"Hey, man. Can you promise me something?"

I glance over at my best friend. "You're not going to get all lectury on me are you?"

Paul slides on his jacket. "We leave if this gets too crazy. You know how I feel about parties."

"Dude," I say, slapping his arm. "You're acting like I'm the one who wants to go to this thing."

He runs his hand through his blonde hair. "I know, I just... if I join I've got more of a shot at the NHL."

"You can get in without joining a dumb frat."

As we walk out of our room, the stress lines at the corner of Paul's blue eyes are deep and have been a constant these past few years. "I'm not as good as you, Tariq. My family needs this with my dad getting laid off and my mom picking up extra shifts, we're struggling. They've sacrificed so much for me to get here. I'm their answer if I get a contract. I can be the one to take care of them. Joining this frat would be a sure thing."

I take a deep breath, throwing my arm over his shoulders as we walk out of the dorm building. "You're putting too much pressure on yourself, man. Your dad is going to find something soon."

Paul stops walking and I turn to him. "I need this Tariq, badly. My family is all I've got. You included."

"To think we were once rivals who had a deep-seated hatred for each other."

"When we were eleven," Paul laughs. "We've been on the same teams since then."

I shove my hands deep into my pockets. "I'm with you, man. Look how far we've gotten? We're starters for one of the greatest D-1 teams and you're the best center in the league."

We head for greek row.

"What if they make us do something really stupid?" Paul questions.

"Every crazy thing I've done over the years you've been by my side. What's a little frat going to do that tops all the things I've put you through? We do whatever we have to, to have them accept us. Together we're an unstoppable force. I've got you."

My ears roar with that high-pitched ringing.

The blare of the horn is unusually piercing, capturing Paul's attention. His body sways, too intoxicated, his mind numb from it. He turns his head, probably to see where it's coming from - the semi-truck hits him head-on. His body snaps to the ground like a heavy stone statue but there are no broken pieces shattering everywhere. The back of his head meets the asphalt and even though I don't hear it, I can feel the crack, instant death that prickles my skin as fear and harsh truth sinks deep into me.

His body flails underneath the truck in odd, horrifying contortions as the driver slams on their brakes, dragging his body. The smell of burning rubber, filling the air and my nostrils.

Cars screech to a stop, pulling over, and the traffic ceases. Hot tears pool my eyes and I don't know I'm screaming until someone touches me. I'm on the ground, writhing, trying to get up but my body is drowning in my intoxicated state to the point I can't stand.

"NO! PAUL!" My body twists as if I'm possessed. Hot pools of tears slide down my face, leaving tracks of burning grief on my cheeks that resemble the heat coiling off the tire marks on the road.

My sobs roar loud, louder than the police sirens and people-watch in horror, whispering.

Some even filming it on their phones.

I stumble up, trying to get to him. A hoard of hands grab me, one guy pushing me back shouts, "Cover him up!" And then this stranger hugs me, hard, and purposefully uses his body's strength to get me to stumble back. "You don't want to see it, kid. You don't want to see it."

It's impossible to struggle against this middle-aged, out-of-shape man. I break, like a rubber band. All the adrenaline and tension corrupting my shaking muscles as I weep in this guy's hold, my hands clamping onto his shoulder like he's my lifeline.

I wake up, sweat dripping off me, my heart racing... and alone. It's morning, but despite the light, I'm surrounded by darkness. My fingers dig into my hair as I croak out a raw scream. Once I've released some of the grief and anger, I glance over and find the place next to me vacant, but someone had clearly been there.

Bits and pieces of last night start to come back to me and dread fills me with each one clicking into place. There's no trace of her, apart from the little imprint on my bed. The imprint that shouldn't be there. An imprint that has nothing but consequences...

"She hightailed it out of here this morning."

I glance up at Rasheed. "When?"

His nostrils flare and his eyes take me in with concern but narrow in disgust. "I knew I shouldn't have left her with you. An hour ago. I heard you scream and came to check up on you."

I get out and start throwing on some clothes, not caring if they're dirty. I had to apologize, fix this.

I couldn't lose Elodie.

Rasheed watches me scramble. "You were drunk and like always you have to latch onto any form of comfort you can get, even if that means hurting someone, taking something from them."

