This past week has left me absolutely exhausted- emotionally and physically. Enough so that I scheduled another therapy appointment. My second one this week, not to mention.

The only thing that's kept me sane is knowing I've got people in my life that take me away from all the stress. I've had to get a lot of prep work done before my first day of work next week. Jordyn and I have been running to a million different graduation parties, most of which end with both of us drunk and stumbling home.

Zayn's been working non-stop. Apparently, Adelaide has a really important case that requires his complete attention. We try to call when we can, but we've both been so busy that they're fleeting.

I hate to admit it, but I miss him. It's rare for me to feel so connected to someone. When he's not around, I can feel the shift in my energy. He makes me feel happy. Real, true happiness. It's starting to scare me.

This is the exact reason I booked another appointment with Dr. Sweeny. I've always been afraid of relationships. Not even romantic, just relationships in general. It's why I only have one close friend.

When you get close to people, it allows them to hurt you. It makes you vulnerable when you care for someone, and I don't have room in my soul for more pain. That's not the only reason, though, and I think it's time to admit that to Dr. Sweeny.

I pull up to the familiar office building and head inside, checking in with her receptionist. I take my usual spot on the green couch, waiting patiently before I get a text.

25 Hours tonight? I need some play after all this work.

I try not to smile too big at his text. I'm finally going to be able to see him again, and I've been craving a fun adventure to complete from our list.

See you there. 10?

Before Zayn replies, Dr. Sweeny comes out, saying her goodbyes to her previous patient and welcoming me to her room.

As I sit on the leather couch across from her, she smiles brightly. "I was surprised to hear from you again so soon,"

"Yeah, I just, I have something on my mind," I start, stuttering as usual. I wish I could get rid of that habit.

"What's going on?" She asks kindly, her voice soft like classical music.

I sigh heavily, preparing to tell her everything I've been struggling with. Before I can start, I feel my phone buzz and glance at the screen as it rests on my leg.

10 works. Can't wait to see you, beautiful.

I can't even stop the heat that flows to my cheeks and the stupid smile that pulls on my lips.

"Someone important?" Dr. Sweeny asks.

"Um, yeah, I guess," I shrug, switching off my phone and putting it in my back pocket. "That's kind of what I want to talk about."

"Someone new?"

"Yeah. We met a little over a month ago, but I feel like I've known him for years," I know I sound corny, but it's the truth, and I learned not to lie to Dr. Sweeny a long time ago.

"Sometimes we meet people that we feel are meant to find us. I know I'm supposed to focus on the science of it all, but perhaps you knew this person in another life,"

"Maybe," I sigh, not trying to think too deeply about that possibility. I believe in soulmates and all that stuff, but it's scary to think about sometimes.

Dr. Sweeny pulls out her book and clicks her pen, leaning back in her seat. "So, tell me what's bothering you about this connection."

I shuffle in my seat, pinching the skin on my wrist, feeling anxious. "I don't really know. I want to be with him. I feel happy with him, really happy, but part of me feels like it's too good to be true. I don't want to end up relying on him to feel some kind of joy."

Dr. Sweeny scribbles down some notes before replying, her brows scrunched together in thought. "Are you worried that if you do pursue this connection, you'll end up counting on him to bring you happiness?"

I nod. "I don't want to pursue something and then be left worse off than I started. I told myself I'd wait to get into a relationship until my mental health is under control because how can I love someone if I don't love myself?"

"That's a very real fear to have, and I understand where you're coming from. However, we've spoken of your self-sabotaging nature, and robbing yourself of this connection is you avoiding things that make you happy." She takes a breath and leans forward, looking straight into my eyes. "Scarlett, just because you're suffering mentally doesn't mean you don't deserve love. It's okay to let others in. It's okay to engage in connections that bring you happiness."

I shake my head. "But what if I start using Zayn as some sort of crutch to avoid my depression?"

"If you do choose to pursue this and we start to notice unhealthy patterns in the relationship, we'll work through them together. Just because your mind has toxic behaviors does not mean that they will appear in your relationships. Your mental health does not define you, and it certainly doesn't define your relationships."

