I sleep for a solid twelve hours, and I don't see Nova until she gets back from her run. I'm in the kitchen, working on a breakfast of eggs and toast with hollandaise sauce when she walks in. A cup of coffee sits next to the plate, and there's a bowl of cut-up watermelon on the counter that my sister left behind when she went to work.

Although I should feel like shit for what I put myself through last night, I don't – minus how sore my muscles are. Coach always said that taking a break from your daily physical activity routine and then suddenly returning would have consequences. I never believed him until now. Damn, do I ever need to get back into doing something before the season starts. Maybe I'll start getting up at the ass-crack of dawn with Nova and doing some running with her.

Speaking of Nova...she's helped herself to a cup of coffee, and is now picking at the watermelon. Just by looking at her, I can tell she wants to say something to me. Since meeting her, I've noticed that she tends to shift her weight from one foot to the other when she's nervous. While I want to know what she wants to talk to me about, I know I need to speak first.

So, ignoring how my ego begs and pleads with me not to do this, I clear my throat. "Nova," I say, feeling sheepish. "I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday. It was irresponsible of me to do what I did. There's no excuse – I should have stayed and talked to you about what happened the other night."

I mean it – what I did was stupid. I should have stayed in the bedroom until she woke up, but the guilt I felt was too much to bear at that moment. And, to be completely honest, I was a little pissed off at her for giving up her usual responsible and smart allure.

Nova's eyebrows rise in surprise. I look skyward. An apology coming from my mouth must sound alien to her. I don't think I've ever apologized to her unless it was said in a sarcastic tone.

"Don't worry," I joke, trying to lighten the awkwardness, "my ego has been bruised severely because of that apology."

When I look back at her, she's got a small smile on her lips. I wonder if she knows how beautiful she is when she smiles. When I first met her, she smiled almost the same amount of times a cat willingly goes swimming. She's improved since then, but the smiles are still scarcer than they should be with a woman like her.

But what's even more enthralling than her smile are her eyes. Whenever I look into them, I feel like I could drown in their depths. I don't understand why all the songs and poems are about blue eyes. She's got these brown eyes with flecks of gold and onyx. Instead of having the depths of the sea, her eyes hold the magnitude of a black hole, and inside that is a weight of emotions that are excruciatingly visible. Her eyes are anything but ordinary.

I fucking love them.

"Nova," I say, keeping my eyes locked with hers. "I want to tell you something."

The look on her face shifts, making me think she's about to say something, but then she changes her mind and stays silent. I let go of my curiosity. If she's not ready, then she's not ready. The amount of time I have to get her to trust me may be running out, but I'd rather spend that time getting to know her. And on top of that, letting her get to know me a little more.

I mentally shake my head at my inner thoughts. Christ. When did I become this sappy? Things were so much easier when a woman didn't have my heart in her hands.

She nods. "Okay. What is it?"

I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling nervous; my heart is pounding, sweat is beading on my forehead.

"When I said I didn't want it to happen like that..." I trail off, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Why is it so hard to convert my thoughts to words around her? "It didn't mean that I regret it happening."

Her eyes widen; she's staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights.

"The truth is," I say, "I've wanted you for a long time. So much it hurts. You're the only thing I've been able to think about for a while now. I'm fucking obsessed with you. I know it makes me sound like a stalker, but I am. So, Nova, I don't regret having sex with you. What I do regret is –"

"Is that I was drunk," she says slowly, "and it made you feel like you used me."

I frown. "Yeah. How did you – oh. Hazel said something, didn't she?"

Nova nods, that small smile back on her face.

I roll my eyes. "Leave it to my sister to try and resolve conflict when it's none of her business."

A small chuckle escapes Nova's lips, and it's my turn to raise my eyebrows in surprise. It's an action she doesn't acknowledge because, just like that, she's back to shifting her weight around. She's also looking at anything but me, and I suddenly feel overly jealous of the stove.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

Without a word, Nova steps around the breakfast bar and takes my hand. I get to my feet, wondering what the hell she's doing.

Looking up at me with those big brown eyes, she says, "It's my turn to tell you something. Will...will you come outside with me? I would tell you in the kitchen, but your parents could walk in and I just want it to be you and me."

I nod, instantly dampening the surge of victory. She's finally going to tell me what she told Hazel on Canada Day. Finally. "Of course. When I said I was here to talk to, I meant it. Just let me grab another coffee."

After I've refilled my mug, Nova guides me out to the patio in the backyard, holding my free hand the whole time. And I gotta say, it feels amazing.

It's close to seven, and the sun is already sprawled across the clear blue sky. The storm must have cleared overnight.

With Nova sitting beside me on the padded patio swing and holding my hand, it feels like I'm living in a parallel universe. I thought she was going to be livid with me, but she's surprisingly...calm.

For a couple of minutes, all we do is stare at the view of the private beach and the Atlantic Ocean. Today, minus the cool breeze that ruffles my hair every now and then, is going to be another hot day.

Lost in thought about what we could do today, Nova releases my free hand, and I watch as she shrugs off the leather jacket she was wearing. My eyes are instantly drawn to the initials on the back.

To my right, I hear her exhale deeply.

"I had a boyfriend..." she begins.

There's something about her tone of voice that makes me sit up straighter. I turn to her. She's never sounded so timid – so sad and lost, and it makes my heart hurt.

Whatever I'm about to hear can't be good.