I stiffen at that last one.

He had no idea how accurate his words were, what I just took from her and I couldn't even remember it.

What the hell have I done?

"Do I have to take you back to rehab?"

"No."

He looks at me unconvinced, his eyes judging every spec of me from my rumpled shirt, messed up hair, my harsh breathing, to the bags under my eyes.

My brain feels like it's splitting in half, one side grief, the other horror. Both equally painful, throbbing, and breathing with the desire to devour me.

"You have to return your coin. Tell the coach. Get your crap together. But most of all..." He pushes off my doorframe. "Fix what you just did to her, or else you'll lose her and you can't afford that."

With that, I book it past him and rush out of the house.

I made a huge mistake.

Massive.

Colossal.

And it is all my fault.

Nobody to blame but myself here. I had every chance to stop it, every chance to wave that flag or make the back up beeping noise... but I didn't.

I did the one thing I have always been terrified of doing. Giving myself to someone who had zero commitment to me. To me, this was important and I literally threw it away as if it meant nothing.

I had been abandoned as a baby and my dad had adopted me, it's all I really know. That kind of crap sticks with you in life. It affects others differently, obviously.

For me?

I have always been big on commitment and loyalty. My mother, father, or wherever they were, didn't want me when I was nothing but a baby who hadn't even done anything wrong except exist.

So yeah, I needed someone to throw a ring on my finger, marry me, and be patient until I was ready to allow myself to be that vulnerable, to give all of myself to someone.

I shift in my chair.

It hurts, throbs, and I have made it my goal today to not leave this chair. And to avoid Tariq until I get my head on straight. Never in my life had I thought I would give into temptation, but I guess I had never truly been tempted before. I failed miserably.

And what's worse?

It hurt.

A LOT!

I'm slightly jaded and think I have been jilted by romance novels and media. They have done me a disservice and Tariq was nothing but gentle, but it was awkward and... I can't think about it.

If anything, my dad was the one who spoke the truth. Yeah, he had that awkward conversation with me about it. You know, the one where you want to stuff your ears with cotton swabs, or hope your eardrums burst so you didn't have to hear it.

He had been so painfully blunt though and I didn't believe any of it, thinking, pfft, he's just trying to scare you.

Nope.

I smack my head on my desk.

Luckily, Heather wasn't here to interrogate me when I came back this morning. She has a day packed with classes so I have time to figure out what I'm going to say to her. My schedule is light today, volunteering being the main thing I have to do, and I can manage that. I just have to have the kids come to me and not move from my seat.

The biggest obstacle to face?

Getting the heck to my car.

I zone out for a second as I think about how to get a bag of ice for myself. But of course, my mind drifts.

"Elodie." His rough, passion-filled voice that had whispered into my ear fills my head and I scratch my roots in protest.

"Get out, get out, get out," I demand.

It is not happening again and I don't know how I'm going to tell Tariq. There's no changing what had happened, but I can control not going for another round.

A knock sounds from behind my door and my fingers stop their scratching assault. "Elodie, please let me in."

Could he at least give me some time to get my bearings?!

I don't say anything.

Maybe he'll think I'm not here.

"I know you're there," his rumbly voice sounds breathless and makes images of last night float in my brain and I shake them away. "Please, Blue."

I go over to the door, tensing from the discomfort of leaving my safe haven.. my chair.

There's a thump coming from the other side and I can picture his forehead on it. I don't know why, but that image gets me to push down on the cool metal, opening it.

His hands are on the doorframe as if he can barely hold himself up, muscles tense, veins bulging. The white shirt he's wearing is super wrinkled and it loosely moves as he takes deep breaths, making it seem like he had run here. He has bags under those dark eyes and they swim with shame and regret.

It hits me hard.

I try not to be offended by it.

I don't know what's going on in his head yet, only the chaos swirling in mine. "Come in."

The door clicks shut and there is immediate tension filling every space of my room.

This is awkward.

He stands there, licks his lips, and goes to say something but stops. Tariq and I have had many strange moments in our weird friendship... this one has to be the worst.

Sex really does change everything.

I can't stand it anymore, it's too uncomfortable and when I sit down wincing, Tariq doesn't miss it. The remaining color on his face drains and his eyes widen, hardening with pain.

