Mood: Swipe left and tap video above, also below, to hear Pamungkas' I Love You But I'm Letting Go, recommended by DariaLamtsova, who wrote A Bad Fall, a brilliant story with character depth.

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Lydia

We went to a cafe bar that was open late on Thursday night-student night was always busy, so there was no problem finding a place that was open until late.

Jake took my hand and led me to a quiet booth, away from the music and crowd, so that we could talk. We already ordered and received our coffees.

I always loved it when Jake touched me. When he held my hand.

As we sat down, he took a good look at me, as if he was breathing me in.

"Missy, you're getting more and more beautiful over the years," he gazed adoringly at me. He looked like... well, he looked like a man who was in love.

"Is Tiara in London? Is she the reason why you're really going to London?" I had a million thoughts racing in my crazed head.

Jake tilted his head back, and his white teeth flashed as he laughed.

"You're crazy. You know that, Missy?"

Then he went quiet. He leaned over, hands reaching across the table towards my hands.

My hands were clasped within his warm, big hands.

He looked more masculine and handsome than ever.

"Lydia, you should wear this. If you feel the same for me." Jake placed the promise ring on my left ring finger.

"Jake, that's my wedding ring finger," I gasped.

He didn't say anything.

"I'm going to London for this internship. After that, the world is my oyster. I'll go wherever the job takes me."

"I'm so happy for you, Jake. You deserve this."

"I'm leaving the swim team." His eyes bored into mine. They were dark with want. Need-a need for something.

"I've got enough on my plate right now. I can imagine you have a lot, too," he continued.

"I do," I replied.

"I'm turning twenty-two next week. Will you help me celebrate my birthday?" Jake asked.

"Are you still friends with benefits with Tiara? Or someone else?" I had to know.

He laughed.

"It's just you and me," he said.

"But she-"

"She, may I add, is right here. With me." His eyes pierced directly into mine.

"Jake, I'm done with playing," I said and stood up. I was about to walk out.

I heard Jake behind me. "No! Wait! Don't go!"

"Lydia, I love you! I always have. I always will!" Jake followed me out the door.

"I want you to join me. To come with me wherever I go after graduation."

"What about what I want?"

"Well, then, I can join you. If you want to stay here, I'll stay here with you. I can apply for a job with a local TV station or newsgroup. I can teach swimming. I can work behind a bar or do something useful."

Jake was trying.

He was trying to hold on to me.

I was about to melt into tears when I felt a cool breeze brush past me.

I remembered Saph's words. I remembered Julian coming to pick Saph up every evening. The way they talked. The way they looked at each other. How they raised their kids together. How they were. In love. They made a family. They made love happen.

As those thoughts ran through my mind, I wanted to see the ink on Jake's arm. I checked his right arm first. I lifted his shirt-sleeve and pushed it up high until I saw it.

"Missy, what are you doing?"

"Jake! Is this permanent? Shit!" I couldn't believe what he did.

There on his upper right arm, inked on his glorious bicep, was 'Lydia.'

"Jake, what the fuck!?!" I shouted excitedly. "What have you done?"

It was like old times again. We were always up to something-either one of us or both of us.

Somehow, it always felt like I had been the master planner, even if I was guilty only by association. Like the time Jake got me in trouble in Spanish class at school when he taught me a dirty phrase, which I said loudly.

"This tattoo? Yeah, it's real. You like it?" he smiled.

"Jake, it's permanent! You can't get rid of it, and it's big too!"

Passers-by looked back and stared at us. We were creating a scene, which was almost laughable.

"Yeah, that's right, I'm talking about my boyfriend's cock. It's big!" I boldly said to one girl who couldn't stop staring at us. Her eyes widened like saucers, and she moved along quickly.

---

That night, Jake came back to my room, and we made frenzied, crazy love.

"Do you have a condom?" I asked.

"No. But I'm clean. I promise," he said.

We were naked, writhing into each other, hands all over each other, hair flying everywhere, our bodies drowning in each other's kisses, and his erection prodding at my moist core.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes." I couldn't get enough of him. I kissed his face, his gorgeous, unshaven jaw, his beautiful, straight, aquiline nose, and ran my fingers through his hair.

He played with every part of my body, exploring it with mastery and finesse. The exhilarating sensations rendered me practically begging for Jake. The tip of his length dangerously tried to push through my entrance, which was wet and more than ready for him.

"Can I?" he whispered in my ear.

"Jake, I'm not on the pill," I said.

There. I was honest with him.

His eyes bled into mine. With hunger. Love. An aching need.

"I'll be careful. Is that okay with you?" He sweetly sprinkled my ear and neck with seductive kisses.

"Yes," I whispered back. My back arched, and I beckoned him to enter me. He plunged right in.

Neither of us slept that night. We were famished lovers who needed to fulfill our appetites. As the sun rose, we breathed heavily into each other before he collapsed into me.

"Promise me," Jake said.

"Promise you what?" I asked

"Promise me that you will be here, waiting for me when I'm back from London." Jake closed his eyes, and soon he was snoring.

