With (NO) love, Tyler-Jane Roberts

I have always hated going to sleep.

Sleep is supposed to be a time where you let your body and mind rest. However, that means you have to relax your thoughts as well. I was quite shit at doing that. It was probably why I always needed help falling asleep. Whether help came in the form of a not-so-legal substance or a long fuck. Although, no guy was really good enough at the latter to tire me out enough to sleep. Any guy who tried to say otherwise was only twice as disappointing.

I hated going to sleep. But what I hated more was sharing a bed with someone else. It was unsettling and uncomfortable, and quite frankly, sometimes too warm. I liked being alone. And that was a fact whether it was in or out of bed.

Yet, as I noticed the vacancy on the other side of the bed, I felt a sense of emptiness surrounding me.

I hated sleeping – but I could sleep in this bed. I hated sleeping next to someone – but I missed him when he wasn't around.

Eyes glancing towards the clock, I let a frustrated sigh escape. 7:10 AM.

Carter hadn't been in bed for at least an hour. I wondered if he had slept here at all. He was there when I fell asleep. But, maybe he left and slept somewhere else for the night. I couldn't blame him if that's what he had done. I'm sure I would have done the same.

I tapped my fingers against the comforter, wondering how much longer I could avoid getting up. There was an awkward, possibly painful conversation that awaited. I struggled to make normal conversation. How the fuck was I supposed to explain myself for last night, without making everything worse? Maybe I could just sneak out, run out the front door without having to talk to him. A cowardly move it would be. However, the more I thought about it, the more it became the only reasonable option in my head.

Before I could talk myself out of my not-so-fool-proof-plan, I quickly tossed the bedsheets off my body and forced myself to stand. With heavy steps, I made my way towards the bathroom. As soon as my feet touched the cold marbled floor, I was instantly flooded with the memory of last night. I forced my eyes forward, not wanting to even glance at the shower.

Because looking at the shower would mean remembering last night. And recalling my breakdown I had on the floor. More specifically, how Carter sat with me in his clothes until I stopped-

Way to think about it without even looking over. Good job, dumbass.

Hands gripping the edge of the sink, I did my best to forget about the pressing thought and taunting voice in my head. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I was taken aback by what I saw. My eyes were puffy, my skin appeared drained of any colour, and my cheeks were hollow. I couldn't say I ever looked great waking up after a long night. Right now, I looked worse. I looked like shit.

I ran the tap, letting the water pool in my hands before splashing my face. I hoped that would do the trick. When I caught sight of myself in the mirror, my hope was instantly crushed. I still looked like shit. Damn those stupid face-wash commercials; a splash of water didn't fix everything like they made it seem. Once I had dried off, I glanced around the bathroom, surprised to see that my pile of clothes was no longer on the floor. Shit. Walking back to the bedroom, I madly look around, disappointment set in once I saw nothing but a spotless space and no clothes.

Those jeans cost me a whole fifty bucks! There was no way I could leave without them. Fuck. The realization that I now had to talk to him was beginning to set in.

Okay, TJ, calm down. New plan. Make awkward small talk, get my clothes, and get the fuck out. And don't fall for the charm of his stupid smile.

Reaching for the door handle, I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself before exiting the room. I hated being nervous; it showed weakness. And showing Carter any further signs of weakness was the last thing I wanted to do right now.

Entering the open living space, I was surprised to not see him sitting around somewhere. Now I was on the hunt for two things. My jeans and, unfortunately, Carter. I walked towards the kitchen, huffing out a sigh of frustration when I noticed I was once again alone.

I was already becoming increasingly tired of this game. I just wanted my fucking jeans. Just as I was about to consider evacuating my plan entirely, I glanced out the window and spotted a familiar face sitting outside.

I made my way towards the backdoor, surprised that he hadn't noticed my presence as I lingered in the open doorway. Carter sat in one of the chairs, notebook in hand, as he scribbled madly onto a page. I wondered what he was writing – clearly whatever it was caused him to be deep in thought. His brows furrowed, causing his forehead to crease. His eyes slightly narrowed, intensely focused on what he was doing. That's how he normally looked whenever he was in the middle of an idea.

I patiently waited until his pen stopped moving on the page – not wanting to interrupt.

As his eyes met mine, a feeling I was having trouble identifying spread throughout my body. It was like my heart had dropped into the pit of my stomach. I couldn't tell if I appreciated or hated the look of concern he had.

"Hey," he said softly, rising to his feet, "Sorry, I didn't hear you get up."

"It's okay." I forced a smile.

"How did you sleep?"

"Uh, good, yeah. Thanks." I cleared my throat. "I'll just grab my things and head out."

Carter's hand went to my cheek, his head cocking to the side. "What's the rush?"

I was caught off guard by his question and wasn't sure what to say in response. Why wouldn't I be in a rush to get out? Why wouldn't he want me to leave? Surely he would want me out of his house as soon as possible, given everything I had put him through last night.

"Let me at least make you some breakfast before you go."

I wanted to turn down his offer. Yet his current touch, and the way his thumb was gently grazing my skin, made me want to prolong this moment with him for as long as I could.

"Okay."

He smiled. "Good. I may not know how to make a lot of things, but I do make a pretty good omelette."

Carter leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I hated how it made me feel when he did that. I never thought such a simple touch of affection could make me feel so warm inside.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I'll bring everything out when it's ready."

I walked towards the outdoor sitting area as Carter made his way inside, and sat down in one of the chairs. My teeth gnawed at my bottom lip as I shifted uncomfortably in my spot. Staying for breakfast was only going to prolong the inevitable, awkward exit I would have to make. I winced in pain, and released my bottom from my teeth, realizing I had drawn blood. Glancing over my shoulder, I looked through the window to see him busying himself in the kitchen, moving around the space like a mad man.