He loses his composure and he drops into my tiny sofa across from me, hands covering his face then swiping angrily up and down it, croaking out, "I'm so sorry."

"Tariq..."

"No, Elodie, this is all my fault. I took something really precious from you. I pushed you, didn't respect your boundaries, and was drunk, I can't even remember it. I'm worse than that dumb ex of yours."

A small smile graces my lips, it's bittersweet.

Why?

Because what we did was wrong.

But he cares enough about me to come here and be filled with remorse, not only because it happened, but because of how he knew we had crossed a line and what it would do to me.

I brave it and get up, walking over and plopping down right next to him. My hand grabs his, pulling it away from his face and I lace my fingers between his as he looks at me with brows pulled down in confusion.

"It was my fault."

He goes to object, but I stop him. "You might not remember, but I do. You gave me every chance to back out and I didn't, I wanted it, Tariq. If anything I'm the one who should apologize to you, you were drunk and not right."

With his other hand. Tariq rubs his eyebrows then pinches them together."I took advantage of you. I wanted your comfort."

"I wanted yours too," I respond. "So, we're both at fault then."

He chuckles but I can tell it's painful for him. "How are you taking this so well? I know how important this was to you."

I take a deep breath. "People make mistakes. Don't get me wrong, I'm mad at myself and it won't happen again. But what's done is done. I can't magically reverse time and stop it from happening. I'm not Hermoine and I don't have a time turner necklace. Although, that would be super cool."

This time his chuckle is more genuine, not as heavy. "You're such a dork."

There's silence between us and I know this is going to be hard for me, but I can't keep doing this, greying lines. I love him. But he doesn't love me and I need some time to collect myself before I do more stupid things.

He told me to keep fighting for him. It gave me hope and I will be the friend he needs, but...

When it comes to Tariq Araneo I want things he can't give me.

I need space, he needs space. We both are going through the depths of grief and we're leaning too much on each other to distract ourselves from the healing process.

I know I am.

Which is why we made a mistake.

"I think we need to take some time apart," I whisper.

Tariq's hand squeezes my hand. "I'm sorry, Blue, but, yeah, I need to get my head back on right."

Tears prick my eyes. "We'll still see each other in class." I force a smile. "Maybe after Thanksgiving?"

"I may need longer," he answers honestly. "Will you be okay with food?"

"Heather has me."

"If Collin tries anything or you need help just call, okay?"

It hurts my heart's cracking but as I glance at Tariq, I know he's going through a lot and I have things I need to figure out. I can't keep distracting myself anymore.

Neither can he.

"Okay." I stand and go to the door, realizing I may end up losing him forever.

Am I letting go of something I should fight for?

I close my eyes when I touch the door handle, knowing I have to do what's right for myself. Time away from each other will help me try to build a foundation stable enough for me to stand on.

My breath catches in my throat when Tariq's hand comes into view, pressing his palm on my door. I turn to look at him and he slides his fingers along my jaw, bending down to kiss me.

His warm lips break my heart.

Shatters it.

When he pulls away tears fall from the corner of my eyes as he roughly whispers out, "I'll see you around, Blue."

He opens the door and I move out of his way. When he closes it, leaving me alone, I straighten as warm salty liquid sticks to my lashes and drips down my cheeks.

Okay.

Time for the broom and dustpan to start sweeping up the shards.

Breaking up with Kenny was a lot easier... and he was my actual boyfriend.

I sit back down in my chair and for the first time, I let myself grieve. I cry for my lost virginity, I cry for possibly no longer having Tariq in my life, and most of all, I grieve for my dad.

It's time to let that pit swallow me and hopefully by the end of it all...

I can climb out of it for good.

We are at the halfway point, maybe even a little further.

I'm sorry everyone! Don't hate me for this! Elodie and Tariq are both going through a lot and need time to heal. Both are grieving and need to start the process of dealing with their losses instead of distracting themselves. My writing style is to be realistic and create characters who screw up and make mistakes, but I also believe in happy ever afters. I know this is taking on heavier tones, especially after all the comedy but I promise more comedy is on the way!

I adore each and every one of you and I appreciate your support so much

I really hope you all continue to read Hang On and continue with Elodie and Tariq's journey to finding peace.

Much Love,

LivingRed