defend the world from evil as he no doubt watched his mother lose a battle to time and her health after coming out on top of her addiction. She couldn¡¯t fathom it, couldn¡¯t even begin to understand his hurt and pain.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    She had slowly nodded along as he spoke, sipping her drink now and then to make sure all the cursed memories of her own were kept down in their murky depths and away from her mind by continuing to drown them in old fashioneds. She tried to find the right words to say, to let him know she understood the gravity of his struggle and how difficult it must be to try and deal with it and attempt to move on.

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine how hard it must be, knowing you fought so hard to do right by her and it somehow just wasn¡¯t enough. I know how hard it is to constantly be trying to figure out what is you¡¯re supposed to be doing, and it fucking sucks.¡±

    Bobbing his head and sipping his own drink, he kept his eyes glued to his hands as he set the glass down and fiddled with his straw, poking round at the single ice cube before responding.

    ¡°Well, if there¡¯s anything I¡¯ve learned from defending and prosecuting people in this enormous concrete jungle, it¡¯s that life is too damn short and too damn fragile to be alone in anything. Death, dying, and suffering are always waiting for you around some corner at any given moment. I¡¯ve been doing therapy for about a year now after getting sick of pretending everything was hunky fucking dory. Pain is a bitch no matter what form it takes, and watching my mum go through hard times and not be able to help was gutting. But being here, trying to make the best out of people¡¯s fucked up messes and get them the best possible outcome, even with the fact that I¡¯m out here, struggling as I chase some kind of life for myself ¡­ Trying to be better, trying to get better and keep going on makes it feel like it¡¯ll all be worth something.¡±

    With the last word, his bright blue eyes flicked back up to her before picking up his drink and finishing it off in one sip.

    All she could was nod at him slowly as the truth of each of his words hit a soft spot in her heart that she was convinced had disappeared entirely. She was still watching him as he hailed the waitress for another drink, the same way she had just minutes ago.

    ¡°That¡¯s hard, Sam. It really is. I don¡¯t know how you¡¯ve been here dealing with it on a daily basis, fighting for people while you try and fight for yourself, but what I do know is that the world needs people like you. Selfless people who care and just try to do what¡¯s right. You¡¯re a rare breed, and if no one has thanked you today, let me be the one to do it. Thank you.¡±

    It was hard to tell in the poorly lit room, but she could¡¯ve sworn a blush crept across his cheeks as he dipped his nodding head and smiled in appreciation of her honest words. And as he looked back to her after thanking the waitress for a fresh old fashioned, her heart skipped a beat in a way she hadn¡¯t felt since the great divide occurred in the middle of her happy, simple life.

    The silver watch on his wrist. The suspenders that hung loose at his waist, the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt revealing the toned muscles of his forearms. How strong his hand looked as it gripped his drink. How when he cocked his head and gave her that big, easy grin, his hair fell out of place slightly, tickling a knee-jerk reaction somewhere locked deep, deep away within her to run her fingers through it and put the strands back where they belonged.

    Suddenly a hot blush was spreading across her own cheeks, giving away the fact that the beating in her chest was harder and faster then it had been minutes ago. It would be easy enough to blame it on drinking. And thankfully, she had the dimness of the room working in her favor.

    She found herself straightening up in her chair, leaning forward onto the table with her elbows as she let out a nervous laugh and quickly fidgeting, putting her hair behind one of her ears.

    Her eyes met his, and as he raised his fresh drink up to his lips to take a sip, he paused and said over the rim of the glass, ¡°You know, we can¡¯t spend all night being so damn serious and heartbroken. Let¡¯s have some fun, shall we?¡±

    With a nod and quick exhale through her lips, she matched his sip and reveled in the warmth that it brought to her extremities.

    ¡°To say my life has been incredibly fun deficient would be the understatement of the century. I¡¯m on board for fun.¡±

    A contemplative look crossed his face as he tapped his fingers on his glass and moved his gaze up to the ceiling.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just ask each other questions. If you don¡¯t want to answer, that¡¯s fine, but the first person to refuse has to either get up and try playing a song on the piano, or dance along with the pianist very, very enthusiastically.¡±

    She couldn¡¯t help but laugh at the horribleness of both options. Sure she hadn¡¯t danced since before everything in her life had turned rotten, but she could bust out a few silly dance moves if she needed to get out of answering a question that badly.

    ¡°Alright, you¡¯re on. You go first, mister Bailey.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, let¡¯s see. What was the time you made the biggest ass out of yourself?¡±

    A chortle escaped her lips as she shook her head from side to side.

    ¡°Oh my god, you want me to pick one time? Jesus, let me see. Umm how about the time I got way too high and drunk at a rave, proceeded to walk up to an attractive man and slap his ass way too hard, ask him if he was the sun because he was burning me up, and then promptly threw up all over his shoes.¡±

    Sam tipped his head back and let out a loud burst of laughter. She just shook her head back and forth and smiled as she took another sip of her drink. It felt good to just talk about shit that didn¡¯t hold some kind of heavy weight or seriousness from the past year of her life.

    It successfully lightened the mood between them¡ªeven the tunes the pianist played seemed to reflect the new fun and easygoing flow of their conversion.

    Back and forth they went for what felt like hours. Each of them asking lighthearted questions, each of them answering. Drinks kept coming, and she knew their conversation and laughter got louder and louder. They were unwinding and letting loose in a still relatively empty cabaret, and this was the first time she had been out and had fun in ¡­ God, she couldn¡¯t remember how long it had been.

    But it felt good. Almost like an out of body experience. Hearing about Sam¡¯s life, tales from the courtroom and England, embarrassing relationship mistakes, shit he did as a kid, it was refreshing. It had nothing to do with anything that had been a part of life recently, and she reveled in it. It was all new and interesting and different and enjoyable.

    So she leaned into it, just a little bit. She kept drinking, kept laughing, kept giving him shit about the stories he told. Until there was one question he had refused to answer.

    ¡°What¡¯s your ideal girl like?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s my ideal girl like? Well. I think we¡¯ve finally come to a dead end.¡±

    ¡°Really? That¡¯s the question that¡¯s making you fold? Come on, it¡¯s not that bad.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not answering it. So I guess that means I¡¯m either due to dance or play, and I pick play.¡±

    With a wink and a shit grin, he tipped his head back and finished off his drink before standing up and walking towards the stage. She was still perplexed as to why he¡¯d refused to answer the question¡ªit seemed innocuous enough in her mind. Thankfully the alcohol coursing through her system didn¡¯t let her dwell on the thought very long.

    Instead, she found herself standing and following behind Sam as he headed towards the stage, seating herself at the table that was closest to the piano. It put her parallel with the bench, ensuring she had a clear view of the pianist''s face.

    Sam walked up the steps at the end of the stage by the bar, raising his hand for another drink from the bar as he passed it, approached the pianist and gently placed a hand on his shoulder and bent down to talk into his ear.

    The way the pianist responded to Sam with a smile and nod made her feel as if this had happened before. She slowly shook her head at him as he took a seat on the bench, patting the pianist on the back as he turned to leave the stage.

    He¡¯d pulled a fast one, that¡¯s for sure.

    She placed a hand under her chin and settled into her seat as she gazed up at Sam, whose long, arching fingers were perched over the keys as he took a deep breath and gazed down at all the different notes.

    A few chords rang out before his voice filled the air of the dark and moody cabaret¡ªa handful of people had streamed in and out over the course of the night, but they paid no mind, keeping on as if the piano player hadn¡¯t changed at al.

    ¡°Georgia, Georgia, the whole day through. Just an old sweet song, keeps that Georgia on my mind, on my mind.¡±

    She was enraptured as she watched him find all the right chords and notes effortlessly. His voice was smooth and easy to listen to, and there was no doubt in her mind that he had been playing and singing for quite some time. Oh he had definitely pulled a fast one on her.

    A smile had crept its way onto her face as she gazed up at Sam, whose eyes remained on the keys as he moved through the song. And he really did move¡ªhis body swayed to the rhythm, his head tipped forward and back with the swells of the notes.

    But it was the way the light framed him on the stage that brought her attention to things that had been poking at her mind throughout the night. The way his fingers moved across the keys, the crisp line of his jaw, the curves of his lips as they formed each word, the strong arch of his shoulders.

    What was she thinking? Sure, the room throbbed and buzzed a little from all the old-fashioneds currently filling her stomach, with only a few bites of a shared appetizer they had ordered hours ago to try and offset the many, many drinks she¡¯d consumed. Sure, she felt a little drunk. But she¡¯d been drunk plenty of times right after everything had gone to shit. And not once had she found herself even remotely close to lusting after someone else, after someone who wasn¡¯t Ben.

    Now here she was, six months out from all the awful shit that had happened to her and subsequently leaving Ben, and she was watching a lawyer play a piano at a cabaret with drool practically coming off her bottom lip.

    Sporadic applause echoed throughout the room. The song had come to an end, the last line ¡°There¡¯ll always be Georgia¡± having left Sam¡¯s lips and the resolving cords leaving a sweet, happy hum in the air that directly contradicted the unpleasant anxiety surging up in her gut.

    The feelings, the setting, the fact that she was out with another guy. It was suddenly a lot pressing down on her at the same time. Not that she was unhappy or not having a good time¡ªit couldn¡¯t have been more of the opposite.

    As Sam took the stairs down and off the stage, set in a straight line towards her, she smiled at him. A big, genuine smile that hadn¡¯t graced her face in forever. She couldn¡¯t help it. Even though she knew she needed to leave, needed to get home before something in her snapped or clicked and sent her spiraling, she was truly happy to see Sam as he walked off the stage and smiled right back at her.

    He stopped before her, hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants in front of his suspender straps, shrugged his shoulders as he said, ¡°I may have pulled one over on you, just a little.¡±

    With the shake of her head and folding of her arms across her chest, she replied, ¡°And to think I fully thought I might see you bungle your way through a song or dance incredibly awkwardly.¡±

    ¡°Next time, it will be the incredibly awkward dancing, promise. And for the record, I was oh-so hoping I¡¯d get to see you embarrass yourself first.¡±

    They shared a laugh over their common desire to see the other just a little bit humiliated before she looked back towards the table where both of their coats hung on the backs of their chairs still.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to raincheck you on any embarrassment. It¡¯s pretty late, and I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll be able to live with myself tomorrow if I consume any more old fashioneds or stay up much later.¡±

    He nodded in agreement as he glanced down at his watch. His brows arched as he read the time and surprise spread across his face.

    ¡°No shit¡ªit¡¯s almost bar close. Now that went by way too damn fast. I guess time does fly when you¡¯re not busy working yourself to death. Come on, let¡¯s grab our coats and I¡¯ll close the tab.¡±

    She started following him back through the maze of mostly empty tables back to theirs, which was littered with empty drink glasses and a few plates from food. As she followed behind in his tall shadow, she caught the scent of warm cologne, the perfect balance of rich, earthy goodness with a touch of sweetness underneath. She may have taken a deep breath of it, just to get another lungful to make sure she¡¯d caught all the notes.

    ¡°We can split it this time, or I can cover the whole thing since I didn¡¯t pay at the diner.¡±

    They were both shrugging into their coats as they walked towards the exit.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got it, no worries. I¡¯m here so often I get a little bit of a regular¡¯s discount anyway. If you want to wait by the door I¡¯ll go pay at the bar quick. It¡¯ll take me just a second.¡±

    The protest on her tongue died at his quick reasoning, and with a nod of agreement, she walked towards the door and watched as he chatted with the bartender and paid their bill. Such a normal, regular, everyday thing to observe. He gave him cash, and it looked like he told him to keep the change. Then Sam asked him a question, and he gave Sam what looked like a napkin and pen. After having written something down, Sam gave the bartender that easy smile of his and a wave over his shoulder as he walked back towards Anna.

    ¡°Are you taking the train or grabbing a cab?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll probably cab it since it¡¯s so late. How you coerced me into staying out past my very early bedtime is beyond me. I should¡¯ve been asleep hours ago.¡±

    ¡°Well, I hope some laughs and a little music made it worth it. I can try and defend you from the grumpies if you think tomorrow¡¯s going to be a tough case.¡±

    Another easy laugh rolled through her as they pushed through the doors and out onto the frigid air of New York City at one in the morning.

    ¡°I think I¡¯ll be able to avoid the grumpies, and you really need to work on your lawyer jokes before the party next weekend. I¡¯ve got plenty of time to get to sleep anyway, and a whole lot of nothing to do tomorrow.¡±

    All she had to do was step out to the curb, raise her hand, and a cab was already pulling up to the curb beside them. That was the beauty of New York in the wee hours of the morning: an overabundance of cabs for the few people managing to make it home instead of crashing with a friend or sleeping with someone.

    As she turned to look at Sam and say goodbye before tucking into the welcome warmth¡ªand unavoidable stink¡ªof the cab, a thought pinged through her brain.