It makes sense, what she's saying, but I'm still terrified to give myself to someone the way I want to give myself to Zayn.

"How will I know if our relationship starts to get toxic?" I ask.

"From the sound of it, you're more worried about letting someone in, am I right?" I nod. "Scarlett, you've got all the power to decide if this relationship is something you want or not. Once you make that decision, communication will be the best thing for the both of you."

"Communication?"

"On your own terms, let Zayn in not just physically, but emotionally as well. Your mental health is something that you'll be dealing with your entire life. If you want this relationship to last, communicating with your partner about the struggles you experience will only strengthen your connection. To do that, though, trust will have to be a factor." She finishes, and my head is reeling. The thought of telling another person what I've been going through for the past several years is terrifying.

"What if he can't handle it? My dad couldn't. What if he can't either?"

"Then he is not meant for you, Scarlett. I know it's hard to understand, especially when you've spent most of your life with an illness that tells you the opposite every day, but you're worthy of the utmost love and happiness. If someone in your life can't love every part of you, especially the complicated parts, they do not deserve your love, either.

"There are people that can't handle mental illness, and it's their right to choose that they're not strong enough to deal with it, but those that stay will be even more special than those who don't. It's all about finding the right one. It will be hard sometimes, but what isn't, right?"

I laugh, a humorless laugh. "Why do we even bother trying in a world that's so tiring and cruel?"

Dr. Sweeny laughs too. "Because even though there is so much pain and hardships, there is still an infinite amount of love and prosperity to discover."

I leave therapy feeling a lot better. I don't know if I'm going to actually tell Zayn about all my problems, but I know that if I do, we're going to have to be a lot closer than now. Dropping the depression bomb is not something I want to tell him so soon.

Besides, we've both had terribly busy weeks, and making tonight one big therapy session is not the plan.

By the time I make it to my apartment, I'm feeling much more at ease than this morning. The rest of my day consists of cleaning and miscellaneous chores that I've put off throughout the week. Jordyn, Riley, and I eat the meal that Jor cooked for us and chat about nothing.

I waste the early hours of the evening watching TV to pass the time. I want nothing more than to sit in my favorite coffee shop with a man that's become all too consuming.

At around 9:50, I pull myself out of bed, throw on a tight black crop-top and my favorite pair of jeans. They're 'mom jeans' so they rest tightly on my waist and loose on my legs. I tie up my converse and say goodbye to the happy couple before heading out.

I'm always a bit nervous to see Zayn, even now after we've gotten to know one another better. It all feels a little too perfect right now, and I'm terrified for when that runs out.

I try not to let my negativity ruin my night and instead play some light-hearted 90's music to calm my mind.

The sky is finally becoming dark, the moon a small crescent shining brightly. The roads are still packed with traffic, and people are scattered across the sidewalks, finding the next move to make as the night begins.

I love the city simply for this reason. It never stops. There's never a dull moment. Everyone has a plan, and if they don't, they'll find one soon enough. I grew up in a small town where everyone was so bored with their own lives that they had to meddle in everyone else's. It was a never-ending cycle, and it destroyed my family, so I can't imagine ever leaving the city again.

I don't want to stay in Los Angeles forever, though. Maybe New York or Seattle. Somewhere with lots of people and endless opportunities.

By the time I get to the cafe, I spot Zayn's car in the parking lot, making me smile. The man is very punctual.

I rush in and greet Bonnie, her smile warming my heart a bit. She hands me my usual order, and I give her five more dollars than needed. She scolds me but takes it anyway.

I can feel Zayn's eyes on me from the moment I walked in, to the moment I sat in front of him. His lips are upturned into a lazy smile, his eyes tired.

"Hi," he greets, sipping his coffee.

"Hi," I smile back. "How was your day?"

He sighs. "Exhausting. You?"

I nod, not needing to answer as we both let out tired, humorless laughs.

I don't think he even realized it, but his fingers found mine, and he played with them silently. He fiddles with each one, almost as if he doesn't want to leave any out.

