Chapter Twenty-Nine: "Bad Idea."

THE GOOD DAY Abisola brought up last night continued onto the following Tuesday when I was able to sleep in. I woke up to three text messages. The first came in from my sister. 

Abisola: Tell me you're having a good day.

Me: I just woke up.

Abisola: Phone didn't fall on your face?

Me: Phone didn't fall on my face.

Abisola: Sounds like you're still having a good day since last night. 

Her message made grin as I got out of bed that morning and walked into the bathroom to inspect my nose. The bruise lingered but didn't look as bad as it did yesterday especially after applying makeup. 

She must've told mom and dad because, in addition to her message, I received messages from them separately. One was a small paragraph from mom that was comprised of many encouraging words while dad's message was short.

Dad: I love you.

All three of them sending messages completely out of the blue made me feel better than I had last night in a matter of seconds.

Later in the day, I took my midterm and left that lecture room without any hesitations over my answers after triple checking. The weight, the pressure I had felt on my shoulders slowly eased up even with the numerous assignments I had all the way up to finals. I wasn't going to let it get me down, especially not with my sister who kept sending me little sentences of motivation throughout the day even while she was at work.

Abisola: How'd the last midterm go?

I had sent her a thumbs-up emoji.

Abisola: Jaime.

Me: it went well!

Abisola: Did it or are you lying?

Me: i think i did well.

Abisola: The last one had an exclamation point. This one didn't.

Me: abi.

She sent me a string of smiley faces that I cringed at before sending her middle finger emojis in response.

When I came home after a day of classes and an orgo lab, I was untangling my earphone wires, moving my braids from getting caught up in the madness and kicking off my shoes when I heard chatting coming from the kitchen. When I walked into the room, Larine and Yasmeen were speaking, talking about something animatedly.

Larine pointed her thumb at Yasmeen once she saw me, "Did you know Yas ran track?"

"Yes." I smiled, glad to know they were talking. The days of Larine swerving into the kitchen, quickly grabbing something than leaving the room with a quick hi and bye were over. I pulled my scarf off my neck and dropped my backpack on a chair. "She's insanely fast. Over the summer she showed me videos of her in high school just breezing past everyone. She was captain of her relay team." 

"I need to see those," Larine told her before looking down at her watch and pushing off of the counter. "I got a game. I'll see you guys later?"

When she left after a promise of swinging by the room after she came home, Yasmeen was quick to turn to me, sounding excited. "Larine is actually so cool. We should go watch one of her squash games and make signs." Yasmeen barely got the last word out from that sentence when someone walked into the kitchen.

Yasmeen and I exchanged a glance at each other as Mariam opened the cabinet she occupied, retrieving a granola bar.

Yasmeen gave me a purposeful nod as if she was on a mission and was ready to do everything and anything to accomplish it. Instantly, I reached out to grab her arm. The determination in her faded and turned into confusion. I rotated to face Mariam. "Mariam, can I speak to you?"

I didn't know if it was my tone, but Yasmeen's eyebrows went up and Mariam turned to me in a similar expression. She acknowledged me directly for the first time in a week.

Silent treatment for a week. I'd give her a taste of her medicine if I wasn't so damn tired of the immaturity. I was tired of a lot of things since yesterday, but this had to stop and I was determined to end it today.

Yasmeen cleared her throat, "You guys should talk in the living room."  

Mariam shifted uncomfortably before leaving out the doorframe, flipping the granola bar in her hand. I followed suit, glancing back at Yas who gave me an encouraging two thumbs up before she disappeared from my sight.

Mariam stood in the living room, arms crossed defensively and head down so I couldn't see her expression. I said I wanted to speak to her, so I was going to speak up first. Okay.

I opened my mouth and shut it just as fast when my stomach twisted. I was convinced I was seconds away from throwing up. From having a conversation? Not now. "I—I can't do this."

Mariam had been my best friend since our first year at HU, the first person I had ever been so comfortable around in my life that wasn't my family. Like Yas, Iman, Clayton and even Larine, she never shot me down, she never looked me weird when I said I loved Fridays, when I freaked the fuck out over going to a concert. She understood me the same way I understood her. I wasn't prepared in any way to lose her for a man but I was saddened by the idea of her being able to push me away just because of one.

Yet immediately, her face morphed with concern. Concern that reminded me why we were so close in the first place. Men didn't matter when it came to friendship. No one did. Not one like ours. "Jaime?" 

