"Well that was..." Cian's voice faded out, and he instead ended the sentence with a throat-clearing noise as he raked his hand through his hair and stared out the window of his car at the rocky waves hitting the rocks.

"A lot? Unexpected? Frustrating?" I offered, though I figured the words he was looking for were probably worse than that.

Cian had seen my text so early that I had barely gone to sleep when he replied. He was working the morning shift at Carol's that day, 5am to 12pm. He texted back that he would stop by my place after he finished work so we could talk. Of course, I wanted this conversation as far away from my house as possible, so Cian drove out to a parking lot that overlooked the lake. It seemed like a fair enough place for a deep conversation, and the business that owned that parking lot had been foreclosed, so there was no one around.

I hadn't put much effort into getting ready for said conversation, as I figured it would likely end with me crying even more. I wore a comfy green sweater and loose-fitting jeans that had an unintentional rip in the knee and a burn mark somewhere down the right leg. Cian on the other hand had made a point to change out of his work clothes and into a black turtleneck sweater and fitted plaid patterned dress pants. It only added to the guilt that I was already suffocating in.

Much to Cian's credit, he let me get through the whole story without interrupting or judging me. He just nodded and looked from my mouth to my eyes as I spoke. I had kept bus money in my pocket, expecting to get ejected from the car at any moment. I told him how I met Miles, I told him about the drugs, and finally, I told him about how hopelessly in love I was with Miles, and I told him about what had happened the night before. Although, I did keep some details to myself.

It's you that I want, not him.

The words stung to even think of, those were words Cian never could hear. He didn't deserve it. It would make him feel the exact way I felt last night, watching my heart get shattered into a million fragments so small that you could not even attempt to retrieve them.

"Relieving," he finally said.

"Relieving?"

Was he just looking for a way out and I had handed it to him on a plate? Was he already sick of me? Did he think I was just some stupid kid? Did he realize he was mistaken about thinking there was anything special about me?

"I felt... a little crazy. I felt like there was something off, but you just kept denying it. Every time we would see each other it was really nice, but the in-betweens had me questioning everything, reflecting back on every word I had said to figure out if I did something wrong," he started as he wiped his palms on the tops of his thighs, and he cracked his window a little, letting in the cold air.

I wished the world would swallow me. This should be my punishment, he deserved to know, but it didn't mean I had to enjoy it. Listening to the way you affect someone and hurt someone may be the worst feeling in the universe.

"So, yeah, obviously this wasn't what I was hoping for, and it sucks a lot but, it's relieving to know that it wasn't just me. That there really was something going on."

"I'm really sorry... I never wanted to make you feel that way. I never wanted to hurt anyone," I turned to the window to hide the single tear that was rolling down my face, "I guess you probably don't want to see me again." I said it as a statement, but I was hoping it would be heard as a question. I was hoping there was still some chance here. Something to be salvaged. Just maybe.

"Is that what you want?" He turned to me and brought a hand up to gently turn my head towards him, allowing him to look into my eyes. It made my stomach turn. Whether it was a good turn or a bad turn, I wasn't sure.

"No, not at all," I sucked in a breath and started biting my inner cheek "but that seems like the selfish answer. It's not fair to you."

"Yesterday wasn't fair to me. The not knowing wasn't fair to me. But I know now what I'm into, so the rest is up to me to decide. You be selfish for you, and I'll be selfish for me."

There was a silent pause, and I couldn't get the tears to stop falling. I didn't want to ask the next question. These were real tears, not the kind you have to blink to get out, the kind where you actively try to keep them in, but they just keep falling.

"So, where would that leave this then? What would you being selfish for you mean?"

He stared at the waves rolling in for what felt like an eternity before he answered, and he rubbed his thumbs along the steering wheel.

"I, selfishly, still want to see you. Even though I know there's this other guy. If you had come here telling me he had liked you and you weren't sure what to do then, this would have been different. If this has been some sort of competition, then I would have let you go. But I know the feeling of loving someone who doesn't share the feeling. It breaks you a little. But because I know the feeling, I also know something else."

I wanted to interrupt him, tell him it was a competition because he was competing with the construction of Miles that existed in my heart, that it was taking up the whole space and there was no room. That he would have to fight for room. But I knew I needed to respect him the same way he did me and let him finish.

"You think right now that you know love, that the way your heart is breaking is because of love. But Bailey, it doesn't even compare. The love you have for someone that doesn't love you back does not even compare to the love you have with someone who loves you back. Shared love. Once you feel that, you will think you were crazy for thinking that this was love. I know it doesn't feel that way now, but you just have to trust me."