"I missed you," he mumbles. I thought he didn't intend for me to hear him, but then he looks up, his hypnotic green eyes looking at me.

I look away. He's so intimidatingly sexy. "It's only been a couple of days."

He smirks, rolling his eyes. "Are you saying you didn't miss me?"

"I-"

"It's okay. I see how it is," He interrupts. "I'll just go home then." He pushes his seat back, and I grab his hand.

"Don't be an idiot," I scowl. "We've got bucket list duties to complete." I let go of his hand, and he smirks, scooching his seat back in.

"Fine." He pouts for a bit, but it's all in good fun. I like this new dynamic between us. I've never found myself wanting to make jokes and throw in some sass, but he brings out a different side of me. A side I'm starting to really like.

As we look through our list, I immediately want to do number nine. I'm craving some kind of adrenaline rush, and I think this is just the thing to get me out of this "every day is the same" rut.

"What about number nine?" I ask, turning the journal so Zayn can read it.

"Crash a random party?" He looks at me like I've told him a shocking secret.

"What?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. I like it. Let's do it."

I smile and clap my hands with excitement. "I'll call Jordyn. I'm sure she knows of some kind of party happening tonight."

Zayn gets us some cookies while I call Jor, waiting patiently for her to pick up.

"Hey, babe," she answers. "What's up?"

"Hi. Do you know of any parties happening right now that I could crash?" I rush out. She probably thinks I am having a quarter-life crisis. I don't even like going to parties when I am invited. I guess that's the point of the list, though.

"Huh?" She says. I hear her repeat my question to Riley, who also sounds confused by my sudden decision to party.

"It's on my bucket list. Crash a party," I explain.

"Oh," she drags on. "Riley said one of his frat brothers is having a birthday party for his sister at an AirBnB downtown."

"Do you know the address?"

"I'll have Riley send it to you. You're with Zayn, though, right?"

"Yes,"

"Okay, good. Be safe, please. They're not the nicest group of people," she says with concern clear in her voice.

I smile. "I'll be fine, don't worry. Is Riley going?"

"He wasn't invited. They're mad at him for moving out early and skipping the last two parties. I swear it's like a fucking cult. I don't get it." I hear Riley explain to her that it is a 'brotherhood,' not a cult. I bite back my laugh as Jordyn shouts at him and hangs up the phone.

Zayn comes back to the table with my chocolate chip cookie. I tell him about the party and he seems a bit hesitant at first but ultimately agrees.

"We need to create a fake identity, so no one knows who we really are," I say, getting far too excited about crashing a party.

"I'll be SpongeBob, and you can be Patrick," he jokes, taking a giant bite out of my cookie.

"Hey! Eat your own." I scowl, taking my cookie back and finishing it.

We bounce ideas off of one another for a while before deciding on celebrity names—ones less obvious than Spongebob and Patrick.

"You can be Harry, as Harry Styles since you already have a One Direction name,"

He rolls his eyes. "It is not a 'One Direction name.' It's my name, but fine. With that logic, you can be Natasha."

"Natasha?"

"Yeah. Scarlett Johanson plays Natasha in the Avengers movies," he explains.

"I knew it,"

He scrunches his brows. "Knew what?"

"You're a total nerd." I joke. Little does he know I've seen every Marvel movie twice over.

We argue about it for a bit before I reveal that I, too, enjoy a good Marvel movie. We stick with our new names and get into the car, prepared to head to the address that Riley sent us. As we're on our way, Zayn spots a banquet hall flooding with cars, a few people chatting in extravagant clothing outside.

He turns to me. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

I think for a moment, looking at him and then the banquet hall. "Oh, God. What if it's a wedding?"

"Even better!" Zayn quickly turns into the parking lot and parks in the back, ignoring my protests.

"Zayn. I don't want to ruin someone's big day. That's terrible."

"It's not like we're going to destroy the reception. We'll just pop in, act like we're friends of the bride, do a dance or two, and disappear before the happy couple even knows we're there."

I look at him incredulously. "We are in normal clothing. Everyone will know we are not there for the bride."

