"I should… I should get up," April says, but makes no moves to pull the covers back.

She's staring at the ceiling, probably trying to recall last night. I'm doing everything I can to forget it - I'm still mortified at the fact that I got up, jerked off while thinking about fucking her, and came back into bed with her none the wiser. It was such a pig move. And I'm not that guy.

As I lay here now, my dick isn't controlling my thoughts. Now, I'm studying the slopes of her face, gentler than I've ever noticed. She has light freckles on her skin, darker ones placed singularly in random places. Something inside tells me to reach out and touch them, but I ignore that impulse. She'd be totally freaked out. For good reason.

"No work today," I say, trying to sound casual. "If you don't feel like getting up yet, you don't have to."

She turns her head to look at me, and I can't read the expression painted on her face. She looks back to the ceiling before I have much time to decode it, then sits up with her feet on the floor, back towards me.

"I have errands to run," she says, standing. I sit up and watch her cross the room, pulling at her clothes with discomfort. "I don't want to wait too long to start." She pauses at my closed bedroom door, hand braced on it. "I… uh, I'm sorry. Again. For acting like an idiot last night, and-and making you take care of me. That was totally not okay. It was so unlike me. I don't know where it came from, and I'm really sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," I say. "It was fun."

"Yeah, right," she says. "I don't get drunk often, and now you know why."

"You found me really funny," I say. "That was a confidence-booster for sure. So I'm not sure why you don't drink more. I could use the ego boost."

She rolls her eyes. "As if," she says. "You're the last person who needs that."

I lean back against the headboard. "You last night would disagree," I say. "You told me I should become a comedian."

She turns the doorknob. "I…" Her face blushes a brilliant red. "I don't wanna know anything more I said. Okay? It'll just embarrass me. Please, just forget all of it."

"Drunk words are sober thoughts," I say, tipping my head to the side.

She sighs, defeated, and opens the door. And standing right in front of it, fist poised to knock, is Charles. When he sees April about to exit, his eyes grow to the size of dinner plates and he takes a step back in shock.

"Oh… my…" he says, eyes flitting between the two of us. "I was gonna ask if you had a towel I could borrow, but if you're busy…"

April gasps. "I was just leaving," she says, and tries to push past him. He's way too big, though, and he traps her in the doorway.

Charles looks at me conspiratorially and nods. "Nice, man," he says. "I didn't expect… you two, honestly, but nice. Did you get it in?"

"That's disgusting!" April says, voice shrill.

I can't help but take that blow. Disgusting, the idea of sex with me is disgusting now?

"No, we didn't," she continues. "We didn't 'get it in,' and anyway, that's so inappropriate."

"You don't have to be ashamed, Kepner," he says. "It's a natural human thing. No reason why you shouldn't be doing it. Honestly, it'd loosen you up a little bit. You need some dick in your life."

She gasps again, face turning pink. "I can't hear this anymore," she says, and shoves her way through.

"No reason to be embarrassed!" Charles calls after her, then turns back to me with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Seriously, dude? You got hard for that?"

"Shut the fuck up," I say, getting out of bed. "Nothing happened."

"Shit," he says. "You tried, and you got blue-balled? By her? That's even worse. Imagine how low her standards are. That would've made me feel like shit."

I frown at him. "Number one, quit insulting her. You're being a dick. She's actually pretty cool, once you get to know her. If you'd actually listen to her once in awhile, she's smart as hell. Smarter than me and you put together. And she's funny, too. She has this really silly, goofy-ass sense of humor."

Charles eyes me. "So you have a thing for her," he says.

I shake my head adamantly. "No," I say firmly. "No, I don't. I'm just saying that you should start treating her like a person. Then maybe she won't annoy you so much."

"So I'm supposed to pretend to believe that you don't have the world's biggest crush on that weirdo," he says.

"No more calling her weird," I say, walking into the hallway and feeling him follow me. "She's not that bad. We're friends."

"With benefits," he adds.

"I already told you, we didn't do anything," I say. "She was drunk off her ass last night, and couldn't get upstairs. So I let her sleep with me."

"What was so wrong with the couch?" he asks.

I turn back and look at him with a pointed expression. "Where'd you sleep last night?"

He nods, seeing my point. "But still," he says. "That was a good excuse to share a bed with your little girlfriend."

"Shut up," I say through gritted teeth. "You're acting like you're 12. April and I are friends. Nothing more."

"Nothing less," he chimes in, then heads off in a different direction. "Good luck with those feelings, Jack-man."