It was hard to trust him. This felt like love, it must be love. You can't tell me that your heart just aches like this for anyone. I also wanted to ask how he knows this; I wanted to hear about his heartbreaks. But at the same time, I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't like Cian. If the rolls were flipped, I would have told Cian we couldn't see each other anymore. I lacked the confidence and self-assurance to be on the other end of the situation. And for the same reason, I couldn't bring myself to hear about the people that he used to love.

"Maybe I'm crazy, but I think I have a chance with you. But I also know that at the very least, you could use a distraction."

The obvious why me? rattled around in my brain. Why would he do this for me? I wasn't anything special. His words from our last date echoed in my head, there's just something about you. I don't know what he saw in me, but I knew I better make it damn good to make myself worth all the trouble that I caused.

He started the car back up, bringing heat to my fingertips that I hadn't noticed were tingling with numbness.

"My aunt had to drive my mum to Toronto for some specialist appointment, they are always going off to new doctors hoping someone has more answers. But they will be gone until tomorrow, so I've got the place to myself. Would you maybe want to come over? Just like, stay in, play some games or whatever you like. I'm really trying to avoid the word "chill" here because I don't want to give the impression that I'm luring you to my house just to put on Netflix and rip your clothes off. Just a relaxing day, let's go with that." He nearly laughed at himself by the time he was done, and a little shine returned to his eyes that I didn't realize had been missing.

"But what if I want you to put on Netflix and rip my clothes off?" I attempted to joke through my sniffles. He grinned and used the back of his sleeve to wipe some of the tears off my face.

"Say it without crying and I may just believe you." He squeezed my knee briefly before throwing the car into reverse and backing out of the parking spot. My lack of protest seemed to have been taken as a yes, and I wasn't upset about it one bit.

The drive to his place was mostly silent, filled with a mashed together playlist he had of jazz and 70s soft rock. I didn't know that is necessarily went together, but he seemed to enjoy it and I was sure that I could learn to. For one thing, it was peaceful. Calming.

"Okay, so I've seen your house at least from the outside and I feel the need to warn you before we turn down my street that it's not going to be nearly as nice as yours. I don't want to scare you off, but-"

I cut him off, reaching over to squeeze his hand briefly. "Hey, you don't need to explain. I'm just excited to spend time with you."

I already knew the area we were in, The Heights, as it was known. My parents made it sound a lot rougher than it was. They made it out to be a scary place to even stand on the street, but in the midday Saturday sun it looked just as nice as my affluent suburban street. Just different. The buildings may not have been as new or as well-kept, but the trees and the grass were still just as beautiful and inviting.

The street was made up of mostly small apartment buildings, no more than 5 stories. That's where I had been expecting Cian to pull up, but he surprised me by turning down a cul-de-sac and pulling up the driveway of a grey stoned bungalow with a weathered green garage door. Even though it was November, you could tell that the garden had overgrown. There were two chairs up on the sheltered patio, and I just imagined Cian and I sitting there and watching the sunset. It seemed so cozy and perfect.

I opened the car door once he cut the engine, and hesitantly waited for him to lead the way. He fumbled for his keys before mounting the 5 steps up the porch to the door. The door was white, and had a name engraved on the front that I didn't quite catch. He fought with the lock a couple times, grabbing the doorhandle, and pulling the door towards him before he was finally able to get it.

Note to self: If planning quick getaway, will likely require Cian to open the door. So, don't put yourself in position to need quick getaway.

Once I stepped in, I got a whiff of something sweet. It smelled almost like a freshly brewed tea, although no one was home. It was awkwardly quiet, just the sounds of us, and the floorboards creaking beneath our weight as we slid off our shoes.

"So, this is the place," he gestured awkwardly towards the inside, but we were greeted only with a mirrored wall in front of us and walls of the hallway on either side, unable to see any further without choosing a direction.

"You're not going to give me the full tour?" I half-joked, but was hoping he would walk me around as to avoid me inevitably awkwardly looking for the bathroom and opening up every bedroom in my path.

"I can, but trust me, it's a quick tour." He nodded first just around the wall to the right, which showcased a living room with an upright piano. It didn't seem like it got much use. Then to the left where we rounded into a mint kitchen. It had a large faux black marble counter that came around, fitted with 5 bar stools. There was a door at the far end that seemed to lead to the garage or possibly the basement. Cian chose to take use to the right, where it rounded into another hallway.

"First door is the bathroom, the room at the end and the room next to that one is my mom's and my aunt's rooms. Mine is this one right here," he nodded to the door immediately to our left.

"Before you say anything, it used to be the dining room," he warned as he slowly opened the door. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it hadn't been this. The room had a beautiful chandelier hanging over his bed, and glass double doors out a small deck. The walls were decorated with floating shelves displaying vinyl records and vintage band tour posters. The room was an emerald green.