He smirks. "Want to place bets on how long we can last without getting spotted?"

I think about it for a second. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?

"I give us twenty minutes. That's if we get past any type of security." I say confidently.

"Twenty minutes?" He looks at me as if I've just insulted him. "I say we can last at least an hour."

"You're on," we shake hands and then get out of the car.

There are a couple of people smoking by the back door. They're all dressed in suits and fancy dresses. The back door seems to have no security, but getting past the group of twenty-somethings might be a little difficult.

"What do we do?" I whisper as we hide against the wall, Zayn in front of me, blocking my view.

"Follow my lead," he says calmly. He grabs my hand, and we walk up to the people. I try to pull his hand to tell him to stop because this is a terribly stupid idea. "Hi everyone!"

Is he dumb?

The two women turn to look at us, giving us a confused look. The men don't seem to be concerned with our presence and continue to talk, passing a joint between them.

"Hi," one of the girls says, her gorgeous blonde hair moving with the wind. She has a beautiful baby blue dress that hugs her curves generously. "Can we help you?"

"Yes, actually. Do you happen to know where the bride is? We have a delivery for her in the back." Zayn says confidently. He doesn't even know if this is a damn wedding or not. I resist the urge to slap him upside the head.

"Bride?" The woman in orange asks.

I fucking knew it. It's not a wedding.

"Don't you mean ex-bride?"

Ex-bride?

"Yeah, man. This is a divorce party," one of the boys says. A divorce party? Come again?

"Right, my apologies. I was just told to find the bride once I arrived." Zayn recovers.

I'm fully prepared for them to call us on our bullshit, but the pretty blonde opens the back door with a smile. "I can go grab her for you," she says.

"No!" Zayn shouts. What the hell is he doing? "Sorry. I mean, sure, but it'd be easier to just come with you."

She smirks, shaking her head. "You guys are wedding crashers, aren't you?"

The two guys smoking the joint turn to look at us now, their eyes red and wide. "Yo! No way!"

"No, we're not," I speak up.

"Chill," the girl in orange says. "Amanda loves shit like this. Let's go." Her manicured hand finds mine, and she pulls me into the banquet hall, Zayn following right behind me as the blonde leads the way. The woman leading me tells us her name is Indy and the blonde goes by Livvy.

The banquet is filled with hundreds of people, all of whom are dressed to impress. Zayn and I stick out like sore thumbs. Everyone is dancing and chatting, an indescribable amount of energy flowing throughout the room.

"What do we do?" I whisper to Zayn. Indy is still pulling me along, her hand not letting go of mine.

"Just go with it," I roll my eyes. I've never been the kind of person that just goes with things.

I don't realize that we've stopped moving until Indy lets go of my hand and turn to face us, causing me to stumble back a bit, so I don't run into her.

"The 'bride' is right here," Indy steps aside to reveal a tall, elegant-looking woman dressed in a black jumpsuit, her long strawberry blonde hair in a tight ponytail at the top of her head.

"Amanda!" Zayn says confidently, opening his arms in excitement. "Congratulations."

The woman turns to us, her brows raised in confusion. She has an empty wine glass in her hands, and her eyes look as though she's looking through him rather than at him. "Uh, thank you?"

We can smell the stink of alcohol as she speaks. "Wait, who the hell are you?" She slurs.

Indy and Livvy watch the interaction in amusement. Zayn pauses for a moment and gives me a small wink before talking. "Well I'm Harry and this is Natasha. We are here to crash your party."

My jaw drops in shock. Is he serious?

"Oh," she says. "Welcome! I'm Amanda. I divorced my cheating husband and got half his money 'cus the fucker is stupid, and now we are partying because I never have to see the fool again!" She informs, raising her empty glass.

Zayn and I look at one another, utterly shocked and confused. She could probably tell because Amanda and her two friends started laughing loudly.

"Don't worry. The three of us used to crash parties all the time," Livvy speaks up. "Weddings, house parties, bachelorette parties, you name it."

"Yeah. It was practically our sport in college," says Indy.

"We crashed a funeral once," Amanda chimed in.