SYDNEY LOOKS like Sleeping Beauty ─ I know that because she made me watch the film with her yesterday. She is just as soulful lying on her back in my bed, her light blonde curls spread out on the pillow under her head and her bubblegum pink lips slightly parted.

The only thing that makes her a little different from Sleeping Beauty is her psychology book lying open on her stomach.

A thought occurs to me that makes me smile.

Has Sleeping Beauty not been kissed awake?

Sydney will sleep half the day away if I don't finally wake her up. Besides, in less than an hour, we're expecting a visit from Bronwyn, Peter, and Candice, as well as our parents, Jeremy and Avery.

Without giving it much thought, I rest my hands on the pillow next to her head, lean down to her and place my lips on hers. I kiss her only fleetingly and then detach myself from her, whereupon she grumbles something unintelligible. Sleeping Beauty didn't grumble, but she wasn't nearly as pretty as Sydney for that.

"Dean?" murmurs Sydney as her eyelids flutter a little.

Smiling, I kiss her again, this time on the forehead. "Feel free to open your eyes, Curly. I'm not naked this time either. And I'm afraid I didn't bring any breakfast along as well."

"What a shame," she replies, smiling and closing her eyes. "The one about breakfast in bed, of course."

Suddenly she tears her eyes open and is wide awake. Then she sweeps her open psychology book along with her blanket off her, hugs me stormily, and mumbles some unintelligible things against my shoulder.

I can guess what she's saying anyway because after all, we both know what day it is.

Sydney detaches herself from me just enough to look me in the face. With tears in her eyes, she puts her hands on my cheeks and whispers, "Happy birthday, Dean."

The corners of my mouth lift happily.

Sydney stares at my lips for a moment, then kisses me firmly and presses my back into the mattress. Slowly, she runs her small hands under my jumper and touches my stomach, my chest, everything.

I sigh softly and wander with my hands over her back to her small, shapely butt, which immediately tenses under my touch. Our kisses become fiery and hungry, soaked with impatience and desire.

I pull Sydney's light blue dress, embroidered with tiny little sunflowers, over her head in a single movement and drop it on the floor somewhere in the bedroom. She wants to tie her hair up at the nape of her neck so that it doesn't interfere, but I pleadingly stop her.

"Leave your curls down, Curly. It's hot."

She snorts. "Well, if you say so. I don't think all men feel that way, but ─"

"Not all men have to think that way anyway." Grinning, I kiss her on the sensuously soft lips. "You are with me. All the other guys can take a flying fuck if they find something wrong with your hair."

Sydney grins and pulls my jumper over my head. Whenever her big blue eyes burn into my bare skin, I feel somehow .... special. It sounds completely stupid, but the fact that Sydney looks at me like that makes me feel really special.

She lowers her head and spreads little kisses on my stomach. "You're twenty-two now." I groan as she runs her hand teasingly over the bulging part of my pants, making it impossible for me to say anything back. "Admit it, you like younger girls."

I laugh softly. "It's your birthday next month too and you're turning twenty. It's not that young."

"Are you calling me old right now?" Playfully indignant, she gasps as she looks me firmly in the eye, pulling my pants down a little.

I help her and push my waistband down to my thighs. "I'm pretty sure I'll still love you when your skin is wrinkled and you need my help walking."

"The idea is so romantic," she returns sarcastically.

My pants are somewhere on the floor by now and I'm only wearing boxers, which Sydney is almost magically attracted to as she stares unblinkingly at the raised area. I bend over her and gently press her into the soft mattress, whereupon she sighs softly.

Agonizingly slowly, I run my index finger from the indentation of her collarbones over the small bow of her provocatively red bra to her belly button. Sydney doesn't take her eyes off me and moans as my finger now dips under her panties and enters her.

"To be honest," my voice is the definition of a croak, "I find the idea of you and me in the next fifty years quite romantic."

She agrees with me with a gasping sound.

"I love you so much," I add a second finger and enter her harder, faster. "Do you know that, actually?"

She nods and digs her nails into my shoulders, moaning.

It's a completely overwhelming feeling, watching Sydney come, and every time. The soft sounds she makes at the beginning get louder and louder towards the end until she finally doesn't bother to suppress them anymore. She never manages to look me in the eyes until the end because she always squeezes them shut just before the climax.

Each time she can only look at me after a few seconds and seems exhausted for a moment. But this moment never lasts long.

Not this time either. She grabs my boxers and pulls them down over my hips with a fast motion. Her long curls spread on the pillow-like rays of sunlight and her blue eyes remind me of small sparkling crystals.