    She wouldn¡¯t need his handkerchief before leaving this time. There were no tears or snot to mop up after one of her emotional rollercoaster rides of hell. She wouldn¡¯t have an excuse to go see him again at his therapist¡¯s office.

    Just as she was about to try and find some way to verbalize the weird combination of disappointment and sadness that came along with not seeing him again, Sam spoke first.

    ¡°You know, I think phone numbers are a much more reliable, not to mention easier, way to get a hold of people these days. Not that I don¡¯t enjoy our handkerchief routine as much as the next person would, but there¡¯s something about the convenience of a phone number ¡­ ¡±

    Looking up at him, she found his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat and his head slightly cocked to one side with a smile tugging on one corner of his lips.

    It was just a phone number, right? No obligation, no expectations, just a phone number. And god damn was it cold outside, and all she really wanted at this point was to be tucked into the cab and heading home to her apartment where she could sleep off her hangover until the afternoon hours.

    So she quickly stuck her hand into her pocket, pulled out her phone and offered it to Sam.

    ¡°You make some very compelling arguments, lawyer Sam. Now make it quick before this cabbie decides to ditch me because I¡¯m too damn slow.¡±

    He took it from her with a grin, his fingertips grazing hers, and quickly punched in his number before handing it back to her in a matter of seconds.

    ¡°Thanks for tonight, Sam. It was really a lot of fun to just get out and do something new for once in a long, long time. Thank you for that. And hey, I¡¯m not crying like our past goodbyes, so that¡¯s definitely saying something.¡±

    He chuckled as he reached to open the door of the cab for her. She looked over her shoulder for just a moment to get one last look at him before the night was officially over.

    ¡°Anytime you want to go out and do something fun, or new, or both, you just let me know. And schedule permitting, I¡¯ll make it happen. I¡¯ll see you in a week, miss Anna. Have a good night.¡±

    ¡°Have a good night, Sam.¡±

    He shut the squeaky cab door shut behind her, and she sat back into the old leather seat, her hands resting in her lap with her phone. The cabbie asked her where to, but she took a few more seconds to take in Sam as he stood in the glow of New York at night. Hands in his pockets, that easy smile still spread on his face, billows of steam rising around him from the grates in the street. He looked straight out of a scene of a film noir.

    She wondered if that smile ever left his lips, even when it had a reason to¡ªespecially now that she knew full well now what those reasons might be. She wondered what he said in therapy.

    He pulled his hand from his pocket to offer her a wave, and she waved back slowly as the cabbie asked her again where she¡¯d like to go.

    What an interesting, loaded question. Instead of mulling over it, delving in too deep, getting lost in the traps and mazes of her mind, she gave the driver her address and finally turned away from Sam who had placed his hand back in his pocket and turned to walk down the street at a relaxed, easygoing pace.

    The driver pulled off into the always busy streets, and her vision was overtaken by the glow of red taillights and the dozens of different kinds of night lights¡ªneon signs, street lights, windows, billboards.

    As she was starting to lose herself to her buzz and the mesmerizing blurs of light, she absentmindedly reached to tuck her phone back into her jacket pocket before she accidentally lost it in the cab. Her hand was met with something as she reached into the pocket that was supposed to be empty. She pulled out whatever was inside, thinking she might¡¯ve accidentally tucked in a napkin from the table in her effort to get ready to go when she was a little liquored up.

    A smile crept over her lips as she took in what she now held in her lap. Sam¡¯s handkerchief with a napkin that had ¡®Keep it. It¡¯s yours whenever you need it.¡¯ scrawled on it in neat, elegant cursive handwriting. Somehow even his penmanship matched perfectly with his easygoing demeanor, his calming presence.

    All it took was reading his note and holding the handkerchief in her hands to ease the swirling of thoughts that had been gathering speed since she watched him wave goodbye.

    Everything fell away. The city, her restless roommates named anxiety and depression. She leaned into her buzz that still felt good. She let herself be soothed by the note and fabric in her hands. It was easy. Her eyes went back to the blurs of light, and for the first time in a long while, the city didn¡¯t seem so scary.

 Last spring

    New York was starting to thaw just as her life was beginning to bloom into full, albeit happy chaos. Everything was happening at the same time. Dance rehearsals had picked up dramatically, as word of the troupe¡¯s upcoming production had sparked interest after a preview with some of the art critics of the city. The show was picking up steam, and was even considered to be anticipated. That meant quitting her office job and working part time as a dance instructor, so she could fully live, eat and breathe all things dance.

    It bewildered her, as she stood watching all the young, impressionable dancers get collected by their parents and siblings. She had only been teaching for about a month. Ben had suggested the idea, since the stress from creating her solo routine and practicing the group performance pieces were truly starting to cripple her ability to function.

    As it turned out, after she started asking around her colleagues for dance-related work suggestions, their troupe was partnered with a dance school for kids. With a lot of encouragement from Laney and Ben¡¯s constant contagious enthusiasm, she gathered up the balls to go interview and, much to her own disbelief, was offered the position the next day.

    Now she was teaching little kids, and a few ridiculously energetic kids at that, how to make their dreams about dancing and movement start to come true. While she was still stressed about the show and her constantly changing solo, she found was much happier on a daily basis not having to go into work at an office. If only she could find a way to get 8 more hours of sleep and eat 3, well-balanced meals a day. Well, she certainly couldn¡¯t have it all.

    Teaching others, let alone children, had always seemed so far out of her personal realm of comfort. It had bizarrely come to her naturally¡ªusing experience from helping other foster kids during her time in the system. The pay was close to being even with her office temp job, and when she felt pinched, Ben always spoke up and wanted to help however he could.

    There was thick tension around the idea at first¡ªshe¡¯d laughed in his face when he¡¯d suggested helping her out with rent. It took several long conversations and a lot of repeating ¡°This may destroy us, Ben,¡± to him over and over again before she finally agreed to letting him help her with the relatively small sum.

    He understood why she didn¡¯t like it, what it meant for her to accept his help. It was never brought up again unless she asked him about it first. She still felt a little uneasy that he¡¯d offered to help her in the first place. There were too many thumbs that she¡¯d placed herself under in the past¡ªshe didn¡¯t want to add Ben¡¯s to that list.

    As the last few students were being picked up by their parents, Ben slipped in through the door with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a cooler in hand. She could tell he was coming straight from work; his badge was still hung around his neck underneath his light leather jacket, his usual watch poking out from his sleeve. He was clad in his usual dark wash jeans and black boots. Something about the way he always looked impeccably put together yet so comfortable made him all the more attractive.

    Feeling slightly distracted, she gave him a wave and a smile as she walked over to talk with the last few parents that remained with their kids. In all honesty, her and the kids got along much better than she did with their parents. It was easy to relate to the kids'' energy and enthusiasm. Relating to the parents¡¯ obsessions with success and progress was another issue entirely. She did her best to herd them towards the exit while fielding some of their unending questions.

    As the door finally shut and locked behind the last uptight father who was on his phone the entire time, his adorably giggly daughter on his heels, she pressed her back against the cool glass door for a brief moment of release, letting loose a deep sigh of relief. With her hand still on the handle, she pushed off with a smile and started walking towards Ben.

    ¡°Hi!¡±

    ¡°Hi yourself. You¡¯re glowing. And sweaty.¡±

    She reached up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss and then wiped her hand across her still slightly sweaty forehead.

    ¡°You¡¯re too kind. Any glow is probably from my own stink turned radioactive. I don¡¯t even remember the last time I showered. That¡¯s not bad, right?¡±

    He shrugged his shoulders while sticking out his bottom lip and wrinkling his nose, considering her self-incriminating admission as he set the cooler down on the floor and opened it.

    ¡°I mean, I could¡¯ve done without that information, but now I know we need to revisit some personal hygiene basics.¡±

    She slugged him playfully in the arm as he pulled out a bottle of champagne from the cooler. A smirk came across her face as she placed her hands on her partially exposed hips.

    The one giant, enormous benefit about teaching dance was that she was constantly comfortable. Her uniform for both of her jobs was a black tank top and black leggings. While she may have been constantly in a state of exhaustion, she was definitely living her best athleisure life.

    ¡°Champagne? What¡¯s the occasion, officer Johnson?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve hardly seen you these past couple of weeks because you¡¯ve been busting your ass doing what you love. Needless to say, it has been incredibly inspiring to watch you work so hard and be so much happier. I wanted to say thanks for being you, for being amazing.¡±

    Her smile was so wide it hurt. A fierce, hot blush ran through her cheeks as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She had been so caught up in herself over the past few weeks that when they did see each other, it was usually just enough time for her to unload her stress, eat, let her exhaustion catch up with her, and then pass right the fuck out.

    They¡¯d found time to do some normal couple-ish things, like go out to dinner, see a movie, embarrass themselves by ice skating at Central Park. But the outings were usually bookended by practice or by her desperate lusting for sleep.

    In the dimmed light of the studio, as Ben started to take off his jacket and push up the sleeves on his long-sleeve shirt, her heart rate hitched in her chest. The thoughts and feelings of wanting Ben had only gotten stronger since they had started seeing each other. There had really not been a good time, a good place, a good moment. She was enjoying letting the feeling grow inside of her, letting it surge and recede as she got busy and stressed. But now, as he stood in front of her, starting to uncork the bottle of champagne, she reached out and stopped him.

    He looked at her quizzically, and then grew concerned.

    ¡°You okay? You¡¯re probably exhausted, huh? We can totally just¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, no, not at all. Just, hold on.¡±

    Taking the champagne from his hands, she gently set it down on the bench that lined the length of the wall next to them and walked slowly over to the panels of light switches, pulling them down to just outside of darkness. Before heading back to Ben, she quickly grabbed one of the foam floor mats and carefully laid it down in front of the mirrors, then pulled the curtains closed that lined the front windows facing the street. It was hard to think clearly with the obnoxious beating of her heart distracting her from her half-baked plan.

    She approached him slowly, crossing the floor at an even, measured pace. Her limbs found different ballet positions as she made her way back to him, helping her center herself while releasing some of her nervous shaking. When she finally came to a stop in front of him, he remained motionless.

    She didn¡¯t know what the right move was, or what she should do. All she knew was what she actually wanted to do. And what she wanted to do was kiss Ben. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she placed a soft kiss on his lips. She pulled back momentarily, sliding her hands down his sides, feeling the hem of his shirt and gently tugging upwards.

    The shirt fell to the floor along with a waft of the pure goodness that was his cologne and sweet, natural musk. The plan she had concocted in her head stalled. She didn¡¯t know how to do this with someone you truly cared about, with someone you couldn¡¯t dream of disappointing. There she stood, frozen in front of shirtless Ben, desperately trying to regain the nerve that had just slipped through her fingers. He had disarmed her.

    She was just about to speak, to admit to her own nervousness, when Ben reached out and took her hand in his. He placed it on his bare chest, right over his heart. It was beating hard¡ªjust as fast and wildly as her own.

    The ability he possessed to take her out of her own mind was baffling. She regained her mental footing as desire pulsed throughout her body. Leaning her torso against his bare chest, she spoke softly against his lips, brushing her own against them with each word she spoke.

    ¡°Take me, Ben. Please, take me.¡±

    From that moment, she was lost in everything he did. The way his hand found its way onto her cheek, how he had moved them across the floor to the mirrors and barre, where he pushed his body into the curves of her own. This was the first time she would be with someone completely sober. Usually it was all just dulled, near numb senses. Always awkward fumbling, either too rough or too much swearing. It always involved the intense feeling of wanting it to be over, just waiting until whoever he was to be finished so she could go clean up in the bathroom and get out.

    Everything Ben did pulled her farther into her own lust. Her hands roamed everywhere, grabbing onto his bare shoulders and following the contours of his arms. She pulled him into herself as hard as she could, trying to feel as much of his muscular body pressed against her as possible.

    The last of her clothing fell to the floor, and Ben moved to lay her down onto the mat that she had placed by the mirrors. The darkness of the room blanketed their heated bodies, wrapping them in a cocoon of concealed quiet.

    Nothing could have prepared her for how she would feel that night. If someone would have told her that they would both shed tears, that they would both cling to each other as if they were the last two people on earth, she would have told them to lay off the cheap paperback romance novels and go watch a good porno.

    It took an incredible amount of courage to freefall into someone else¡¯s life. Ben was the first man, the first person she had ever entirely trusted with her disfigured, tissue-paper-like heart with poor, patchy repair jobs of where people had torn right through.

    Over the past few months, it seemed as though he was taking care to make sure all the misshapen seams and uneven edges were being put back together properly before seeing if she would leave it fully in his care. The moment came that night where she gave him her heart completely, and after she did, she was not the same anymore.

