Cup to Cup, the snug coffee shop where Leah and I meet every Monday, is mostly empty at almost four in the afternoon. Two guys are at the bar, and four girls are sitting at a table in the back. The volume of their voices as they gossip over coffee is loud enough for me and probably the two dudes to learn the history of their Tinder fiascos.

I finish replying to my followers' direct messages and send a text to Leah.

Me: Waiting for you. Do you want me to order?

I got a tuna sandwich and latte because I was too hungry to wait, although I've only taken a couple of bites. Leah had a ton of lectures today. She must be famished.

My phone vibrates with a reply.

Leah: No. On my way.

A few minutes later, she enters Cup to Cup and glances around.

I wave at her. "Leah! Here!"

"Hey," she says, dropping her purse onto the vacant chair. I study her as she shrugs off her coat. Her cheeks are pink, probably from the cold, but the dark shadows under her eyes she's been sporting for a while are there, and worry settles in my stomach. She's an overachiever. So am I, and I wouldn't lecture her, but what if she's pushing herself too hard?

"How are you? What did the professor say?" I ask.

She sits and snatches the menu from the table. "Not much. She said she'd teach me stuff once we start working."

"I like her. Did you see her shoes? She wears a new pair almost daily."

"Of course, you'd notice." Leah giggles.

"It's not my fault the outfits of the rest of our professors are so boring. That woman's like a breath of fresh air." Not only because of professor Lee's excellent taste in clothes but also because her lectures are never dull.

"She really is," Leah says.

When she glances at my sandwich, I lift the corner of the menu. "Do you know what you want? My sandwich is delicious. Want a bite?"

She shrugs. "Okay."

I bring it to Leah's face. Her mouth parts, and she clamps a hand over it, jumping off the chair. Leah dashes to the back of the coffee shop and disappears into the bathroom.

I shove my phone into the pocket of my jeans and rush after her.

Once I'm next to the bathroom door, I hesitate. Would I be invading her privacy? Maybe, but the way she sprinted to the toilet is more than enough to be concerned.

I knock on the door. "Leah."

She opens it, looking paler than before.

I step inside and shut the door. "Holy shit, are you okay? You ran away, and I got scared."

"I threw up," she says, swallowing.

"I see. Are you better now?"

Tiredness, palor, and aversion to some foods almost always indicate something. Judging by the shock on Leah's face, she knows what it is.

She looks at herself in the mirror and covers her mouth with her palms, slumping against the tiled wall. "Oh my God."

I chew on my lip. "Are you late?"

"I had my period last month," she mumbles.

"Are you sure? We're usually in sync, but I don't remember you asking me for tampons."

Her big, gray eyes fill with tears. She sniffles, staring at her hands and counts, folding her fingers.

She stops at eight, and tears stream down her face. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

A tapping sound rises above her sobs. Talk about shitty timing.

"A moment," I yell to whoever needs to use the restroom and turn to Leah. "Don't panic, okay? Let's stop by the pharmacy and go to my place. Bast isn't home. You need to do a test to be sure. Maybe it's nothing. You've been worried about the internship. It could be the nerves."

A shaky exhale leaves her lips. "Okay."

We exit the bathroom, collect our things, and leave after I pay the check. Leah keeps quiet as we walk to the parking lot, and I can't blame her. I'd freak out too. Any girl would.

"Wait for me in my car," I say. "I'll get the tests."

"I can do it."

"I don't mind," I tell her, smiling to ease some of the tension. "Try to calm down; I'll be back."

I leave Leah in my Maserati and cross the street to get to the pharmacy. Lucky for me, it's empty, and I quickly scan the shelves, searching for the tests.

After getting them, I return to Leah's side. She looks small in the passenger seat of my car. Scared, too. She eyes the bag in my hands, and I open it so she'd peek inside.

"I got three," I say. "Of different brands, and one tells you the weeks."

Leah's jaw trembles. "Thanks."

I squeeze her knee. "It'll be alright; you'll see."

I don't know if it will. Nobody ever does. But friendship is about reassuring and supporting, even if everything falls apart and you end up standing amidst the rubble together.

♡♡♡

Once we're at my place, Leah takes the tests and goes to my en suite to pee. I sit on the couch, waiting. Fifteen minutes later, her unsure footsteps break the stillness.

She sits next to me, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. At least she's not crying anymore. "Is Brian home?" I ask.

He's crazy about her, and she'll need his support.

"He'll be soon," she says. "If they're positive, I'll have to tell him."

