Author's Note: The Choreo awards was amazing because I got to meet the actual characters in my book for the first time. It was odd because the people I idolized for so long, suddenly became more human. If you'd like to know all of the juicy details on my night, feel free to PM me :) Also because of this wonderful occasion I didn't have time to write for 2 days, but don't fear, I will try to get back into my writing routine for you guys. This chapter is longer than usual to make up for lost time.

I batted my eyelashes lined with sleep. For a moment, I was disoriented to where I was. I felt around the soft bed, waving around my arms frantically. The area next to we was cold; Ross was gone. I pushed my senses to get up, tempting myself with visions of a delectable breakfast that could have been potentially waiting for me. I stretched sluggishly, I already missed the comfort of my head on his chest. By the time my eyes were awake my brain became overwhelmed all over again as if my thoughts were previously untouched and raw.

My lids that were just drooping and leaden with slumber snapped open violently. Ross was stooped over in a large armchair, his head resting on its felt. I suddenly wished I could linger in the blissful ignorance of sleep all over again to stop my head from rewinding each prerecorded thought. A cold chill surprised my senses, I couldn't decide if it was from the open window or from the sight of peaceful, childlike Ross babbling softly to himself.

I quietly shifted from one foot to the next, tiptoed around Ross and began to close the drafty window. Its coolness of air and loamy fragrance displayed the time, it was early morning. I wiggled my toes playfully, my carpet felt lumpy, as if I was on a bed of earth. As if I was still dreaming, I embraced the shafts of light that burst through the gap of the window. Soft humming of cars purred their carefree song, I pretended they were blue birds singing a sweet melody dedicated to me. I clutched my clothes, they were as damp as a flower kissed in dawn's dew. I shutter instantly, my fingers following through with a slam of the window. I was awake, more awake than I'd ever been. Dad. I had a nightmare again about him, that had covered me in a cold sweat. I wanted to go back to the nightmare just to call it a dream, and see his face again, but my memory had subsided to my dismay.

Ross woke up, jumping out of his seat at the loud noise. His eyes searched the room anxiously before landing on mine. I couldn't form words, but my eyes had spoken for me, placing a delicately salted tear on the apple of my cheek. I grasped at my moist clothes again, hoping to bring me comfort, but instead several melancholy drips fell onto it. Why was I always like this? What's wrong with me?

I couldn't let myself do this again, show more vulnerability. This bizarre nightmare was mine alone. I blinked back soaked eyelashes, wiping them with my forearm and sniffling out the door. I ran-- no I leaped and sprinted, out of Ross's room, and out of the house.

I heard a feminine voice call out to me as I blazed out the front door. "Good morning! Oh, where are you--" I cut her off with a sharp slam. I couldn't look back. With each step towards my car, I inhale painful sobs of air. I feel as if I don't know who I am, as if I was that 18 year old girl hearing the news of his death for the first time. I couldn't think of the name that belongs to me, or anyone else but my father. Any face my subconscious offers had the resonance of a total stranger, then was replaced with the haunting image of him.

I clamored with the keys to my car, shaking, as if the key was the piece to a different puzzle. My hand was soaked in sadness, as if I had washed my hands of the fresh blood of my dad. Then a sudden realization commenced inside my brain, the only thing I could think about. My favorite picture of him, that was in my small bag. I paced back and forth, retracing my steps mentally where it would be. I hadn't seen it in my luggage that had been in the Lynch's guest room. As if a sharp, painful prick of a harsh needle decided to help me, I remembered. It was in the tiny bag that I had left in Ross's car on the day I came to sleepover.

My aching legs rushed over to his car, my eyes oozing in pain. I tugged at the handle, shut tightly. My eyes drew to the window, darting around frenetically. I could see the bag, a white corner of the picture had folded to the outside, allowing me to imagine what his face was like behind the cloth. My pulse clawed at my throat, my grip was wound around the door's handle using my body weight to my advantage in hopes of a budge. Each panicked breath was in short and chattering, pinned to the back of my lungs. In any other moment I would have cursed at the wind, the sky, the world, but each syllable would hurt more than the last. I banged my head repeatedly against the door in defeat, loud sobs were audible for all to hear. The physical pain was no match for the mental.