    <hr>

    Ben, by some act of God, managed to persuade her to get dressed and into a cab during the wee hours of New York¡¯s still young evening. While they were both perfectly content laying on the floor of the studio, talking quietly and exchanging lazy kisses between sipping on champagne from cheap plastic cups, they both knew it would be less than desirable to be naked on the floor for the early morning dance class. She dozed off in the warm cab, tucked under Ben¡¯s arm. Her exhaustion had reached an all-time high.

    Waking up in the early afternoon with a cat on her chest and a horribly dry mouth was a cruel welcome back into reality. Her joints were unbelievably stiff, and a few wince-worthy cracks popped from different places on her body as she attempted to stretch out and reluctantly greet the day. She managed to find her sore core strength and lifted herself into a sitting position. The same clothes from teaching class last night still clung to her body.

    Reaching up to place a hand on her forehead and lean forward onto her legging-covered knees, she closed her eyes and shook her head side to side. After months and months of a slow, sometimes near unbearable, intimate climb towards having sex with Ben, she felt unreal. As she sat and thought about how it couldn¡¯t have happened, how it must¡¯ve been her own wild imagination, flashes of heat, skin and release poured over her mind.

    A betraying squeal escaped her lips as she ran her hands over her eyes and into her messy hair. She felt like accepting an award for having accomplished such an unbelievable act. There was a part of her that wanted to go out onto the streets and exclaim to everyone that she had had sex with the most attractive man in the city, who was also a complete gentleman and near saintly. It made all of those relationships with selfish, womanizing men seem anomalies in an alternate universe.

    As she sat in the dim light of her room that was still blocking out the afternoon sun with patched-up curtains, she thought back to what had led them to their monumental moment last night. Since meeting Ben, her life had been traveling at a pleasantly constant speed without any major hiccups or roadblocks. They were taking their time with each other, learning how they worked together while maintaining their individual lives. Now she was dancing full time, and was even starting to enjoy her time teaching wobbly children how to coordinate themselves through space.

    Ben still felt unnerved by his career path. While he genuinely enjoyed the work he did as a cop, he was starting to constantly feel like it was time to get out. He routinely expressed how fortunate he was to not suffer through any major losses or traumas. Yet, there was also a force within himself that wanted him to push on further.

    Around the station, there had been talks of a spot opening up on the elite NYPD SWAT team. Ben felt that before he got out for good, he at least wanted to try and make the squad. He was also keeping in contact with a good friend who operated his own construction company, keeping at least one other option relatively open.

    Ben¡¯s uncertainty and his steadily growing frustration within himself still felt surprisingly manageable. The idea of him putting his life more at risk was definitely weighing heavily on her mind. But somehow she knew Ben would make the right choice for himself, and he would tell her when he¡¯d decided. He would do what he needed to do in order to satisfy his own drive. She would support either choice he made. Of course there were parts that wouldn¡¯t be easy; there were parts that would inevitably add stress to their relationship. But being with Ben made the biggest stressors seem manageable.

    She shook her head in an effort to clear away the sudden barrage of serious thoughts, finally getting herself up and out of bed, disrupting the napping cat in the process. Sure Laney had given the cat a proper name, but her disdain for the creature left it simply as ¡°the cat¡± in her mind.

    As she went over to her desk to draw open the curtains to let in the bright, near blinding spring light, she noticed the small stack of wrinkled papers sticking out from underneath a pile of famous dancer¡¯s autobiographies.

    While everything had been going so well with Ben, and she was able to sustain real happiness while keeping herself relatively together, she had ignored the notes that were being left for her at her apartment. They had begun appearing when Laney had moved out at the beginning of the month. The first one had appeared just inside the main door to the building, with her name printed by the strokes of a typewriter on a plain, off-white envelope.

    Inside was a well worn piece of paper, full of wrinkles and seams. Miscellaneous smudges, even some splats of coffee, covered the small note. It read, ¡°You look so well, the officer looks so good on you.¡± The note seemed so far off, so distant. Months had passed since the incident at the subway, since the bizarre disturbance at the restaurant. She immediately hid the first note away in her room, under the stack of books. Keep to yourself. There was no explanation for the note. She explained it away as simply one of her drugged up past flings trying to intentionally fuck with her.

    Fighting off the paranoia had been easy at first. Her new job and relationship with Ben kept her damn busy. Plus, with trying to squeeze in visits with Laney, and unavoidably Greg, there was no time for her to dwell on that first note. It flitted away from her mind, and was completely lost to her under that solid stack of books.

    As her relationship with Ben took off, it was surprisingly easy to throw herself fully at all the challenges in her life. She refused to waste her energy on the handful of nausea-inducing notes she''d received over the past few weeks. They were just from some asshole who was showing off their ability to be creepy. All bark,  no bite.

    There were moments when it was on the tip of her tongue, just breaths away from her paranoia spilling out into the air to either Ben or Laney. But she refused to let it interfere with her steadily changing life. It seemed too obvious a trap, too similar to the ugly memories of her bleak past.

    So instead of folding the notes into her pocket to show to Ben later, she flung open the shades and blinked into the warm light. Today she would have the studio to herself. She had blocked off this Friday months ago to have time and space to herself to practice her could-be solo.

    It had evolved multiple times already. From slow, intentional movement to rapid-fire, showy choreography. The music had started somber and was now a throwback to decades past, where the music reflected the vivaciousness of the time. She was eager to be alone in a space to start fleshing it out¡ªwhat looked good in the mirrors and what needed to be further tweaked.

    First a shower, then lunch, and finally off to the subway in the middle of the day where she would keep to herself. There was always a person in blue there now, ever since the night Ben had entered into her life. With a uniform there, she could relax. They would be able to keep people safe.

    <hr>

    Working alone in the studio was more satisfying than she had dreamed. It allowed her to truly let loose and be as goofy and experimental as she pleased. Sweat was dripping off her body as she walked over to her duffel bag to grab a towel along with a few long gulps of water. The room was finally silent, heavy with humidity after hours of having her flapper-era tune on repeat.

    It was a far cry from her usual, rather slow, mildly depressing alternative or sometimes dance-pop music preferences. This was so unexpected from her, it was borderline embarrassing. But the moves came to her effortlessly as she worked through the routine. It all fit together without any second guessing. She felt confident that the routine would be so absolutely shocking and energetic to the troupe director that she would have to select it for the show.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Her mood was light and optimistic as she dried off her sweat-soaked body while beginning to gather up her things. It wasn¡¯t until she had on her jacket and sneakers, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, that she finally checked her phone. 14 missed calls. Her heart took off running, feeding off the adrenaline high she was already experiencing from hours of dancing. Scrolling through the list of calls, only one of them was from Ben, the rest from ¡­ Greg?

    With shaking fingers she quickly pushed call and pressed her phone up to her still sweaty ear. Laney was in trouble. She knew things would have to fall through at some point. But not Laney. She was too sweet, too innocently herself. One of her hands flew up to her forehead as the phone kept ringing. Her stomach gave a mighty churn as it considered making her throw up bile and water.

    ¡°Anna¡ªthank god you finally called.¡±

    ¡°Is Laney ok?¡±

    ¡°Laney? Laney is fine, Anna, just fine. It¡¯s Ben.¡±

    An intake of breath hitched in her throat, a disjointed gasp escaping from her lips. Her hand slid slowly from her forehead down to her chest. She had never imagined this phone call. Nothing could have happened to Ben.

    How could anything happen to the one good man that had ever stumbled into her life? The one man who was kind to everyone, the epitome of a gentleman? Just as she was starting to grab a hold of something tangible, something that was building her up instead of tearing her to pieces, it was starting to fall apart.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Her voice was a small, raspy sound. Feeble.

    ¡°Anna, he was shot. He got called up to SWAT this afternoon. I heard from a friend who happened to be working the beat. The whole thing was a mess. Drug raid gone bad. Not enough intel and too ¡­ ¡±

    As he talked she rushed out of the studio, locking the door behind her and heading out of the building and onto the sidewalk to hail a cab. She started furiously waving her arm in the air, countless vacant cabs passing her as if she were invisible.

    ¡°Where is he?¡±

    ¡°The injured are at New York Pres downtown. At least that¡¯s what the news said. Anna do you need¡ª ¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m getting a cab right now. Gotta go.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Anna. Keep us po¡ª¡±

    Hanging up in the middle of his sentence, a flurry of swearing spilled out from under her breath at all the cabs that continued to whizz past her. Dark had already settled over the city, and they were all headed downtown to pick up Friday night boozers and workaholics. After at least a dozen cabs had passed her, she was no longer content to wait patiently as Ben could be laying dying.

    She stepped out in front of a cab that was lit and watched satisfyingly as it screeched to a halt just inches in front of her kneecaps. Slamming a fist on the hood for good measure, she slid into the backseat quickly and barked out the hospital¡¯s name over the loud complaints of the driver.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t drive as fast as humanly possible, I will have every cop in the city hounding your ass and fining you for that expired permit.¡±

    Her foot thumped anxiously against the floor of the cab as she thought about what could be waiting for her at the hospital. Did he get shot in the arm? In the leg? Had it hit an artery? Did it pierce through his Kevlar?

    Nausea surged through her as the speed mixed with erratic stopping and turning made her head throb. She placed a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes. All she could see was Ben. Not shot Ben. Ben from last night.

    Big, heavy tears flowed out of her clenched eyes. There was no point of reference for this feeling. She felt like something was trying to be taken away from her, like she was losing a grip on what she had worked so hard to maintain and carefully nurture over the past few months. There had never been an unknown as big as the one she was walking into right now. This was a brand new nightmare, a nightmare she was entering blindly.

    Just as she was about to open her eyes and tell the cab driver to figure out a way to drive faster, the cab came to a lurching halt in front of the ER. She quickly rummaged through her duffle bag and threw some random cash into the front seat as she flew out onto the busy sidewalk, clipping a few people with her duffel bag and shoulder as she rushed through the sliding glass doors and into the lobby. The cab driver¡¯s yells from behind her disappeared with the swoosh of the automatic doors closing.

    Wiping the few remaining tears from her face with the back of her hand, she took a deep, shaking  breath as she tried to collect herself. There was a news crew at the desk, no doubt trying to get more information that would be fully denied to them, and she didn¡¯t hesitate to push through the suited scavengers to get to the nurse manning the desk.

    She placed her shaking hands down firmly on the desk and looked the nurse directly in the eye. Her voice trembled as she spoke, betraying her need to be strong willed and undeniable.

    ¡°Ben Johnson. I need to see Ben Johnson. Where is he?¡±

    ¡°Your name, mam¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Anna Weston.¡±

    ¡°I have a Spitfire Weston written down here as an authorized visitor, is that you mam¡¯?¡±

    His fucking joke nick name for her. She was going to be sick.

    ¡°Yes, yes that¡¯s me. Where is he?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need to see an I.D. first, mam¡¯.¡±

    Rifling through her duffel bag, she quickly yanked out her wallet and handed over her I.D. with a shaking arm. Time stopped as the nurse took her sweet time looking at the front, then the back, then the front again. It was unfortunate that she couldn¡¯t just throw money at the nurse like she had with the cabbie. Every fiber of her being wanted to yank back her I.D. and start off down the hallway on her own.

    ¡°Here is your visitor badge, mam¡¯. Please go check in at the post-op desk down the hallway to your right.¡±

    Grabbing the badge, she took off down the hallway where the monotoned nurse had pointed with her slow, lazy hand. After speaking with the nurse at the post-op station, she was informed that Ben was still in surgery. He could not tell her the extent of his injuries or if his condition was critical. The only real information she received was that he should be out of surgery soon. She would need to wait.

    One of the nurses helped her to the gift shop and cafeteria area. After she had found out she could still not see Ben, a numbness washed over her, and she could not find it within herself to respond to the nurse asking if she was okay.

    The nurse patted her arm gently as she left her to her own devices in front of the gift shop. None of this seemed real. At that moment, she felt like she was living someone else¡¯s life. Her anxiety was crippling her ability to form thoughts or physically move from her spot in the middle of the hallway.

    A glimmer caught her eye as she blinked dazedly at her surroundings. It was a balloon, one with a bright yellow sun with sunglasses wearing a huge smile with happily colored letters that read Get Well Soon! Her mind connected to her feet and walked her into the store, where she could gaze up at the plethora of obnoxiously colored, well-wishing balloons. She eyed each one of them intently while she wondered what Ben would like about each one.

    She settled on one that featured a monkey hanging upside down from a tree branch with the phrase ¡®Hang in There!¡¯ next to it in big bubble letters. The monkey was cute, and they had been Ben¡¯s favorite exhibit at the zoo. He loved watching them swing around in the treetops, moving effortlessly and having silly interactions with one another. With a smirk, he commented on how they reminded him of her, with her long limbs and ability to move so effortlessly but still be, as he had put it, his ¡°cute goofy doof¡±.

