I take another hit of my cigarette, looking up at the stars in the night sky.

I'm fucking done with everything. I screw things up every single damn time, but I keep coming back for more.

I don't know why I think things will change, seeing as they never do, but I'm just a huge fuckup.

I don't know how she hasn't noticed yet.

We have a cycle. I screw up, she forgives me, we're good for a few weeks, repeat.

The worst part is seeing her hurt and knowing that I'm the reasoning behind it. It causes my heart to shatter to a million pieces every time.

All I want to do is run back to her, kiss her on the lips, and tell her how much I care about her. I would do anything to be able to pull her into my arms, to fall asleep to her on my chest again, to call her mine once and for all.

But no. Of course not.

Karma's a bitch, so why should I be allowed happiness for more than a week straight?

I've been outside since right after the New Year's countdown ended, and when I look at my phone to see what time it is, I discover that it's a little past 2 AM, meaning that I've been out here for far too long.

She'd kill me if she caught me smoking again.

Oh wait. No she wouldn't.

Because, to quote what she told me herself, she doesn't 'give a fuck'. Good to hear. Good to know. Glad to see that one less person in the world cares about me.

Most people are gone now, proven by the fact that the music is finally shut off. I've been biting back tears the whole time I've been out here, but it seems that I just can't fucking hold them back anymore because I begin to sob, hard.

I hate crying. It makes me feel so weak and defenceless.

I didn't think that things would get this out of hand when I had that first conversation with Mateo.

All I did was ask him to stay away from her for a little bit, just so I could spend some more time alone with her. He was always following her around like a lost puppy, and I missed her so damn much when I moved away.

The issue was that he wouldn't comply, which is when I threatened to put in a bad word about him to her.

The moment I saw Blossom's face again after that conversation, I regretted everything. I wished I could turn back time and erase that whole conversation Mateo and I had from history, but that's clearly not possible, so it didn't happen, and now I'm out here feeling like shit.

I hear the back door open, and the only person that I can imagine would be looking for me would be my dad, probably coming to find me and yell at me to start cleaning up all the shit inside.

That was our agreement as far as this party went; I have to make sure that the house is spotless within twenty-four hours.

He was definitely right, that smart bastard. When I told him about what I did on Christmas, he was in total shock. It took him a few moments, but after he regained his composure, his first thought was to tell me that I should tell her before Mateo did.

He tried to convince me that I should call her right then and there, but I didn't want to spoil her Christmas.

To my complete surprise, the person to sit down beside me on the stairs isn't my dad. It's Blossom.

"I'm pissed at you," she tells me, and I madly wipe away at the tears still pouring down my face, praying to God that she doesn't see them.

"Don't cry over me. I'm not worth your time. And what happened to quitting smoking? Fucking asshole," she mutters, and I feel my eyes widen at her.

She sitting with her elbows upright in her lap, her chin then resting in her hands, and she's staring out at the lake.

I reach for her face, tilting it towards me, and I immediately notice a redness in her eyes.

"You're drunk," I observe, and she leans towards me, resting her head on my shoulder and placing one of her hands on the top of my thigh.

Rolling her eyes at me, she responds, "No shit, Sherlock. You think I haven't noticed?"

"Let me take you home, Blossom," I offer, realizing that she needs sleep, desperately.

As far as she's told me, she's never had a sip of alcohol in her life before now, something that I'm realizing is probably concerning seeing as she's completely hammered now; she's going to have an awful hangover in the morning.

"Fuck no. My parents will murder me if I show up at home hammered," she laughs.

"Great to see that drunk Lexi swears," I sigh, and she pinches my leg.

She then proceeds to reach up for the cigarette still in one of my hands, trying to grab it from me.

Obviously, I pull it away from her, not wanting to deal with a lecture from her when she's sober.

I can't begin to imagine what a lecture from her as she's drunk would be like.

"What? Are you the only one that's allowed to

smoke?" she asks me, and my jaw drops open at her.

She reaches for the cigarette again, and I drop it on to the step, quickly crushing it under the toe of my boot.

She lowers her eyes at me, and I brush her hair back behind her ears, holding her face close to mine.

"You're not going to ruin your voice, not on my watch. I'm sure Juilliard doesn't appreciate its students smoking," I tell her, and she turns her head to the side so that her face is pressed up

against my neck, causing her warm breath to fan across my skin.

"Let's be real; I'm probably not even going to be accepted," she sighs, and there's so much defeat present in her tone that it hurts my soul.

"You'll get in, baby. I know you will," I promise her, kissing her on the top of her head.

I quickly pull my lips away though, realizing that if she were sober, she would still be mad at me.

She smiles at me. "You're awfully sure," she

comments and I nod at her because I'm telling her nothing less than the truth.

Blossom is the most talented and devoted person I've ever met, and Juilliard would be stupid to reject her.

"Yeah, I am. And I promise that I'll make everything up to you before you move to New York, all right?" I ask her, and she nods at me, beaming.

