—

"So tell me about Pedro."

Willow breathed out a laugh, feeling her face warm at the mere thought of him. Her heart raced and her hands felt immediately clammy.

She wiped them on her jeans, looking over the room. She sat on a small brown leather sofa on a floral rug, and across from her in a matching leather chair, hands folded in her lap.

Clearing her throat, she looked back up at Denise, her therapist and shrugged.

"I don't know," she bit back a smile, "we're friends."

"Is that all you are?"

It wasn't accusatory, but it felt like a jab. Willow's heart sank. She hoped Denise wouldn't tell her to stop spending time with Pedro. She didn't want him to get bored of her if he didn't talk to her enough.

"Yeah," Willow confirmed. "We're friends. I mean—we both have feelings for each other, but we established boundaries and we follow them. The best we can, I guess. We haven't kissed or done anything sexual or anything like that. I mean we kissed once but that was before my relapse. It was kind...part of the reason why, I guess."

"Why do you think that is?"

Willow shrugged, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "I don't know. I just — I don't know."

"You said you have feelings for him; why? What do you like about him?"

"Like isn't the right word," Willow corrected Denise, fiddling with her fingers. "I—I love him. I haven't told him yet, I wanna wait until I'm better but I do. I love him. Just so we're clear."

"Why's that?" Denise asked. "What do you love most about him?"

"He's good," Willow answered simply. "He's a good person. He's happy and sweet and playful and he makes me laugh more than anyone aside from my dad. I feel pretty around him, like I don't need to watch what I eat or balance calories and I never — I don't ever feel the need to drink around him. Or feel a buzz to get through a conversation. He's like a breath of fresh air."

"And do you find yourself missing him when he's not around?"

"Of course. But I do that with Robert and Norman too. I miss people I love when I'm not around them."

"Do you feel like you're...walking on air around him? Like you don't have to worry about anything because he makes you feel so good?"

"What are you implying?" Willow frowned, worry twisting in her gut.

"Nothing. I want you to think of how he makes you feel and describe it to me."

"I don't know," Willow shifted. "Happy. He makes me feel unique and heard. And supported. I feel loved with him."

"Okay," Denise nodded with a small smile. "I'm sorry to be confusing — sometimes with recovering addicts, they fall into relationships with other people and find a new high in that person. Have you felt like that at all? Reminiscent of being high or drunk?"

Willow thought about Denise's words, trying to recall a time she felt like that.

She knew what Denise meant; it's how she felt with James. She replaced one addiction with another.

Willow loved his voice more than anything else about him. It seduced her every time he opened his mouth. She loved his touch, craved it even, for the first few months they were together.

At first, he kept her off the drugs and alcohol. He was enough for her. His touch and whispered compliments and secret rendezvous; he was enough for her.

But after her mother's death, she plummeted. In a way, he was right. That innocent, kind part of her died with her mother and Dominik.

She was empty, hollow, alone. And their relationship, or whatever it was, died with it. She sought him out for sex and drugs and an escape from her own thoughts.

Willow's heart was broken and her mind was empty with James, but he kept her sedated enough that she didn't care.

But Pedro was different.

"Tell me your thoughts, Willow," Denise said.

"Sorry," Willow smiled tightly. "I—I know what you mean. And what to look for. With my ex, James, it was like that. I loved the idea of him and the way he made me feel, but I didn't — I didn't love him. But it's different with Pedro."

"How so?"

"I don't want to get high," Willow said simply. "With James, it's just what we did. We'd go to parties, get stoned, drink a ton, fuck all night, and repeat it the next day. If my body wasn't physically drunk or high, I'd just get high off of him. I was addicted to that life and him. But with Pedro...I don't, I don't want to get high.

"I want to be better than that. I want to be sober for our future. I—James kept me at my worst. He liked it that way, and I did too. Pedro makes me want to be better. He encourages me to take breaks and not to burnout. He wants me to eat healthy, but not worry about my weight like James did, and he likes it when I make jokes.

