I can't say I'm not disappointed that Kennedy didn't pick up the photographs this weekend. It was a long shot. A Hail Mary. But at this point, I'm willing to try anything to get her to spend even a minute with me. Sixty seconds around her would be enough. Hell, I'd even take ten seconds.

Who am I kidding? I'd take a simple smile. A nod. A fucking glance.

I seem to crave her presence more than I've craved anything in my entire life. More than nicotine. More than alcohol. More than anything. I think I'm becoming an addict. I'm addicted to her. I need her. I want her. So bad.

She's like oxygen. And I've been breathless for months now.

But so has she. I can sense it. I can see her guard. It's suffocating her. Us. But I won't let that deter me. Not now. Not ever.

I'm hopeful that eventually, that shield will drop. I'm hopeful because I can see her looking at me sometimes. Smiling. It's always so subtle. Quick. Like she doesn't think I'd notice. But I do notice. Every goddamn time. I notice because I'm also looking. Always. But the thing is, I'm not even trying to hide it. Not anymore.

Simp Nation: population one.

Frankly, I don't give a shit if I look desperate. All my shits have gone out the window. I'm too far gone. I'll admit that. To myself, of course, not her. I'm desperate not a fucking idiot. At least I have that going for me.

I crane my neck over my shoulder, glowering at Sawyer as he makes Kennedy giggle, her melodic laugh cutting through the chatter in Photography. Can't say the same thing for that asshole. He truly is an idiot.

What is he saying to her? Something stupid, I bet. I can't imagine anything interesting coming out of that knob's mouth. 'So last week, I threw a ball into a net. Hur Hur Hur.'

Fucking athletes.

"Alright, class, remember to submit your assignments next Wednesday at the latest or else you won't be allowed to go on the class trip to Camp Louise, is that clear?" Mr. Takanaki says as the bell rings. A murmur of lifeless yeses circle the room. "Love the enthusiasm, kids. The future looks bright."

Mr. Takanaki glances at me, a slight smile on his face before he dismisses the class. I should give him an answer soon about the internship. I'm still on the fence though. I'm not sure why. Fear of failure perhaps. Imposter syndrome. The fact that the magazine's headquarters are in fucking California. Across the country. Miles away from the east coast. From Harvard. From Kennedy.

"You coming?" Cliff asks, nodding at the door.

"Uh-" I grab my textbook and look around the class. She's gone. Of course. "Yeah, let's go."

"So I'm planning this little picnic thing for Max on the class trip," Cliff begins as we walk down the hallway. "Is that too cheesy or will she like it?"

"You're going?" I ask. "Thought you said you might not be able to afford it?"

Cliff shrugs. "Picked up a couple of extra shifts to cover it."

"Ah," I hum.

"So? Picnic? Good idea or?" Cliff probes.

I sigh. "I'm sure Max will lo-" My sentence is interrupted as Corrine sprints past us, bumping into my shoulder. "Woah."

"Sorry," she mutters, clutching onto a shopping bag as she continues to run. "Sorry."

"Did Corrine just say the S-word?" Cliff laughs, shaking his head. "The apocalypse is nigh."

"Right?" I check my watch. I have the darkroom booked until 4 pm today. Might as well go and collect all the prints. "I'll see you back in the room, yeah? I gotta go pick a few things up."

"Okay," Cliff says, pursing his lips and pausing for a moment before adding, "Do you think Max likes flowers?"

I snort, patting him on his shoulder. "Perhaps of the smoking variety."

Cliff blinks. "A weed bouquet?"

I wink at him. "Now you're thinking."

"But-"

"Later, Clifford," I hum, chuckling under my breath. If that bloke actually shows up with a joint flower arrangement, I'm going to be thoroughly impressed. Perhaps the population of Simp Nation is two.

I wonder if Kennedy likes flowers. I know she likes looking at them, but receiving? I don't know. She seems more practical than that. Flowers wilt and wither. They don't last. She'd properly prefer something that would stand the test of time.

I fish out a keycard and swipe into the darkroom, placing my bag and books on the desk, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. I walk over to the light switch, my finger hovering over the flicker. I've spent far too many hours in this room lately. But I like it. I take a deep breath.

It's peaceful. Calm. Quiet.

"Boo!"

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I grab my chest, letting out a yelp as I turn on the red lights. "Kennedy." I shake my head, my heart hammering from my chest as she walks towards me. "You've got to stop doing that. You are single handedly taking years off my life."

"Sorry," she says, her gaze flitting across the prints hanging across the room. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm fairly certain the term 'boo' was created primarily for the purpose of scaring others," I note, following the path of her eyes, my fingertips tingling. "Why are you here?"

"Are these yours?" she asks, tilting her head. She glances at me, smiling. "Hmm?"

"Yeah." I clear a lump out my throat. "They are."

"Wow," she hums, inspecting every photograph with such detail that I feel like I'm on trial. "They're amazing." She points to a shot I captured at a vantage point during a late night ride a few weeks ago. "Where is this?"

"Point Park," I reply, running a hand through my hair. "Not too far from here."

"Oh." She nods. "It's beautiful."

"Sure is," I say, narrowing my eyes at her. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?" She faces me, her features glowing under the dim dark lights.

My gaze floats down to her lips and I almost forget why I'm here. "Why... uh- why are you here?" I manage. Barely.

"I saw you had the room booked," she explains, fidgeting with her sleeve. She looks up at me. "I just wanted to say sorry about bailing on you last weekend, I ended up going to a party with uh-" She winces. "A couple friends."

"A party?" I ask, taking a step closer to her, only a few inches between us. "Did you have fun?"

"Not really." A tiny gust of air slips past her lips, her chest rising. "I only stayed for an hour."

Another step forward. She's a flame. Drawing me in. Burning me. Causing my skin to heat, my heart to flutter, my mind to race.

"All partied out?" I whisper, bringing my hand to her face and tucking a hair behind her ear. She nods. "A shame."

"Why?" she breathes.

I exhale, my eyes darting between hers. "You seem to only want to talk to me when you're drunk."

She swallows. "That's not true."

"No?" I ask, dragging my fingertips along the curve of her neck as I drop my hand.

"No," she admits, closing her eyes. "It's the only time I let myself talk to you."

"And why is that?" I take another step closer, the scent of her shampoo flooding my senses. Kennedy doesn't say anything as she studies my face. "You shouldn't deprive yourself, Kennedy." I curl my fingers under her chin, tilting her head. "If you want something-" I graze my fingers across her bottom lip. "Take it."

It's glitching. Her shield. Right before my eyes. It's not permanent. It's weak. Slowly fading away. It must fade away. Fully.

Her hot breath blows against the pad of my thumb as she whispers, "We can't do this, Oliver."

"Why not?" I ask in a low tone. "Give me one good reason."

She shakes her head, eyes closing. "We just can't."

"Not good enough, Kennedy," I say, running my fingers through her hair. "Try again."

"I-" She swallows. "I need to focus on school. On uh- on finishing the year off with-" Her ragged breathing quickens. "I just-" She takes a step backward. "I got to go."

"Ken-" I reach out to touch her but she sidesteps me, bolting out of the darkroom, leaving me panting, frustrated, flustered.

Fuck. We were so close.

So fucking close.

__________________

Ooooof. Maybe Ollie will have better luck during the glamping trip.

THOUGHTS?