As her hands sweep from my shoulders over my belly and pause below my belly button for a moment, I have to struggle not to moan louder. Almost carefully, she touches the tip, which throbs painfully under her touch. For some reason, the fact that Sydney sometimes doesn't know exactly what she's doing only makes it more appealing to me.

Because in reality, she does absolutely nothing wrong when she touches me. Ever.

While her hands make almost fluid hand movements, she looks me straight in the eye and I don't avert my gaze either. It's almost embarrassing how fast I come, but Sydney doesn't give me time to collect myself.

She wraps her arms around my neck, kisses me, and turns me so that she is now sitting on top of me. I return the kiss just as stormily as she does and undoes her bra clasp, which pops open with a snap. Almost at the same moment, Sydney lowers herself on top of me and moans into my mouth because I'm so deep inside her.

I'm dizzy with love and lust, but I can't imagine a more beautiful feeling. I love and desire Sydney so much that it physically hurts and I'm not even sure how this state can ever be topped anymore.

Determined, I place my hands on Sydney's hips and effortlessly lift her up, only to have her sink back down onto me. We moan out almost simultaneously and make love for a seemingly endless time that usually passes far too quickly.

As Sydney lies contentedly in my arms, glancing lazily at the clock, she gives a sort of squeak. "Dean, our families will be here in an hour and we'll still be naked!"

"And should stay naked at best," I add. It's a pathetic attempt to get her back in bed because she's already grabbed a towel and is on her way to the bathroom.

Before I make an effort to follow her, she calls from the living room: "Just stay where you are! Otherwise, we'll never finish in time."

I laugh softly and lie back down with a dreamy look into the void. The apartment is already tidied up, because Sydney and I already did that yesterday, knowing we wouldn't find time for it today, but we haven't cooked yet.

Sighing, I get up after a while and don't bother to get dressed when Sydney is about to come out anyway and it's my turn to shower. In fact, Peter, Bronwyn, Sydney, and I have been attending a cooking class for a few weeks now, which has turned out to be more exciting than we initially expected. I'm already pretty good at making the best Asian sauces for vegetable and rice stir-fries.

Since Sydney and I don't eat meat, we just have to experiment around, but I'd say we're doing well, even though we've burnt something three times already.

I have just started chopping the vegetables when Sydney comes into the kitchen with wet hair and slightly red cheeks. I guess my naked existence is to blame for the latter.

"Cute how you can barely look at me now," I remark with a grin. "It looked quite different before. You were literally devouring me with your looks."

"Go take a shower and get dressed, Dean." She wraps her arms around my shoulders from behind and presses a kiss to the sensitive spot under my earlobe.

I sigh contentedly. "Suit yourself, Curly."

"I'm so excited to see what you have to say about my gift later," Sydney admits and even though I can't see her, I can feel her smile as she kisses me on my right shoulder.

Surprised, I raise my eyebrows. "And I thought the sex earlier was meant as a gift."

In response, she pinches my butt with a laugh.

I kiss her one last time and then walk slowly into the bathroom on purpose, whereupon she rolls her eyes with certainty. I can't see it, but I still know somehow.

Because today I will also see my parents for the first time in months, I put on a pair of dark blue jeans and a black shirt after the shower, which I have a few problems buttoning up.

I leave my hair, which thanks to Sydney are short and neat, alone, and yet I stare in the mirror for a while without knowing exactly why. In my head, I go over the facts of the moment.

I am twenty-two years old now. I am no longer on the run or on parole or on Rikers Island.

I would never go there again because, thankfully, Gavin, Kolin, and Xander will be in prison for a long time. I won't have to expect a surprise visit from Hunter on my birthday either since he left the University of New Haven without a word because that place most likely reminds him of far too horrible events.

So I'm going to have a great birthday today with my closest friends and family. And I have Sydney as my girlfriend.

It really couldn't have gone any better for me.

"DEAN! SOMEONE KNOCKED!"

That's Bronwyn calling from the living room, apparently appeared sometime in the last fifteen minutes without me noticing. She's helping Sydney with the cooking while Peter inspects some vegetables, trying to figure out if it's still eatable. When he spots me, he grins. "Happy birthday, Dee."

Bronwyn walks up to me with a small cupcake and presses it into my hand, smiling. "Happy birthday. Peter and I baked that one," she adds proudly.

Something about the picture of my friends makes me smile and after thanking them profusely, I walk towards the front door and open it expectantly.

Sure enough, my parents are standing in front of me, looking at me almost in awe. After all, it is the first time we have seen each other in months and then I have also been the one to invite them here. Still smiling, I pull Mom into a hug, who sighs contentedly in response. I nod once to Dad and to my surprise he does the same.

I have never received such an affectionate gesture from him before.

