UNEDITED

Aurora's Point Of View

Crystalized flares of morning sun flitter through Nate's window. Its warmth diffuses a mellow coziness over my face and shoulders, I revel in the feeling. Bonny chirping of cardinals faintly sound from outside.

Nate's blanket is a rougher texture than Arlan's, most presumably because he couldn't afford quite the same luxury brands Arlan could. Yet, even so, it was more comforting. Sleeping in a different bed than what I had for the last two months was relieving. And even more so drastically relieving was to not wake up in the strangulated heaviness of Arlan's body holding mine.

For once, in such a long time, I wake without an immediate heaviness in my chest fearing for imminent danger because Arlan isn't next to me breathing in my ear. My body lays on its own. I feel the morning sun of mid November, and its refreshing and serene.

My body shifts limply to sit up against the flat pillows supporting my back, my fist gently rubs at my eye.

"What did I tell you about those fists," I hear a murmur, and from my newly-woken state, my attention turns to Nate at his desk.

His back is to me, dressed in a soft white hoodie and light washed jeans. His body is hunched over a stack of papers and books, his hand flying, writing some notes. I pause, gradually lowering my hand from rubbing my eye. He can't even see me, how does he know I'm rubbing my eyes? Before I can respond, he beats me in a low morning voice,

"Good morning."

"Hi," is my lily-soft, timid reply. I peer slightly over his shoulder from my place in his bed. "Is that homework?"

"Next week's homework," He quips in a mumble, focused on his studies.

He was already that much ahead?

"Sleep okay?" Nate murmurs, breaking me from my inquiries.

I'm still a little embarrassed that I'm in his room, in his bed. I never expected something like this to happen, but I'm extremely grateful for the favor. I did sleep much better than I have in a long time.

"Yeah," I murmur back.

"Hungry?"

I debate it in my head, shrug a shoulder.

"Slightly," I respond.

His pen lightly clacks the desk as he drops it, wooden chair scooting back on the floor.

"'Cmon," He's facing me now.

"But...your work?" I look up at him, perplexed.

It's then when he's in front of me that I realize I'm still in that horrific red number Arlan forced me in. I looked like a red pepper meets hooker, nothing against hookers. They could probably pull this dress off a thousand times better than me. But I was curvier, the dress far too small for my body type. It was riding up my thighs, especially as I slept, and my breasts were toppling over. I was overly exposed.

"Also...where did you sleep?" I timidly inquire, eyes dropping his.

"I didn't, I just did my work all night," He gestured to his desk.

I look back up in shock. His brows knit together in a thoughtful stance.

"I wasn't going to sleep in the bed with you, if that's what you're wondering. That's disrespectful. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. The whole purpose of this was to give you complete peace."

A sudden sadness sank into my heart, tugging its strings. I was plagued guilt that Nate didn't get to sleep, imagining the ache in he must have in his neck, shoulders and back now. That was my fault.

"Slap that pout off your face," Out of my daze of guilt, I look up at him, "it's fine, I'm a big boy. Now come get some breakfast before we leave for school."

I was baffled, to say the least, at his kindness, but nodded. Having Nate's protection was a newfound relief, he was like a protective older brother I never had. He was like family.

I gently push the blanket aside and touch my toes to the wooden floor, pulling down the dress. Nate's back faces me as he approaches his closet, pulling open the Masonite bifold doors of it. He fishes out a black hoodie and tosses it behind him, the fabric landing in my lap. I touch it gently, looking up.

"Thanks," I whisper, turning it towards the side my arms go into and pulling it over me.

When I stand, I tug the hoodie over my head and the body of it falls to my ankles. It's warm and oversized. Nate looks amused, slight lopsided grin pulling at his face as he tries not to laugh at me, and I smile back. It is kind of funny. And much warmer. We open the door and head down a few hallways until we're in the kitchen.

I sat myself on a white stool by the kitchen table as Nate cracked an egg against a bowl.

"You like omelets?"

"Yeah!" I nodded eagerly. "Do you cook a lot?"

"In the mornings, I like too, when no one's awake. It's a break from my work, and some alone time, it's peaceful."

"I used to work at a cafe," I replied. "It was peaceful, too."

