Thank you SO much to my amazing friend escapism- for the video on the side! I love it SOO much! Eeeppp!

Autumn’s chest rose and fell slowly; she was enjoying the silence and the peace. The past week had been chaotic. After almost being killed by Josh, Tate hadn’t let her out of his sight. Autumn could tell he wanted to just disappear, as usual, but he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t even leave her alone with Cade anymore.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Tate whined, his fingers twirling around a strand of her hair. Autumn and Tate rested on the black leather sectional couch in Tate’s room. She was lying down, her head in his lap.

“I’m trying to get away from you,” she peeked open her eyes, giggling at the pout painted across his face. She shut her eyes again, thinking about how nice his room was.

The rooms started on the third floor, going up; Tate’s being on the fifth. The rooms were big, the size of an apartment. Tate’s room had a tiny kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, and two small bedrooms.

Tate mostly used the kitchen to make coffee; what he described as ‘the best thing humans ever created’. Sitting on the marble counter tops, which were built directly into the wall,  was a dirty coffee pot. Autumn curiously dug through the cabinets finding a bunch of diverse items including a bag of popcorn, some dusty white bowls, a jar of peanut butter, and a few mints.

These were things Tate claimed he bought, but after hearing David ‘bought’ that camera, she didn’t believe him.

The living room was a medium size. The sectional couch was on top of a red rug. Across from the couch and rug was a rickety bookshelf, containing a wide collection of books. On the back wall was three doors.

Autumn had only seen Tate’s room and the bathroom, Tate not showing the guest room. Tate’s room was a good size, but just as bare as her’s was. There was a queen bed in the center, a grey comforter and matching pillows. A small discolored nightstand rested next to it, a black lamp on top. The only major difference from Autumn’s room and Tate’s was the fact that Tate had a closet in the corner with bi-fold doors.

“Why are you so mean to me?” Tate grinned.

“Because I’ve been deprived of my bubble space.”  Tate was quiet for a minute. Autumn wondered how many garage sales Tate had dug through in his lifetime, holding back a laugh.

“What’s it like?” Autumn opened her eyes, eyebrow raised.

“What’s what like?”

“Dreaming.”

“You don’t dream?” She questioned, sitting up.

“No. We only sleep for like four or so hours. We don’t dream,” Tate frowned, eyes falling on her.

“It’s great. Sometimes, you have these really weird and funny dreams that make no sense whatsoever. When I was little, I had a dream that Leonardo Dicaprio was trying to feed me mind control cheese,” Autumn and Tate shared a laugh.

“Mind control cheese? Really?”

“Yeah! And sometimes there very serious. And then . . .” she paused. “There’s nightmares.” A few images of the strange women from her dreams covered in blood flashed in her head.

“You have many of those?” He wondered, elbow up on the arm of the couch; knuckle to his cheek.

“A few,” Autumn couldn’t look him in the eyes. The dreams still haunted her; they were so real.

“Hey,” he set his middle and index finger under her chin, forcing her to peer into his eyes. “There just dreams, okay? Don’t let them worry you.”

“Easier said than done,” she bit the inside corner of her lip.

Being this close to Tate, feeling his breath on her face, brought back that gravity. Autumn and Tate had an undeniable chemistry. Since the first moment she saw him, she knew that.

Tate leaned forward, resting his warm lips on top of hers. This spark ran through her body, she was so happy. Her eyes closed, and she could feel her cheeks turning red; that’s how giddy she felt around him.

Tate shuffled closer, wrapping his arm around her back. Autumn allowed him to pull her in, deepening the kiss. They broke away from each other, each throwing open there eyes. Autumn grinned, she couldn’t help it.

“Sorry,” Tate apologized, clearing his throat. “I should have uh .  . . asked uh . . . first, shouldn’t I?” Tate ran a hand roughly over the back of his neck. Autumn scooted herself over and rested on his lap.

She forced all of her hair off her right shoulder, this time being the one to kiss him. She rested her hands against his cheeks and smacked her lips onto his. The same spark, the same giddy feeling, the same connection coursed through her veins.

