I open my eyes and blink, failing to discern anything. Judging by the pitch-black darkness in my room, it must be close to dawn. 

Extending my hand, I run my palm over the nightstand. My phone should be there, but it isn't, and I throw the comforter aside with a sigh.

I couldn't care less about the cell. I only need it to see the time because Bast isn't in bed next to me.

It's become a common occurrence. Helplessness floods me each time my hand touches the cold sheets on his side of the bed, but I have no right to pry. I don't even know what we are to each other. That I'm sure I'm the only one should be enough. Most of the time, it is. 

Flicking the light switch on, I rise to my feet and pad to the closet to grab the long cardigan that will cover me enough not to want the earth to swallow me if I run into someone on my way to the roof, wearing my silk nightie that barely reaches my thighs. 

I wrap the warm garment around myself and head out of the apartment. A few minutes later, I step out of the elevator, shivering when a cold blast hits my face and bare legs.

A lone figure is leaning against the parapet, and my steps falter. If I approach him, I'll be intruding, but how can I leave him alone?

My feet in fluffy slippers feel laden as I walk up to Bast. When he hears my footsteps, he flings a glance my way and straightens, running his fingers through his hair.

“What are you doing up?” he asks, his tone cautious.

“I woke up, and you weren't there,” I say. “You couldn’t sleep again.”

The corners of Bast’s mouth twitch. “Smart, fucking gorgeous, and perceptive.”

“You’re an ass, Basti.”

“So I’ve been told. Come here.”

He beckons me with his hand, and I skirt the stone block serving as a bench and come to stand by his side.

Arms that held me a few hours ago snake around my waist. He steps behind me so we’re both facing the buildings where only a few windows are lit.

“Why do you think they’re up?” Bast murmurs. His chin leans against my temple, and he nods toward the high rises.

“Insomnia?”

He hums in agreement. “That’s likely. Or maybe they were making love and got hungry. They went to the kitchen to grab a bite. There’s wine.” He kisses the top of my head. “And low music. And they slow dance without giving a fuck they both need to be in the office at nine p.m.”

“I like that version of events much better,” I whisper, skimming my fingertips over his wrist.

He presses me to him tighter and moves a palm up my ribcage. It rests on my cardigan-covered breast, and Bast wags his brows when I give him a questioning look.

“What?” I ask.

“Your panties are stuffed in the pocket of my hoodie.”

I burst out laughing. “Did you smoke anything? I can’t keep up with you.”

“Had a glass of water.” Bast’s warm palm edges upward and curls around my throat, caressing it. “Wanted to wake you up and ask you to come here with me to window-watch, but you slept like an angel.”

“Why can’t you sleep?”

The question tumbles out, and I hold my breath. His body stiffens, the tension trespassing the layers of clothes we’re both covered in. This is where he’ll tell me to mind my business.

“Too much on my mind,” he says. 

His fingers trace the contours of my jaw, and with the lightest pressure of the pad of his thumb, he makes me angle my head so he can kiss me. 

It’s slow and purposeful. 

He’s trying to distract me, and I let him.

***

Sebastian is turning twenty-one today, and I skipped the first two lectures to prepare a surprise for him at home since he isn’t going to celebrate. Leah is still on bed rest, and Brian’s glued to her side. I’m sure Bast doesn’t want to throw a party when his friend is going through crap, but leaving him without a celebration felt wrong. You don’t turn twenty-one every day.

It’s sunny for once, and I regret not leaving my jacket in my car as I rush to the Science Building. The quick pace isn’t helping me much, though —a glance at my watch tells me I’ll be late even if I sprint the remaining distance.

As I lift my eyes off my wrist, my legs threaten to give away. Sebastian is standing behind a shrub, talking to Dave.

Everyone at Bartley University knows who Dave is. Jail, not college, is a much better place for someone who sells the shit he does, but nobody’s ever complained. 

My heart slams against my ribs, the dull ache spreading in my chest. I take a calming breath and exhale through my mouth.

He can snap at me, but I'm not letting him ruin his life.

Determination marks my every step as I stalk nearer.

“You,” I say.

Dave shoves a hand in his pocket and scowls at me, bushy brows bunching up under his black baseball cap. 

I level him with a glare, ignoring Sebastian. “If you don't want me to speak and ruin your little business, you'll get the fuck away from here now.”

He sniffs, taking a step back. “Sure.”

His bony legs carry him away, and as soon as he disappears behind the brick building, I gyrate toward Bast. “Really?”

I hate that my voice quivers. Worry stirs within me, intensifying when Sebastian remains motionless.

“What the fuck were you going to do?” I ask, resting my hands on his chest.

A bird flies off the shrub, the flap of the wings the only sound breaking the silence.

I fist the fabric of Bast’s hoodie. “Answer. Did you buy anything?”

He groans, covering my hands with his. “For fuck’s sake, Tara, stop it.”

“I swear to–”

“I didn't, okay? Don't make a big deal out of it.”

Easy for him to say. Would he just walk away if he saw me buying drugs? “What did you want?” I ask, forcing my voice to sound calmer.

Sebastian sigh-growls. “Something to sleep. I can't fucking focus, okay? I'm not an addict.”

“Would it be the first time?” My throat closes up, and tears burn the back of my eyes. 