A wonderfully rich aroma of married flavors flooded through the room as Nate chopped and sauted onions, mushrooms, spinach, garlic and feda. The sizzling ambience of crackling food on the pan relaxed me, it reminded me of the kitchens in Little Louisa's.

When I would flee into the stifling hot kitchen to retrieve people's orders at the café, I would hear a medley of cooking sounds from the chefs. And while I couldn't stand the smoldering heat that made my face hot and bothered, I couldn't help but stop to admire the cooks for a few moments. They stayed in that heat for hours and hours and hours, cooking away. I observed, their aprons tied tightly around their waist, foreheads beet red and dripping with transparent sweat above their eyebrows. They kneaded fresh bread, quickly chopped vegetables, cooked delicious smelling fresh pancakes. I was mused at their Italian accents as they spoke to each other: 'La pastella per pancake è pronta!" and then, 'Hi, Aurora' they'd greet with friendliness every time, and I'd wave back, smiling so widely and warmly.

All was relaxed and soothing as I watched Nate fold his omelet, the yellow, softly cooked egg encasing the vegetables in its worth. I could see the cheese melting and my mouth was nearly watering, I was so excited. I usually didn't have time for breakfast, but I had I known Nate did this, I would've tried to wake up more regularly and snag some of his delicious cooking. I got to wondering how he learned how to cook. And in general, how he found ways to remain so sane, through his lifestyle.

"Nate," I spoke.

"Hm," Was his murmur, focused on cooking.

My fingers slightly fumbled together.

"Can I ask you something about you?"

"Shoot for it, you don't know that much about me," He carefully slid a spatula under his omelet to lift it. Laying gracefully on a plate, he sprayed the pan to make the next omelet.

"Do you believe in God?"

Nate completely froze, caught off guard. Did I make him uncomfortable? Then, he cracked another egg against a glass bowl and separated the shells to let the yolk drip out. The silence seemed to drag on, curiosity filling me. I couldn't exactly tell which way it was going to go.

"Why do you ask?" He called against the sound of simmering heat on the pan.

I placed my hands between my thighs and sighed gently.

"I don't know...sometimes I pray," I admitted. "I mean, I started when I got here. But I've never been religious, I just do it. I just wonder if that's an element in your life at all."

He bellowed a sigh, scratching at his head.

"I guess I never really thought about it, Aurora, so no."

"No, religion isn't a part of your life, or no, you don't believe in God?"

Nate turned to me, sort of at a loss for words and grappling for an explanation.

"I don't know," He finally sighed. "I think there could be a God...Gods...whichever. I never was raised by religion or went to Sunday school or anything."

"What's a Sunday school?" My head tilted slightly.

"A religion thing," He answered. "I guess I could find God in my life, I just never really thought to. Maybe I'm afraid."

"Afraid?"

Nate paused thoughtfully for a moment.

"Afraid he won't like me," Nate admitted honestly with a slight frown. He turned back to the stove top. "You want mushrooms in your omelet?"

"I don't agree Nate, I think likes everybody, why wouldn't like you?" I implored, not liking him switching the topic. Nate was a good person, I now knew that with certainty. Didn't Nate see that himself??

"Uh, I'm a criminal, Aurora," He responded, as if it were obvious, moving the vegetables around with a spatula.

"Well yes, but against your will. Have you ever physically hurt anyone?"

"Besides," He did a two-toned whistle, meaning 'Arlan', "No. But I don't think that means I'm a saint. I still do unlawful research, I've deceived people, I help make black money, I even helped in the process of your kidnapping. Do you believe in God?" He countered.

The question suddenly felt bold when it was turned in my direction, my face warm.

"I just told you, I pray," I answered.

"That's not what I asked," Nate replied, chopping up some peppers. "I asked if you believe in God, if you buttress His legitimacy. Lots of people pray in times of pure desperation, do you think He's actually listening, do you think He's real? Or do you think Him to be some allegory conceptualized emblem of world-fixing to give you some comfort?"

I bit my lip, unsure of what to say.

"Just food for thought," He mused, turning around and chewing off a piece of a pepper.

I sighed in relief, because honestly, I didn't know how to respond. I hadn't thought that far ahead. Was I supposed to?

"Can I ask another question?" I said.

"Sure," Nate replied, finishing up setting the omelet on his plate.