"He thinks I'm funny. And kind. And he never — he never makes me feel uncomfortable or judges me. I want to try with him," Willow explained, a smile tugging at her lips, hearing Pedro's laugh in her ears as clearly as if he were right in front of her. "I want to try to be better for myself because if I'm not—if I don't love me, then how could I love him? How could we be healthy if I'm not healthy myself?"

Denise smiled. "He seems very good for you."

"Sorry," Willow brushed back a piece of hair behind her ear. "I kind of just rambled a lot."

"That's okay, I love hearing you excited about something."

"Pedro says I shouldn't apologize about things so much."

"He's right," Denise nodded. "Don't apologize for feeling, Willow. In fact," she pulled a journal off the small table next to her. "I want you to write your feelings in here. I think it'll be good for you to get them out. Whenever you feel upset to the point of missing a drink or if you're bored and want to go to a party, I want you to journal. Write your thoughts. Write three things that would be a healthy alternative and try that instead. Think you can do that?"

Willow nodded, taking it with a small smile. "Yeah, I could try that. I used to journal as a kid but I haven't in forever."

"It's a good habit to get into. I would also recommend two to three things a day that you love about yourself. Before bed, or in the morning. Write what you love about yourself."

"Okay," Willow nodded, taking a breath. "Oh, our hour's up isn't it?"

"Until next week," Denise smiled kindly at Willow.

"Until next week."

—

10:03PM
MESSAGE FROM
"Mi Princesa💞🥰❤️‍🔥"

Mi Princesa💞🥰❤️‍🔥
hiiiiii you

Pedro
good evening
night
One of the two
How's my favorite girl doing?

Mi Princesa💞🥰❤️‍🔥
I'm gooood
Talked about you today:)

Pedro
Oh?
Good things I hope?

Mi Princesa💞🥰❤️‍🔥
Of course.
I have nothing negative
to think about you,
let alone say about you.
Favorite smoothie flavor?

Pedro
Interesting question 😂
And the same goes
for you.
Nothing but good things 💕
Hmmmm
Tropical

Mi Princesa💞🥰❤️‍🔥
Like
Mango and stuff?
That's a good choice:)
I love those
Mine is
hahahah
You're gonna judge me
It's matcha mango

Pedro
God
That's disgusting
Couldn't you say berry?
Weirdo 😂😂

Mi Princesa💞🥰❤️‍🔥
I love berry too
And banana 😩😩
Open your door

Pedro
Wym
Wait are you here?

Pedro jumped up from his bed, down the hall and past the living room to the front door. Opening with a wide smile, his face brightened at Willow's sudden appearance.

"Well hey there, Momma."

"Hi," Willow giggled, holding out a drink. "It's a smoothie. I got you tropical before you even said it, I just had a feeling it would be."

"A little late for smoothies, isn't it? Where'd you even find a place open this late?"

"It's New York," Willow raised an eyebrow, sipping her own. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, yeah," Pedro chuckled, moving back and letting her in.

She examined his living room carefully. Dark furniture and rugs, plants scattered around different spots, magazines tossed on the coffee table. A family-sized dining table in the kitchen opposite the living room, big enough for guests but not enough to be intimidating.

Cozy, inviting, warm, sophisticated; everything she would describe him as showed through in his decor.

Pedro smiled gently at her awed face, looking over framed photos on a wall; his mother, sisters, brother, father, friends.

"I like your style," she glanced back at him. "It's very...you."

"Thank you?" He phrased it as a question, and she walked closer to him.

"Sorry I just came by."

"Don't be sorry." He reached his free hand out, resting it on her cheek gently. "I love having you around. I can't believe you've never been here before."

Willow half-shrugged. "Yeah, me either," she leaned her head into his hand. "Happy I am, though."

"Me too."

His hand didn't move, and he found himself glancing at her lips, wanting to taste her again. He wondered if she tasted the same.

"I—I need to..." He inhaled a shaky breath, taking a step back and dropping his hand. He drank from his smoothie, watching her.

"Sorry," she breathed out. "I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't," he shook his head. "You're just—wanna sit down?"

Willow nodded, following him to the couch and taking a seat next to him. He turned on the tv, trying not to look at her.

His jeans felt tight. Her perfume littered his living room now, intoxicating him. Vanilla and coconut. Oh, he loved the combination, especially when accompanied by the woman he loved most in the world. She looked extra beautiful today, too, if that were possible.

