"They tell me think with my head, not that thing in my chest."
- The Chainsmokers feat. Kelsea Ballerini

I stand outside the Romney's apartment. I should have called first. I shouldn't have just shown up unannounced.

I raise my fist to knock. Thank god I do. The smile on Zayna's face as she opens the door is enough to quell any residual anxiety I might have had. I pull her into my arms, taking in her intoxicating scent.

"You okay? What's up with the anaconda squeeze?" she asks, a giggle escaping her lips.

"I'm good," I lie.

She pulls away to meet my gaze. "Yeah, because I totally believe you. Let's go downstairs and get a cup of coffee, alright?"

I allow Zayna to lead me down the spiral staircase and into the diner. Poppy pours us two mugs of steaming black coffee. We take a seat in the corner booth and sip our hot beverages.

I watch Zayna dump too many sugar packets into her bitter coffee and smile. That's what she did three months ago, the first time we ever sat in this diner together. That was a good day.

She catches me staring and turns scarlet. "What are you doing? Is there, like, something on my face?"

"No, you're beautiful," I assure her. "I just... I don't know. I got deja vu when we sat down. Remember the first time we had coffee together?"

"I do." She smiles at the memory. "You were a paying customer, and I was a bitchy waitress. How could I forget?"

"You weren't that bitchy, babe."

"Oh, I was bad. I was surprised you came back."

"Of course I came back. I needed to see you again." I reach across the table and lace my fingers through hers. "You also gave me some pretty solid advice that day."

Her golden eyes twinkle with an emotion I don't recognize. "Did I now?"

I nod my head. "You did. The first time we ever talked, you told me that Raelyn's death wasn't my fault, that we—"

"We can't blame ourselves for the things that happened to us when we were too young to know better," she finishes. "That is solid advice. Too bad you haven't taken it."

"I'm trying," I whisper. "It's just... hard."

"I know, Bowie. Trust me, I get it." She gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "Look, we all have our demons. You know mine."

"Yeah, and if I ever meet that Conrad guy, I'm gonna—"

"Stop. Don't go all macho man on me, alright?"

"I can't help it. I hate the fact that someone hurt you like that."

The same way Benson hurt Raelyn. Zayna turned to drugs and razor blades, but her fate could have been a lot different. I cringe at the thought.

"Bowie," Zayna murmurs, "last week, you... you told me you loved me. Do you remember that?"

"Kinda hard to forget, babe," I reply. "Listen, I know it's premature. I probably shouldn't have uttered those words, but—"

"That's the thing." Her eyes are twinkling again. "Bowie, I... I can feel myself falling in love with you, but that's the last thing I need right now."

My heart stops. Is she breaking up with me?

"Just know that this is strange, new territory for me," she elaborates. "I can do sex, but love? I heard a lot of four-letter words growing up, but 'love' wasn't typically one of them."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Tell me not to say it again, and I won't," I promise her. I'll do whatever it takes to keep her from walking out that door.

"I'm not uncomfortable. Rationally, I know I should be, but I'm not, and... oh, I don't know what I'm saying," she rambles. She adds another sugar to her coffee and shakes her head, visibly flustered.

"Hey, hey, hey." I get up and move so I'm sitting adjacent to her instead of across. I lift her chin with my thumb, bringing my lips to hers in a chaste kiss. "You're okay, baby. I understand exactly what you're trying to say."

"Do you? Because, fuck, I don't."

"We'll take things slow," I swear to her, "with no pressure to say or do anything you're uneasy about. Don't overthink what you're feeling, okay? And keep talking to me. Communication is good."

"Okay," she replies, biting her lower lip in a way that makes my heart race.

I kiss her again, cupping my hand around her cheek. She tastes like chocolate and over-sweetened coffee. I could get lost in her kiss, in the comfort she emanates. Since arriving at her doorstep, I forgot about my argument with Gemma. I forgot about everything, the only exception being her.

"Get a room, you crazy kids!" Poppy chides us. We both look at our boss and laugh.

"Sorry, Poppy," Zayna says, blushing magenta.

"You know, she has a point." I eye the stairs that lead to Zayna and Shamus' one-bedroom apartment. "Is Big Brother home?"

"Nope!" she exclaims. "He's at work."

Without another word, we make our way upstairs.

<>*<>*<>*<>*<>

An hour and a half later, Zayna and I are redressing ourselves—perfect timing, too, because as soon as I slip on my flannel, Shamus enters the apartment.

"He wasn't supposed to be home until eight," Zayna whispers, shimmying into her leather boots. "Something must have happened at work."

I learned a while ago that Shamus is a mechanic, but not a regular mechanic. He exclusively serves North Side, buffing scratches out of luxury vehicles that he could never even dream of owning. I don't know if I could deal with his clientele. The struggles of the rich and arrogant seem trifling in comparison to people with actual hardships.

"I'm gonna check on him," Zayna says, eyeing her brother curiously. "Stay here, okay?"

I watch as Zayna approaches Shamus. Despite their attempts to keep their voices low, I hear everything; it is a tiny apartment, after all.

"Earl is a fucking prick," Shamus curses. I'm assuming Earl is his boss? "That piece of shit threatened to fire me because some Mercedes-owning douche complained about me, saying I gave him attitude or something."

Mercedes-owning douche. Sounds like Benson....

"But he didn't fire you, right?" Zayna inquires.

Shamus shakes his head. "No, but I'm so close to quitting. I can't stand those pretentious assholes. They have too much money for their own good."

I smile to myself. I've always liked Shamus, despite his threats to cause me bodily harm if I ever hurt his sister.

"Then get another job," Zayna suggests. "In the meantime, I'll pick up more hours at Poppy's. Everything will work itself out."

The optimism in Zayna's voice surprises me. She's not a glass-half-full kind of gal. Normally, she sees the world in shades of gray.

Perhaps she's different when it comes to her brother. From what she's told me, he basically saved her life.

"No, no, I'll be fine," Shamus assures her. He kisses the side of her head and adds, "I don't want you to wear yourself out, okay? Your health is important."

Shamus retreats to his bedroom. Zayna flops down on the couch, a.k.a. her bed, and lets out a heavy sigh.

"Talk to me, baby," I say, sitting down beside her.

"He does so much for me," she murmurs. "Everything he does is for me. I feel like I'll never be able to make it up to him."

"And I don't think he would ever ask you to." I place my hand under her chin, urging her to look at me. "He loves you. Love doesn't have conditions."

"He's gonna resent me someday."

"Impossible. No one could ever resent you."

She rolls her golden eyes, a half-smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks, Bowie."

"Of course." I kiss her forehead before pulling her into my lap. "Let me take you out tonight, okay?"

"That sounds amazing, but"—she glances at Shamus' door—"I should stay here with him, just in case. How about after work tomorrow?"

I reply with a nod of my head. "I'm all yours, baby."

"You better be." She playfully punches my shoulder and then connects her lips to mine in a fervent kiss.

Yeah, I could get used to this.