Behind my parents are Aella and Gabe O'Donnell and although I have already met Sydney's parents, Gabe intimidates me every time with his permanently grim expression, which is especially dedicated to me.

Aella comes up to me with a distant smile but still gives me a quick hug to show me that although she has nothing against me, she still doesn't know what to make of Sydney and me as a couple.

The very first time we met, she pulled me aside and asked me all sorts of questions, from "What's your favorite food?" to "Do you really tend to get violent?"

It was, I think, one of the most interesting conversations I've ever had.

Gabe looks around my flat suspiciously and looks like he's looking for any weapons. I have to stifle a laugh.

"Mom, Dad!" Sydney hugs her mother stormily and grins at something Aella says to her. I watch as even Gabe gives Sydney a quick hug, and at that moment I'm a little happier than I already am. Because you can see from Sydney's face that a huge stone has fallen from her heart since she got back together with her parents.

Behind me, I suddenly hear footsteps.

"I brought cake!"

"Hey, Candy Crush." I take the box from Candice with a longing look at the cake and gesture with my head for her to come in.

What Candice has been through in the last few months has not been clear to any of us. She confessed to us a few weeks ago that she wanted to drop out of college, especially since it had never been her dream to study. I never noticed how unhappy she actually looked when we ran into each other in the corridors, but now somehow it all makes sense to me. Candice's obnoxious nature and her constant urge to go to parties to distract herself have been a result of how uncomfortable she actually felt.

In the meantime, she is pursuing her real passion: cooking. And I did something that first made her cry and then made her laugh: I sent money to her family so she could focus on her education.

I remember how pleasantly surprised Sydney was, but what else could I do?

My parents have enough money and don't know what to do with it anyway. My inheritance is such a big number that I struggle to count the zeros every time I look at my bank account. Besides, I would never have let Candice ─

"You think he doesn't notice us?" a male voice whispers.

Someone chuckles. "I think he's lost in thought."

I lift my head and look into Jeremy and Avery's smiling faces. For a moment I'm caught off guard because it's still unusual for Jeremy to be happy to see me. I wouldn't say he and I are friends because he just can't admit that he likes me, but we already like each other a lot.

Avery pulls me into a tight hug and congratulates me effusively, while Jeremy holds out a ghetto fist, which I mockingly return. He just sticks his tongue out at me.

"I think we should all sing for Dean," Jeremy exclaims suddenly.

My mouth drops open.

Peter finally leaves the vegetables alone and stands next to me, grinning. "That's really a great idea."

"Traitor," I mutter so softly that only he hears.

"Absolutely!" My mom is beside herself with joy. "When do you ever get a birthday song for your birthday?"

About every year.

Except for the year I happened to run away from the police.

Sydney puts an arm around me and looks up at me. Her gaze is not pleading but questioning. Lost in thought, I brush a thick curl over her shoulders and nod. "Okay, let's hear you sing."

And they do. Especially as Bronwyn and Peter take it a little too seriously and start doing some kind of dance routine that makes everyone laugh. Sydney's shoulders shake and she covers her face in the crook of my neck, smirking, while I look at this mess of family and friends and can't help but grin.

Mom and Dad, after all, are also showing off what they learned in a dance class about a hundred years ago and even Sydney's dad has a pleased look in his eyes. Candice has to laugh so hard that she has to wipe away the tears of laughter and right after she starts laughing again.

I don't know why, but at that moment I realize something: this is where I belong. And these people who are making completely strange dance moves in my kitchen are my family.

"You're happy," Sydney says suddenly. It's not a guess, but an observation, which she acknowledges with a smile.

The corners of my mouth almost hurt from smiling so much, but it's a good hurt. I look at Sydney, who is my best friend, my closest confidant, and my everything. She's the reason I'm allowed to stand here in the first place and I'd spend the rest of our lives making sure she doesn't regret it.

Sydney kisses me and hugs me tightly right after. "Just so you know, I've never been happier than I am right now either."

"Not even earlier when we were both in my bed ─"

She interrupts me with a playfully angry punch to my upper arm. "Not in the presence of our parents and friends, Dean."

"True," I whisper softly. "You do have a reputation to uphold. If only they knew how insatiable you are when I ─"

"Dean." My name out of her mouth is a single warning. Then her expression softens and she shakes her head, smiling. "You're such an insane weirdo. But I love you more than anything in this world, Walker."

My hands gently stroke the fabric of her soft jumper. "Say it again with my real name."

The corners of her mouth lift in amusement. "I love you, Dean Spencer Avens."

I kiss her flushed cheeks and reply, "And I can't wait until you have my last name, Sydney."

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