Her heart beat wildly, the sound pounding in her ears.

The passion between them was like a drug. The way it made Autumn feel was indescribable yet addicting. She felt as if she could forever sit there in his arms. The moment her lips touched his, all the problems of the past faded away.

A knock rasped against the door, at first they ignored it. Autumn’s hands fell from his cheeks, Tate’s hands traveling up her back and pushing her further against him. The knock sounded again, this time louder. Autumn pulled back, resting her forehead against his as she attempted to catch her breath.

“Maybe they’ll go away,” Autumn whispered, a large grin on her face. A third knock sounded.

“It’s Clarke,” Tate groaned.

“How do you know?” They waited a moment, the fourth knock booming through the room.

“The knocks get angrier.” Tate and Autumn shared a laugh.

“I know you hear me!” Clarke growled from outside, there laughter only increased in volume.

“I better get that before she knocks down the door.” Autumn removed herself from his lap, sitting on the cushion. A chill ran through the room as Tate got up.

“Do you have any blankets?” She wondered, trying to swipe the stupid grin off her face.

“Yeah, guest room closet,” Tate opened the door, a red faced Clarke storming inside. Autumn practically leapt off the couch when Clarke started to reprimand Tate. She stepped inside the guest room, shutting the door. She put her back against the wall, hand over her heart.

It beat like crazy, her mind still imagining Tate’s lips on hers.

Clarke’s voice reminded her of her mission, Autumn shuffling across the room and toward the closet. Struggling with the bi-fold door, she eventually got it open. Autumn could clearly see the blanket on the top shelf.

She grabbed it, pulling. A box and some other items flew off the shelf as well, Autumn giggling at her stupidity. Resting the blanket on the bed, she kneeled down and began scooping up the items that had fallen.

Her fingers wrapped around a photo journal. It was small, half the size of a regular reading book. Autumn glanced over her shoulder toward the door before opening the book. She didn’t think Tate would mind.

Autumn smiled at the first two pictures as she sat down. She recognized the man holding a tiny Clarke in his arms in the first. Tate’s father was a handsome man. He and Tate shared the same mesmerizing blue eyes, and strong jawline.

In the photo, Clarke’s chubby cheek was pressed against her dads. Her emerald eyes were bright and so full of life. Clarke looked genuinely happy. Autumn wondered what had changed her.

Clarke and her dad shared the smile wide smile in the photograph. Besides that, and the fact that they had the same nose, Clarke didn’t look like her father much.

Autumn’s eyes fell on the second picture. Tate tiny hand was gripping a woman’s. The woman was beautiful. Autumn could instantly tell this woman was Clarke’s mom. They had the same big green eyes and sunshine blonde hair. Tate’s was a sandy blonde color, while his father was the odd one of the group; brown hair.

Autumn flipped to the next page. All four pictures on the two pages were off Tate and Clarke. Two were on Christmas, Tate and Clarke posing in front of a Christmas tree. One of the final pictures was Clarke kissing a Great Dane. The other was Tate licking an ice cream cone.

Turning to the next one, Autumn took note of the change in appearance. She guessed Clarke and Tate were twelve or so. Clarke and Tate had their arms around in each other in front of a brick wall in one picture, in another they were joined by their parents. The final two contained someone new; Cade.

He and Tate were sticking out there tongue in one, smiling in the other. Cade was adorable. He had dimples in his cheeks and a wide-grin.

In the next set of pictures, Tate and Clarke were older; fifteen or so. Tate stood proudly next to his father, shoulders broad. Clarke was different; the brightness in her eyes was gone. Autumn took note that their mother was missing from all four photos.

Switching to the next set, they were now older. Both Clarke and her father were absent from the pictures. All four of them were of David, Tate, and Cade. Autumn flipped to the final page, gasping from the shock of the image before her. She took it out of the plastic, her hand trembling.

Tate’s hands were wrapped another girl, her lips pressed against his cheek.

Autumn didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t the fact that he was with another girl, it was the other girl he was concerned about. It was the girl who'd murdered thirty people in the store two months ago. It was the girl who had shot Autumn.

It was Kyra.