I couldn't help but wonder what he was like on a usual morning without all the chaos. We had never spent one of those mornings together. Normally our wake-ups consisted of a quick fuck, and one of us sneaking out at an early enough hour to not get caught by anyone. As Carter made his way to the stove, I noticed the smile he had and couldn't help but wonder if he was a morning person. He seemed like the type of person to hum a tune as he made breakfast.

Taking in the view of Carter's backyard, I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace. It was an odd feeling for me to have; it was not one I was used to. I appreciated it nonetheless. This house was not the place I expected someone like him to call home. One would think that a party boy in Hollywood, as the magazines seemed to favour describing him, would live in an empty, plain white box. Not a house that appeared modest for someone of his status, surrounded with a garden that appeared to be straight from a fairy tale book.

Getting up from my spot, it took me a second to realize I was walking towards the flower beds. There was something about them that made me want to know more. Apparently to the point of my body taking over my mind. The flowers were all connected to a bush. They were quite funny looking, yet elegant at the same time, with what looked like hundreds of petals packed together to form one tight ball. Its colour was quite nice too; a mix of light pink and purple. There were quite a number of these identical bushes, planted in a row, and seeing them up close was more beautiful than I would have expected.

"TJ?"

I turned my head over my shoulder, seeing Carter approach with slow steps.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded. "Yeah, sorry. The flowers caught my eye."

"They're peonies," he said, smiling as he looked towards the bush. "My mom likes them and my niece thinks they're pretty." Carter cleared his throat, "Breakfast is ready."

I looked down at Carter's extended hand, causing the feeling of uneasiness in my stomach to expand. "You don't have to do this."

His arm dropped back to his side. "Do what?"

"You don't have to be the nice guy and pretend everything is fine." I took a deep breath. "I know what I did last night was fucked up and I know that you probably want to stay as far away from my big flaming pile of shit. So, I get it," I told him, shrugging my shoulders, "We can just go our separate ways now and you don't have to feel bad about not fulfilling the nice guy role this morning. I'd just really like my jeans back."

"What?"

"I'd really like my jeans back." I sighed, "They were expensive and fit in all the right-"

"Not that," he interjected, taking a step closer. "You think I want to end our... friendship?"

Now was not the time, but I couldn't help but find it humorous how he struggled with that word.

"Well, yeah." I shifted uncomfortably. "Don't you?"

Carter shook his head. "No. Do you?"

Mirroring his actions, my voice whispered an honest, "No."

His hand went to my cheek. "You had a rough night, after what sounds like a pretty hard week. It happens to the best of us." His tone was comforting as he continued, "You don't owe me an explanation of what happened or what's going on in that head of yours," he said, flashing a smile, "I'm just happy you're here. Okay?"

I nodded.

"Good. Now, let's eat before breakfast gets cold."

My hand found its way to his as we walked towards the outdoor table. His words replayed in my head. It sounded honest, yet the cynical part of me couldn't help but feel some type of doubt. Any sane person would have jumped at that open invitation to leave, free from any guilt. Carter didn't. He looked at me like I was the crazy one for even suggesting such a thing.

I wasn't crazy. Fucked in the head, yes. Crazy, no. In my mind, there was a difference between the two.

Maybe we were both a little fucked in the head. It was odd to think Carter could be like that; he always appeared to handle himself in such calmness. But, it would make sense why he bothered to deal with me.

The sound of metal dragging against the stone ground pulled me out of my thoughts. Carter gestured to the pulled-out chair. Pulling out chairs for someone? I thought that only happened in sappy movies. I looked at the spread on the table, taken aback. There was his famous omelette he raved about on a plate, a bowl of fruit, toast, and coffee. The smell made me nauseous. But, the proud look he sported warmed the ice inside my chest, and I found myself reaching for the fork beside my plate.

I chewed slowly, forcing my lips to force into a smile. "This is really good!"

He seemed relieved as he dug into his own food. It was good; he clearly knew how to make eggs. Food and I didn't have a great relationship this early in the morning. Or so, I had convinced myself.

As a silence loomed over the two of us, I said the first thing that came to mind. "It's a nice day out."

Carter nodded, that cheeky smile of his appearing. "It is."

I wasn't sure what I hated more: that charming looked he effortlessly pulled off without realizing, or that it worked on me. I think it was the latter of the two.

Quietness overpowered our conversation once again. Normally, I would prefer it this way. It was peaceful not having to talk. However, now it was uncomfortable. Carter said I didn't owe him any type of explanation. Although, I couldn't help feeling like I did. I began to wish that he was noisier; pushing me until I couldn't take it anymore and unravelled everything.

Carter wasn't like that. He was respectful.

Bastard.

I wrapped my hands around the coffee mug, my fingers tapping against the ceramic. His eyes met my glance, and I noticed that stupid smile appear once again.

"My mom isn't dead," I blurted out.

Understandably, Carter raised a confused brow.

"Back in New York," I continued, ignoring my mental pleas to shut up, "You asked why I moved in with Silas. I told you it was because my mom couldn't take care of me and his family took me in. That part was true." I paused. "But, then you asked where she was now and I said she was dead."

Carter nodded, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. "Why did you say that then?"

To my surprise, there was no judgement in his tone. There was only a genuine curiosity; as if he was only trying to get a better grasp of my rambling mess of an explanation.

"Because she's dead to me." 

decided to split this baddie into 2 because it's a long one

sorry for the wait. computer issues, school, and desperately trying to find a job have taken over my life. but, my horoscope said a job's coming my way so... fingers crossed lmao.