A hand hugged my arm, constricting me more each second. "Amber." His voice was hoarse. I did not feel at all content like when he had said it before. Nothing Ross could say would help me now.

A gentle beep unlocked the car. I tore free of his grip and climbed in blindly and quicker than ever, as id the air inside was the only thing I could breathe. I reached and clawed at the bag in the front seat, holding it to my chest without pulling out the photograph. Ross said nothing as he sat beside me in the driver's seat, his eyes addressing each streak where a tear had washed away. I put a hand to my mouth because I thought I might scream, but nothing poured out of my mouth like the river had of my eyes.

I had never been one hug, but I had decided that uncomfortable was better than being miserable alone. My reddened eyes met his, begging him to pull closer to me. He didn't understand what I had wanted, which ended up sapping my last drops of energy from me. I let a little part of me go, as I sobbed into his chest unceasingly, grasping onto my soaked wardrobe in one hand, his t-shirt in the other. I was a storm of sorrow, while he seemed to remain as dry as the Sahara. He held me in blank silence, my tears soon soaked his shirt, matching mine. Each sob wasn't poetic in any way, it was unvarnished and bare. My howls of misery worsened with each collapse of heavy tears. The pain was a continuous wave of broken sobs, attempting to recover breaths that hurled me back into my impounding grief, relaying me back into his arms. When my sea had frozen over, I gasped for an ounce of pure, happy breath, but it did not come.

I did not know how to tell him what was happening. I wanted to thank him for being there, but my heart was damaged, with no space for gratitude. My lips were slightly cracked, my fingers were worn down from the constantly holding onto his apparel. Abruptly I lifted my face to his, speaking to him the only way I knew how. My lips intermingled with his, he didn't move, even I was unwelcome there. Impossible stillness. For a moment there was a suspended second of nothingness before colliding again. I didn't care if he didn't want me the I wanted him, I needed to feel the sensations I had felt with him before. I only cared about myself, how everything would affect me, but I let myself fall back on his lips. He was uncertain as I guided his fingers to the lining of my face. His stubble scratched at my skin gently, unraveling my itch for him. His faithless lips responded to mine. He staggers forward, pulling me closer, placing me on his lap. My mouth opened in slight shock, but it is greeted with his lips again. I safely lean my back against the steering wheel, cautious not to sound the alarm. He kissed me until the space between his lips drew out the blue in my blood. With a slight tug, I easily came tumbling down onto him, warm sugar huddled at his fingertips. My precious bag fell to the floor, but I didn't care enough to notice. His body was pressed against me, firmer than I had imagined, which frightened and excited me. One of his hands stroked my upper thigh, my body shuddered in eager anticipation and in intense apprehension. He was touching my bare skin, leaving me feeling branded and scorched in his name. His other hand splayed on my cheek. He drew back instantaneously with urgency. He  removed his fingers from my face to reveal a gentle wetness lingering. A final tear had caressed his hand. It was a genuinely delighted tear, something I hadn't had in a long time. Ross wiped away the excess from my cheek. "Are you sure you want to do this?" His eyes pierced mine closely, answering him with nothing.

I didn't dare dip my toe in reality, I was already deeply woven and tangled in his ecstasy. "Stay with me," My mouth was at his ear as vulnerability skydived off my lips. He kissed the nape of my neck. Fear and lust formed a fiery poison in my stomach as I removed my shirt like a bandaid, exposing my scarred flesh. I wanted him to ravish me and unlock my defeaning hunger for him. That dewed and cosmic morning, I learned every nook and cranny of him and he was fascinated with mine. He knew my body better than I knew myself.

Author's Note: If you couldn't tell, that was a sex scene that didn't describe the actual sex because I wanted the reader to fill in the blanks. Thoughts on anything about the book or the Choreo Awards below?