Her hair was thrown up into a ponytail, loose wispy flyaways framing her face. She didn't have any makeup on — he loved when she didn't wear any — and he could see her freckles clearly. Sprinkling her nose like stars; and he wanted to kiss them all.

She had jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt, her favorite green converse tucked over colored socks. He could just make out the cats and sombreros from under where she'd rolled up her jeans.

"Fuck," he swore, focusing on the television.

"Pedro?" She asked quietly and he shifted, swallowing thickly. Her voice...so soft and gentle, dripping with sunshine. How could she be covered in it? It's like she bathed in it, warmth and happiness — oh, he wanted to touch her skin and tell her so.

"Christ," he muttered, leaning forward and placing the smoothie on the coffee table.

"What's wrong? Did I upset you?"

"No," he answered immediately. Yes, he corrected internally. Stop being so fucking perfect, he begged her. God, he just wanted to...

"Of course not, princesa. You have anything in particular you want to watch?"

Willow shuffled, placing her drink next to his and scooting over a fraction. She placed her hand on his knee and he inhaled sharply, watching it, fighting the urge to turn and kiss her.

Fuck. He could hardly breath, hardly hear. He just smelled her perfume and heard his own heartbeat. He was nearly bulging through his pants — surely she'd notice by now? — and he throbbed against his jeans. They were too tight.

"Pedro—"

"—I'm fine, corazón," he said tightly, shooting her a stiff smile.

"Pedro, I'm not—I'm not blind. And you're..." she trailed off, looking downwards, just inches from her hand.

He swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry. I don't want to—I'm trying to—fuck, I—you just smell so good. And you're so pretty today, I don't know how you manage to get prettier every time I see you. How do you do that?"

He looked at her then, eyes settling on her finally. A fond smile sat on her lips, but when his eyes met hers, she pulled in her bottom lip between her teeth nervously.

"I—Willow, I don't want to...you're not—it's only been a month since—"

"Kiss me," she said seriously. "Kiss me right now."

His face flickered in surprise, looking over her own carefully, cautiously, trying to detect anything that stated she wanted otherwise.

But he found nothing.

"Are you sure?"

Her hand tightened on his thigh — when had she moved it there? — and she leaned her face towards his.

"Kiss me," she pleaded softly, asking for it, for him.

Groaning, he shifted, turning on the sofa and closing the gap between them. His lips met hers a moment later and he nearly moaned at the taste.

She tasted like cherries and vanilla, and sunshine, like everything warm and sunny and good. Her lips melted against his, sure and steady, god, no, goddess, that's what she was. Seductive and warm and intoxicating him, he reached his hands up, pulling her face closer; she was absolutely divine.

He breathed her in, her mouth parting a fraction as he nibbled on her lips. Grinning, he let out a low chuckle before he kissed her deeply.

She moved against him, reaching her right hand up and running it through his hair. He moaned quietly in her mouth, god that felt good, and removed one hand from her face, wrapping it around her waist instead, pulling her to him.

She lifted a leg up, and he pulled her to his lap, setting her gently atop of him. She rubbed herself against him, mocking him, teasing him. A light laugh fell from her lips into his mouth. His cock twinged at the sound and he fought to take her right then.

He pulled back, looking into her darkened eyes and swollen lips, tutting at her.

"You like to tease?" He asked lowly, resting his hand on her hip. He squeezed gently. She gasped, eyes flittering in delight. A smirk tugged at his lips. "So do I."

He reached his right hand to her head again, bringing it back down to his and sliding his tongue in her mouth.

Fuck, she tasted so much better like this — if it were even possible. She tasted of cherries and sugar and heaven. That was it, he decided. That was heaven. He would gladly attend church everyday if it felt as good as this moment.

She moaned in his mouth, her hips moving against him, fingers tangling in his hair.

He moved his right hand, both now around her waist, holding her, tightening his grip on her hips.

She mewed against him, tightening her grip on her hair.

"Like that?" He breathed out, pulling back a fraction. "Like when I squeeze you like that?"