I go for a run and leave my earphones in when I come back, music blasting as I pause by the front door, bent over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

I'm in my own world as I traipse through the house, Khalid blasting so loud I can't hear my own thoughts, and make my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. When I go through the entryway, April is standing at the kitchen sink and she jumps when she sees me.

I yank my earphones out to find her already talking.

"... didn't hear you come in, I must have been zoning out. You scared me."

Her hair is wet, fresh from a shower, and she smells like lavender shampoo. She's not wearing any makeup, completely natural, and I notice for the first time that she's pretty. She's not mousy, not nerdy, not unfortunate like everyone at the hospital says. She has big, luminous green eyes that are framed by long, dark eyelashes, the freckles I was focused on this morning are brought out by the clean shine of her skin. Her perfect pink lips are bow-shaped, and she wets them before speaking again.

"Jackson?" she says, leaning her weight against the sink. "You there?"

I shake my head and return to earth. "What? Uh, yeah," I stammer. "Just came in for some water."

She shuffles sideways to give me enough room. But I accidentally bump her, anyway, when I go to reach for a glass.

"Sorry," I say, backing away. "I'm sweaty."

"I-I don't mind," she says, looking down at the floor. "It's just sweat."

"Hot out there," I say, coming up for air after a long drink.

"I can see that," she says, cautiously scanning me with her eyes.

"You run?" I ask, leaning my palm on the counter to face her.

She shakes her head. "Oh, no way," she says. "Sometimes, I do yoga. I haven't in awhile, I'm out of practice. But any other exercise… no. I'm not sporty. If you couldn't tell."

I let my eyes graze down her body and hope she doesn't notice. I can't help but picture her in yoga clothes - tight black leggings and a sports bra. I have no doubt she'd look amazing.

I have to get out of this room.

"I-I gotta go shower," I say, pointing my thumb behind me. "I'm disgusting. I'll see you around."

She raises her hand in a curt wave and smiles with her lips closed. I retreat to my bathroom on the first floor and turn the lock, stripping down to nothing as the water warms up.

I don't know where all this came from. A few days ago, April was invisible. And now, she's invading my every waking thought.

I use my time in the shower to clear my head and calm my thoughts down, and it does the job pretty well. When I come out, I feel more like myself. More in control of my life.

But that changes when I bump into her in the hallway, wearing only a towel around my waist, as she heads towards the stairs.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry!" she exclaims, and drops what she'd been holding.

"Oh shit. I didn't look where I was going, it's fine," I say, and bend to pick up what she dropped. It's her little red notebook, and I can't resist. "Writing a poem about me?" I ask, ribbing her.

She snatches it back. "No," she says, defensively. "Not everything in the world is about you."

I raise my eyebrows, impressed by her candor. "Way to put me in my place," I say, my tone of voice much more benign.

Her shoulders deflate. "I'm sorry," she says. "I just… I kind of freak out when I get teased. I'm not used to it in such a… friendly way, I guess."

Now, I feel bad. She's so used to being bullied that her first instinct is to react, to fight back, to stick up for herself.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm an ass. If you want me to stop teasing you, I will."

"No," she responds, very quickly. She meets my eyes for a second before flitting away. "I-I don't mind. It's different when you do it," she says. "Really."

I chuckle, feeling a little self-conscious as my stomach twirls. I feel like I'm flirting with my first crush. This is so not okay.

"Alright," I say. "But just remember, we're friends."

"You and me?" she asks, sounding incredulous.

I furrow my eyebrows. "Who else, the mouse in your pocket?" She giggles and presses her lips together. "Yes," I say. "Me and you."

We go back to work the next day, and I do my best to keep up with all the intern work. It's a lot to handle, and my lunch break is the best part of my day because I actually get a chance to sit down and breathe. I'm working all night tonight, and after I take a look at the board I see that April is, too.

"Long night ahead of us," I say, when I catch her near the nurses' station.

She jumps and looks over her shoulder, then presses a hand to her heart. "You have to stop doing that," she says, sighing. "Scaring me. You're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."

I chuckle and take a big bite of the apple I took from my lunch.

"And chewing in my ear!" she says, and bats me away. "Some of us are actually trying to focus here."

"And some of us can multitask," I say, leaning on the counter. "Did you see? We're workin' together tonight."

"Joy," she says under her breath, but she can't keep the smirk off her lips.

I snatch the tablet out of her hands. "Don't pretend like you're not excited," I say, and she turns around with her hands planted on her hips.

"Give it back," she says. "I was in the middle of something."

"Are you happy to work with me?" I ask.