"Wow, I love it," I said honestly, stepping into the room and admiring the view from the patio doors. There was a typewriter sitting on his desk, an electronic one.

"It's good for now," he replied modestly.

"It's definitely missing something major," I said, taking inventory of the walls.

"Oh?"

"You said you were an artist, but there is not a single painting on any of these walls. Let alone a painting of yours."

He scoffed, "I said I loved art, I definitely never called myself an artist. It's probably a large degree of my own self-absorption that stops me from hanging paintings of other artists, from idolizing other art so outright. And on the flip side, I'm not self-absorbed enough to hang up my own art in my room. I have a couple in my closet, but I always try to sell them as I finish them, when I can."

I turned to face him, his warm brown eyes sparkled with little hints of green in the light pouring in from the patio doors. "Sell them where? Like at the market?" I wondered curiously. Perhaps bordering on nosily.

"Yeah, you've been? I try to make it down there when I have enough stuff. I have the permit and everything. Not quite tent-level investment yet though, so it's really just left up to the elements whether I'm able to go on a given day."

"That's really cool," I replied. I suddenly was regretting not going to the market with my mom. She did it semi-regularly on the weekends. I never understood the appeal, because I felt like you could go once and get an idea of what all the vendors were, so unless you needed that product there was really no point to go back. I now was learning I was hugely mistaken.

"Thanks," he said.

Then we did that thing where we stand in silence. I stood swinging my hands around to the song playing in my head, feeling very awkward in my body. I was also feeling a bit overwhelmed and naked from our conversation in the car. At the same time, I was happy. I didn't think in any world that that conversation would have ended up with me here, admiring his bedroom décor. I still couldn't understand what about me had drawn him in.

"Movie or game?" He offered, breaking the silence.

"Game!" I exclaimed excitedly, and he laughed a little before leading the way back to the living room.

* * * * *

"There is no way that you're not cheating somehow. This is insane," I whined.

Cian laughed, and reached a hand up to pat my head like I was a child, which I swerved in an attempt to avoid it.

"You chose the game!" He pointed out, and I eyed over his large pools of cash, nearly having cleared out the bank.

"Okay, when you said you had The Game of Life I wasn't expecting some 1970's relic where going to college was considered the "risky" path." I rolled my eyes and spun the spinner lazily and moved my car the corresponding spot carelessly. I had dropped a child peg a few turns back and was now just leaving it on the board as a speed bump. I never was a very good loser, which was why I made it a point to never lose.

"Why don't we just abandon the game and watch something?" Cian offered, and I eagerly started packing up the game before I even answered the question.

Cian moved from the floor where he had been sitting around the coffee table to now be next to me on the sofa, flicking on the television with the remote.

"What's your favourite kind of movie?" He asked, pulling up Netflix as I closed the lid on the game.

I shrugged awkwardly. As much as this was the exciting part, it was also the nerve-wracking part. With Miles I had always known where I stood, I knew what we would watch, how we would sit. I knew what chips were his favourite and how to tell when he was getting tired. I knew him well. And this felt like starting over. It was fun, the flirting. And any kind gesture had me swooning. But the learning was always a slow and agonizing crawl. Even with Miles, there was no "I feel like I've known him all my life" moment where everything felt right. It was work to learn and get to the point where I could say I had truly known him for a large portion of my life. It took time, and now it felt like it was all wasted. And I always hated that part.

My thoughts immediately devolved into thinking about what Monday at school would bring, whether Miles would even come back or if he would just drop out. Then thinking that I was conceited to even believe that I could possibly have that prominent of an effect on him.

I closed my eyes tight, willing the negative thoughts to leave and just to enjoy this moment. "I like action movies," I blurted out. Well, it felt like blurting out to me amidst my thoughts, but I think it was received normally. The whole truth was that I liked superhero movies, but that felt a little too juvenile to admit aloud just yet.

Cian nodded, going to the action section of Netflix saying, "Pick a number."

"Between what?" I asked

"Just a number," Cian said with a smile. I contemplated saying something ridiculous like 10, 591 but decided against it.

"Six."

Cian scrolled to the movie Twister, which had once been a family favourite for me.

"Have you seen it before?" I asked while sliding further back onto the couch, bringing up my legs to sit criss-cross. I always had felt a bit awkward with myself, never quite sure where to sit or how to sit. I left just enough room that we weren't touching and closing the gap would have to be a conscious effort.

Cian shook his head in response to my question and the opening started to play. It was easy to get drawn into the movie from the first second, the concept of tornados on their own was fascinating enough, let alone all the side drama.