He adjusted her atop him, her legs settled on either side of his waist, her entrance begging him, waiting eagerly above his erection. They had too many clothes on, he realized. He wanted to feel her.

Pedro pressed a light kiss to her lips, relishing in her body on his, her hips moving gently over him.

"Fuck," he breathed out, squeezing her backside. "You gotta—you have to stop that. I don't wanna come in my pants, baby."

"No?" She asked softly, continuing her movements, a small smirk tugging on her face. "You want me to stop?"

"You," he closed his eyes, moving his hands from her ass to her lower back, sliding under her shirt. "Don't fucking dare do that."

"No?" She mewed as his fingers found her bra, unclipping it under the shirt. "Oh, god, Pedro."

He whimpered at his name falling from her lips.

"You like that, princesa? I haven't even touched you yet." He tutted, pressing a kiss to her jaw. "So sensitive, so needy. Aren't you?"

She nodded, eyes fluttering close as his hands fell under her bra, cupping her breasts. Slowly, tantalizingly, he slid the straps down, but they got caught in the shirt.

"Fuck," he growled, removing his hands and tugging the shirt off her head. Once her top half was free of restrictions, he looked her over with an awe-filled expression.

"So fucking beautiful," he muttered, meeting her eyes, which were staring at him in hesitation. He smiled gently, pressing a light kiss to her shoulder.

"The prettiest girl," he moved to her neck, settling a kiss there. She gasped lightly. "The most enticing, sexy woman I've ever known."

He pressed a kiss just under her ear, nibbling on her earlobe.

Letting out a breathy laugh, her shoulder reached up, trying to close the space he occupied with his face.

"Oh?" Pedro pulled back, looking over her face and sheepish grin. "Are you ticklish there?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, pursing her lips and fighting back a smile. "Maybe."

"You're so perfect," he breathed out, his hands settled on her hips again, pressing another slow, soft kiss to her lips. "And I am so in awe of you."

"Yeah?" She asked quietly, their foreheads touching.

"Absolutely," he confirmed. He closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to rip her remaining clothes off and please her. But he knew he couldn't. "Princesa, I don't think we should go any further."

Willow's head moved back, a hurt look flashing her features. "Oh, okay, I—"

"No, no, not, not like that, corazón," he pressed a kiss to her cheek, before settling his own against here, breathing into her ear.

"Mi amor, I want to take you here and now," he whispered lowly. "I want to pick you up and carry you to my bedroom and fuck you into the morning." She gasped at his words and he nibbled at her earlobe again.

"I want to hear every sound that could come out of that soft little mouth and taste every single inch of you. I want to make you scream and beg me for more, and I want it to hurt when you sit down again."

She swallowed and he heard it, a smirk on his lips. "Princesa, I want to make you feel so fucking good right now."

He pulled back, his thumbs running along her bare sides. Her skin was so soft, like silk in his hands. He loved it. He didn't want her to ever a shirt around him again. Her breasts were resting inches from his clothes chest, ready and willing, hardened from their make out. He wanted to tug them between his lips and taste them, suck them and leave marks all along them.

"But we can't right now, we shouldn't, okay? We—we need to establish what this is. Are you comfortable in a relationship? For real? Because I am not going to fuck you and go back to being friends. I can't. Okay? Respect goes both ways."

Willow nodded, understanding crossing her features. Instinctively, her hands moved to cover her top half but he grabbed her wrists, pulling them back down.

"Don't cover up," he shook his head. "You are way too stunning to cover yourself, mi amor."

Willow's cheeks reddened and he kissed her again, gently, controlled.

"So," he pulled back with a small smile. "Where do we go from here?"

Before she could say anything, her phone buzzed and they glanced down at the message.

FROM CC TORRES-AGENT

Willow frowned and reached for it, opening it so she and Pedro could read the message.

"Why's she messaging you?" He asked quietly.

Willow didn't respond, but her stomach sank when they read the words:

We need to talk.

—

gAH. hopefully this was okay. I'm so meh about writing smut I just don't think I do it very well so please be brutally honest 😭 I'm trying to learn and practice because Pedro deserves good smut 😭😭 as you can see...we're definitely picking up haha