He breezed over to the table and set our two plates down, sitting across from me. It smelled absolutely divine, the food begging to be tasted, everything cooked to perfection. My stomach rumbled, a newfound hunger scratching its way in. I thanked him, excited to dig in and picking up my fork. We started eating a bit and the food tasted even better than it smelled, soft vegetables wrapped in the delicacy of melted cheese and cloud-soft eggs meeting my tastebuds. I lightly dropped my fork to my plate, tilting my head at chef Nate.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?"

Nate seemed a bit caught off guard at the question, peering up and glancing at me through his lashes. Nate was a severely reserved individual who was closely devoted to his studies, so I expected his answer to be 'no'. Nonetheless, my curiosity had gotten the best of me.

"Yes," He said, shocking me. "For two years, almost three."

"Really?" I exhaled in disbelief.

"Yeah," He nodded, recalling the experience. He licked at his bottom lip. "Her name was Floranícia, sometimes called Níci, or Flora - she was Italian. We started when I was fourteen, ended things when I was around seventeen. It was a while ago."

"That's a really long time," I commended him.

"Yeah, well...she was a very sweet girl, we were basically children," He shook his head. "I was too intense for a girl like her, I felt it wasn't fair to make her be with a guy like me," Nate admitted, staring at his omelet as he cut another piece. "I grew to be too intense, I felt it was wrong to make her be around that, even though she wanted to be. But she was so young, she deserved better. I broke up with her, she was begging me not to, devastated."

A frown tugged my lips downwards. I felt heartbroken for her, she probably loved some like Nate, who was so kind and protective. And he ended things so she could have a "better man". I doubt she even knew he was in the mafia.

"She ended up moving back to Italy anyways because of her father's job placement, so," Nate shrugged.

"Did you love her?"

"Eh, puppy love," Nate concluded. "We were children, what did we know about love? We said I love you, we made promises to grow old, maybe I meant it at the time, but again, what did I know?"

"And...can I ask...if you..." I couldn't get the words out, biting my lip.

He looked at me in expectance, eye brows raising in confusion, but I didn't want to say the word. It still felt uncomfortable, dirty leaving my mouth, despite the fact that I had done it. I still felt like an innocent person at heart, in my nature.

"Sex?" Nate concurred, blurting the word. "Did we have sex?"

I blinked at him.

"Yeah, we did," He answered. "Not so many times."

I bit my lip, so curious.

"Was it...magical?" I asked.

I always envisioned it to be special and slow and loving, and I wondered if that was his experience. Nate seemed like he was the kind of guy to care for a girl and make her feel safe and special.

He gave me a sort of pained look, dodging his head from side to side as he thought of how to explain it.

"We didn't know what we were doing, really," He shrugged, admitting. "We fumbled around, it was clumsy, it's like trying a new sport and not knowing the rules. So, no, it wasn't some Disney movie fantastical, magical, rose petals everywhere type of deal. It was awkward, sweaty preteens and forehead bumping and me trying my best at something I didn't know how the fuck to do. She was...a little clingy, Aurora," Nate sighed, "Just to be real with you. Not that I resented her for that or anything, but she was a little more into me than I was her. I more so did it for her, not for me. Not that I didn't consent, or didn't want to. But I don't know. It didn't mean as much for me. It wasn't this sort of," He clapped his hands, "Boom moment. It just...would happen."

I nodded and tried not to look upset, we proceeded to pick at our omelets a bit. Why would people sleep together if they're not both truly, fully in love?

"What about you, any boyfriends, Aurora?" Nate mused. "Besides your husband Beck, of course," Nate wiggled his brows and said, whispering Beck's name low.

I gasped, hitting at Nate's arm.

"Hey!" I giggled, and he chuckled back.

"I'm messing with you kid, messing with you."

"No, no boyfriends, no boy-anything's," I muttered, then I perked up, eyeing him. "Uh, one more question."

"Shoot, kid."

I felt an inching smirk growing on my face.

"What do you think about Elise?"

His movements seized as his jaw stopped chewing at once, omelet in mouth. Chocolate eyes met mine.

"Elise?" He repeated incredulously, imposing confusion in his voice. "The maid?"

"Yeah!" I nodded emphatically. "What do you think?"

His cheeks tinted just the slightest, slightest bit of red and my stomach soared with happy butterflies.

"She's sweet, cute," He murmured, overtaken with sudden shyness.