There's then a shift in her expression, and she suddenly says, "There's no need though. I'm not mad at you. I'll probably act like I'm mad for the next couple days because I'm a huge bitch like that, but when I think about it, I'm just confused. How could you ever think that I would choose him over you? I feel nothing for him, and I clearly like you, so . . ." Blossom trails off, and I think I nearly just had a fucking heart attack over her words.

She just confessed that she likes me, right in front of my face, and I've never been happier. Not once in my life.

But then I remember that she's drunk and not thinking clearly, so all of that glee vanishes just like that.

"I'm just confused as of to why you bothered with Matt. It would have been way easier for everybody if you had just talked to me about it," she continues with a small sigh, and just like that I pull her into my lap.

She wraps her legs tightly around my waist, and I stand up from the step, bringing her up with me.

She presses her face to the crook of my neck, and I hold her tight as I carry her inside, revelling in the feeling of her smooth, bare skin against mine.

I open the door, stepping back into the warmth of the home before shutting and locking it behind us.

Sure enough, the house is empty except for the trash littered across the floor.

Deciding that I'll deal with it all in the morning, I switch off the lights in all of the rooms, working my way towards the front of my house before finally getting the switch in the foyer.

Blossom is tracing her fingertips along the lines of my tattoos the whole time, and I keep on holding her tight.

"I really like your tattoos, Bryce. I know that you think I hate them, but they're hot," she compliments, and I don't know what to say as a response as I carry her up the stairs.

She's drunk. She doesn't mean it. She has no clue what she's saying.

"Your brother left without you?" I question, suddenly pissed at Charlie, and Mateo, and Jasmine and Jordan too for ditching her like that, especially after her first time drinking.

She shrugs at me, but before I can begin to rant to her about how angered I am towards them, she gives me a verbal response.

"I asked them to let me stay. I didn't want to leave before talking to you," she whispers to me, and I swoon.

She's adorable, and sweet, and smart, and kind. She's better than any drug that I've ever taken, and I would give all of those up if it meant that I could spend more time with her.

"Thank you for staying," I whisper back, and she leans up to kiss me on the cheek.

I feel my whole body tense as she does so, but I have to snap out of it because we've reached the upstairs hallway, and I see the door of my dad's bedroom open.

He comes walking out into the hallway, and when he sees me with a girl in my arms, he's evidently perplexed.

He knows that I don't have eyes for any girl other than my Blossom, so it would make sense for him to be confused.

I realize then that he can't see her face, which is why I drop her from my arms, letting her stand now.

I hold her close to my chest until she catches her balance in those tall heels, and once she does, she turns around to my dad.

"Hi Leo!" she smiles, giving him a wave.

He still looks like he's in shock as he watches her movements, along with the way that she's not standing steady, making me hold her by the waist.

"Your son is such an asshole," she continues to speak to him, giggling at her own joke.

"So you finally found out, did you?" Dad asks her, and I glare at him from where we're standing.

Blossom continues to laugh, nodding at him.

"Everyone knew except for me, huh? But yeah, he told me. Mateo had to fill in some of the blanks, but he at least started the story," she tells him, and I have to give my dad a warning glance to prevent him from saying anything more.

Blossom spins around, resting on her open palms on my chest. She then trails her hand down a little, asking me, "How often do you work out? I don't understand how your body looks like it does."

My dad laughs, telling us, "Get some sleep, kids," before retreating back into his bedroom.

Taking Blossom's hand, I guide her down the hallway towards my bedroom, pushing the door open.

I don't bother with the overhead light, walking across the room to turn on the lamp on the bedside table beside my side of the bed.

Blossom shuts the door behind us, locking it too, before strolling across the room, taking a seat on my bed.

"I'm just now realizing that I've never been in your bedroom before. Ever. It's just as nice as I imagined it would be," she says, laying back on the bed and kicking her heels off in the process.

Her eyes are still wandering the room, and I'm sure she's a little surprised by how dark it is in here. All the wood of the furniture is stained black, the walls painted a dark grey colour. Even the duvet of the huge bed in the centre of the room is black, the duvet that she's sprawled across right now, staring up at the ceiling.

"Can I borrow your phone? I want to text your brother and let him know that you're all right," I say to her, and she nods, laying the phone out on the bed beside her for me.

I pick up the device, trying to enter the old password of her birthday in, but it's apparently incorrect.

"Password?" I ask her, and she sighs, sitting up in the bed.

"It's your birthday," she answers me.

At first I think that I may have misheard heard, but sure enough, the digits of my birthday unlock the phone.

I'm smiling like an idiot now at the small gesture, swiping through to find her messaging app.

I don't wait for a reply before plugging her phone into my charger, figuring that she'll probably need it more in the morning than I will. I then head into my closet, grabbing a black T-shirt for her to change into and a pair of sweatpants for myself.

I walk back into the room to find her parading around, examining my bookshelves in particular.

"You have every single Jane Austen book," she observes, and I nod at her.

"Of course I do," I state, and she smiles, making her way across the room towards me.

"Go put this on," I tell her, handing her the shirt before gesturing towards the bathroom.

She bites her lip, widening her eyes at me as she stalks across the room, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

I change out of my jeans and shirt into just the sweatpants, tossing my dirty clothes into my laundry basket, located in the closet.