"No, because you steal my stuff," she says, and stretches for it as I hold it just out of her reach.

"I'll give it back when you say it," I say.

"I won't," she says.

"Say it, or this case is mine," I taunt.

"You wouldn't steal my patient," she says, eyes narrowing.

"Watch me," I say. "Let me just-"

"Kepner! Avery!" Both of us snap to attention as our resident approaches us, looking evil as ever. I've been on her good side so far, but it looks like that's changed. "I've been paging you for at least two minutes. Too busy to respond? Shall I look for someone else to scrub in on the appendectomy?"

"No, ma'am," I say, quickly handing the tablet back to April. "I'm sorry. I'm ready."

"Me, too," April says, clicking a few buttons as she finishes up what she'd been doing. "I'm ready, too."

"That's more like it," our resident says. "Go get scrubbed in. OR 3. I'll meet you there."

The two of us exchange a look, then hurry off down the hallway.

Mine and April's schedules are relatively the same, and completely the opposite of Charles and Reed's. So when the two of us are home, they're gone. And vice versa.

We worked an overnight and then through the next day. Somehow I found the energy to drive us home, then slept through the entire next day.

When I wake up, I hear sounds coming from the kitchen. It's dark outside, and it takes me a second to figure out if it's 7am or 7pm. I come to the conclusion that it's evening, and the sounds I hear are that of April making dinner.

I trudge out of my room, scratching my stomach and blinking tiredly. I'm not entirely woken up yet, so I squint at the yellow light that's coming from the kitchen when I walk in there to see what's going on.

"Morning," April says, turning around with a plate of spaghetti in her hands. "Made us some dinner."

"Weird choice of words," I say groggily. "You didn't have to."

"I was up, and I knew you'd be hungry," she says. "I am, too. So… ready to eat?"

I'm not about to say no to that. I take the plate and sit at the dinner table in my pajamas, and notice that she's in loungewear, too.

"When did you get up?" I ask, becoming more alive as I twirl noodles around my fork.

"Maybe two hours ago," she says, after she chews. "I cleaned and then cooked. It was kinda nice to have some alone time."

"Because I'm always breathing down your neck?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes. "Basically."

We finish dinner, exchanging conversation about the long shifts we've finished and telling stories about surgeries we've seen and ones that we hope to. When I'm done eating, I'm full and happy and more awake than ever. And I want to spend time with her.

Out of the hospital. At home. Like friends.

"Wanna watch a movie?" I ask, sauntering up behind her as she cleans up the table. "Also, you don't have to do that. You cooked."

She wipes her hands on a dish towel. "Already done," she says.

"Geez," I say. "What can't you do? You cook, you clean…"

"I'm also your friend…"

I snort. "Yeah, that too."

"But yeah," she says, leaving the kitchen. "I'll watch a movie. What were you thinking?"

"I don't know," I say. "Have you seen 'I Am Sam'?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "No way. That one makes me cry. And then I can't stop."

"Okay…" I say. "One that doesn't make you cry. How about 'Titanic'?"

"Talk about making me cry!" she exclaims. "You're horrible at this. What about 'Sleepless in Seattle'?" She gives me a winning smile. "It's fitting, at least."

I give in. There's no way I can say no to that face. "Sure," I say. "I'll make some popcorn. Want a beer?"

"No," she says, eyes wide. "I'm off alcohol until further notice. I don't want a repeat of the other night."

I bust up laughing.

"Stop!" she says. "You're making it worse."

"I'm not laughing at you," I say.

"What, you're laughing with me?" she says, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. I was a big idiot."

I shake my head. "No," I say. "Not an idiot. But you were horny."

Her eyes grow wide and her face turns a shade of red I've never seen on a human before. She covers it quickly with her hands and though I know I should feel guilty, I can't stop laughing.

"Mortified," she says. "I'm mortified."

"What?" I say, still chuckling. "Nothing wrong with it."

"Yes, there is," she says. "I can't believe… that I… no. Oh, my god." She shakes her head. "With you, of all people."

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"This isn't the first time I've been told I'm a…" She widens her eyes and clears her throat in substitution of saying the actual word. "Drunk."

"A horny one?" I fill in.

"Yes!" she hisses, and bats the air with her hand. "You don't have to say it."

"So what, you're a horny drunk?" I say. I'm playing it off cool, but my mind is going a thousand miles per hour as I learn this new information about her. I'd never take advantage of her while she was inebriated, but I imagine that if we were together, drunk sex with her would be a ton of fun.

But I can't think about that, because we're not together. And we won't ever be. We don't like each other like that. We're really good friends, and that's it.

