•The Edge of Tonight By All Time Low•

The ocean beat softly against the shore as I sat there, letting my tears dry and my thoughts wander among the waves and the wetness of the sand perforate my clothes. Regardless of the situation, it felt good to be there. I didn't cry often, but I was sure that when ever I had too, the sea would be present.

My hands curled into the wet sand and I brought the mushy clump up to my face, marveling at the billions of little grains. I remembered long ago, at a foster home that was nicer than the others, the old woman living there let me look at her books.

One of them was a book titled "The Things We Don't See" and I could remember how fascinated I was to learn that even through the smallest of God's creations was vast in size if you blew it up enough. That was one of the nicest places I'd ever been placed, and I cried the days after I was pulled away from that wonderful, magical place and stuffed into hell once more.

My mind tried to shy away from those memories, but I forced it ahead. I was tired of this barrier. I needed to come to terms with what had happened to me because it wasn't fair to my five year old daughter to have to keep waking up in the middle of the night to console her train wreck of a mother.

Moving forward was what I needed to do, and I would endure all the pain in the world if it meant I'd be the mother she deserved. This was my last hurtle and I was prepared to jump it with flying colors.

Footsteps in the sand alerted me that I was no longer alone. My back stiffened automatically as the sound stopped right beside me. I wanted to look over, but I was pretty sure I already had an idea of who it was, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to look her in the eyes without having another breakdown.

"It is beautiful this time of day." Her alluring accent had a low sigh leaving my mouth and my eyelashes fluttering.

"It is." I agreed softly, not taking my eyes off the ocean.

I felt her shirt brush my arm and finally turned to look at her. I was immediately blindsided with the fact that she was in a simple black long-sleeved sweater and some jeans shorts that cut off mid thigh and weren't something I'd ever pictured her wearing.

Her hair was up in a messy up do, with pieces framing her face. She was looking straight ahead, which gave me a nice profile of the curve of her neck and the sharp bones of her jaw and cheek. Her long legs were stretched out in front of her, elegantly crossed. It amazed me how even in such mundane, normal clothing and no makeup she still managed to look pristine and proper.

She was beautiful.

My stomach erupted into butterflies when her head turned, and I was again sucked into those swirling grey orbs of hers. They never failed to capture me.

"Why aren't you at work?" Naturally, I blurted the first thing that came to mind. I mean, it was Monday. She should probably be at work.

The ends of her lips curled up, and her eyes flashed at me. "Why aren't you at school?" She retorted.

I pasted a sheepish smile on my face before turning my burning face to the sand and shrugging.

"I had a bad night, and thought a day off would be good."

My eyes returned to hers and the intensity of her gaze made me want to shrink back. But I didn't. I rose to the challenge and met her gaze head on.

An amused look immediately took over her face. "It is not good to skip school, mică flacără." She attempted to scold me, but I saw the softness she so rarely exhibited to anyone but me fill her face.

I knew what she saw in me. I wasn't trying to hide the pain I felt or the brokenness in my heart. I knew it was written all over my face.

My brain was still attempting to register her words and come up from the wave of pleasure that her accent was drowning me in.

"Where are you from?" The question popped out of my mouth and I struggled to refrain from face-palming myself. Apparently I was all for poking into someone else's business today.

She tipped her head at me as she searched my face. "Perhaps if we are going to be divulging in such private information we should do it elsewhere, no?"

My mouth dropped open in surprise. Was she really inviting me inside her home? Was that legal?

She laughed lightly at my reaction to her words and winked as she got up. "Come, don't worry, I won't suspend you or anything for skipping school."

A laugh of my own bubbled in my throat as I hastily got to my feet. I brushed the sand off my clothes and followed her.

She led me to a nice little two-story house that sat comfortably on the beach and overlooked the ocean. It had a wrap-around porch and a hammock that was strung up between two trees off to the side. All in all, it was a beautiful little place.

"This is yours?" I asked as I tentatively placed my hand on the railing of the porch.

She turned and flashed me a nod accompanied by a simple smile before wandering inside. I followed after her and tried not to be too focused on the sway of her hips in front me.

She led me into the kitchen area and I had to say it was probably the coziest kitchen I'd ever been in. The granite countertop matched the grey of the walls and her eyes, I noticed this as she took up a position behind her counter and watched me.

The smell of coffee wafted at me and my mouth immediately watered. She noticed my expression and her full mouth quirked in a small smirk before she turned to look at the coffee pot.

"Would you like some?"

I started to shake my head, I didn't want to be a burden to her, but I immediately diverted to a nod when her gaze hardened.

Stubborn woman.

She poured me and herself a cup and handed me mine. My fingers wrapped around it eagerly and I released a moan of contentment as I sipped on it.

"Thank you." I met her eyes. A smile so soft and kind lit up her features, causing my mouth to part slightly as I gazed brazenly at her.

I glanced around the kitchen once more, still amazed that I was, in fact, in my principle's house and drinking her coffee. We stayed silent for a moment, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence.

But after a while my mind drifted to the other day and I sighed. I couldn't hold it off any longer, I had to know what she meant. My cup clanked against the counter when I set it down and she shot me a raised brow.

I shook my head slightly, trying to ignore the burning in my cheeks. "So...about the other-" she cut me off.

"I meant it."

My mouth parted in shock at her blunt and straightforward answer. I'd expected her to say that it had been nothing, a mistake, and that it could be nothing. She set her own cup down and crossed around the counter to stand in front of me.

My brows furrowed and my fingers twitched at my sides, wanting to brush away the hair that fell across her forehead.

Her eyes burned a hole through mine and I nearly moaned as her hand came up and ran across the curve of my jaw before settling on my cheek.

"What does it mean?" I asked in a throaty whisper.

Her thumb caressed the corner of my mouth for a moment and I struggled to force air out of lungs that were already clogged with her tantalizing scent. Her face descended towards mine, her breath fanning my face.

I waited impatiently for her to close the distance, but after a few minutes realized she wasn't going to. She was waiting for me, as I had waited for her the first time.

Unfortunately for her, I didn't have the same restraint she did. My lips crashed into her with all the force of a rolling tidal wave. She responded immediately, her lips moved against mine with an almost bruising amount of force.

My fingers wound themselves around her neck and into her hair. My head unconsciously bent back to allow her deeper access and she took the chance to thrust her tongue into my mouth. I groaned at the delectable taste of her, the richness of the coffee coupled with the vanilla of her natural taste.

Our breathing was ragged when we finally managed to pull apart. Her hands cupped my face and mine had somehow ended up at her waist while our chests touched every few moments with the force our breathing. Her forehead rested against mine.

It was awhile before we managed to control our breathing enough to entertain the possibility of forming coherent sentences.

She spoke first, further bringing me back to reality. "It means, dragoste, that I have a decision to make."