Nate's POV

Silhouetted by the light of dawn, she seemed to almost glow, a faint sheen of sweat catching the early light and bathing her skin in a light uneven tan, one that comes from the impatience of laying down to sunbathe but rather swimming until you can't anymore, catching no more than a few bits of sunlight but still noticeable for the keen eyed. She looks serene, covered by merely a white sheet,
the underlying tension for once gone. After she had drifted to sleep, sated, and I carried her to my bedroom, I had remained awake, simply drawing satisfaction from her primal desperation, the way she had first asked, then outright begged when I refused, with complete disregard of anything else than the current events.

To say I was surprised would be fitting. After all, she seemed to lack any trace of the prudeness Gage had talked about incessantly as she fumbled, almost as if in a daze, with my shirt buttons, then my belt buckle, tea she barely sipped from abandoned on the coffee table, along with my phone. Looks like the three sips I caught her take were enough. Somehow, I was still expecting more restraint. At least she can do one thing right. Be pliant and take it. Shame this isn't meant to last.

As for her phone, the password was easy to remember, casually mentioned by Gage after a few pints of beer in the bar down the street from his apartment after a heated argument with her. Despite spending the better half of the night going through anything that seemed of tangential importance, a single name caught my eye. I had heard the name Kaylah mentioned before by Gage, whose voice always seemed to take on a sour note at the thought of her very name. Judging by her colourful language directed towards him in dozens of texts, I find it safe to assume the feeling of disgust is reciprocal. Hopefully, this will make her a quick ally. It would be a shame if I had to get rid of her otherwise.

Biscuit seemed to sense I was deep in thought, as he gently lay his head on my stomach and looked up to me sadly, his way of letting me know how terrible of an owner I've been for not feeding him before sunrise. As I got up to do just that, I tossed Ari's phone aside with little concern, only to scramble after it moments later as it began vibrating, causing her to stir. "Who the fuck?" I wondered aloud, earning a low whine from my golden retriever as I promptly diverted my attention from the task of interest to him, to the obscenely bright screen. Tigress. After some digging, I had found that to be a silly alias for no other than Kaylah. I felt a pang of resonating annoyance at seeing her picture pop up for the fourth time tonight, and I was about to simply let the ringing cease on its own, before I realised I could use her desperation to my advantage. After a second of pause, I clicked the answer button.

"Good morning. Who is this?" I tried to muster my groggiest voice as to not tip her off that I was awake at 5 minutes to 6 AM. It seemed to work, as there was a long pause on the other end, followed by a sigh which seemed in equal measures annoyed and relieved.

"Gage?" Kaylah muttered forcefully, the tiredness from staying awake all night seemingly finally catching up with her. But I didn't miss the bitterness coating his name, finding slight satisfaction in having my assumptions proven right.

"Actually, it's Nathan. You must be a close friend of Ariana's? She has probably mentioned me."

"Oh Nathan! I'm sorry, I'm Kaylah. I was just slightly worried when Ari didn't text after the match last night. I assume she's asleep?"  Slightly. It took all my self-restraint to hold back a snort. Although, to her credit, her voice quickly morphed from confusion to joking playfulness. Yet I could spot false ease from the second the pointed question reached my ears. After all, pretending to be at ease and unbothered was my speciality, and her apprehensiveness was too great to completely mask.

"No worries. She asked me to pick her up after-" My attempt at a dramatic pause seemed to work, as she went quiet for a second time, clearly accustomed to Gage's frequent "mood swings". "Well, it's not my story to tell. Shall I wake her up so you can talk to her yourself?" I went for apologetic, hoping to discourage any further conversation and essentially guilt tripping her into hanging up, which quickly seemed to wield results.

"No that's alright. I'm guessing she hasn't had much sleep last night," her attempt at humour was clearly forced, but I played along hoping her common sense would kick in and she would hang up promptly, preferably before Ariana woke up. Biscuit had realised I was focused on something else and went to lick Ari's face, causing her to groan and shift, seemingly waking up. "Anyway, just tell her to give me a ring once she's up, alright?"

"Of course. It was nice finally making your acquittance after how much Ari's mentioned you."

"Likewise," she hung up just in time for me to see a hand searching my side of the bed, feeling the lingering heat before she muttered a low "Nate?" sitting up and looking around in confusion, alert wide eyes finally landing on me. More exactly, on my undressed form. Even though I had had the decency to shove on last night's boxer briefs, she flushed considerably and averted her eyes, drawing the covers tighter around her. Well then, where was that shame a couple hours ago? I bit that retort back and instead let her find her voice.

"We did, didn't we?" her words came out rushed, as if she was eager to already get this conversation over with. Typical.

Instead of answering, I made my way to the living room, Biscuit in tow, grabbing her bra and slightly tea-soaked t-shirt.

"I think you might've dropped this, darling" I crooned, watching her stifle back a whine, swallowing it down with some difficulty as I left her to get dressed. "Black or green tea?" the question seemed to hit its mark, as she stiffened, remembering me say those exact same words just a mere four hours prior. "Whatever you want," at that she looked up, a shy but decidedly there smile coming to form.

