"Yep, that's perfect," I told Amalia, standing back from where she was hanging one of Elias' new paintings in the gallery.

I handed her the little tool she needed and watched her on the step ladder.

Her skin tight, long sleeve, turtle neck dress fell to the middle of her thighs. Her tan, toned legs stemmed down into white vans.

We were definitely dating. I'm not sure that 'girlfriend' would be the right term at the moment.

But ever since we'd almost had sex on her tattoo chair two days ago, things had been more intimate.

Openly intimate. Not just subtle flirting and compliments. She made me feel confident.

"Do you have plans this weekend?" I stood beside the ladder and made sure to be attentive in case she lost her footing.

She peeped down at me, her hair fell over her face. I wanted to move it. "I'm going over to a friend's from school. She reached out on Instagram and said there were a couple of the girls getting together for wine. Figured I might as well."

I smiled, glad that she was going to be having some time to herself. She worked a lot. And spent a lot of time with her sister and Dad. She deserved girl time.

"How about you?"

"Yeah, I have family plans," I said as she dropped down beside me. "That looks great. I can't get over the talent."

She folded her arms and smiled at the painting. A sunset. Elias did a lot of those over various parts of Spain. But it wasn't repetitive.

Each one was unique and vibrant. Full of gorgeous colour and culture that made you want to be right there. In the real place.

"I would love to go back to Barcelona," she murmured. "I haven't been back since I was a kid. My mom still lives there and it'll sound stupid but I've always been afraid of bumping into her."

"You have? Not a good relationship?"

Her head stayed angled upward but her gaze floated to the floor, her brows pulled in confusion. "Lucas didn't tell you?"

I shook my head. Lucas kept his brief relationship with Amalia to himself. I was preoccupied at that time anyway.

She lightly laughed through her nose. "My mom was very abusive towards my dad when I was a child. Extremely violent. It took him a long time to leave because he was so in love with her. And I know it broke his heart when he did leave - he loved her so much - but he knew it wasn't good for Berne's and I."

"I can't imagine how hard that must have been."

Her lashes fluttered as she blinked. Her inhale echoed around the vacant gallery. "Yeah it was rough. I used to be so scared of commitment because I was worried I would end up like her. Ya know? I didn't feel violent. But it scared me to imagine snapping and turning into that."

I nodded and reached for her hand, lacing our fingers together. "It's a reasonable fear I suppose."

Her hand squeezed mine a little tighter. "Yeah but I know I'm not like her. My choices, who I am and what I do, they don't belong to someone else. I think people find it too easy to blame their behaviour on their upbringing or their circumstances. It's a loophole. An excuse. But at the end of the day, you choose who you are. And if you struggle with behaviour because it was your environment, you can get help. But people choose not to do that too."

She was right. No doubt about it. Her intelligence and her outlook on life, it made my heart trip with admiration.

I drew her forward and rested a hand on her hip. Instinctually, her hands rested on my shoulders. "I don't think I've met anyone quite like you before," I murmured with my lips to her forehead.

She tipped her head back and smiled at me. A beautiful smile that the art in this room could not compare to. "Would you go to Barcelona with me? Sometime? A little vacation."

She expected an answer but my heart was in my throat.

"I could be a tour guide," she tip toed and her hands slid from my shoulders and wrapped around behind my neck. "I need to save for a little while but should we do that? If you want."

I nodded and attempted to remember what breathing was and how it worked. "That sounds perfect."

I lowered my head and kissed her. Kissing her was breathtaking. Each time felt like the first.

My stomach ended up in knots, my hands easily covered her waist as I drew her in and held her against me. She fit, she fit so well that it made me weak.

"Good," her breath hitched as she rested her forehead against mine. "Sounds like a plan."

It sure did. One she wouldn't see coming.

Marnie came over that night. She had a bottle of wine in her hand. But I didn't bother getting two glasses out because she didn't bring it to share.

"You're getting a cab home, right?" I asked as I uncorked it for her.

"Jordan is picking me up," she stated, cleaning her glasses because they were speckled with rain drops. There was a light fall outside.