"I--" I took a deep breath, the slight anxiety eating at me. I already had a horrible start to the week, and I wasn't ready to deal with it like this. "Just give me a moment."

I spun on my heel, facing away from her to take a deep breath.  Okay, you can do this. You've got this. Just focus on what you need to say.

I turned back around to face Mariam's worried expression. I put my hands out to assure her, "I'm okay, I'm okay."

She didn't believe me, apprehension creasing her forehead, "You sure?"

"Yeah," I said, taking another deep breath. Although my heart was racing, I was fighting against my anatomy no matter how much my mind raced at how I was going to approach this. I wanted to fix this. The silent treatment was kid behaviour, and we weren't kids anymore.

Mariam must have seen that without me even having to state it because she spoke first, "I'm sorry."

"Mari." 

She let out a long sigh. "I shouldn't have..."

"You shouldn't have," I stated, my voice a little stronger. "If you were mad at what I said we could have talked this out easily. But you chose to ignore me like we're in kindergarten and I am not going to take back what I said because--"

"You're right," She interjected, and I stilled when she took a step towards me. "I didn't talk to you because you were right, and I just didn't want to admit that."

This wasn't about Kyle. This wasn't about a guy. This was about her. 

The nervousness in my stomach started to unsettle and she gestured to the couch. The two of us sat down on either end. Mariam crossed her legs, facing me as she shrugged. Helplessly. "I don't do casual."

"But this thing with Kyle... it is."

"Yeah," She said slowly before shrugging again. "I don't know. I'm trying things out."

"And I wasn't trying to say that there's anything wrong with that. It's just that I know you and I don't know what you're expecting from Kyle, but I want you to be careful. Based on what Aven and Laurence both say about him and also because of who you are. That's all. I wasn't trying to insult you or anything like that."

"I know," She pushed her curly hair out of her face, keeping her attention on some spot on the couch. "Sometimes he does things where I think 'this could be something more', then I'm reminded that it's not. I think I just miss being treated by someone in a certain way. I think I miss being in a relationship."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Mariam shook her head. "But as you said, it's just sex. Trust me."

I did trust her. But this whole thing was because she wanted to be someone she's not. She shut me out because I said it to her before anyone else did. Because I understood her. And I wasn't sure she could trust herself with what she was doing concerning her arrangement with Kyle. 

Suddenly she winced. "And I'm so sorry I brought up Malcolm."

I bit my lip at the mention of his name, lost in sudden thought. She was there for that. From watching me sneak off somewhere to be with him for a good part of my first year, to watching him pay me attention outside of the residence, on and off-campus, to when he and his girlfriend broke up and he kept texting me to see if he could get my attention back again. 

"Yeah, that was really shitty," I admitted.

"I'm so sorry for being shitty and for making you panic like that, I-" She sighed so heavily, exhaling more than just us in one breath. "I'm really sorry for being such a shitty friend."

But then I looked at her, I really looked at Mariam. The sincerity in her eyes let me she remembered all of that. While I didn't shed tears over Malcolm, I was visibly upset for a while, and she was there. And if something happens down the line between her and Kyle whether truly she trusted herself with her feelings or ignored what may inevitably happen, I was going to be there for her.

I cleared my throat, "The next time we have a problem with something the other says or does, we talk."

Mariam blinked. Maybe at the declaration in my tone or the way I had taken an approach from the Yasmeen and Aven handbook and made sure she knew I wasn't going to argue. She nodded. "No matter how hard the conversation seems to be. Even if it ..."

"Involves a guy?" I suggested with a dry tone.

She winced, seeming to realize how stupid that part of her treatment seemed to be. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

At the same time, we both reached for each other on the couch and I got a face full of curly hair and tightening arms around me. The familiarity made me grip onto her frame just as hard. "I know."

At my last two words, Yasmeen popped her head in the room, holding onto the doorframe leading into the kitchen. "Does this hug mean that we're all okay?"

"We're okay," I assured her but she didn't step fully inside the room, now holding her hands out with her palms.

"Are we sure?"

So dramatic. "Yasmeen." Mariam and I said at the same time as we pulled away from each other. 

Yasmeen gave us a bright dimply smile. "My future wedding is saved."