    Reaching up above her head, she unclipped the balloon from the metal rack and grasped it firmly in her clammy palm. The adjacent wall was full of stuffed animals. She walked over to it slowly while weaving through a few other people who were browsing for items to try and help ease the pain of their loved ones. A decently sized monkey sat in the middle of the shelf, a bandage over one cheek and another around one of its arms. She grabbed it gingerly and tucked it under her arm.

    The cashier commented on how cute her monkey-themed items were, but all she could manage was a small nod in return. She clipped the balloon to the monkey¡¯s hand and wandered across the hallway to the glow of a few vending machines. Popping a few dollars in, she grabbed herself an apple juice and a bag of chocolate chip cookies. The last thing she had eaten was a small granola bar she¡¯d scarfed down before heading to the studio. She wasn¡¯t hungry, but the act of buying the food had burned a few more seconds of the seemingly endless waiting.

    She returned to the nearly empty waiting room and sat down in an old, uncomfortable chair in the corner. Placing the monkey beside her, she stared down at the juice and bag of cookies in her lap. Tiredness nagged at her eyelids, but her anxiety kept them peeled open. Her foot moved up and down rapidly as she settled into staring at the well-worn carpet. Just as she was about to reach up and give her straining eyes a fierce rub, a nurse broke the painful veil of silence that blanketed the room.

    ¡°Miss? Are you waiting for Ben Johnson?¡±

    She nearly choked on sudden intake of breath through her lips. Fresh anxiety ravished her body.

    ¡°Yes I am.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s out of surgery and in recovery. If you¡¯ll follow me, I¡¯ll bring you to him.¡±

    Gathering the balloon-holding monkey and her uneaten food, she crossed the room quickly and trailed the nurse down the busy hallway. She stopped outside of room 410C. Suddenly she felt lightheaded. She closed her eyes briefly as the nurse spoke.

    ¡°He¡¯s been out of surgery for a little while now. Hopefully he¡¯ll be awake soon. Use the call button if you need anything.¡±

    The nurse held open the door for her to walk inside the room. She walked forward cautiously, the room bathed in the sterile glow of fluorescent lights. Ben laid in a hospital bed just a few feet to her left. She jumped slightly as the nurse shut the door behind her. Tears welled in her eyes as she took in what she had so feverishly been imagining over the past hour. Countless machines stood around the bed, hooked into Ben¡¯s body at various places. Her knees nearly buckled at the sight.

    She crossed the room with measured steps and placed everything she was holding down on the table next to Ben¡¯s bed. Waiting until she meticulously set everything down, she took a deep breath and finally turned to look at Ben up close. Varying shades of bruises covered his face, along with a cut that stemmed from the bottom of his lip. Dried blood was still caked over his forehead and into his tousled, dirty hair. More scrapes and blood covered his lightly freckled arms, which were laid out lifelessly over the covers.

    Grief began to cripple her. She managed to grab a chair from behind her and gently pulled it up next to the bed before she collapsed on the shiny tile floor. Sitting at a measured distance, she reached out her shaking hand to place on top of his, which was now adorned with a vitals monitor on one of his fingers and a few bandages. As soon as she touched his unresponsive hand, she shot up and out of the chair and quickly raced towards the window across the room.

    Her hand covered her mouth, tears streaking down her face. Foreign, bone rattling sobs shook her whole body. The weight of everything, the situation, the room, the universe, was crushing down on her. It had been lurking in her mind since she had spoken to Greg just hours ago. It had sat in the seat next to her in the cab. It had followed her around the hospital. And now, as she tried to provide the slightest bit of comfort to Ben, it reached into her chest and squeezed its way around her heart.

    Short, jagged breaths were spilling out between her chapped lips. Memories from her disjointed past surged and began to mingle with her current grief. There had never been another person besides her at the center of this kind of unraveling. She didn¡¯t know how to care for Ben. She didn¡¯t know what he needed. It had been so simple up until now. He was making her life clearer, filling it with laughter and new experiences. She had slowly learned to start to depend on Ben, because he hadn¡¯t let her down yet.

    Her heart slammed against her chest as she leaned against the ledge of the window for support. Just the thought of looking over at Ben was pumping more anxiety into her bloodstream. She should have told Greg to come. Someone else should be here for Ben. This was not the time for her to be thinking about herself. It wasn¡¯t fair to Ben. She¡¯d call Laney. She would understand, or at least try to understand. She needed to talk to someone.

    With a deep breath and her eyes still clouded with tears, she turned herself slowly towards the door and took one step. She froze in place as Ben began to stir. He lifted each one of his hands while rolling his head slowly back and forth.

    Oh no. She felt like a deer caught in headlights. She was just about to try and temporarily figure this out, so neither of them would have to endure what was now inevitably coming.

    Running a hand through her hair, she finished the walk over to Ben¡¯s beside. She could now see his bloodshot green eyes, although just slightly, as she noticed how swollen his face had become. She folded her arms in front of her chest and looked down at him through pools of tears.

    ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°Boy, am I glad to see you.¡±

    She let out a nervous laugh and blinked furiously at the relentless tears that clouded her vision. There was a moment of heavy silence as she racked her brain for the right thing to say. All she wanted to do was talk about herself. She was overwhelmed by her own empathetic shortcomings.

    ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as it looks, I promise.¡±

    His statement made way for one of the questions that had been nagging at her mind since Greg had called her with the news. It rushed from her mouth in a tight, croaky voice that was choked with her crying.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    She looked on as he swallowed while closing his eyes briefly. As his glassy, still drugged eyes looked up at her from the bed, she grew even more uncomfortable. Keeping her arms across her chest, she shifted her weight from foot to foot and glanced down at her shoes while she awaited his response. With a deep inhale that was labored and raspy, Ben began to speak.

    ¡°This morning, it was announced that a spot had finally opened up on the SWAT squad. A call came in, and they were short a man. It was considered my interview. It was a drug raid that had gone south quickly with intelligence. They got in too deep and needed to be bailed out.¡±

    He paused briefly and closed his eyes, causing a crease to form between his brows. Suddenly she felt the urge to reach out and run her hand across his forehead, into his mussed brown hair. As her arm twitched to life, he began to speak again. She squeezed her own arm tightly, keeping it firmly crossed against her chest, and swallowed against her dry throat.

    ¡°Just as we made our way inside, one of the intelligence guys tried to gain some ground. We weren¡¯t ready yet. We weren¡¯t in position. In an effort to cover his ass I tried to run up to cover him. That¡¯s when I got flashbanged on accident, and got shot right in the thigh. Missed my artery. Barely. The guy whose ass I was trying to cover dragged me outta there.¡±

    Any color she had left in her cheeks was drained as he finished speaking. She closed her eyes tightly as images flowed through her mind of what had happened. Lightheadedness surged through her skull as she dropped her forehead into the palm of her hand.

    This was the first time Ben¡¯s job had lived up to its dangerous nature. There had been multiple conversations about his career path in the past week. They had both agreed that it would be far too dangerous, too stressful for both of them, if he were to accept a position with the SWAT team. He had said he would let her know when he made a decision.

    ¡°Anna I know that this is a lot¡ª¡±

    She lifted her head quickly and kept her arms firmly against her chest. Tension and the unfamiliar pain of Ben¡¯s lie were making her shake. The tears that spilled now were hot and tinged with frustration. Her strained, tight-lipped words plowed through the softness his voice had carved out in the room.

    ¡°Just yesterday we talked about how you were still unsure. You said you¡¯d tell me when you had decided. Is this your way of telling me?¡±

    He was attempting to sit up in his bed, opening his mouth to begin his reply when suddenly the door opened behind them. In filtered members of the force. Some were cops she recognized, others were no doubt SWAT officers that she had never met before. She stepped away from Ben¡¯s bedside towards the wall while quickly trying to smooth over her clothes and running the back of her hand under each eye.

    ¡°There he is! First day on the job and look at what¡ªoh shit, I¡¯m sorry. We didn¡¯t mean to interrupt.¡±

    She made eye contact with the unfamiliar officer and offered a light response.

    ¡°No worries. I was actually just on my way out¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, she¡¯s not. Thanks for coming, guys. I appreciate it, I really do, but I¡¯m kind of in the middle of something here.¡±

    They all looked around at each other with raised eyebrows. A few of them began to set down flowers and other get-well gifts down on the table before leaving while giving Ben waves and smiles.

    On top of feeling angry, sad and deceived, she now felt her cheeks flush red with embarrassment. Ben had more good people in his corner than she had ever known in her entire twenty nine years of life. The lone cop who had spoken looked briefly between her and Ben before patting Ben¡¯s good leg.

    ¡°You let me know if you guys need anything, alright?¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Jeff. Will do.¡±

    The two nodded to each other before Jeff turned to join his comrades in the hallway. He looked at her briefly, understanding painted across his face as he pulled his lips into a tight smile. It took her by surprise. It took Ben a few tries to get her attention as she stared after the closed door.

    ¡°Anna. Come here. Please.¡±

    A tired, exasperated sigh left her lips as she stepped forward to retake her place in the chair by Ben¡¯s beside. He had managed to sit himself upright and had turned his torso towards her. She stared down at her clasped hands in her lap. She did not want to be here anymore. She wanted to go home and think about anything else besides hospitals, cops or feelings.

    ¡°Can you give me your hand, Anna?¡±

    She finally looked up to find Ben¡¯s open, empty hand laying in front of her on the bed. With a hard swallow, she raised her unsteady hand and gently laid it down on Ben¡¯s. He closed his fingers around hers, which seemed quite small and incapable compared to his own scratched, calloused hands. She kept her eyes on their held hands and attempted to take even breaths as her heart rate soared.

    ¡°Come on, Anna. Look at me. I know I¡¯m beat up but I can¡¯t be that hard on the eyes.¡±

    His attempt at humor broke through some of her stress, and she managed a small smirk as she looked up at him with glassy eyes. A similar smirk was spread across his own dry lips. He ran his thumb across the back of her hand as he looked her in the eyes and began to speak.

    ¡°I am so sorry for what I did today. I should not have made a snap decision without considering you first. I¡¯m not used to thinking about other people when I make career choices. It¡¯s no excuse, but I¡¯m trying to learn on the fly. All I could think about when I got hit was you. How bad I had hurt you by not telling you. How guilty I felt for breaking a promise. I made a mistake and I am so, so sorry. But there was something else I realized after I was shot. I realized I, that I¡ª¡±

    A few tears spilled over from the edges of his eyes as he placed his other hand on top of hers. The presence of the IV and other bandages tugged her back towards her feelings of helplessness that were barely being suppressed.

    ¡°Anna, I¡¯m in love¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I have to, Anna. I have to say it, because it¡¯s true. I¡¯m in love with you.¡±

    Her head dropped instantly. Staring down at her lap, she tried to focus on her breathing and remaining calm. Ben squeezed her hand, the sound of the medical machines filling her ears. Fight, flight. Fight, flight. Springing up from the chair, she peeled her hand from between Ben¡¯s and grabbed her bag from the table.

    ¡°Anna, don¡¯t do this. Come on, please don¡¯t leave.¡±

    His pleas intermingled with his tears. Tears poured from her eyes as he yelled after her. She was out the door and down the hallway. Some of the cops that had left his room just minutes ago were waiting near his door. They said nothing as she passed them. Her feet found the exit without the help of her mind. The night air hit her face and she let out a gasp. She took in huge, gulping breaths as she walked down the sidewalk. It was a few miles walk to her apartment. She didn¡¯t mind.

    The chilly air cooled her hot skin. The brisk, blustering wind helped to dry her tears. With each step she got closer to her former self, and left more of her anxiety behind. Deep breaths of air, even though it wasn¡¯t exactly fresh, calmed her throbbing skull. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Looking up, she blinked at the familiar surroundings. Somehow her feet had already carried her a mile. She was almost to her apartment. The glowing screen on her phone read Greg. She held the button on the side until it went dark. Off. If only she had a similar button. Off.

    She picked up the pace and lifted her head up to feel the cold night air blow directly into her face. It was oddly comforting to be bathed in the sickly yellow glow of the streetlights. A few people passed her now and then. Most of them were gleeful couples who were laughing and intoxicated by the freedom of Friday night and the alcohol they had no doubt been enjoying. After all, it was now the early hours of Saturday morning.

    It didn¡¯t strike her as alarming when she saw someone standing in front of her building. Homeless people often rifled through their trash, looking for aluminum cans or half smoked cigarettes. She focused on turning onto the small sidewalk that led up to the cement steps to her building. But it would not be that easy. Just like everything else tonight, she could not just simply walk up to her building and slip inside unnoticed.