He hugs me tightly, blowing out a shaky breath into my hair. “Yes.”

“Promise you won't do it again. There are doctors and therapy and over-the-counter stuff. I don't want you to—”

Bast’s lips seize mine. He caresses my cheeks and hair while he kisses me, and my arms circle his waist.

“Promise,” he says against my mouth. 

We stay in the same spot for a few minutes. 

“Looks like we skipped class,” I tell Sebastian.

He runs a lone finger down the length of my back. “Yeah. I'd be useless anyway.”

 I'm not naive enough to believe he'll open up and tell me what troubles him. Insisting will get me nowhere, but I care. I care about his health, his mind, and his future, and I don't give a damn if he feels the same way about me because he might say he has lots of friends, but I know him better than them. At least the parts he allowed me to know.

I take his hand. My fingers wrap around his, and I squeeze them. "Let's go."

Bast grips me with his hazel eyes. "Where?"

"Call it a birthday surprise number one," I say, jerking my chin toward my car.

***
Sparks dance along the water, and the waves murmur each time they caress the shore.

Bast's arm is settled protectively around my shoulders as we stroll along the beach, my sneakers and his much larger ones imprinting themselves on the wet sand.

His chest puffs out with a deep inhale."Fuck, I can't get over how beautiful this place is. I want to paint it again."

"What color is the sea today?" I ask.

Bast drops a chaste kiss on my mouth. "Cyan for the water, azure for the sky. Okay, I doubt pure colors will do. There are shades."

"But you prefer charcoal."

"I make exceptions sometimes." 

A seashell cracks under my right foot, and I move it aside with my shoe. "I've only seen the cityscape you gave me. And you never showed me my portrait. I know you finished it."

Bast laughs. It's boyish and loud, and I feel my lips stretch in a grin that mirrors his. 

"Like I said, gorgeous and smart."

I nudge his side. "Don't change the topic."

"I'm nervous."

He looks at his feet while the words leave his lips, so he must be serious.

My gaze swings to his. "But why? I love everything you've drawn."

"Fuck if I know." His shoulder bobs. "It's more intimate than the other stuff, but of course, I'll show you. It's yours, after all, although I'd love to keep a copy if you let me."

"Sure."

The lighthouse looms ahead of us. I break into a run, and Bast follows, my fingers still holding his hostage.

"Please be open," I murmur, giving the wooden door a shove. It gives in, and I step into the familiar round room, biting my lip when Sebastian smirks.

"We were interrupted," he says. "I wanted to yell at my father for the first time. But my phone's in your car. And you have nowhere to run."

I flatten my palms over his chest. "You. You have nowhere to run. Nowhere to be except here with me."

I step forward; he steps back. My inhales match his, and we exhale simultaneously, carrying on with the weird dance.

Bast wets his lips when the backs of his thighs hit the stairs. "What do you want me to do?" he says.

I curl my hands around his defined shoulders. "Sit."

He obeys, parting his bent legs slightly. I kneel on the first step, facing him. My index finger slips under the hem of Bast’s hoodie and shirt, touching the firm sculpt of his abs. 

"You're perfect," I say, my voice husky. 

Bast rests his weight on his elbows. "Not even close. But I love that you see me that way."

He must know what I want because his head falls back as soon as I graze the button of his jeans with my fingers.

"I want it. Do you?" My touch lingers on his erection, waiting for his consent. He's in a vulnerable place, and I'd hate to make him uncomfortable.

Bast nods. I press my palm to the bulge under the denim. "Words."

"Need it," he rasps. "Please."

"Then let me be your drug, Sebastian."

Heart thrumming wildly, I capture his parted lips in a soft kiss while freeing him from the tight fabric of his jeans and underwear. But barely a few moments later, our tongues duel, and our chests heave. I wrap my fingers around his stiff shaft and stroke him, swallowing his moans.

When my lips trace a wet path down his neck, Bast undoes the front buttons of my blouse.

"You love watching me," I say, nipping at his collarbone.

Bast slips his fingers under the lace of my bra, touching my bare breast. "So much." 

I take the head of his cock into my mouth and swirl my tongue around it. A tortured groan erupts from Bast's throat, echoing in the lighthouse.

"Fuck, Tara." 

My lips glide up and down his steely length, and my fingers close around the base. I squeeze him, taking him deeper, and peer up at him from beneath my lashes.

Bast weaves his fingers into my hair."God, your mouth." 

His breath catches as I suck harder, and he throbs between my lips. 
His salty taste tells me he's close. So does his parted mouth and frenzied heartbeat.

He fists my hair and tugs, looking me in the eyes as I apply more pressure with my hand and encircle him tightly with my mouth, sliding up and down his engorged flesh in a steady motion.

His hips lift slightly. Bast whispers my name in a warning, but I need to feel him come. I want to taste him. 

Shivers rock through him. Salty liquid coats my tongue, and a mix of moan and grunt leaves Bast’s lips. I swallow and release him slowly, pressing lingering kisses to his cock.

He pants, combing his fingers through my hair. Vulnerability swims in his eyes, and as I cup his jaw, smoothing my thumb over his stubble, he leans into my touch.

I wanted to be his drug, but he might already be mine.

Thoughts?