"What?" Mariam asked as Yasmeen sat down on the couch between the two of us. As we spoke, catching Mariam up on things she missed over the past week to which she gasped and reached over Yasmeen to clutch my arm every time Aven's name was brought up, I felt at ease and I little more confident in myself. Yasmeen knew it too. She gave my arm a slight squeeze as if to say she was proud of me. And when she looked at me, her eyes confirmed my thoughts. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Wednesday night, in our seats at the gold and royal hall (or Benjamin Edwards Concert Hall as Laurence loved to state), Laurence held his phone in his hands, displaying the amount of money that we had managed to raise based on sales for tonight. "Tell me you don't think I'm a genius."

"You're not a genius," Dev said as we both stared down at the number. I laughed while staring at the number with raised eyebrows fixing my mustard yellow hat that had shifted on my head. We should not have made that much money, but Laurence knew what he was doing. Why he wasn't president of this club, I didn't understand, but why he was VP of events I totally understood.

He also didn't need this many committee members (he had three) which is what he confessed to me when we had taken the bus to the downtown core of Jasper Bay. I didn't think he needed any with the way he was able to charm people to attend this symphony orchestra concert. But he said he liked having me around. I think he liked having me around enough because he has and continued to share every single detail with me about the club including the drama that was happening with the core members on the team.  

We were sitting up high within the massive hall, where the orchestra was down below on a circular platform that was hidden behind high curtains to make sure no one could look below.  All students from HU were scattered around the hall in various seats. In our row of four, Dev sat on Laurence's other side and the seat next to me was left empty for Aven who would be arriving later from campus.

Laurence held a backpack in his hands. I didn't have the faintest clue how he managed to sneak everything he had within inside while they had checked our bags at the front. He had a pile of snacks in his hands that he was handing to Dev on the low and pop drinks that he kept offering to me deep within his backpack. 

Just as I rejected his offer of ginger-ale for the tenth time after he assured me that I could ask him for anything, I focused down below as the curtain hiding the orchestra swayed and an opening exposed a few of the members dressed in formal attire with a few instruments. The one instrument that struck out to me when the curtain opened a bit further for a moment was a majestic grand piano. 

"That is a fucking nice piano," Laurence murmured just as the curtain closed. 

"Right?" I said.

Laurence studied me before he twisted to throw Dev a dirty look, "Why can't you be all excited like Jaime?"

"Because you and Jaime are piano freaks." Dev muttered. 

Laurence didn't bite back at the comment, turning to me as he gave me more information on the songs the orchestra may play. We were discussing the songs that were familiar to us by the time the lights in the room went dim, shadowing everyone's faces. When the curtain went up and everyone in the orchestra took their place. Various instruments organized by strings, brass, wind instruments were in their required sections and off to the side the beautiful piano grabbed my attention as the composer took his place. 

Laurence's hand latched for my arm as he noticed the entirety of the piano. "Bro." 

"I know," I said in the same awe. 

Dev shook his head, a smile coming to his face as the first song started, "Piano freaks." He said lowly. 

As the song carried on and my attention went from musician to musician as the melody carried into the atmosphere of the grand building, Dev asked a few questions, occasionally pointing to a person with his finger. "What instrument is that?"

"Double bass." 

"I thought that was a cello."

"Same family." Laurence pointed his index fingers towards someone else down below. "You see what the dude in the moustache is playing?" 

"That's a violin, no?" 

"That's a viola," Laurence corrected him. "All part of the same family. It's bigger than a violin."

"How the fuck do you know this?"

"I used to dabble with those instruments and then I got into the piano," Laurence said with a shrug. 

Dev looked at the man playing the instrument and after a minute he muttered, "Well, I used to play the recorder."

Laurence looked amused, raising an eyebrow, "When?"

"In the fifth grade," He scowled at the sight of Laurence's lips rising even further and I burst out laughing, "But that's beside the point. I played something too."

I was busy listening to the music and hearing Dev and Laurence exchange questions for answers. But even if I was busier, attempting to focus on a million things in the room, I still would have been able to sense someone taking a seat on my left. In the only other seat that was occupied in our small row.

Aven could have walked into this big room as music filled my ears to the extreme and I still would have been able to feel his presence without having to see him. In the corner of my eye, I could see him remove his jacket, exposing his golden-brown arms before he settled them on the arm seat, his skin brushing against mine.

Instantly I jumped, the sensation zipping up my spine. I prayed that he didn't see my tiny reaction. But I assumed he did when he shifted in his seat, visibly taking in a deep breath. By the way his fingers were curled into a fist on the armrest in my peripheral vision, he was tense.