"Who else has told you?" I ask, finding myself curious for some reason.

"Reed," she scoffs. "The first night, after the intern gala. I had a little bit… too much, and was apparently going on and on about… stuff."

I raise my eyebrows and sit down on the couch next to her after finding the DVD she wanted and popping it in. I realize I never went to get popcorn, but I don't really want a bowl in the middle of us, anyway.

"What kind of stuff?" I ask, resting one arm along the back of the couch.

"I don't remember," she mutters. "And I told her not to specify. I don't wanna know. I'd be so embarrassed."

"You wanna know what you said to me the other night?" I ask, pushing her buttons.

Her face flames again. I don't think I'll get tired of seeing that.

"I really don't," she mutters.

"You told me you'd have sex with me," I say, chuckling.

Her face blanches. "I did not," she says.

"You did," I say. "More than once. You really insisted. You said that if you hadn't made a promise to Jesus, you would."

She peeks at me from the corner of her eyes, looking like she wants to crawl into the floorboards.

"And you also told me I have beautiful eyes," I say, endcapping it.

"Well, at least I complimented you," she murmurs.

"The sex thing was definitely a compliment, too," I say. "I know you're not the type to get in bed with just anyone."

She doubles over and covers her face again. "I cannot believe myself!" she shrieks. "That's it. I'm never, ever drinking again."

"Oh, whatever," I say, clicking the 'play' button on the DVD's main menu. "You're fine. Everyone acts stupid when they're drunk."

"Yeah, but not everyone tries so confidently to get their friends to sleep with them!" she says, settling back on the cushion. "I'm a mess."

"A nice mess," I say, getting comfortable, too.

We watch the movie in silence for a while, and April is enraptured by it. I can tell that late 90's romance is her shit, and I like watching her enjoy it so much. When she smiles and laughs, it's genuine and for no one's good but her own. I'm glad we ended up with this movie, because her happiness is contagious.

"How many times have you seen this?" I ask, as we're about halfway through. I've been watching her mouth the lines for awhile now.

She looks at me, caught in the act. "Leave me alone," she says, playfully.

"You're a sap," I say.

"So are you," she says. "You agreed to watch it. What self-respecting man would do that?"

I make a sound at her. "One who cares about his friend more than himself," I say.

She looks at me warmly. "Well, aren't you sweet."

"Not a term I usually get described with, but I'll take it," I say, and realize that we've somehow ended up closer together on the couch than how we started. Now, my arm that's resting along the back cushion is behind her head and our thighs are only inches apart.

I can smell her shampoo - that same lavender I recognize. It's getting inside my head and making me think crazy things. Crazy things like… I want to kiss her.

I want to know what those pretty pink lips feel like pressed against mine. I want to hold her face in my hands and sneak my grip lower to rest on her hips, and hear the sounds she makes when I touch her. I want her to feel the way I know I can make her feel. I want her to surrender her body to me.

I want an outlet for these feelings. I wish there was some way to know if she feels the same way, or if I'm going totally insane.

She catches me staring at her when she turns her head to tell me something. The words catch in her throat and her mouth stays open, lips parted just enough. Her eyes roam my face, and the energy in the room alters.

Something is about to happen. Both of us can feel it.

When I lean my head closer to hers, she doesn't flinch away. Her eyes dart to my mouth, then back up, then down again. She pulls her lower lip into her mouth and grazes over it with her teeth, then lets it pop out again as she takes in a tiny gasp of air.

I lick my lips, too, then hold the back of her head with one hand. I watch her eyelashes flutter closed, and close mine too once our lips finally touch.

It starts out slow and gentle, just how I'd guessed that April would kiss. Her hands are light and tentative on my biceps, shaky even, and her lips stay pressed together.

My heart is beating like mad inside my chest, and when we pull away to take a breath, her pupils are fat. She stares at my mouth and bites her lip again, then pulls me closer by the collar of my shirt.

We fall forward on the couch so she's pressed under me, and I situate myself between her parted thighs. I can feel every slope and ridge of her body beneath me, and I can't get enough. I want to touch every inch, memorize it, get to know her in a way I never thought I would.

So I try and go slow. I kiss her languidly, fluidly, opening my mouth against hers and begging entrance for my tongue as I slide it along the seam of her lips. She grants it, sighing into my mouth as I slip one hand down to rest on the curve of her waist.

Her kisses remind me of honey. They're slow and sweet, and I want to savor every drop.