    ¡°Anna Weston. Anna Weston! Where is he? Where¡¯s the lucky man?¡±

    She didn¡¯t turn around to see who it was. Her heart race hitched as she struggled to find her keys in her duffel bag. There were footsteps behind her. Whoever had been yelling at her was now approaching her with an even, heavy pace. Finally her shaking hands made contact with the metal of her keys, and she struggled to jam the right key into the lock.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would be this easy. That lucky man. Where is he?¡±

    Suddenly she was falling through the threshold as the key finally turned in the lock. She slammed the heavy wood door shut behind her, locking it before taking the stairs two at a time. Getting her own door open was surprisingly much easier. Maybe because the space between herself and whoever was trying to fuck with her outside was greater. After locking all three locks on the door, she let her duffel bag fall to the ground. Her hands rested on her forehead. They were met with thick, cold sweat.

    Nausea swelled inside of her. She immediately ran for the bathroom. She expelled what little there was inside of her stomach. There was a moment, in between lurching retches, where she noticed she had started to feel slightly better. But it was shortly after that fleeting thought that she felt herself sliding down onto the floor, exhausted. The blackness of sleep began to creep into her vision, and she found comfort in the fact that she was finally away from the world and all of its complications.

 Chapter 5

    Between her unquellable anxiety that was causing her foot to jostle up and down restlessly as the cab wound its way through the streets of Brooklyn, and the constant blathering of the cabbie, she just wanted to tuck and roll to just get to Sam¡¯s place on foot. The churning of her gut and the overly chatty driver were pushing her closer to the thought of scrapping the whole ¡°going to a party¡± plan and instead heading back to her comfort zone of home.

    In an effort to drown out the grating combination of the endless droning coming from the front seat and the intense urge to fidget herself clear out of the cab, she pinpointed her focus onto the raindrops streaming down the window. Each drop held the distorted colors of dead and decaying leaves on the trees slowly blurring past, of the different buildings in shades of red and brown brick, of people walking with umbrellas and clad in raincoats.

    Watching the water worked. As the minutes ticked by and she crawled closer to Sam¡¯s apartment that was tucked between Prospect and Sunset Park, she found her mind wandering back to what had been good about the past week.

    She¡¯d managed to take fairly decent care of herself for just over an entire week. That meant showering semi-regularly, eating a, for the most part, balanced diet, and leaving her closet-of-an-apartment for a few walks when her anxiety allowed it.

    By far the hardest part of trying to get back to being a more normal-ish, functioning human being was her social life. She hadn¡¯t had many friends before everything in her life had changed, and she had completely severed all contact with anyone she knew after the dust settled and she was left to deal with the shell of who she once was.

    In a small effort to rectify some of the damage she¡¯d done over the past months, she brought herself to send out a few texts to the couple people who had mattered before everything went to shit. A feeble, nowhere near worthy attempt of resurrecting friendships, but an attempt nonetheless.

    She¡¯d gotten a few responses and was still waiting to hear back from others. It was mostly pleasantries, and catching up with those who did decide she was worth a second chance. Shallow and surface level, sure, but it was a start. It was her trying to lift herself up from ground zero to get back onto her feet, back into life.

    And on the front of her personal life and increasingly worrisome financial situation, she even dipped her toes into starting to look for a job. Mostly temp stuff that would at least get her money and some shitty, but necessary benefits. Another small step in the right direction¡ªor at least what she thought was the right direction. She was getting back to the bare minimum for leading a self-sufficient life that wasn¡¯t completely dictated by her painful moods that swung as easily as a plastic bag in the wind.

    But for all the little moments of victory, there came twice as much shit that she still didn¡¯t know how to deal with. For starters, the goddamn thoughts about Sam. She¡¯d just be sitting on her couch, walking down the street, hopping into the shower, scrubbing a damn dish, and then suddenly she was back at that rickety and sticky round table at the front of the stage at the cabaret-turned-jazz club.

    All she could see was the way Sam¡¯s hands moved across the keys with such intent and elegance¡ªso sure of where they were going and in no rush to get there. The way his lips formed the words as he sang them with an easy melody and comforting sweetness. The gleam of his watch from the stage lights. The way a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he sang certain lyrics.

    Then, in the same thought, her mind would pivot sharply to memories of Ben, and everything became a blurry mess of feelings and loneliness and what she thought might be her lusting for a man who played piano by night, fought in the courtroom by day, was a Londoner in a past life, and made her laugh with his effortless charm and wit.

    Goddamnit her mind was a mess. For better or for worse, her attention was drawn back to the chatty cabbie and the nervous tapping of her foot as the car crawled to a stop outside of a block of brownstones.

    She quickly paid her fare and stepped out into the drizzly and brisk fall evening. In a few quick steps she was up the stairs and looking over the panel of buttons to buzz herself up to Sam¡¯s place¡ªapartment number seven.

    As her eyes came to rest on ¡°Bailey¡±, she took a beat to take stock of herself. The rain had made her light jacket only a little damp. Her freshly curled hair that had fallen in neat waves upon leaving her place was probably a little less polished looking now, but it still felt presentable under the quick assessment of her fingertips.

    Hopefully her lipstick hadn¡¯t smudged against her teeth during the uneasy cab ride. Hopefully this outfit she had spent all week fussing over and debating about and being unsure of was actually halfway decent. Hopefully wearing booties with small heels for the first time in forever didn¡¯t make her look as awkward as she felt.

    All she could do was keep on hoping as she buzzed Sam¡¯s apartment and waited for the clicking of the door. Hope that this wasn¡¯t a mistake. Hope that she wouldn¡¯t make an ass out of herself. Hope that her brain didn¡¯t send her images of Sam¡¯s hands and lips and handsome smile as she was just trying to navigate the social hell of this night.

    Thunder rolled off in the distance just before the door unlocked and she pushed her way into the beautiful and historic brownstone. Only the clicking of her heels met her ears as she made her way up three flights of stairs to the top floor. In the silence of the old and well-loved building that had become such a huge part of the city¡¯s history, she felt herself start to settle into something that felt like being at ease.

    She reached the top of the landing and made a sharp turn to head toward Sam¡¯s apartment. It was only as she stopped in front of his door that her heartbeat started to betray her. For a fleeting moment, memories of meeting up with Ben and waiting for him to answer from behind a closed door flooded into her mind.

    But instead of falling into the feeling, instead of giving it a chance to grab hold and drag her down into the spiraling vortex of memories that would just bring her back into the useless misery that had been her life for months, she pushed forward.

    With a quick check and straightening of her jacket and hair, she lifted her hand and gave Sam¡¯s door three swift knocks. She pulled in air through her carefully red-painted lips and blew it back out as she waited for the door to open.

    She would, no doubt, be met with another flood of memories and feelings that she would have to try and stamp down. It would be a miracle if she made it through the entire evening without needing to find a closet or bathroom to meltdown in, piece herself back together in, and then inevitably at some point have to face the same flood all over again.

    As the door opened and the soft, warm light from Sam¡¯s apartment washed over her and the hallway, she prepared to fight the urge to explain her way out of the building and back into the familiar and comforting arms of the darkness of her apartment. The same fight she¡¯d had with herself every day for what seemed like forever.

    There Sam stood, wearing a simple, well-fitted gray-knit sweater that hugged the curves of his lean, muscular build. His silver watch peeked out from the sleeve, and the sweater matched effortlessly with his dark jeans and brown shoes that added just the right accent color with their warm tan tone.

    The smile which she had come to expect and enjoy was spread across his face as he took her in, his hand still on the door knob. She watched as his eyes traveled from her boots up to her face, his brows rising slightly as his head subtly cocked to one side. She could¡¯ve sworn he tucked in his lower lip and gave it the tiniest bite¡ªwas she imagining things? Stop looking at his lips, for Christ¡¯s sake.

    ¡°First off, you look stunning. Secondly, come in. And thirdly, what kind of drink would you like before we head out?¡±

    No memories came, no feelings of dread, no sudden urge to walk back down the hall and back into darkness. More thunder rolled from outside as she found herself smiling back, head cocked to one side with her hands tucked into her jacket pockets as she considered his short list of questions.

    ¡°Thank you, and you look pretty damn sharp yourself, don¡¯t mind if I do, and anything but an old-fashioned. In that order, I think.¡±

    As he laughed and welcomed her in by stepping aside and sweeping his hand out beside him, she felt something like lightness wash over her mind and limbs. It was easy to walk forward into the warm light of his apartment. It was easy to shrug off her coat and hand it to him so he could place it on a hook next to his own.

    She followed him through a small living room to an equally small kitchen that were open to one another. It gave her just the right amount of time to peer around and take in the look and feel of his space.

    Dark and rich blue-green painted walls were covered in floating wooden shelves that held books, more books, and every now and then a piece of art or a photograph. The living room was cozy with a well-worn and welcoming looking sofa, along with an armchair that looked like Sam¡¯s main spot. It was incredibly nice and put together while maintaining a homey, warm charm.

    Several large and intimidating books laid next to the armchair on an end table with pens and highlighters strewn about. There was a half-finished glass of water, a bowl that held some kind of snack, and what looked to be a pair of thick-rimmed reading glasses.

    Pieces of vintage art that hung between the lines of shelves and a well-used persian rug that anchored the room added just the right touches of personality. She felt as though she had walked into a small part of himself¡ªlike she had just stepped into a corner of his mind, or of his heart. The space was simple, unassuming. Genuine. It matched his persona, of what she had come to know of him so far.

    She stopped at his kitchen island, resting her hands on the cool stone countertop as she watched him reach into a cabinet and pull down a bottle of what looked to be whiskey and two glasses.

    He paused after he uncorked the bottle and looked to her as he held a glass in one hand and the liquor in the other.

    ¡°Neat or on the rocks?¡±

    ¡°Neat, please and thank you.¡±

    After expertly pouring about an inch into each mismatched glass with the added flair of raising and lowering the amber-colored stream of booze, he slid hers across the white stone countertop and raised his own to give a toast before their first sips.

    ¡°Here¡¯s to this drink being the first of several, to both of us cleaning up pretty damn nicely, if I do say so myself, and to celebrating having some good old-fashioned fun.¡± He paused momentarily to offer her a quick wink before finishing his perfectly-put toast, the slivers of light reflecting through his glass casting a heavenly glow across his sharp features. ¡°Cheers.¡±

    With a quick sigh and shake of her head, she raised her glass and said her own cheers before taking a long, deep sip of the familiar drink.

    She¡¯d always drank whiskey because it always seemed to be around. At her foster homes, at her and Laney¡¯s apartment, at Ben¡¯s place. What was it about whiskey that made it appear at nearly every place in her life? What made the strong burn, warmth and smoothness so good, that lifting a glass up for another sip was so easy? It was comfort in a glass, pure and simple.

    ¡°Maybe if I can get you to keep pouring me whiskey neats, we can forget about going to the party altogether and just order takeout and watch bad movies.¡±

    He leaned forward onto the counter, resting on crossed forearms, his own nearly finished drink clasped in the hand that was accompanied by his silver watch.

    After a few seconds of overly dramatic contemplation, he raised his glass, and before taking a sip, his eyes met her gaze.

    ¡°As close as I am to accepting that offer with incredible enthusiasm, we both know it¡¯ll be good for us to get out. I will serve an important role as your guest, and as your shield should you require someone to interject with awful jokes, anecdotes and general topics that both distract and amaze.¡±

    He took a long sip to finish off what was left of his whiskey, and she followed suit after chuckling into her glass and enjoying the last bit of warmth that spread through her body as the amber liquid coursed through her.

    With a sigh, she examined her empty glass before looking up to find Sam glancing at his watch, his posture straightening as he read the hands.

    ¡°Well, it appears to be that time. Shall we head out into the dreary drizzle, grab a cab, have some fun, and return unscathed? Because if I wait any longer, I might just find myself ordering a pizza and turning on shitty movies.¡±

    ¡°As much as I do love my own idea of ditching, you¡¯re right about having some fun, and I envy your audacious optimism about returning unscathed.¡±

    He gave her a grin before placing their freshly empty glasses in the sink and heading back towards the front door. Anna followed a few steps behind him, restlessly pulling at and smoothing over her turtleneck and skirt combo one last time before heading out. To a party. At Laney and Greg¡¯s new place. With a guy she met a few weeks ago during a panic attack after a failed attempt at going to therapy.

    Yes, more drinking would most definitely be in order to make this evening hopefully go just as smooth as the whiskey that still coated her lips and tongue.

    Sam held her coat out for her as she slipped her arms inside, causing her to murmur ¡°thank you¡± at the unexpected gesture. He slid into his own jacket, grabbed his keys and wallet from a side table, and then took a deep breath before opening the door and turning to look at Anna.

    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely sure I¡¯m allowed to use any and all jokes? Some are as bad, if not worse than dad jokes, and I feel like that¡¯s really saying something.¡±

    She rolled her eyes and walked past him into the hallway. As she waited for him to lock the door and lead the way down the stairs, she couldn¡¯t help but notice that the light and relatively easy feeling seemed to still be following her, keeping her just far enough from the edge of her anxiety to leave her feeling suspectly normal.