I was tense.

The music was drowned out in my ears. I didn't think that was possible. The violins and violas moved more vigorously under the hands of their masters, the rest of the instruments ranging from flutes to clarinets, trumpets to trombones, snare drums to cymbals all moved as ferociously as the conductor signalling his hands with a passion I felt in my bones. 

Yet the beautiful sounds of music were dampened by the rushing of my blood past my ear, my adrenaline coursing through my veins with such awareness that I had to swallow dryly, bringing my thumb to my mouth to bite on my nail.

If I thought I was anxious, Aven wasn't any better.

I felt the tapping of his foot against the floor. I saw his thumb that was in his fist peek out and caress the skin of his index finger. And when I heard the slow exhale from his mouth, I tilted my head forward, my gaze falling to my lap and my other hand that wasn't in my mouth digging into the arm cushion at the sound.

This. Wasn't. Helping.

That space that I had spoken of on Sunday was going to be gone at any second but I didn't know who would make the first move. Seconds, minutes, hours, I didn't know, passed by until Aven had shifted again, his arm now flushed against my own. The warmth emitting from him had me look down at the touch and contrast of our skin before my eyes darted up to his own. Not by mistake. As an instinct. As a connection.

Our eyes locked in the dim lighting of the room. The music got louder and louder. Everything around us continued as it did a second ago but I didn't move and neither did he for that brief moment. He didn't smile. He didn't grin. Yet he still managed to produce some type of light I couldn't explain when he looked at me with those brown eyes.

"Jay." He said but it wasn't loud enough for me to hear. Yet it was enough. All I read was the movement of his lips as the music increased even further, filling my ears with blissful harmony that I couldn't focus on for the life of me. Even though audibly I couldn't hear the nickname to my ears, I felt like I had. It was already imprinted in my mind from the many times he had said it since I met him.

"Hi," I said, sounding meek.

"Yellow hat." He whispered.

His favourite hat of mine.

Aven opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off by someone reaching across my seat and handing a something towards him. "Bro, here--"

The sudden movement and voice broke me out of my Aven haze, and I was startled. I was so startled my arm reflexed upwards and I accidentally knocked the open bottle over, the liquid splattering on Aven's white shirt. Aven caught it before the rest could drip onto his jeans, but his shirt got most of the damage. Pink liquid soaked into the fabric and onto our arms.

Aven raised the pink stain part of his shirt away from his body and my hand came to my mouth in shock, "I am so so sorry. Oh my God."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. Oh my God." How on earth did the bubble of Aven suck me in to a point where I got so rattled at a small disruption. I felt like an idiot. You are an idiot.

"Jay. Jay," His voice was soft, comforting enough for me to shut up and listen to him. "I'm going to just clean up. C'mon."

He stood, pulling me up and leading me down the aisle. We walked out of the hall through grand doors, into the bright light and empty corridor. When I turned to look at him, the damage to his shirt seemed even greater than I had thought. The pink stain looked like it was spreading like an infectious disease. "I'm so fucking sorry. I'm a mess."

"You're not." He assured me as we headed in the direction of the bathroom. "You were just...distracted."

Distracted. Yeah, sure. That's the right word.

When I followed him to the door of the men's bathroom, Aven turned around to face me before he went in. His expression was consoling and patient. So patient, I didn't know how he did it. "What's on your mind?" You.

But without thinking, I said, "Nothing."

And just like that, the patience was gone.

His jaw hardened and slight irritation arose in his face. "Jay."

Oh God. "Nothing, Aven. I'm good." There was nothing in the light tone I put in my voice that changed his expression. 

"You just said you were a mess."

"To be fair, I am always a mess."

"Not always," He said, his eyebrows furrowing. "Does this have anything to do with us needing space?"

Space. Like space was going to settle whatever the hell was between us?  

I had made my decision that night at Clayton's. Hell, the decision was unconsciously made when we were standing in the parking lot of a Wendy's on Halloween and he looked at me then just as he looked at me now, but with less frustration.

But this? Confronting this? Confronting us? For the second time that week, I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out.

Aven took a step forward and I instinctively took one step back. But because he was Aven, the volleyball playing, gym almost every day, athletically swift Aven, he managed to take another quick step forward before I could process, holding me by my arms and against his chest.

I stifled a breath, looking up at him. He was glaring at me. His warm body emitted waves of frustration accompanied with a rough sigh. "What is happening?"