"In that case," I opened the kitchen drawer, found the special screw on cup that I kept around for her and fasted it to the top of the open bottle. "No point using dishes."

"You know me so well," she gave me a fuller smile than I'm used to seeing on her.

We sat down on the couch and I watched the drops of rain on the window outside.

"So how are things going at work?" I asked.

"Your replacement is a fucking moron."

I laughed and watched her gulp half of the bottle in about three seconds flat. "How so?"

"Well for starters, she's slow. She's stupid. She's hard on hearing and she smells like moth balls."

"Wait, what?"

"She's like a thousand years old. She told me to stop cursing within the first five minutes of starting. I said dipshit. That was it."

I winced. "Did you stop cursing?"

"Fuck no," she scoffed and threw back another mouthful of red. "I told her to not to fucking talk to me again."

"You said she was old?"

"At least seventy five," she nodded, flicking her head to throw her bangs out of her face.

"Shouldn't she be retired? How did she get an assistants job?"

"Oh geez, I dunno, Max. Might have had something to do with being desperate after you bounced out of the job faster than my ass does when I'm in bed with the boss."

I whined with objection.

"Seriously," I tried to ignore the visuals her comments gave me. Why did I gravitate towards these sort of people? "I feel so much better since I left that job. I didn't even realise how much difference it would make."

She nodded, her throat bopping as she swallowed. "Well that's good I suppose. You're looking a bit bulkier. Lots of time to exercise?"

"Sort of," I said. "I told you I'm working in that gallery. The hours are a little shorter so I do have longer afternoons."

She nodded.

"How's the book coming along?"

She looked excited. Still bored and expressionless. But it was in her body language. "Good. I have lots of inspiration now."

"Well I don't need to ask about the relationship then."

"He's a good sort," she said. I could tell she was happier. It made me feel good.

"How's your sister?" I asked, wondering if that secret that Kiara had, came out.

"She's dating someone," Marnie said. "I don't know who it is. I've never met them and she doesn't tell me much but she's a fucking nightmare to be around."

I laughed at her disgust.

"She was bad before. Giggling and girlish bullshit. Now she's a LifeSize fucking rail of coke. I avoid her at all costs. I can't stand this phase in a relationship. It's nauseating."

"You're a ray of sunshine, Marns."

"You're dating and your head isn't spinning," she pointed her bottle at me. "People don't need to lose their fucking minds because they're getting laid."

I laughed. She might be happier and she might be dating someone that she clearly cared about. But she was still Marnie.

On Saturday afternoon, I lay in bed with nothing on but boxer briefs. The credits rolled opposite my bed and I picked up my cellphone to dial Amalia.

I swore to everyone, including myself, that I wouldn't hermit anymore. But I considered the afternoon spent, educational.

"Hey," she answered, I could hear her smile. "How's it going?"

"Good," I put a hand behind my head and stared at the window. "I just finished watching The Wizard of Oz."

She gasped and I could imagine her perfect lips forming an O as she beamed with excitement. "And? What did you think."

"Not bad," I said. "Some parts kind of terrified me. Those monkeys."

She laughed. "Okay. Fair. But it's still a classic. The remakes just can't compare."

"Maybe not in classic sense. But we've come a long way in movie special effects. That's for sure."

"It was amazing in its time," she defended. "I'm also a little insulted that you watched it without me."

I laughed and pictured her pout. I really had an obsession with those lips of hers. "I'm sorry," I told her, sincere, as I switched off the television with the remote. "It was just on. What should we watch next? I promise I'll wait."

She hummed as she thought it over. "Have you seen Big. That one with Tom Hanks in it?"

"Nope."

"It's so good. I mean, parts of it are good. This kid ends up turning into an adult over night and landing this great job. The way he decked out his apartment was every child's dream. I haven't seen it in forever. Ooh George of the Jungle too."

"I'll make sure that I've got them," I smiled at the enthusiasm in her tone. "We'll have to make a list and get through it together."

"Definitely."

"So what are you doing anyway?"

"Getting ready for this wine night with the girls from school," she almost sounded bored. "I'm having flashbacks to hour long discussions about nails and hair extensions and I'm bored already."