    She followed Sam down the stairs and out into the steady drizzle and grayness of the early evening, taking in how neatly arranged his hair was. Long on the top, and the sides shaved to perfection. It dawned on her then that he must¡¯ve gotten a haircut very recently, his uniform length now a thing of the past. It was just different enough to have a sleek edge, to make his overall look even more compelling.

    He hailed them a cab, opened the door for her, and proceeded to casually slide in next to her. She rattled off the new address from the text message Laney had sent her earlier in the week, and then the cab was off on their new adventure into the great unknown of social interactions and expectations.

    Sam kept the ride comfortable and lighthearted as he talked about his favorite spots in his neighborhood, shared little tidbits about New York¡¯s history and other relevant information as they passed deeper through Brooklyn towards the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge that would take them over to Staten Island.

    The only feeling that crept up on her in the confines of the cab was the one that she had been grappling with all week¡ªthe one that had her glancing at Sam¡¯s hands that were clasped in his lap, had her eyes lingering on his lips for a little too long, had her noticing how good he smelled. Fresh and clean with a splash of cologne.

    If he caught on to her glances, he didn¡¯t say anything. Instead, he just kept on with his easy banter that put her at ease in a way she didn¡¯t fully understand. And for now, she was okay with not knowing why. All she knew was that she felt relatively okay considering the situation she was about to find herself in. She knew that she had someone with her who understood how volatile her emotions could be, and that gave her the tiniest bit of confidence she needed to get through a few hours at a party.

    So she kept her eyes on Sam, watching as he explained things with his hands and told her stories and made jokes, his expressions open and varied. And with the other small scraps of confidence she had mustered for tonight¡ªher red lipstick, her all-black ensemble, and her favorite set of shiny gold rings adorning her fingers¡ªshe found herself laughing at Sam¡¯s jokes, asking him questions about his stories and giving him shit about all the random facts he had stored away in his brain about the city.

    When the cab finally came to a halt outside of a gorgeous two-story house with a beautiful brick facade Anna had never laid eyes on before, she was genuinely surprised at how short the 45-minute trip had seemed. She quickly paid the cab driver before Sam could intervene, and found herself a little reluctant to peel herself off of the worn seat and slide out into the rain.

    She could¡¯ve driven around listening to Sam talk for hours as they wound through the streets of New York in the too-hot cab with rain-spattered windows that blurred out just enough of the outside world.

    Instead, she found herself thanking him for holding the cab door open, and took fast steps through the steady rain in an effort to reach the front door without getting soaked.

    This was it. Sam stopped beside her on the doorstep and shook some of the rain from his jacket. Funny how it took her until the moment they were on the doorstep to the party to notice they were both dressed¡ªlike they were true opposites or were just being intentionally coordinating and chic. A yin and a yang.

    She kept the thought to herself and turned to Sam before reaching forward to press the new-looking electronic doorbell. Hesitating, she turned to look at him, her heart rate spiking.

    ¡°You ready?¡± It was a silly, rhetorical question that she was asking more to herself than anything¡ªas if she were giving herself one last chance to hightail it out into the rain, splashing down the cracked sidewalk to find somewhere else, anywhere else to be.

    ¡°Ready if you are.¡±

    As he gave her an easy smile, his bright blue eyes soft and full of reassurance, she reached forward and gave the doorbell a push, watching as it lit up in an organized display of technologically programmed lights.

    As the seconds started to tick by and she took in the warm glow coming from the windows and the dull murmur of a crowd from behind the perfectly painted door, her heart rate somehow kept increasing. All the anxiety and nervousness she¡¯d tried to quell during the day and at Sam¡¯s place was trying its damndest to resurface.

    She had the sudden urge to reach out for his hand. To just try and feel anchored to something. To remind her that her feet were on the ground and he really was there next to her, ready to offer up a joke or story to keep her mind on track.

    But before she could turn to him and try and vocalize in a few short seconds that she was scared and suddenly felt lightheaded and her heart beat so hard it hurt her chest, the door opened.

    And there stood Laney. Clad in her usual uniform of a flowing boho-chic blouse and coordinating skirt that draped beautifully down to her ankles. Her hair was perched in a perfectly messy bun at the back of her head with dark brown strands falling down and around her face in pretty chaos.

    Something in her chest gave way at the sight of her best friend. Hearing her voice had been one thing. But seeing her ¡­ The huge, dumb grin that came to her face was natural. All the shitty feelings that had been starting to churn up inside of her were quieted again.

    Her chest loosened, and words came to her lips without hesitation.

    ¡°Laney, it¡¯s so good to see you. Your house is beautiful, and so are you.¡±

    ¡°Come here, friend. God, I¡¯ve missed you.¡±

    She felt Sam¡¯s hand lightly rest against her lower back as she stepped over the threshold, and into what felt like both the comforting embrace and lion¡¯s den of the past. It was just the anchoring push she needed to feel a little more sturdy and a little less fragile as she walked into the warmth of Laney¡¯s hug, the bright glow of her best friend¡¯s new home enveloping her.

    One day, one outing, one small step at a time. Try, do, and try again.

    <hr>

    ¡°The crown molding and paneling look stunning, Laney. I can¡¯t believe how much work and love you¡¯ve put into this house already. It¡¯s incredible.¡±

    She found herself shaking her head from side to side in disbelief as she took in every room and space Laney guided both her and Sam through.

    ¡°Aww, thanks Anna. It means a lot to hear you say that. We really thought we were in over our heads when we bought a house that literally needed work everywhere you looked, but it was perfect. The location, the size, the look of the outside ¡­ It just needed a little interior TLC.¡±

    Laney led them back down the staircase which landed right in the foyer where they¡¯d come in. Showing them around was the first thing Laney had wanted to do when Anna and Sam had arrived. As soon as they¡¯d shrugged off their wet coats and neatly placed their shoes in the designated trays, they were whisked off onto a  whirlwind tour of Laney and Greg¡¯s beautiful home.

    Seeing all the effort and time and love they¡¯d put into the home they¡¯d worked so hard to buy together made something ache in Anna¡¯s chest. She could see things they had done that she had overheard them talking about months ago. How they wanted a space where Laney could set up her very own art supplies and work to her heart''s content. How Greg would have his office space. How they wanted an extra room for a little bundle of joy that might come along one day. How they wanted an open and airy first floor that they could easily relax and enjoy on a daily basis while also being able to effortlessly entertain guests on occasion¡ªlike tonight.

    As they hit the landing, Anna was able to take in just how many people were in attendance. It wasn¡¯t overly crowded, but there were definitely more guests than she had imagined. Laney¡¯s group of friends ran small. She¡¯d gathered relationships from the various schools she¡¯d worked at over the years, and made friends with some of the wives from the police department. And of course Greg had plenty of his own friends in attendance, being the relentless chatterbox that he was.

    Laney had assured Anna several times over the past week that Ben would most definitely not be in attendance. It was an unnecessary, but appreciated gesture. It felt good to have Laney firmly on her side again. Back when everything in her life that had been normal and good had so quickly and easily crumbled and fallen apart, Laney hadn¡¯t been so eager to see things through Anna¡¯s eyes.

    Maybe it was Laney¡¯s relationship with Greg, or Anna¡¯s track record of getting herself into less-than-ideal situations with the men she was seeing that had her best friend hung up. Sure, some of it was self sabotage, but oftentimes it had everything to do with whatever womanizing asshole she was dating that particular week.

    When things went sour with Ben, both Greg and Laney were skeptical of Anna¡¯s reasons. Laney, and in turn, Greg, knew that she had been sexually assaulted, while Ben opted to deny that it even happened. All because she couldn¡¯t find it within herself to call the police, to go and get a rape kit at the hospital. The incident had paralyzed her into inaction. And when she finally gathered the courage to tell Ben in an effort to explain her distant and unfriendly behavior, he didn¡¯t believe her.

    He said she was making things up, trying to invent reasons to sabotage their relationship. That she didn¡¯t know how to see and accept a good thing in her life. That she was just looking for an easy way out.

    And little did he know, he had given her the very reason she needed to completely abandon their relationship. The hurt that stemmed from his vehement denial of her assault was unbearable. No matter how hard she tried to squash it down and simply move on with her life, she couldn¡¯t. She could hardly look at Ben without anger and disappointment surging up fiercely inside her, threatening to overtake her entirely and tear him down piece by piece.

    The little time they had spent together after she told him about the incident was horribly painful. Add in the fact that Ben couldn¡¯t seem to keep his hands off of her no matter how many times she tried to explain that she just wasn¡¯t ready and couldn¡¯t be intimate, and it was obvious, to her at least, that the relationship was over.

    Ben had lost it the last time he had tried to seduce her into having sex with him and she refused him, again. He yelled at her. And she simply looked into his angry face and told him it was over, and that she didn¡¯t want to see him again.

    And that was that. Six months had passed since that awful, awful night. Well, there was that one time about four months ago that they had come incredibly close to having a one night stand that would¡¯ve crippled her emotions even further. All the alcohol that had been coursing through her system, the adrenaline and rage from her then new, hyper-intense workout routine fueling her into a bar fight with two idiots. Her subsequent arrest, and then being saved from having to spend a night behind bars by none other than Ben.

    But now was definitely not the time to dwell on that absolute shitstorm of a story. Not in the middle of a party at her best friend¡¯s new house with a new friend at her side. A friend who was giving her the small shred of courage she needed to follow Laney through the small groups of people chatting throughout the living room and dining area in order to reach the makeshift bar setup in the kitchen.

    She somehow managed to keep a smile spread on her face with each person they passed, even though her anxiety and nervousness spiked and began to accelerate at a rapid pace. Faces of people she and Ben had met time and time again over the course of their relationship were painted with questions as they took her and her guest in with arched brows and curious glances.

    Sam followed behind her closely. The feeling of his hand lightly resting against her lower back still somehow remained, like a phantom touch. She found some comfort in the fact that if she started to panic or lose the loose grip she had on her composure, he would be there to keep her grounded in the here, in the now.

    ¡°So what will you two be drinking this evening? Wine, Anna?¡±

    ¡°That sounds lovely. A red, if you¡¯ve got it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s my girl. And for you, lawyer Sam, as Anna so lovingly calls you? Something neat? Or is that an out-of-date lawyer stereotype?¡±

    Sam offered her a chuckle and a smile before responding.

    ¡°It may be out-of-date for some, but not for me. A whiskey neat for the stereotypical lawyer would be wonderful, thank you.¡±

    ¡°You got it, coming right up!¡±

    And with that, Laney was off to the far end of the kitchen to grab their drinks. Anna watched on, a genuine smile spread across her face as she observed Laney in her element. Spinning between guests, stopping to say hello, and then being stopped with hands on her arm to chat every few moments. The Laney she had come to love and cherish over all those years of living together¡ªthem against whatever they thought was holding them back.

    Who knew when their drinks would actually make it back to them. But thank god she wasn¡¯t alone to be preyed upon by one of the many sets of eyes she felt lingering on her as she waited and leaned against the kitchen island, trying to look casual and relaxed. She had Sam.

    ¡°We made it to alcohol. It¡¯s got to be a smooth sailing, downhill glide from here, right? We just need to ensure the social lubricant keeps coming. That is, if it ever gets here.¡±

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    She chuckled as she watched Laney get sidetracked yet again by someone else who was grabbing her attention for some reason or another.

    Sam leaned against the counter next to her, his watch-clad wrist and arm very lightly touching hers as he propped himself up on his forearms.

    ¡°She¡¯s pretty spirited, isn¡¯t she? I can see why you¡¯re friends. I feel happier just having talked to her during our tour.¡±

    ¡°Spirited is a sweet way to put it. She¡¯s chirpy when I¡¯m groggy as hell in the morning, she¡¯s carefree when I¡¯ve got four million things weighing down on my mind, she¡¯s bubbly in a room full of people while I¡¯m leaning against something in a corner brooding and looking generally unpleasant.¡±

    He threw her an inquisitive glance and cocked his head as he took her in.

    ¡°Well, I do see the lean you speak of, but there¡¯s no brooding or general unpleasantness like you¡¯ve described.¡±

    Maybe it was the fact that nothing had happened yet to dredge up feelings of awfulness, or the way Sam looked at her, but she decided to entertain his observation and screwed up her face into the most over-exaggerated expression of annoyance she could manage.

    The resulting laugh that caused him to tip his head back and squint his eyes shut pulled a chuckle from her own lungs.

    ¡°Okay, I take it back. I definitely get it now. That was horrifying. I¡¯m tempted to leave after that display, but I¡¯m going to tough it out because I¡¯m a nice guy. But if I see it again ¡­ Well, I can¡¯t make any promises.¡±

    She was just about to mention how her order of wine should hopefully put her distaste for social situations and large gatherings of people to bed for the night, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

    Gah, shit. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Had she really convinced herself that she could go all night living in a little untouchable bubble with Sam, drinking and laughing without anyone else bothering them?