His frustration was overwhelming. Too overwhelming to confront head-on. This was nothing like I had ever felt before. I felt it in the blaze of his expression, in the second he touched me, the moment he pressed our bodies together. "Nothing is--"

"Stop." He stated, his jaw clenching. "Stop saying 'nothing'. I fucking hate that word. You know it's not nothing. Tell me this isn't nothing."

"It's not nothing," I snapped back. A long exhale released from my lungs, but this was too much. Him in front of me. Him touching me. "But you know that I've been thinking for a while that it's a bad idea."

His hand came up to the side of my face. "Jay."

I pushed his hands down from my face but his warm touch didn't disappear. "And I've been trying to stop it. I've been trying to pretend this doesn't exist. I've been trying to stop noticing that you keep looking at me like that."

He wasn't even looking at my eyes. His gaze was fixed on my mouth, glazed over. A raggedy breath left my lips and I swallowed as I poorly attempted to take a step back. His hand gently went down my arm, leaving goosebumps despite this very warm hallway. His hand latched onto my wrist, pulling me closer but not enough to bump into his chest. "Looking at you like what?"

Confrontational, Jay. Confrontational. Maybe it was the stupid motto but this time I was going to speak it into the air. "Like you want to kiss me."

His thumb rubbed where he could easily feel my pulse. Surely, he knew the rapid pace hammering underneath his touch. Even worse, I knew my hand was getting clammy but when he moved his thumb upward to my palm, he didn't seem to mind. "You're right," Aven hushed, "This is a bad idea."

Bad idea. Last time I said that to him was on Sunday. And the week before. And the week before that. 

"This is a very bad idea," I agreed but all I wanted was for him to kiss me. "I think."

A small smirk crossed his enticing lips. "You think? What are you thinking about?"

I've been doing a fuck ton of thinking. Thinking was hard when he was in the same room as me. Thinking was hard whenever he was in front of me. My mind went to mush. But I wasn't just thinking, I was imagining. Over and over and over again.

I was sick of imagining what I wanted to become a reality.

"What are you thinking about?" I could see it in the way annoyance flickered upon his face when I hadn't given him the response he was looking for, but I threw his own words in his face, silencing him as I said, "Order doesn't matter."

Aven looked down at the thumb at my wrist slowing its pace. I glanced down at the action just when he murmured, "I think I'm getting tired of this. And I think you're tired of this too."

I was tired of this. Of the constant back and forth I had put us through over the past few weeks. I couldn't imagine how he dealt with it this entire time. How the hell did he have so much patience to deal with me? But his patience was thinning by each second we stood in the hallway.

Kiss me. 

Aven leaned forward, and I held my breath as his nose brushed against my own and his scent wrapped around me like a warm hug. "I think we should get to the part where there's less talking and more kissing."

"It's not exactly more if we haven't even started. I thin—"

Aven changed that.

Aven started.

His lips pressed against my own and my eyes fell shut accordingly. I wanted to respond just as fast as he moved but my brain wasn't registering that this was Aven. That this was Aven who kissed me. Aven who was putting his hand on my waist, his touch burning against my skin Aven who was the one taking me out of my frozen state by bringing my hand up and to the back of his neck and making me respond to his kiss. 

The first kiss was slow, explorative. The feel of his mouth moving my own sent a jolt down my body and congregated between my thighs. The feel of his hands gripping my waist awoken each sensation blazed through my body. The taste of him, the softness of his lips, all filled my head.

And then the kiss deepened, evoking a whimper and another sound I couldn't manage to keep down that I failed to recognize as he kissed and explored and enraptured the living hell out of me to the point where I almost failed to keep up with him.

The kiss drove faster and faster, harder and harder and each time I came in, he met me with equal eagerness. His hands, his body, his mouth against my own fired my nerves. The frequency of the firing rate within my brain increased when he released a groan that resonated within me. I wanted to hear that sound again. I needed that sound again.

I didn't register that I was being moved backward. I didn't register when my back is pressed against the wall. It was when I let my head fall far too back when he pulled away from my lips to caress his own down my neck that it slammed against the solidity. Immediately, I hissed in pain, momentarily breaking out of my Aven-centered bubble. A laugh tumbled off of his lips, the sound full and deep as he cradled my face with his hands. "Are you okay?"

"I—stop laughing," But I can't stop my own laughter as he rubbed the back of my head.

