It was past midnight when we finally left the bar. Santana waved her hand through the air, blowing away the smoke from my cigarette. We were standing on the street, music still humming through the walls, and I was vaguely aware of Eden back inside.

Fine. I was extremely aware.

Last I saw, she was leaning against the makeshift stage, arms propped on the floor, flirting with the lead singer of the band. And by the look on the guy's face, he was into her.

Not that I could blame him.

I rolled my eyes and forced my mind off of Eden and whatever—or whoever—she was or wasn't doing.

"I thought you quit," Santana said. Her nose was scrunched up as she eyed the cigarette between my lips.

I exhaled, blowing the smoke in her face and chuckling as she slapped my arm.

"I did quit," I told her. She gave me that look that drove me insane. "Lasted about a month."

'Satan' was what Eden, and apparently Katie, had called my girlfriend back in high school. I smiled. How fitting.

"Can you take me home?" she asked, tugging her coat closer to her chest. "It's late."

"Don't wanna leave yet." Inhale. Exhale. I focused on the smoke filling my lungs, watching the way it moved through the air.

"What did Eden say to you?"

Here we go, I thought.

"Nothing," I lied.

"Truman," she hissed, grabbing my wrist. "You two haven't seen each other in months and you expect me to believe you, what, stood there staring at each other?"

I shrugged. "Your imagination's lacking, but sure. If you want."

Her nostrils flared. The red hair blowing around her head like a storm only made her look angrier.

I sighed, then said, "Look, baby, it was nothing." I pulled Santana to my chest and felt her begin to soften as her arms wrapped around me. "We didn't say much. She was angry."

Her chin tilted up, eyes blinking at me. "Okay," she said, kissing my jaw. "Let's go home."

My apartment had started to feel less like home as soon as she moved in.

I shook my head and unwrapped her from me, sticking the cigarette between my teeth as I pulled out my phone. "I'll call you a cab," I said, already dialling the number.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere," I lied again. "I'm just gonna stay here for a while."

Telling her that I wanted to keep an eye on Eden only would have pissed her off, so I decided to keep that to myself.

Eden was no longer that fifteen-year-old girl my parents pestered me to watch over, and yet here I was, fighting that same old urge to protect her.

I waited with Santana, wrapping her in my arms as the air turned colder. She slid her hands beneath my shirt, trailing them along my skin, trying to persuade me to go home with her.

It would have worked if my mind wasn't locked on Eden.

The cab arrived and I kissed her goodnight. When the car was out of sight, I stomped out my cigarette, ran a hand through my hair, and went back inside the bar.

My eyes instantly drifted through the crowd, looking for her. The band wasn't playing anymore, and that alone was enough to give me some idea of who she was with.

I forced my way through the crowd anyway, knowing that I wouldn't like what I was about to find. And when I saw Eden pressed against the wall, making out with the lead singer, my hands balled into fists.

I didn't have a right to be angry.

I was the one that left after Katie's accident. I knew that.

But fuck, did it hurt.

I suspected Eden had some sort of crush on me when we were younger. No one willingly spent that much time at my house without some ulterior motive. It only took me about a year to realize her ulterior motive was me.

She was my sister's best friend, and that alone was enough for me to stay away.

Then that night came along and she was in that devilish dress, full red lips smiling up at me while we stood in that closet.

It was impossible to resist her.

I try not to think about what may have happened if that night ended with us still at the party, instead of crying on the chairs in a hospital waiting room.

And now she was here, serving drinks when she wasn't even the legal age to drink, hands wrapped around some guy whose name I doubt she even fucking knew.

I forced my eyes away. I couldn't remember the last time I felt this jealous. Santana was my damn girlfriend and I didn't feel shit when guys tried to hit on her.

So why was Eden making my heart feel like a damn hurricane in my chest.

I sounded pathetic. I was pathetic. My sister's in a coma and her best friend is the last person I should be wanting.

I ended up back at the bar, fingers wrapped around a glass filled with a drink I couldn't remember ordering. It burned going down, and the pain made me feel better. It was distracting.

"Can I smoke in here?" I asked the bartender. He rolled his eyes and walked away.

Guess that's a no.

My fingers drummed against the bar, foot tapping impatiently on the floor. Maybe just one glance back—

Fuck. Eden was gone. And now my mind was stuck on the thought of her getting naked with the guy with the mohawk.

I drank the rest of the glass, slapped a twenty-dollar-bill onto the counter and went outside. This was a bad idea. I should've gone home with Santana and gotten laid instead of walking around the deserted streets of Toronto like some heartbroken idiot.

Eventually I found my car and sat inside, cranking open the window and lighting a cigarette. I called Santana and told her I'd be there in half-an-hour. She only yawned and hung up.

Great. I rolled my eyes and blew the smoke out the window. Then I noticed the tour bus parked outside the bar, and I smiled.

She had to be in there. Where else would she be? I doubt Eden was the type to go at it in a bathroom stall. No, she was definitely the bed type.

I slapped myself for thinking that.

I shut off the engine, reclined my seat and got comfortable. She'd have to stumble out of there eventually. And I was only looking out for her, just like I always had.

Or at least that's what I tried to tell myself.

I had nearly gone through an entire pack of cigarettes when the door to the bus opened and Eden stepped out.

"Shit," I swore, sinking down in the seat as her eyes scanned the parking lot. I risked a peek and watched her kiss the same guy goodbye before walking down the street.

The girl couldn't even walk in a straight line.

I groaned and, before I knew it, was out the car and running to her.

"Eden!" She spun around instantly, eyes rolling when she saw it was me. Ouch.

"What the hell do you want?" She tried to look intimating with her hands planted on her hips, but the sight only made me smile.

"You can't drive home like that," I pointed out.

"I don't need a knight in shining armour," she spat, gesturing towards me. "That's why they have subways."

I was slightly impressed she could come up with a half-decent comeback even while drunk.

"What's your stop?"

She hesitated. "Dundas Station," she finally answered.

"Sweet, I'll give you a ride."

I expected her to protest, probably yell a little more and swear some, but she only shrugged and made her way to my car.

"Woah." I caught her elbow as she began to fall over while stepping over the curb. "Easy, little devil."

Eden jabbed a finger in my chest. I assumed it was supposed to hurt. "Don't," she warned.

I rolled my eyes and held the door open for her, watching as she climbed into the car and put her seatbelt on with shaking hands.

We barely drove for five minutes when the sound of her even breathing filled the silence.

I gazed over to find that she was sleeping, forehead resting against the window.

The sight would have been adorable if she hadn't fallen asleep without telling me what her damn address was.

_______________________

so. . . thoughts on Truman?

i find readers usually prefer the guy's

POV over the girls. hbu?