Later, I found out that Carrie told Jake I was still in love with him and that I was celibate.

That renewed his hope in us. He did not give up on me.

We both slept in and missed classes on Friday. I messaged some of my classmates to take notes for me. They had me covered. Jake asked his friends to do the same.

"Being with you is worth skipping class," Jake said. Mr. High GPA. Mr. 'Lydia' Inked on His Arm.

"Who are you texting?" Jake asked as I sent a message to Carrie.

"Carrie."

"Oh."

"Jake, what are we?"

"Together."

Later that afternoon, Philly and Kath were banging on my door.

"We know you're in there, and it's Friday night fun time!" yelled Philly.

"Philly's met some cute guys, and they've seen your picture. This guy, Justin, he wants to meet you," Kath hollered.

Jake groaned.

"Lyds, you said you were celibate. Do you have a guy in there?" Kath asked.

"Yeah, open up! No, wait! We don't want to see anything," Philly excitedly chirped.

"Tell Justin that Lydia's taken," Jake spoke up.

"LYDIA! IS THAT JAKE?" Kath squealed.

Jake got up, wrapped a towel around his waist, covered me up with my blanket, and opened the door.

Kath covered her mouth with her hands. Philly looked up at Jake, eyes round and wide.

"Oh my lord, Jake, is that a real tattoo?" Philly glanced at his right bicep.

"Yeah."

"It's forever," Kath said.

"I know," Jake replied. "That's exactly what it is."

"But you're going to London! Kessler told me."

"London's temporary. Lydia's permanent." Jake crossed his arms. His biceps bulged. So did my name.

My phone rang.

"LYDIA! Are you serious? You and Jake? Again?"

"Is that Carrie on the phone? Hand it over to me," Kath said.

I passed the phone over to Kath, and she filled Carrie with all the details.

Carrie was coming over.

---

An Hour Later

After showering together, Jake and I decided to eat something other than each other.

Carrie, Kath, and Philly were dressed to party. Kessler wasn't joining, as he was visiting his sister and niece that weekend.

"Are you guys coming with us, or what?" Carrie asked.

Jake and I grinned at each other.

"We'll go out for a little while," I said.

---

Jake

Week 1, London.

Missy. I missed her like hell.

I'm not gonna lie-I wanted to come inside her when we fucked. I knew she was off the pill.

Maybe I was curious. Maybe I wanted to take a chance. To see something of mine grow in her.

I came close to spilling inside her. I wanted to.

What stopped me? Respect. Respect for her body. Respect for her.

I loved her.

When I left for London, she didn't come to the airport. She cried the night before. I knew. I was there with her. She was a hot mess, sobbing in pain in her room the morning I left. It broke my heart to see her hurting.

At first, she said I was free to date other people when I was in London. That she didn't want me to resent her if she held me back from a new world of opportunities.

She admitted that she had been battling an eating disorder and that she had been getting help after coming back from Thailand. She told me about the bullying she dealt with at Gainsville High before we met and how she let it damage her self-esteem.

The penny dropped. Everything made sense, like pieces to a puzzle connecting Lydia.

She was scared to come clean, but I reassured her that her courage meant the world to me. It took a lot of guts for her to admit the raw, painful truth. I wept with her as she mourned her past. It was time for her to let go of it. The fear. The pain. The regrets. All of it. The truth now fused our souls.

Our bitter mistakes were memories now. We needed to move forward for something we both wanted deep in our hearts.

For Lydia, it was either all or nothing to get to the next point. She said she loved me, but she wanted to know for sure that I was ready.

Ready for what?

I thought that her name inked on my arm was enough for her, but she wanted more from me.

She wanted more than words. She wanted a real forever.

She promised she would wait for me if I planned to come back for graduation. That she would say yes if forever were in the cards.

How did I feel about other women?

Sure there were a few hot women I've eye-fucked. I was not short of offers either.

There was only one woman I wanted. The one I craved. Yearned. Needed. Loved.

Lydia Coleman.

I unwrapped an old piece of paper that I kept from Lydia, which she slipped in my locker during my senior year of high school, but I never wrote back. Unlike Lydia, I was no poet. She was Gainsville High's poetry queen. Looking at her words on the paper, I decided to give it a shot. It might have been a few years late, but it didn't hurt to email her a photo of the crumpled paper, with my response:

Of Sirens and Muses

A siren is an enchantress and sorceress,

who lured my soul into a complacent lull.

I slept on the dangerous cliffs of complacency,

While dreaming of my angelic muse.

A muse is someone who provides enthusiasm and determination for an artist.

Your amusing words, deep thoughts, and defiant actions inspire me.

Like Odysseus, I am unscathed and unharmed from the siren's wrath.

I will persevere in the quest of you, my muse.

I promise you, I will not give up.

---

A/N: For the original poem that Lydia gave, refer to the end of chapter 14: Surviving hell (updated May 8, 2019).

Please vote and/or comment if you like this chapter. ⭐️

Would you take Jake back if you were in Lydia's shoes 👠?