"Oh?"

"Don't get me wrong, the girls are nice. I love Annie and Jade. But some of them are just so one dimensional. I sound like a total bitch."

"No you sound like someone that appreciates stimulating conversation," I said.

There was a pause on the other end of the line but I could hear fabric rustling in the background, like she was getting comfortable on her bed.

"I would much rather spend the night having stimulating conversation with you," her voice was teasing and I cleared my throat, aware of her double meaning.

"I'll be here," I replied, my heart picking up speed. "I wish you were here too."

But she wasn't. She was in Philadelphia, an hour and a half by train, and she was going even further out of town to see her girlfriends.

"What would you do, Max?" Her tone was lower. Sexier. "What do you want to do?"

(a/n. Mom please leave the chat.)

I swallowed, hard. In all senses of the word. I felt flushed, turned on but no longer as nervous as I used to be. If anything, I wanted to keep up.

"I'd pin you up against the wall," I murmured and heard her sound of approval. "I'd kiss you. Rough. I'd bite those perfect lips."

"What else," her breath was shallow.

So I obliged, feeling confident at her encouragement.

"I'd kiss your neck. I'd lick the skin on your chest while I slide the straps of your bra down."

"I'm not wearing a bra."

I tipped my head back and groaned with a clenched jaw. The picture of her breasts made me twitch.

"I'd let my tongue draw circles around your nipples, teasing. Biting. And then I would take your nipple in my mouth while my hand slips down, lower.

"My fingers would graze across your hips, light and teasing until I slipped a finger across your clit and made you flinch with need. I'd keep rubbing your clit while I slide a finger inside of you and watch that mouth moaning my name."

Her soft whimpers came down the phone line and her breathing was heavy. I followed example and dipped my hand into my briefs, gripping my base.

"Are you touching that spot, baby? Right now?"

"Mhmm," she inhaled sharp. "I'm rubbing my clit just like you said you would."

Fuck I wished that it was me doing that to her. "I'm so hard for you, Amalia. The sound of you. The thought of you putting your fingers inside of yourself."

She moaned a bit harder. "Keep telling me more, Max. Tell me all of the things that you'd do to me."

"I'd lick your arousal off my fingers and kiss you hard so that you could taste yourself on my tongue and then I would kiss my way down until I had that clit on my lips and I'd lick, hard, until you came right into my mouth."

We were both panting, my hand moved fast and I could feel my climax building.

"More Max," she moaned my name as though it was a song. "Mor— more! Fuck I want you inside of me. This feels so good."

"I'd bend you over, fistful of your hair, a hand slamming into you from behind, juices dripping down your leg while you whimper into the mattress and then I'd slide my dic—"

"Max?!"

That wasn't her.

I froze when I heard Lucas shouting, coming further down the corridor and closer to my bedroom.

I hung up the phone, dropped it and quickly put my hands behind my head as he swung the door open and strolled in.

"Lucas, what the hell?"

"What up," he leaned against the door frame and raised a brow. "Why are you in bed? It's like six in the evening."

"What are you doing here?"

He furrowed his brows as I adjusted my knees so the sheet didn't expose me.

"We had plans to hang out tonight? Boy time. All that."

I'd forgotten he was coming into town. "Okay well give me five minutes, man."

He narrowed his stare, his lips curled up in a devious grin. "Were you beating off?"

"Lucas! Just get out and give me a minute."

"Okay," he gripped the door handle. "But if you can go back to tugging your junk after sitting there and talking to me, I don't think we should hang out anymore."

He waved with amusement and closed the door behind him. My frustration came out in an exhale and I fished for my phone as I fell back into the pillows.

He was right. There was no continuing where we'd left off. I was soft and the moment was gone.

I quickly sent Amalia a text in response to her single question mark.

Sorry. Phone cut off or something. I'm so sorry.

I didn't want to tell her that Lucas had interrupted. She might worry that I would tell him what we were doing and feel self conscious.

It's okay. I finished. 😉 you honestly do things to me.

I chuckled and ran a hand through my hair. Well I was glad she was satisfied.