The next day I wake up naked, my body tangled with Sebastian's, the sheets wrapped around us like a cocoon.

It's early—almost six thirty in the morning. My muscles ache, craving the exercise I've put on hold ever since we landed here.

Carefully, I untwist myself and slip my robe on. I stand at the side of the bed, looking down at Sebastian's sleeping face. His curls are splayed out onto the pillow, his full lips pressed together gently. He looks so peaceful, so unaware. When I lean down and kiss his temple, he stirs just slightly.

In the bathroom, I wash up and put on a new pair of running clothes. Maybe this time outside in the fresh morning air is just what I need.

On the elevator ride down I try to hype myself up, I try to get excited and be positive. Exercise always clears my mind.

It kind of works, because the first twenty minutes of my run are exhilarating and magical and everything I thought they would be. The fresh air filling my lungs and the sound of my sneakers hitting the sidewalk put me in a zone I don't often reach.

But when I check my watch at twenty-one minutes, just as I'm turning the corner to pass the pier, a message from Axel is waiting.

I'm at the pier, it says.

Of fucking course you are, I think to myself as I audibly groan. My finger swipes the notification away and I tell myself to just keep going—run straight past.

But of course I can't do that.

My eyes float to him before I even realize it's him. He's sitting on the side of the pier this time, facing me, his legs dangling down. He shifts back onto his hands, looking much more relaxed than yesterday.

"Hey!" He yells as I get closer, sarcasm in his voice. "I think we met yesterday."

"It's so early, why are you here?" I ask him, gradually slowing down to a jog.

The sun is just starting to rise above the water, casting a soft orange glow onto everything around us. The birds are beginning to settle down from their early morning chirping, the world and water quietly waking up.

"I knew you'd come running to see me," he says smugly when I'm closer, ignoring my previous question.

My sneakers squeak against the cement as I reach the beginning of the pier, rolling my eyes at his comment. So self-assured.

"I'm just exercising," I say, my turn to dismiss his comment now. "And what are you doing?"

Axel shrugs, kicking his feet that hang off the edge. "Waiting for you."

I use my shirt to wipe the sweat off of my face, letting his answer hang in the air for a moment.

"There is no way. No way," I say with a laugh, almost positive a red blush is creeping up my neck.

He shrugs, like I'm being naive by not believing him. We just look at each other, a few seconds that feel like minutes passing.

"Would you like to grab breakfast?" He finally asks, the question sounding inquisitive.

It catches me off guard, the answer dancing on my tongue. Do I say yes? I want to say yes.

"I've got an hour," I compromise, watching his movements as he stands up at the first sound of my answer.

"Let's go then, I've got a lot of questions," he says with one eyebrow raised.

Today he's wearing a black hoodie and gray sweatpants, both a little bit too baggy but not overly so. He has dark circles under his eyes like he didn't get much sleep, and perhaps, he just woke up and came here. For some reason—intuition, maybe.

For the first few minutes, we walk in silence, but not the comfortable silence I've grown used to with Sebastian. It's different with Axel; I've wronged him. The debt of my actions is a storm cloud above us, just waiting to burst open with rain.

Then, like a second olive branch, he speaks like we're two friends catching up. "This one, they have the best french toast. Remember?"

Axel points to a small corner cafe that has tiny windows and pale blue scalloped siding. Its quaint charm adds perfectly to this side of town. Internally, I wonder how Sebastian has missed this restaurant on his hunt for breakfast places because it looks right up his alley.

However, I have no recollection of ever going here, so I play along, now picking up on the mischievous grin that adorns his face. A stark contrast to yesterday.

"I think they had the best omelettes," I counter, raising one eyebrow.

Axel scrunches his face, giving me a look like I'm insane. "No way. Looks like we've got to settle this." He nods in the direction of the door.

"I guess so?" I say back slowly, unsure.

"No. Wait. This place looks way too gay," he says, stopping in place to cross his arms, examining the exterior of the restaurant like a dad looking at freshly cut grass. "Look at all those butterfly bushes along the side. It's like a fairy house."

"Dude," I recoup, standing in front of him, "the last time I checked you are gay."

He squints one eye at my words. "The last time you checked? Five years ago?"

My shoulders are square to his, watching the corner of his eye wrinkle and then relax. I press my lips in a tight line and move out of the way only slightly, embarrassment or something like that whipping into me like wind.

"Let's fucking go," he finally says, dodging me to get to the front door. He's only a centimeter away from brushing my shoulder. "I'm still pissed at you," he adds for good measure.

When we get inside the restaurant, it's quiet. I suppose the rush hasn't started yet, or maybe it never will by the antiquated looks of the interior. So much potential on the outside that's seriously lacking inside.

The hostess greets us with a warm smile and puts us at a booth in the back. Menus slide across the table to each of us, and I eagerly pick mine up.

Sitting across from Axel feels surreal. My nerves are only a bit thrown off, but I know he can give me one look or say one word that changes everything.

"I want to know a lot of things," he suddenly says, dropping the menu that was held up in front of his face.

My eyes flutter at his words, not expecting us to dive right in. "Like what?"

He sighs and scratches his forehead with his finger, thinking. There must be so many questions rattling his brain like bingo balls.

"Did you get all of my letters?" He asks, folding his hands together on the table while his head tilts like this is a true crime interrogation.

I match his energy, looking intently into his eyes, even though it's extremely difficult to do so.