"Of course. But don't jump ahead of yourself."

"I love you." Leah pats my thigh. "But we skipped protection in Mexico once. I've never felt so drained, and my last period was light. I'm such an idiot."

Leah presses the heels of her palms to her eyes and sags against the back of the couch, groaning.

"You're not," I say. "It takes two. You two are in love. When you're so into someone, sometimes you don't think. I'm sure Brian will be happy."

"I'm not so sure." Leah removes her hands. "He's got so much going on. His degree is hard, and he's already stressed out. And there's my internship too."

What can I say? Her fears are valid, and I've never been in her shoes.

I nod toward the hallway where my room is. "Do you want to look now? I think they're ready."

Leah stands and drags her feet to the bathroom. I linger in the doorway as she picks up the three sticks. She's facing away from me, and for a nerve-ridden moment, her posture is stiff. Then, she nods. And cries. And I hug her, hoping things work out in the end.

♡♡♡

After Leah leaves, I have a cup of herbal tea, change into my yoga pants and a sports bra, and spread an exercise mat on the living room floor.

I'm in a one-legged king pigeon pose when the front door opens. Bast strolls in, carrying grocery bags, and halts when he sees me.

"Well, that's quite a welcome home, Sebastian we have here," he says, running his heated gaze over my chest.

"I wasn't expecting you." I wink and arch my back more.

Bast leaves the bags on the floor and leans down. His cold lips brush against mine, and he squeezes my boob. "Please, proceed to drive me crazy while I agonize over the quiz I bombed."

"Oh no." I sit in the Lotus position, watching him. "But you studied."

"Not enough." He sighs, lifting the bags and putting them on the kitchen counter. "It's okay. I'll live. Just need to do shit now."

Bast puts away the groceries he bought and goes to his room. Over the next hour, he pops into the living room three times, using getting water as an excuse. I know he does it to watch me exercise, and my chest swells. There's something addictive about his attention, and I've never wanted anyone's as much as I want his.

When I'm done, I pick up the mat and head to my room. Kenny and I are meeting for drinks soon, and I waste no time getting in the shower.

The bathroom door creaks open when I'm massaging shampoo into my hair, and Sebastian steps inside. No asking for permission, but then again, he doesn't need one after everything we've shared. My quickened breaths match the speedy clip of my heartbeat. I smile at Bast through the glass, and he gives me a lazy grin, leaning against the vanity, arms crossed.

"Enjoying the view?" I ask, sliding the shower door open.

His smile broadens. "A lot. I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to hang out. We could watch a movie or talk. Or..."

I slick my lather-covered hair back. "Or?"

"You could show me how flexible you are. Just not on that mat. I'm thinking of my bed. Or chair. Or couch. Tara, for fuck's sake, stop me. This is so lame. I thought I could do better, but you're too...naked."

I laugh, reaching for the showerhead. "I'm going out with a friend. Want to come with us?"

Bast lets out a disappointed sigh. "No, it's cool. I guess I'll just stay in and draw."

"Kenny would love to meet you. Come on."

"Kenny as in..."

"Kenneth. One of my closest friends. He's an artist and a designer."

Hesitation clouds Bast's expression, but then he nods. "Cool. Let me go change."

He gives me a once-over on his way out, and I step under the warm spray, still smiling.

♡♡♡

Kenny's waiting for us at The Last Shot, a bar across the street from Fashion Victim. I told him Bast would tag along, and Kenny eyes him curiously as they shake hands.

"What would you like?" he asks Bast over the sound of an alternative rock ballad as we walk to a table by the window.

"Whiskey," Bast says. "You?"

Kenny pulls out a chair and leaves his leather jacket on it. "Same. Wine for you, Tara, right? I'll order. It'll be faster this way."

He goes to the bar, and Bast and I sit next to each other. Sebastian draws an arm around my shoulders and cups my cheek. His lips press against mine, and warmth travels from my core to my face, surely making it red.

He's not one to show affection in public, but him kissing me in a packed bar makes me doubt that. He's been acting differently. Softer. Caring.

Kenny plops on a chair, and Bast pulls away but doesn't remove his arm. His fingertips rub my bicep, and I give Kenny a look when he smirks.

"How did you two meet?" Sebastian asks after taking a sip of his drink.

I hold my breath. Kenny cocks his head, regarding him. "Thanks to fashion. I owe Tara a lot because she spread the word when I opened my store."

Sebastian's brows lift. "A store? That's cool."

"Fashion Victim," I say. "It's across the street. Kenny also draws like you."