"You're so fucking clumsy," He grinned, one that lit up not only his entire face but the entire hallway I was so grateful to be empty. I was happy that the smile was directed towards only me even in the midst of now a dull pain in the back of my head. "You okay, though?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay, just..." He did exactly what I silently ask. He kissed me feverishly once again, his clothes sticky but his body flushed against mine with no intention of ever wanting to let go. He encircled one arm around my waist and brought his other hand to my face as he nipped, licked and claimed my bottom lip before sliding his tongue against my own.

My mind was spinning, hands not knowing where to stay and linger. If this went on for any longer, I didn't know what was going to happen. The bathroom was seconds away and I felt the need to pull him inside. 

Holy shit. 

My sudden rise of panic, of how easily I was able to succumb to him had me break away, by just a breath.

"We," I panted over his mouth. I could taste him on my lips. "We have to go back. Laurence and Dev are going to wonder where we are."

"Just," He turned his head slightly to glance at the empty hallway. No shit was given about his shirt. "Again."

Fuck it. "Again," I said but he didn't move. "You're such a jacka—" His lips pressed against my own once again with a smile. He kissed me so desperately as if to say that this wasn't enough.

Once wasn't enough. It was never going to be enough with him. I needed more.

His hands slipped under my dark sweater, roaming my stomach, skimming around my waist and yanking me so close against him and away from the wall. My own hands found their way into his hair, clutching and aching as he backed me against the wall once again, making sure I was still pressed against him. The pink stain on his shirt was going to absorb into the fabric of my thick sweater. I didn't care.

I just wanted him closer. I wanted his hands to stop skimming the underside of my bra and grab. I wanted him to kiss me in other places. I wanted the feeling of him on me, consuming my thoughts and everything within me for the rest of my life. I wanted to feel this way forever.

And then he moved. He shifted his hips, aligning them with my own, the heat between my legs amplified when he rocked once against me. Whether it was accidental or not, a moan escaped me at the sudden motion. I was fully aware someone could come in right now, someone could leave in the middle of the concert and stumble upon two people against the wall, kissing like we haven't felt the touch of another human being in centuries.

The gravity of it all, of us, was pulling me down and it felt as if he was the one holding us upright. The magnetism between the two of us made me forget where the hell we were as my mind became filled with Aven. Aven. Aven. Aven.

We needed to calm down. No, continue. I struggled to gain breath. Calm down. He was going to fucking consume me. Continue.

The war in my head ceased when he slowed down the kiss, pulling back even slower. My lips parted accordingly at the yearned groan that came from his mouth and the pleased sound in response stayed caught in my throat. His hand reached up, pressing against the wall beside my head while the other pulled his sticky shirt away from his lean body. He was no longer looking at my swollen lips. His gaze was locked with my own and the familiar heat of them belonged to me and only be, I decided. "Still a bad idea?"

"No." The word left my lips in a whisper and the grin on Aven's face was euphoric. "You should probably take a step back, though."

"Afraid you're going to jump me?" He whispered.

"Yes," I confessed.

Aven's fingers dug into my sweater. They gripped onto the fabric before he pushed himself away from me. He rubbed his fingers over his mouth, using his thumb and middle to pinch his bottom lip in thought as he assessed me just as I assessed him.

"What are you thinking?" I asked him. I wanted to know every single thought in his brain when it came to me. When it came to us.

"Yo." Laurence sauntered over to us and on instinct, as if we were teenagers just caught by our parents, Aven and I took another step away from each other like cats touching water.

Laurence tossed Aven his own sweater, eyeing Aven's shirt. "Here, take this. That shirt's basically ruined. Way to go, klutz." He said, redirecting the last sentence to me. My sweater, although dark blue, had stains of the drink on it from Aven pressing up against me. Laurence didn't make a note of it even as I took my sweater off.

I was batting Laurence away with a grumble from his words when Aven disappeared into the bathroom and I went into the women's bathroom to get the sticky residue of the liquid off of my arm. The two of us found ourselves back in the hallway with Laurence seconds later. Aven now held a rumpled red shirt in one hand, wearing Laurence's dark blue sweater. Laurence clapped his hands. "Ready for the rest of the show?"

Laurence was already practically skipping back inside the theatre. Aven looked at me, "I'm ready, are you?"

The double meaning wasn't unnoticed or to be second-guessed as he followed Laurence's direction, glancing at me over his shoulder. The heat of his gaze said it all.

We were definitely not a bad idea.