    ¡°Anna, it¡¯s so good to see you. We¡¯re so glad you could make it. Really. You have no idea how happy you¡¯ve made Laney.¡±

    She turned to find Greg, shockingly clad in something besides his usually drab detective garb, standing with his arms open to her, waiting for a hug.

    With a quick intake of breath and the slight gritting of her teeth, she stepped forward and gave the man who had been quick to take Ben¡¯s side all those months ago a hesitant hug.

    Silly of her to think that it would be just a hug. Of course it would be used as an opportunity to whisper something to her that wouldn¡¯t be obvious or audible to Laney, or even Sam for that matter.

    ¡°It¡¯s driving Ben crazy not being here tonight since he found out you¡¯d be coming.¡±

    And with those words, the loose grip she had on herself finally slipped. Everything fell away. The other people, Sam leaned against the counter behind her, Laney who was off somewhere maybe or maybe not getting their drinks. She looked on at Greg, dumbfounded with her mouth hanging open like an idiot.

    Feelings of hurt and anger and resentment overwhelmed any and all logic in her brain. She could feel the venom coming up, ready to strike back at the man who she so tentatively dealt with to keep Laney happy.

    ¡°Look, Greg, if you think I came here to hear a damn thing about Ben or his life, you¡¯re sadly mistaken. I came here for Laney, and only Laney. If you so much as allude or suggest anything about my past relationship, I swear I¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to interrupt, but we haven¡¯t met yet. Are you Laney¡¯s boyfriend? Congratulations on the incredibly beautiful home. The work you¡¯ve put into it is very impressive. I¡¯m Sam, Anna¡¯s friend. And you are?¡±

    The look of derailment on Greg¡¯s face as Sam stepped forward and stood close to her to interject, his hand gently resting on her back just like it had when they¡¯d arrived, was enough to bring her back to Earth from traveling hundreds of miles an hour towards the molten core of all of her grief and anguish.

    ¡°Oh, uh, yes, I¡¯m Greg. Laney¡¯s boyfriend. Nice to meet you. You said you¡¯re Anna¡¯s friend?¡±

    ¡°Her plus one, yes. Anna was nice enough to invite me along for a nice evening out. I tend to live as a bit of a shut-in, due to being busy with my law practice and not having much of a social life, so her offer was greatly appreciated.¡±

    ¡°Busy as a lawyer?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right. I''m a family and pro bono lawyer in Manhattan. In a room full of cops, I¡¯m sure that¡¯s not a very admired career choice. But don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m sure you all are fighting for change, right? For a better system? You know, looking out for the ones who are too poor to defend themselves against the injustices, racial prejudices and blatant incompetencies of the judicial system. Or maybe you all think the system is working just fine here in the city. Anyways, yes, I am a lawyer, and Anna¡¯s guest for the evening.¡±

    Greg was clearly grasping for some semblance of a straw to bring himself back into the conversation without coming across as a complete and utter ass. Fortunately for him, Laney arrived with their drinks in her hands¡ªGreg¡¯s unknowing knight in shining armor. Always there to cover up for his complete lack of empathy for anyone else.

    ¡°Your drinks! I am so sorry it took so long, I feel like I got stopped by everyone I crossed paths with! I see you found Greg¡ªhopefully he isn¡¯t boring your ear off about the crown molding or every nitty gritty detail of the remodeling. I swear what he thinks is interesting ¡­ ¡±

    What the hell was she supposed to say? That within seconds of crossing paths with Greg, he found it appropriate to bring up Ben? It wasn¡¯t worth wasting her breath on any more. Not tonight, and quite possibly never again. Thankfully for her and her lack of coming up with a response that didn¡¯t allude to anything that had just transpired, Sam came to her rescue.

    ¡°Hardly anything I¡¯d classify as boring. It¡¯s all great information for someday when I have my own home projects to tackle. And thank you for the drinks, Laney. We pleasantly passed the time by chatting, didn¡¯t we Anna?¡±

    She took her wine from Laney¡¯s outstretched hand after forcing herself to summon a smile back to her face and find her cool, calm and collected voice again.

    ¡°We did. No need to apologize, Laney. It¡¯s your party, after all¡ªenjoy it. I¡¯m sure Sam and I can entertain ourselves. Go mingle, you two. We¡¯ll catch up in a bit.¡±

    Laney¡¯s brows drew together as she quizzically glanced between Anna, Greg and then Sam.

    ¡°Hmm, okay you two. Please enjoy yourself. Relax, grab a bite, and feel free to keep on drinking. God knows Greg bought enough alcohol. Oh, and of course there will be dancing later, so hopefully you guys stick around to bust a move or two. We¡¯ll chat soon.¡±

    With a quick hug and squeeze, leaving behind her signature smell of herbs and something that was probably bottled starlight, Laney was off, tugging Greg along forcefully by the sleeve of his sweater. There was no doubt in Anna¡¯s mind that she saw right through the bullshit all three of them performed, no matter how smoothly she thought Sam had managed to play it off. Laney knew Anna too well, knew Greg too well. She didn¡¯t know Sam, so maybe he¡¯d be Greg¡¯s saving grace. The fact that he covered for him at all was just another point towards his character.

    Kind enough to spare a man he¡¯d just met from the wrath of two women. Kind enough to offer a stranger help during one of their breakdowns. It just seemed to be who Sam was. Maybe she could learn a thing or two yet. Not tonight, but maybe another day when she wasn¡¯t desperately sipping red wine in an effort to soothe the molten lava that Greg had managed to churn up in her insides.

    As soon as Laney had pulled Greg clear across the house towards the front door to greet more guests that were arriving, Anna turned back to lean against the counter and rested her forehead in one of her hands.

    ¡°My god! How can one man be such an incomprehensible fucking idiot? Is there a sign on me somewhere that says ¡®Please ask and or tell me about my ex?¡¯ Is there?¡±

    Sam made a good show of looking Anna over. He checked her back, even going as far as lifting up the arm that was closest to him. She chuckled into her wine glass before taking another long sip as he finished his inspection and returned his attention to his own glass with raised brows.

    ¡°There appears to be no sign tacked to you anywhere. Let¡¯s try to forget about that little speed bump and return to enjoying our evening, shall we? We¡¯ll start by sipping on this delicious alcohol, move onto food, and then with talk of music and dancing, who knows, maybe we¡¯ll even find ourselves cutting a rug.¡±

    That earned him a full on laugh from her. It brought a genuine smile back to her lips, and eased some of the tension that had creeped back into her body from Greg¡¯s infuriating and unwelcome relaying of information about Ben.

    ¡°Alright, you¡¯re right. Let¡¯s get back on track. Before I down this rather large glass of wine, let¡¯s find food.¡± She waved her arm out towards the opposite corner of the kitchen where a spread of appetizers was waiting for her churning stomach.

    He stepped aside with a smile and beckoned her forward.

    ¡°Getting between a lady and her food seems ill advised. Lead the way, Miss Weston.¡±

    With a grin and quip about the accuracy of his food comment, she started to walk past him and towards the mouth watering array of meats, cheeses, fruits and desserts.

    And as she brushed past him, unable to avoid it with how close they were standing to the other guests, she felt his hand rest on the small of her back just like it had a few times already during the evening.

    She paused for the briefest of moments, turning to look over her shoulder at Sam¡¯s clean-shaven face, which was close enough for her to reach out and touch.

    Instead of listening to the sudden impulse that shot through her brain, no doubt fueled by the large glass of wine that was now nearly empty, she opted to lean into the hand he had on her lower back before continuing on her direct path to food. Sweet, sweet food.

    During their short walk through groups of people mingling and laughing, he gave her a soft and gentle caress with his thumb that caused heat to rise in cheeks and prickling goosebumps to cascade down her limbs.

    Reaching the food and grabbing a plate was a welcome distraction from the little flicker of heat she felt somewhere underneath all the bitterness and hurt and anger she carried around everywhere she went.

    It was hard to ignore as she reached for all kinds of meats, cheeses, fruit spreads and crackers. It proved even harder to ignore as they both made their way to a mostly occupied couch and squeezed onto it so closely together their legs, hips and arms touched as they sat down.

    They sipped on their drinks, enjoyed eating, sipped on their second and third round of drinks that Sam fetched from the well-stocked bar in the kitchen, and found themselves genuinely having a good time.

    As they joked and laughed and shared stories about awful dates and their favorite meals and what they loved and hated about living in and around the city, she felt herself leaning into him a little bit more. Felt herself slowly and enjoyably unwinding from the tight coil that usually existed inside of her as a result of her everyday existence.

    They reveled in each other¡¯s company as they sat brushing limbs and legs on a crowded couch in the middle of a pretty packed party. Anna could¡¯ve sat there all night talking and laughing with Sam. But her bladder could only hold so much liquid, and she had been putting off making a trip to the bathroom for an ill-advised amount of time already. So she reluctantly excused herself from the couch and attempted to remember Laney¡¯s directions to the first floor powder room.

    Walking with a buzz startled her at first. It had been months since she had drank to the point of steady and bubbly lightness. She didn¡¯t have trouble walking, her vision was just fine, and her stomach didn¡¯t churn with the power of a tidal wave. Her gait was easy, and she could feel the exaggerated swing of her hips with each step. She smiled at people as she brushed past. She let the pleasant beat of the music occupy her thoughts as she finally found the door to the bathroom¡ªmercifully there was no wait.

    She took her time after she at long last emptied her painfully full bladder. After she washed her hands, she gave her face a once over in the mirror. She¡¯d kept her small purse slung across her body as Laney had taken their coats, so she took a few additional minutes to touch up her lipstick and dabbed on some powder where her makeup had worn thin.

    With a few sprays of the small perfume sample she had milked for seemingly forever, she left the restroom and wound her way back to Sam through throngs of people. She came to a halt as she reached the living room, her eyebrows rising in surprise as she took in all the moved furniture and absence of people in the middle of the room. A makeshift dance floor.

    A small surge of panic rose up in her chest as she realized that she¡¯d lost track of Sam. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for his muscular figure clad in that distractingly well-fitted sweater and perfectly matched jeans.

    After what felt like an eternity due to her pleasant level of inebriation but was in reality only a handful of seconds, she spotted Sam chatting with a few other guys next to the brick fireplace centered along the wall just across from her. She¡¯d have to cross the empty dance floor to reach him. Risking drawing attention to herself. Attention she really didn¡¯t mind with the alcohol coursing through her. But attention she¡¯d really do anything to avoid, nonetheless.

    Just as she was about to attempt to skirt around the edge of the people that had formed around the dance floor, Laney stepped into the center of it with Greg at her side. Anna stopped mid step and kept herself standing just across the room from Sam, who was now blocked from her line of sight by her two friends.

    Drinks in hand with arms wrapped around each other, Laney started to speak with a big, easy grin spread across her face.

    ¡°Friends and family, thank you all so much for coming to celebrate with us tonight. As many of you know, this home has been a dream of ours for a long, long time. It took a while to find just the right place that met both of our particular and unique expectations, but we did it. And while it may be on the island and not New York proper, it¡¯s still perfect to us. So keep drinking, keep eating and please start dancing. I¡¯ve put together a pretty bumping playlist if I don¡¯t say so myself, and Greg dislikes most of it so I know I did a good job. Without further ado, continue to enjoy yourselves and thank you all again so much for coming to celebrate with us!¡±

    Laney and Greg raised their glasses, and people applauded and drank along with them as they left the dance floor and the music started from speakers somewhere in the room. It didn¡¯t take long for a few couples and groups of friends to make their way out into the freshly cleared space and start dancing along to the poppy hit that filled the room with a fun and easy vibe.

    And through the still rather sparse dance floor, she looked to where she had spotted Sam just minutes ago and found him staring back at her, a crooked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, his dimples on full display. Her returning smile was a reflex that came easy, naturally.

    Just as she started to weave her way through the happily dancing people that provided more than enough cover from too many eyes landing on her, Sam started to move towards her. He stepped forward, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, and kept on smiling at her as he wove through joyfully dancing people.

    He reached the middle of the dance floor before she did, giving her a few seconds to take him in as he took one hand out from his pocket and extended it towards her as she approached. An invitation. To dance. With him.

    Honestly, had it not been for the alcohol coursing through her, she would¡¯ve brushed off the offer with a laugh and walked herself to join the others surrounding the people cutting loose and having a good time. Then she would¡¯ve immediately sought out more alcohol.

    She never danced casually at parties. Even before everything had happened. Ben might as well have been from the town in Footloose, give or take the one or two slow dances they¡¯d had together during their relationship, and she just never really felt comfortable dancing at parties. That is, unless she was fucked out of her mind at a rave or drinking with friends¡ªlike she was tonight.