"Cute?" I repeated.

"Calm down, grinny," He narrowed his eyes at my wild grin and chuckled, eating another forkful of eggs. "Yeah, she's very cute."

"I think she should,"-

A familiar cologne wafted through the kitchen, my stomach lurching. Thunderous footsteps protruded down the winding staircase, making me flinch and my heart patter. I clambered into a curled position, hugging my knees, curiously looking to the winding staircase. A tall shadowed figure omitted. Once it came closer, it confirmed my suspicions. Arlan stood in just gray sweats, black, red and green tattoos adorning his naked upper body. His full lips already held a grimace, but his pupils took over his eyes in sheer fury seeing me in Nate's hoodie. My face fell ghost-white.

He glanced to Nate, then cynical eyes enclosed onto me and his looming, domineering presence sauntered to me, so intimidating it felt like my fear alone could eat me. He quietly observed my appearance, I could see the fury in him snowballing greater and greater.

"Feeling better?" Arlan bit out forcefully, unable to hide his boiling frustration.

Heat rushed overwhelmingly to my face at the sound of his husky tone, my heart dumping to my feet. I dropped my eyes from his heavy glare. My breath hitched abruptly in my throat. My thoughts were jumbled up in an intricately wound knot and no words came to my dry mouth, all I could feel were my burns and cuts now. My brain had switched off and all that was turned on was panic, it was like trying to read a blurry script. My head on its own accord merely nodded once. Arlan's rough, large hand went into the hoodie on me, fishing out the necklace and tugging the Dove charm to bring me to him. I squeaked, eyes snapping up to meet his.

"Good," He taunted subtly, clearly upset. I gulped.

"I'm not exactly happy about the arrangements of last night, Nathaniel," Arlan says, yet his eyes and body are locked on me. Animalistic, jade eyes zero in on me like I am a wounded rabbit caught by its prey.

"I don't care for what makes you happy, Arlan," Nate murmured, poking around at his eggs.

Neither of the men are looking at each other, and I gulp under the heat of Arlan's glare.

"Watch that attitude, Nathaniel, I won't hesitate to put you in your place as I see fit. Now, Dove, tell me you both did not sleep in the same bed, or you'll see an insurmountable, unfathomable amount of torture."

"N-n-no, we didn't. Nate was a-at his desk, doing work."

Arlan scoffed a chuckle of judgement.

"Little pathetic student boy."

"Yeah, well, speaking of that, we should go," Nate stood suddenly. "'Cmon, Aurora, I'll take you to school."

Nate sped-walk to the counter and put his plate in the sink as Arlan's smoldering gaze held mine. I rose to stand up when he pushed my shoulders down.

"Take his hoodie off, why is that even on?" He snarled.

"Because that dress you put me in is humiliating," I scowled back.

He looked a bit taken aback by me challenging him, and then swallowed hard, resuming his hard stance.

"Well, why don't I take you to school, since we were apart for so long yesterday."

"No," I quickly said, standing. "I have to go," I walked past him, taking my backpack from the hook.

"Bye, Arlan," Nate called out as we both left the door, leaving him alone and gaping-mouth in the kitchen.

I nervously eyed the fucsia and teal office-hours poster on Professor Haldrin's door. It clearly said office hours from 10:30 am to 1:30 pm on Thursdays, and I even saw him reading a book on his desk, he was clearly in there. Yet, my feet remained planted on the ground. I was too nervous to go in, face his scrutiny. But it was inevitable-I had to. I was going to try my absolutely best, plead, kneal to the ground and beg with my hands if that's what it took, to re-take my exam. 'breathe' I could hear Nate's voice in my head. I slowly, gradually inhaled a large intake of air, feeling it fill my chest, and held it. My eyes fluttered to a close softly as I remained still, chest full of air. Then, I opened my mouth wide and audibly exhaled...1...2...3....4...5...6...7 until all the air was out. Eyes open, I don't think a second thought before pushing open the door.

Professor Haldrin looks up at the sudden noise, behind his glasses.

"Aurora,"-

"Professor I'm so, so so so sorry," I burst into tears before I could even think, and anxiety-Aurora already kicked in. "Please, please know how sorry I am for missing yesterday's exam. I was sick,"-

He sighed. "Miss Mulven, I recieved no email,"-