When I return to the main room I find Blossom walking in as well, her dress and bra in her arms.

Holy fucking shit.

My shirt falls to mid-thigh on her, and the sight of her wearing my clothes does some things to me.

She drops her own clothes in a heap on the ground by her shoes in a very un-Blossom-like fashion, before strutting over to me, pressing her palms against my bare chest.

"You look like a Greek god," she leans up to whisper in my ear in an awfully seductive tone that nearly makes me forget all my morals by throwing her backwards on my bed right now.

She then proceeds to bat her eyelashes at me, and I have to take her wrists in my grip, desperate to stop this before it goes too far.

I guide her back towards the bathroom, watching as she climbs up onto the counter, watching me carefully as I pull open one of the lower drawers of the vanity, retrieving a package of makeup wipes.

"What are you going to do to me, Bryce?" she purrs, and I almost have to physically slap myself in the face to rid the images of all the things I would so desperately love to do to her.

Telling her that I didn't want to have sex with her was one of the biggest lies that I've ever told.

Ignoring her question, I tear open the package, pulling out a wipe before stepping in front of her.

"These are for all the girls you have over?" she asks me, and I shake my head at her.

"I actually haven't slept with anybody since I moved back here," I confess to her, and she remains quiet, allowing me to take off her makeup for her in peace.

I don't bother to mention that the reason I haven't slept with anyone is because I no longer find myself attracted to girls I meet at parties and school and all that shit; I'm only attracted to her.

My breath is nearly taken away when I see her bare face, awestruck by how beautiful she is both with and without makeup. When she catches me staring, she scoots down from off the counter, standing on the floor now.

"Disappointed?" she questions, looking at herself in the mirror.

I shake my head at her, turning to todd the dotted makeup wipes in the garbage can.

"Quite the opposite, actually. I was just thinking about how I've finally been convinced that you're the most beautiful girl in the whole fucking universe," I tell her, and she blushes a deep shade of pink.

She chooses to ignore the compliment, probably not sure how to take it. She's shit at accepting compliments, which I find hilarious because I really do believe that she's the prettiest girl ever.

"Do you have a spare toothbrush?" she questions, changing the topic, and I nod to her, tossing the makeup wipes back into a drawer and picking up an unopened toothbrush instead. I pull it out of the packaging for her, then placing a tube of toothpaste on the counter for her to use.

We brush our teeth in silence, obviously, but after we've both finished, she disappears back into my bedroom.

I laugh at the amount of energy she has even as we're nearing three in the morning, and when I walk into the room I find her already curled up in my bed, her eyes wild as she watches me.

"You're fine sleeping in the same bed, yeah?" I ask her, realizing that I had forgotten to earlier.

She gives me a literal thumbs up, and I secretly smile, shutting off the lamp before climbing into bed with her.

There's still the faintest amount of light streaming through the windows, provided by the street lamps outside. Neither of us seem to know what to say next, so we end up sitting there, staring into each other's eyes for too long.

I don't know how to act in a situation where she's the confident one, even if it's just alcohol speaking, so I truthfully am not sure how to respond.

"Why did you decide to get so drunk?" I ask her, letting my hands trail down the to exposed skin of her thighs.

I still can't figure out how her skin is this damn creamy and soft, so I'm now starting to think that perhaps she's an angel sent from heaven.

She certainly looked like one in her white dress earlier today.

"I was conflicted. I felt like I should probably be mad at you, but once again, I'm just not. I know it sounds bad, but you were honestly doing me a favour. I don't like Mateo like that, and I've been sending the wrong message. Not to mention that I hate how mean he is to you," she tells me, before biting her lip.

I can tell that there's something on her mind by the way that she's tilting her head to the side.

She seems to find her own thoughts amusing because she has to stifle a laugh from leaving her lips.

"What's up?" I ask her, and just like that's she's in my lap.

My hands fall to her hips before I get the chance to think about it, and she's pressed her chest right up against mine, raising her hands to cup the side of my face.

"I was just thinking about how I was convinced that you were going to be my New Year's kiss, up until that little argument," she tells me. "And even though we're a few hours late, it's better than never," she continues.

She makes a move to kiss me, but I lean back a little, putting some space between us.

Warning bells are ringing in my head, telling me that I can't take advantage of her by kissing her when she's completely wasted.

"You're fucking drunk. I can't do this," I huff, trying to convince myself more than I am her.

She moves her face closer than mine, angling her face so that our cheeks our touching.

"If you don't want me, you can just tell me. There's no use in making up excuses," she breathes, and there's something in the way that she says it that annoys me.

She's talking as if she thinks all of this is one-sided, but if she likes me too, it certainly isn't.

She presses her lips softly to my neck, lingering there for a moment before saying, "I think about what it would be like with you, a lot. Most nights, that's what I'm up thinking about. I've never wanted any guy before, never feeling anything close to what I feel for you, and it's terrifying to think about this effect that you have on me."

She rests her hands on my shoulders, leaning back away from me now. "Do you feel the same way?" she asks me, her voice smooth.

Her eyes are wide with wonder as she continues to stare at my mouth.