    So instead of turning tail and heading for her comfort zone away from the prying eye of spectators, she continued walking towards Sam. She offered him a grin in return before putting her hands on her hips, cocking her head and stopping to stand in front of him and his outstretched hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s not officially a good time at a party until you dance, right?¡±

    She laughed and made a show of considering his question.

    ¡°Depends on who you ask, but for me, I can say there¡¯s some truth to that.¡±

    ¡°So, miss Anna, will you dance with me?¡±

    After a few more seconds of overly dramatic pondering, she reached out and took his hand. The blush in her cheeks deepened as she felt his warm and surprisingly soft hand gently wrap around her own. And before she could take in his classically handsome features and the infectious smile that gave his eyes that lovely and charming glint, she was twirling.

    He sent her off towards the edge of the dance floor, her other arm naturally splaying out, before twirling back and taking her by both hands. And just like that, it was easy for her to fall into the beat of the music and Sam¡¯s natural rhythm. They moved together effortlessly as one song seamlessly transitioned into the next.

    She would really have to grill him later about how he became such a good dancer. Sure he wasn¡¯t a trained professional like she was, but he was leaps and bounds above just your average party moves.

    They laughed and smiled and at times, moving their bodies just a little closer together. She¡¯d back into his arms so he rested against her back, and they¡¯d move together in time to the beat. It caused long forgotten heat to course through her¡ªfrom the tips of her fingers, to her toes, to the tops of her ears.

    Oh how lovely it felt to just not give a fuck. Everything fell away. The other people in the room, the constant buzzing of anxiety and nervousness in her brain, the heavy weight constantly sitting at the bottom of her stomach.

    Gone. It was all gone as she danced with Sam song after song after song. Until the music changed to something sweet and melodic. A slow dance. It gave her a chance to quickly suggest they take a little break and go grab some water. Sam agreed wholeheartedly, following her to the kitchen without any protest.

    They continued to chat over deliciously refreshing sips of cold water, giving her an opportunity to grill him about those dance moves.

    ¡°You know, that¡¯s actually a good question. There was always dancing going on in my family. We danced when we were happy, we danced when we needed to feel better, we danced when songs we liked came on the radio. It¡¯s just something I¡¯ve always done. And like to do, too. Maybe I¡¯m just a good observer, or a natural as they say. But honestly, I just like it.¡±

    They were both leaning against the stone counter of the kitchen island again, forearms pressed to the cool surface while they cradled glasses of water.

    ¡°Compared to the many, many men I¡¯ve seen dance, you¡¯ve got some moves and rhythm for a casual participant. All that time dancing growing up really paid off.¡± The thought of time had her curious, and through her dying buzz, she realized she didn¡¯t have the slightest clue how late it was.

    She reached out for the wrist that held his watch and turned her head to get a better look.

    ¡°Oh my god, how is it after midnight? I could¡¯ve sworn it was just after ten when I went to the bathroom.¡±

    ¡°Apparently we really know how to cut a rug, and have a good time doing it at that.¡±

    ¡°Apparently. Didn¡¯t you say you had a full day of work tomorrow? On Saturday? The most blessed day of the weekend?¡±

    ¡°Sadly, yes, I do have to work tomorrow. Midnight is a little later than I¡¯d intended on staying out, but what does it matter when you¡¯re having a hell of a good time?¡±

    It was then she realized she was still holding his wrist in her hand as they rested on the cool countertop. She hadn¡¯t felt the need to pull away, and clearly neither had Sam. She smoothly pulled her hand back and stood up straight, careful not to make it seem like she was doing it frantically.

    ¡°Well, why don¡¯t we find Laney and make our way out of here?¡±

    ¡°Sounds good to me, she¡¯ll have to help us track down our coats too I think.¡±

    After a little meandering through and between groups of people chatting around the slow dancers, they came across Laney near the front door where she was bidding farewell to two other guests.

    ¡°Thank you both so much for coming, we¡¯ll definitely need to see you both again before the gala in the spring. Drive safe!¡±

    She shut the door and turned to find Anna and Sam smiling and waiting.

    ¡°Oh my gosh! Anna! You¡¯re still here! I thought for sure you would¡¯ve slipped out hours ago.¡±

    ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence, Laney. We took up your generous offer of drinks, food and dancing, and we found ourselves having a pretty damn good time. Turns out you two can host an even meaner party in a proper house.¡±

    Laney beamed back at her with a smile she had come to love over the years. It always had a way of melting through her rough and crusty exterior and finding its way into her heart, no matter the situation.

    ¡°I¡¯m so, so happy you came, Anna. You have no idea. Really. It was so amazing to see you. And Sam! What a pleasure to meet you. We¡¯ll have to get together again so we can actually chat and spend time together.¡±

    Sam nodded, slipping his hands into his front pockets and offering her a warm smile before saying, ¡°The pleasure was all mine. I¡¯m very glad Anna invited me to tag along. Both you, and your home are lovely. Hopefully we can see each other again soon.¡±

    He was more or less talking to Laney¡¯s back as she searched through the small closet by the door and several hooks on the wall for their coats. Just as he finished talking she came up victorious, handing them their respective jackets with that signature smile still spread on her face.

    ¡°We will definitely need to make plans soon. I think I¡¯ll just keep bugging Anna until we can get down something concrete. Now are you two cabbing back together or ¡­ ?¡±

    She shrugged on her coat as she considered the rather loaded question Laney had just casually dropped into the air between the three of them. Innocent her ass.

    ¡°I think we¡¯ll cab separately¡ªI¡¯m farther than Sam anyways, and he actually has to be an adult tomorrow.¡±

    Sam offered a smile and nod of agreement as he finished shrugging on his own coat and offered Laney his hand.

    ¡°It was a pleasure to meet you, Laney. I look forward to seeing you again.¡±

    ¡°Likewise¡ªthank you for coming, Sam. I hope we can do this again soon and have more time to get to know each other.¡±

    She dropped his hand and was suddenly pulling Anna into a near bone-crushing hug. Taking Anna off guard, she stood awkwardly for a moment with her arms at her sides before laughing and wrapping her arms around Laney¡¯s lithe yet muscular frame.

    ¡°I can¡¯t thank you enough for coming tonight, Anna. You have no idea how good it is to see you. I¡¯ve missed you so, so much. Don¡¯t be a stranger, okay? You¡¯re always welcome here. Always.¡±

    Laney¡¯s perpetual aroma of herbs and flowers filled her nose again as she squeezed her back and pulled away to look into her tired and booze-tinged blue eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do better, Laney, I promise. Just don¡¯t hold me to anything too crazy, okay?¡±

    ¡°Okay, okay, nothing too crazy, got it. Just, you know, answer my texts and calls maybe? And please eat more, I miss that beautiful dancer butt you had.¡±

    With an eye roll and one last squeeze of Laney¡¯s hands in hers, Anna turned towards the door and away from her best friend, away from the music still playing from the makeshift dance floor in the living room, away from a social situation that would¡¯ve caused her to hyperventilate just thinking about it from her couch in her apartment weeks ago.

    Progress? Something like progress.

    The night air greeted her flushed cheeks with a pleasant chill that sent small shivers down her arms and legs. She heard the door shut as Sam followed her down the stairs onto the sidewalk. The sounds of the party left them in the somewhat quiet outdoors.

    Cars driving through rain-soaked streets, their shoes splashing through puddles on the sidewalk, far-off conversations of other late-night strollers¡ªit all combined together in a soothing melody that kept her spirits and mood light. Not to mention the lingering buzz from her several glasses of wine was still keeping her heart focused on the feelings of the carefree fun of moving her body with Sam¡¯s.

    But there was a gnawing at the back of her mind. The thought of how she would feel after having a few hours of sleep, when the sun would be up and another day would start. The feeling that there would be some immense regret about having danced with a guy at a party full of people who were mostly cops, people who worked with cops and people who were married to cops.

    She¡¯d question what she wore, why she went, why she didn¡¯t talk to anyone but Greg, Laney and Sam, and if that made her appearance at the party that much, much worse. Maybe the crippling questions would come, maybe they wouldn¡¯t.

    Before her mind could spend any more time traveling down the dangerous paths of her thoughts, both her and Sam slowed to a stop as they rounded a corner and found a good spot to hail a cab on the thoroughfare that was just a few blocks away from Laney¡¯s new house.

    They turned to face each other, both basked in the glow of a streetlight. The silence of their short walk hadn¡¯t been uncomfortable¡ªit was as refreshing as the cool air around them. A natural, easy quiet that slowly started to fall away as they looked at each other with smiles appearing on their faces.

    Words came to her lips first as she rather bashfully tucked her hands into her jacket pockets and subtly swayed side to side.

    ¡°Another successful outing that didn¡¯t end with me in tears. You¡¯re starting to rack up quite the track record, lawyer Sam.¡±

    ¡°You know, if you keep reminding me I¡¯m a lawyer, I¡¯ll have to keep reminding you about Laney¡¯s little comment, miss Anna¡¯s-got-ass.¡±

    A laugh barked out from her lips as she shook her head from side to side and shrugged her shoulders.

    ¡°I refuse to acknowledge the existence of this supposed dancer ass Laney speaks of. To put it in your terms, it¡¯s hearsay.¡±

    ¡°Touche, miss Anna. After a night of wine, dancing and great conversation, you are still sharp as ever.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let me fool you. It is many hours past my bedtime and I''m seconds away from being a yawning, uninteresting and dull person.¡±

    ¡°Impossible. I don¡¯t believe it.¡±

    An oncoming blur of yellow just over his shoulder caught her eye, and she reflexively raised her arm to hail the cab.

    ¡°Believe it, Bailey. Maybe someday you¡¯ll get to see it unfold right before your very eyes.¡±

    ¡°I hope I do.¡±

    His words brought a fierce blush to her cheeks, and in an effort to conceal her body¡¯s knee-jerk reaction and sudden fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, she found herself stepping forward, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around his back.

    How her mind decided that hugging was somehow better than him seeing he blush was beyond her comprehension. But there was no turning back as she took in his warmth, the solidness of his muscles, the smell of his natural musk and cologne as she rested her head against his shoulder.

    His arms encircled her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze and rubbing her arms, causing an unforeseen wave of comfort to push her embarrassing blush far from her mind.

    Their heads rested together, and the calmness that swept over her was a foreign feeling. It was the antithesis of hugging Ben. With Ben, it always felt like she had to hold him a little tighter because she wasn¡¯t sure when she¡¯d see him again, due to the nature of his job and general busyness. He was always in a hurry, giving her quick squeezes as he rushed off to get to work or to get home or to meet up with friends.

    Hugging Sam was slow. It was easy. It was something she felt like she could melt into and enjoy for a long while. Especially as his thumbs kept gently caressing the back of her arms, rhythmically moving up to her shoulders and back down to her elbows.

    It was only the honking of the cab that drew them apart. She quickly busied her hands with reaching for the cab door after they dropped from the warmth of Sam¡¯s back. She turned before ducking inside, ready to thank him for going with her and being the crutch she needed to navigate a social outing without falling into her depression or anxiety.

    But he beat her to speaking. Hands freshly tucked into the pockets of his coat, he asked, ¡°Can I count on seeing you again next week?¡±

    She considered his question for a second before smiling back at him as he stood in the mixing glows of streetlights and the stoplight.

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯ve already got your handkerchief, and no parties to drag you to, which would mean we¡¯d be seeing each other without a reason or plan. I would just have to want to see you.¡±

    ¡°Do you think you¡¯ll just want to see me?¡±

    ¡°I guess we¡¯ll see. Have a good night, Sam. Thank you. For everything. I had a really wonderful time.¡±

    ¡°Good night, Anna. Thank you for this evening. Hopefully I don¡¯t have to wait too long for the jury to deliver a verdict on whether you want to see me or not.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s hope for a quick deliberation then, mister Bailey.¡±

    And with that, she swung the door to the cab shut and settled into the well-worn seat and warm, musty air. She prattled off her address and leaned her head against the window as she gazed out at the passing buildings, lights and people.

    It wasn¡¯t long before her eyes drifted closed. Her mind conjured images of Sam standing on the wet sidewalk, hand in his pockets with a soft and sweet look on his face. She could feel phantom touches of his fingers on her arms, of the spot where his head had rested against hers.

    Little did Sam know, the verdict was already in. When exactly she¡¯d let him in on that fact, she didn¡¯t know. The outcome of the night brought a smile to her lips as she reveled in the fact that she wasn¡¯t crying, wasn¡¯t sinking into an abyss of horrible feelings or having painful flashbacks.

    She just simply was. And that¡¯s exactly how she felt as she got to her building, locked herself into her apartment, crawled into bed and met sleep with a peaceful mind.