"Find me in the kitchen when you're ready," I turned on my heel and promptly left before she could protest in any way. Though only half of my mind was focused on making tea, avoiding adding anything but sugar and then making some toast, promptly buttering it while still warm. The other half kept replaying the phone conversation with her friend. More specifically, the curtness of her tone as she had hung up, which sounded oddly out of tune with her previously causal tone. Seems she might end up being an inconvenience after all.

Kaylah's POV
             Although sleeping had never come easily to me, I rarely found myself pulling all-nighters, usually sticking to the clock indicating 2 to 3 in the morning as my cue to go to sleep. However, that was when I knew exactly where Ariana was. Asleep in her own bed, most likely for hours already, in her obscenely comfortable bed. I'd normally fondly think about teasing her about going to sleep so early the next day as I fell asleep, although I never actually did. With how comfortable her bed was, it was hardly difficult to empathize. Yet by four and a half, the idea of teasing her about anything seemed laughable. Pacing around my room dazedly as to give my mind something else to focus on rather than jumping to gruesome conclusions, I fervently checked my phone for any kind of life sign from her, glossing over the unread texts from Ianie. If only to give myself something else to dwell on, I opened their texts.

I wasn't surprised to see they had texted me goodnight at 2:27, probably right before heading off to bed and simply presumed I had fallen asleep early when I didn't even read the message. In fact, I simply allowed it to pass unread, along with the five other texts Ian had sent me since 11, when they dropped me off. Although I knew they were worried about me, and they were simply trying to be inherently supportive, I couldn't help the annoyance coursing through me at every single text that mad me get my hopes up, thinking it was Ari. But along with the annoyance, another painfully familiar feeling also started to take root. The sensation of being trapped, my free will constrained along with my throat and my very soul, twisting restlessly of the thought of maintaining a relationship.

For years, I had felt as if I were somehow broken, inapt to hold a relationship for more than a mere couple of weeks before snapping and breaking it off, mostly for no apparent reason than a sense of unrest I couldn't quite explain to anyone, as I didn't truly understand it myself. The first time I heard someone say I was scared of commitment I was 14, and at that time I simply dismissed it by saying "I'm not afraid of commitment, but of wasting my time". Now I know I was simply being defensive, and not in the least truthful.

To me, commitment has always felt as a leash on my independence. It felt like suddenly having your hands bounds behind your back and thrown into the unforgiving Arctic, struggling to breathe as hands roamed unchecked all over my body in rough succession, finally resting on my neck to squeeze. It wasn't until later, when I met Ianie for the first time and realised I had mistakenly overlooked the possibility of feeling something for someone who wasn't innately male, that I found myself hoping I had simply been searching in the wrong place. Yet now, the same coldness seeping into my bones, the same feeling of unrest edged with panic taking hold, I felt disgusted with myself. With my failure to quit longing for being friends with benefits rather than fully committing to someone and conforming to the norms of society. Most of all, I felt disgusted at myself for giving false hope where there should be none.

I'd never really had a best friend before Ari walked into my life at the beginning of high school, head bowed and stance defensive and alert, as if expecting to be met by jeers and taunts or indifference. Truthfully, I had been frightened to even try before, as I was afraid of that feeling taking hold again, drowning me again. Yet I found myself able to love her easily, without feeling anything but finally at peace for finding that one other person with whom I could share everything I found myself hiding from everyone else because they would hold not judgement but a deep sense of understanding and last but not least, support. It feels foolish now to think how afraid I had been to tell her I wasn't entirely straight, afraid of her pulling away; of her leaving me alone again.

Watching the clock strike five I picked my phone up again, determined to give her another call, despite knowing how improbable someone answering at this hour was. Not if the phone ended up in a ditch somewhere for anyone walking by to hear it. After forcefully pulling myself from reliving that scenario, I pressed call, allowing the constant faint ringing to steady my racing heartbeat.

"Good morning. Who is this?" despite having laid down in my bed to give my legs a break, I was now standing again, feeling my exhaustion catch up far quicker than I had expected it to as I felt my head spin with the suddenness of the movement. Although the voice was distinctly male, I couldn't match it to anyone I knew, so I simply said wondered out loud about the most plausible, yet disappointing, option.

However, it turns out it wasn't Gage who had answered the phone, but no other than Nathan, who Ariana's eureka moment about Gage's abuse. Despite feeling relieved that she was alive and breathing, I was apprehensive to think of her as safe or well, Nate's vague mention of some incident making it hard to breathe for a moment. If there is any more bruises marring her, I might just make good on my threat to Gage I made just little over half an year ago, the first time Ariana failed to cover a bruise properly.

But it wasn't just Gage I found myself worrying about. Something about Nathan kept my mind from settling, even after knowing Ari was alright at least for the time being. His tone had seemed too rehearsed, and I could swear his groggy voice was not from being woken up just a couple minutes prior, but the result of careful crafting and fine tuning over time. One of the only perks of having lies come to you easier than the truth is being able to spot the people that operate in the same way. I'm becoming paranoid from sleep deprivation. Although it was the logical explanation I wanted to believe, I couldn't shake the sense of foreboding  that followed me into my sleep, forcedly waking me up before noon, the bitter taste of bile coating my mouth.