I realized Cian wasn't as captivated as I was when I felt his hand near my foot. "Come here, you look so uncomfortable." He said, moving my legs so that they were now sprawled across his own. Like I was melting into him, which I practically was by this point. I rested my head against his shoulder.

I suddenly felt inexperienced compared to him. Sure, I'd had sex plenty of times, but this stuff - this emotional, mushy, romantic stuff - I was completely lost on. I continued watching the movie, overly aware of our close proximity and constantly feeling like I should do something, but not having the nerve to actually do it.

"Are you watching me or the movie?" He asked suddenly, and I snapped back to earth, realizing I had zoned out while staring at him. My face turned the same fiery shade of my hair, and I attempt to hide it by pushing it deeper into his shirt.

"I mean, I can watch Twister anytime," I said and he laughed in response.

"Is that so? Am I boring you, Bailey?" He smirked as he said it, and I hated how attractive I found it. He had the same elements of bluntness and cockiness that Miles did but wore it so much better. He balanced it with moments of sweetness and vulnerability. There was no wall, it was just Cian. An open book.

"I wouldn't say you're boring me... but there's definitely more exciting things to do," I said suggestively. His near golden eyes met mine, and I saw him look stunned for a moment at my boldness. I was also stunned at myself.

"Can I kiss-"

He didn't get to finish because I had already brought my hand up behind his neck and used it to pull him towards me. Our teeth briefly clashed because of my forcefulness, but neither of us seemed to mind. The kiss was soft and gentle, but passionate. I wound my hand up in his hair, the soft dark curls, and twisted in them.

It didn't take long for him to reposition us. He slowly lowered us down so that I was lying underneath him, and he was hovering just above me. When he took my lip between his teeth and bit it slightly, I let out a soft moan, to which he laughed with his mouth against mine. It didn't take long before I felt his tongue touching mine.

The kiss was very different then with Miles, it felt like an exchange. Like he would take a turn exploring my mouth with his tongue, biting my lips, and then he would ease, like he was inviting me in. With Miles it has always felt like he ran the show, always having to be in the dominant roll.

And then I was angry with myself for even thinking of Miles, for the constant comparison of Cian and Miles. Cian didn't deserve it, and Miles didn't even deserve to occupy a space in my mind.

I tightened my grip in Cian's hair, pulling slightly and I felt his body inch closer to mine. I slid my other hand down from his neck to the lower hem of his shirt, toying with it, and letting my fingers graze his stomach. He seemed to invite it, arching his body down even more. So, I continued to explore, feeling under his shirt. He was toned, and he had a small trail of hair leading down to his pants that had my thoughts running to a terrible place.

It was only when my hand started to trail down towards his waistband that he suddenly broke the kiss.

"It's too soon, too fast." He moved his hand over mine and pulled back, leaning back on the sofa to breathe and putting distance between us.

"I'm not ... a virgin," I say the last words quietly and awkwardly, nearly under my breath, thinking that is what he has assumed that based on my age and general awkwardness. "I can handle it."

"It's not that," he started between catching his breath. "We started this morning by you confessing your love for your best friend. I don't want to do anything like... that ... until we are both ready."

There was a momentary silence while I reflected on his words. Had I ever truly been ready? It was never something I had considered before. I felt like I was always just following this narrative of events that I knew were supposed to happen, especially with Miles. I was too nervous to ever say no out of fear that my rejection would make it all stop for good. Though, not that I ever wanted to say no. I had always wanted what Miles wanted.

Eventually I asked, "Okay, this may sound stupid but... How do you know if you're ready?"

"Honestly, it's something I've spent probably too much time thinking about. But I feel like once you feel that regret for sleeping with someone you shouldn't have, it becomes a bit clearer. You have to remove yourself from the situation, and see how you feel when you're alone, in bed at the end of the day. That reflective time, you know? And if you feel relieved that it didn't happen, then it's too soon. When you start to feel just a little regret that you didn't, wishing it had gone further, that's when it's time."

I knew both, the relief and the regret. These were the things no one ever told you. Just that typical "when two people love each other" jargon that only lands you in a worse place. Because you mistake sex for love and you get used, and then you get hurt. I tried not to let that thought come back to the surface and pushed it far down.

"So... are we talking like, everything's off the table?" I said as a half-joke.

"Your inner high schooler is showing," he said, flashing a playful smile at me. "Just give it a little time, Bailey."

"Oh, trust me, I can be patient." It was like a little inside joke with myself for being in love with my best friend, but I was hoping he wouldn't catch onto that.

"Good... back to the movie?" He offered, and I nodded while scooting myself back to our original position with my legs thrown over him and my head resting on his shoulder.

The movie played and he drew small circles on my arm, occasionally making small talk about the plotline. And then at some point, I became so relaxed that I fell asleep.