"Yes."

Axel shifts in his seat before he continues. "And you really thought the best way to deal with this, after I mentioned I assumed you were dead in one letter, was to ignore me?"

We're interrupted by our waitress, an older woman named Pam. She fills our coffee mugs and gives us each a courteous smile. "Can I start you off with some drinks? Or are you ready to order?"

I glance at Axel, who sits up eagerly in his seat. "One deluxe french toast and one American omelette."

Pam smiles and says she'll get the order in right away, her short red hair bouncing as she turns.

"What the hell is an American omelette?" I ask, since I barely even had a chance to look for myself.

Axel sinks back down a little in his seat, peering at me from across the table with a look that could cut my skin open. He pulls his hoodie up over his head.

"Answer my question," he mutters.

I sigh, wishing I could give him one clear answer and have everything be okay.

"I didn't think it was the best way, but it's the way I chose. And I'm sorry. I really didn't think I'd ever see you again. I got whisked away to California because of my dad's lottery check and nothing was ever the same. You know that part. But once you said you were dating your ex and I joined the Coast Guard... I thought that would be it. And then, of course, my parents..."

Axel's position remains as he listens, and based on his expression, he's not amused. "You would have been okay never seeing me again in your life?"

This question bothers me. I roll my neck before reaching out to grab my teal colored coffee mug. I take a big sip, the acidic after taste lingering in my mouth while I look down at the table. "I'm not answering that," I say, drawing imaginary circles with my fingers. It's something not even close to what I was implying.

"Why the hell not?" Axel leans his head towards the table to try and meet my eyes.

"Listen," I fire back, the word a bullet as emotion rises in my voice. "I'm so sorry. I can't change the past, but I'm here now. I'm alive and I'm incredibly sorry. More than you know. What I did to you makes me sick, but we can't just sit here and dwell in the past."

Axel is listening, I know that for sure, but I wish I knew exactly what was going on inside his head.

"It's dwell on the past. Not in the past," Axel corrects me with a casual tone, like the weight of this isn't affecting him at all.

"Is this like a game to you?" I question, my hands tightening around my coffee mug just like the other day at lunch. "Because if it is, I'm leaving."

That's when Axel reaches out across the table, planting his hand on my bare arm. His touch brings my eyes to his, a spark igniting underneath the pressure. Then, he says so seriously, "don't fucking go anywhere. We have food to sample."

With each word I'm becoming more frustrated, because it's getting clearer and clearer this may actually just be something fun for him. I hurt him and he gets to step all over me now for a few days as some sort of messed up payback.

"What else do you want me to say?" Exhaustion cracks in my voice. It's not even nine in the morning and I'm already craving another full night's sleep.

"Nothing," Axel states blankly, beginning to unroll his silverware from the napkin. "I won't ask you anymore questions. This isn't all roses for me either, after all of this time."

I take a deep breath, considering this, but also really wanting to get every question and answer session over with as fast as possible. It seems to be a theme here.

We both take a sip of our coffees at the same time, and I sneak a look at Axel as he types something on his phone afterwards.

"Are you seeing anyone?" I break the silence and watch his eyes drift up from his phone, disconnecting his concentration.

"No. If I was, I'd be taking them to breakfast, and not you."

A pang of hurt—or something else—flies through my stomach at his answer.

"Damn," I say, shaking my head in disbelief. "Sorry for asking."

Axel grins before looking back down at his phone, continuing whatever he was doing.

Then, just in time, Pam comes to our table with our food. She slides the omelette in front of Axel and the french toast in front of me.

"Can I get you anything else?" Pam eyes us both attentively.

"No thanks, all good," Axel says unconvincingly, staring down at the omelette with a troublesome expression.

Once Pam is on the other side of the diner, Axel switches our plates around, looking much happier when the french toast slides in front of him.

It has a berry compote on top, sliced bananas, chocolate drizzle, and two big dollops of whipped cream. It looks much better than my omelette, which has ham and bacon and a mixture of random vegetables with bright yellow cheese on top.

He cuts into his french toast, wasting no time on the first bite.

"So fucking good," he says with his mouth full while closing his eyes to take it all in.

"I hope I can say the same," I tell him as I haphazardly cut into my omelette, my hopes pretty low.

Before I take a bite, Axel stops me and holds out a forkful of his french toast with a bit of everything on it. I look at him, confused.

"Try it," he insists, raising the fork towards me. I reach out to grab it, but he moves the fork away.

"No, just bite it off of the fucking fork," he says with slight annoyance, bringing it back down to the spot it was in prior to me messing it up.

"You want me to..." I point to the fork, just trying to confirm I heard him right.

He nods.

I lean forward and take the bite off of his fork. The french toast is warm and sweet and chewy, everything you'd want.

"Wow," is all that I say while I chew. Axel smirks like he knew he was right all along; and he was.

He leans into the table and extends his hand, using his thumb to wipe away some of the whipped cream from the side of my mouth. The movement, so gentle and sure like he's been doing it his whole life, catches me off guard. Heat rises into my cheeks, focusing on the corner of my mouth where his skin met mine.

Then, I have to ask.

"Do you want a bite of my omelette to try?"

Axel scrunches his face, waving me off like I'm crazy. "Fuck, no. You said it was the best but it certainly looks like... something."

Our eyes meet and we both grin, a glimmer of softness in Axel's expression. We don't say anything else as we eat.