"Wait." Kenny's eyes flare. "You draw?"

Bast shifts on the chair and drops his arm to my waist. He pinches the skin there, and I chuckle into my wine glass.

"I do," he says to Kenny. "Kinda."

"Kinda." I roll my eyes. "Ask him to show you his drawings, Kenny."

"Show me your drawings, Sebastian."

Bast reaches for his phone and scrolls through the gallery. When Kenny sees the pictures, he sits straighter and studies each image for a solid minute. "This is..." His eyes sparkle with excitement. "Holy shit. Who taught you?"

Bast's cheeks redden. It's unusual and adorable, and I soak in the sight as I drink my red wine while Kenny and Bast talk about art.

♡♡♡

Hours later, we're in my bed. I changed into my PJs, and Bast stripped to his boxer briefs. I sit between his legs with my open laptop on my lap while he's playing with my hair, dividing it into sections and running his fingers through the strands.

"I can't believe you don't have an Instagram account for your art," I say.

He places a wet kiss on my shoulder. "Little caterpillar, you've done enough. For real. Your friend wants a collab, do you really think I need anything else?"

"Precisely." I squirm when Bast bites me softly. "Bast...listen. People will like your designs. You need to have your portfolio on social media for new customers. I'll help you make it pretty."

"Pretty." He laughs against my skin and kisses me again.

I rub his thigh. "Can you please listen?"

"I'm listening." He nuzzles into my neck. "And you're right, but I'm bad at that shit. Plus, I'd rather not have my real name attached to my drawings."

"I use my second name for modeling," I blurt.

He inches away and runs his eyes over my face. "Your second?"

"Atla," I whisper. "Atla Hagen."

"You have two last names?"

I lean my head against Bast's shoulder and look at the framed girl power quote on the wall as I speak. "Only one. Hagen is my mom's maiden last name. She was from Norway, that's why she named me Atla. I just don't usually tell people that."

"Atla," Bast says softly. "It's beautiful. Do you want me to call you that?"

I shake my head. "No. I prefer Tara."

Ian called me Atla, and I want to erase everything that has to do with my past. Everything that has to do with him.

"Let's set up your Instagram?" I ask.

Bast groans and tickles me. I try to swat him away, and he relents, raining kisses on my neck. "I need to use the bathroom. Can I use yours?"

"Sure. Just aim well, Sebasti."

His open palm lands on my ass. He rolls out of bed, and I admire his broad shoulders and the defined muscles of his back as he goes to the en suite.

A few moments pass. I'm scrolling through the Instagram templates, looking for something artsy and dark that would fit Bast's charcoal illustrations and portraits when he steps into the room.

"Tara."

His voice is low, and he looks pale. Or maybe it's the light from the bedside lamp.

"I found something." I turn my computer around. "Look."

Bast runs a hand over his eyes. "Wait. I need to...Fuck. Is there anything we should talk about?"

I blink. He perches on the bed and brings his hand to my face. Calloused pads skate over my cheek, and a burst of tenderness lights his hazel irises when he takes me in. "Tara?"

He puts something on the comforter. When I see what it is, I groan. "Oh my God, no. It's not mine."

Sebastian frowns. "Not yours?"

I pick up the pregnancy test I forgot to throw in the trash and twirl it. It's not my place to tell, but I don't have a choice. I blow out a breath. "It's Leah's."

Bast seems to process the information for an instant. "Brian's...Oh shit."

"Don't tell him you know, okay? Leah was going to talk to him. I guess he'll tell you later."

"Yeah, absolutely. I just...Come here."

He tugs at my hand and scoots up the bed. Leaning against the pillows, Bast hugs me, and I relax in his arms.

"We used protection," I say, kissing his chest.

When I feel him swallow, I glance up. "What?"

Sebastian wags his head.

I trace a line from his pecs to his abs. "Bast."

"Would you tell me?"

Is that what he's worried about? His somber expression tells me it is.

I run my hand through his hair. "Who do you think I am? Of course, I would. But—"

He flips us over. I close my eyes when his hard body covers mine and spread my legs so he'd nestle between them.

"No buts." Bast sucks my nipple into his mouth through the silk of my PJs. The jolt of pleasure pierces my core, rendering me useless, but not useless enough that I forget how easy it is to be honest with him.

How badly I want to be.

And for the first time, I think I'm ready.

Hello to all the new readers! And the loyal ones too! How are you liking the story? Sorry for making you wait. Life's busy, but I'm trying. Tell me your thoughts!

Love,
Alwyn