Her body trembles when I move my lips to her jawline, then below it to capture the pocket of skin beneath her earlobe. Her fingers dance on the back of my neck, unsure of where to land, and my tongue finds purchase on the swell of her throat. Her skin is soft and irresistible; I have to sink my teeth in.

And I'm rewarded for it. She moans when I suck on her sensitive neck, and I hope I leave a hickey when I pull away. I want to see that mark on her in passing and know that it was me who did it, me who had her this way, me who made her so vulnerable. It was me who made her feel like this.

I get goosebumps as she trails her fingers over the shells of my ears, and kiss her lips again. Her hips rise up to collide with mine, which makes my already-insistent boner even harder to ignore. I still try, though. I know it won't be getting any attention tonight; at least not with her. I'll have plenty to fantasize about later, we're not about to have sex. But Jesus never frowned on a hot and heavy makeout session.

I have my face buried in her neck again when the sound of the front door opening jolts me back into the real world.

"I knew it! I told you, I knew it! Kepner and Avery are fucking!"

We jolt away from each other, scrambling to opposite ends of the couch. April wipes the back of her mouth absentmindedly with one hand, and I try and hide my boner by holding a throw pillow on my lap.

"I didn't know you were into guys like him," Reed says, throwing April a side-eye from the front door.

I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, but I don't think I like it. April's lips are red and swollen, and I can't help but stare at at them until she stands up to leave.

"I-I…" she stammers, obviously not knowing what to say as Charles and Reed still stand close, mocking us. "I gotta go." She hurries to the foyer, where she puts on a pair of flip-flops and disappears out the door.

"You guys are assholes," I say, flicking the movie off. "Seriously."

"What?" Reed says, in a singsong voice. "We didn't mean any harm. Come on, she's so easy to get riled up."

"Obviously in more ways than one," Charles throws us.

"Yeah, and she's also a person," I say. "With feelings. And she doesn't like being constantly made fun of. We… we had a nice night."

Reed raises her eyebrows at the state of affairs between my legs as I stand. "I can see that," she says. "We should've waited a while to come home. Would've been even nicer."

"It wasn't like that," I insist, but of course they don't believe me.

"If you pop Virgin Mary's cherry, you gotta let me know how it is," Charles says, under his breath after Reed walks into the kitchen. "I'm dying to know. I've never been with a virgin."

I raise my lip. "Fuck off, dickhead," I say, and stalk off to my room.

I lie on my bed and wait for the sound of April coming home. I only relax after I hear the front door open and close, and the sound of her familiar, light footsteps ascending the stairs.

I don't know where we would've ended up tonight had we not been interrupted, and now I might never find out.

I wait around for April the next day so we can carpool, but she hasn't appeared downstairs yet and we're cutting it dangerously close if she takes any longer. Usually she's the one waiting for me, so I have no clue what's going on.

I shoot her a text.

U almost ready?

She replies almost instantly.

Im already at the hospital. I caught the bus this morning. Sry didnt tell you :/

I frown at my phone, then bluster out the door. I can't help feeling frustrated with her; we always carpool. If she decided she didn't want to, she could have at least told me before jetting off on the bus.

I start my shift in a bad mood because of it. I can't stop thinking about last night, or the way April is acting now. I shoot her a smile when I realize we're on the same case, but she avoids eye contact and trails our resident for the entire day. There's not a single moment that I can get her alone, because she won't let me.

She does have a hickey on her neck, though. I can see she tried to hide it with makeup, but it didn't quite work.

I'm unfocused and angry. I need to talk about what happened with her, she can only avoid me for so long. Finally, when the night shift starts and the hospital calms down, I find her in a hallway and yank her into a supply closet just as she's about to turn and start power-walking the other way.

"Just... April," I say. "Give me a second. Please. Let me talk to you for one goddamned second."

Her adamant expression turns submissive, yet reproachful.

"I know it was a mistake, okay?" she says, arms crossed over a clipboard as she leans against the door. "You don't have to look for me all day just to tell me that. I know your… your boy hormones took over your brain and you had no control over what you were doing. You don't have to explain it to me. I get it. I felt it, too. And I regret it, too. There was a moment, and we got caught up in it. It happens. Or at least, so I hear. And it finally did, to me. And to you. And it's over now, and we can just pretend it never happened and go back to normal. I know that's what you're gonna say, so you don't even have to say it. Okay? You don't. It'll just make things ten times more weird. I already know that it was a mistake."

A small sound comes from my throat, because she sucked up all the air in the room. That wasn't what I was going to say at all, but now what I actually wanted to say doesn't fit. She regrets it, she just said that.

I don't, but now I won't admit it. I won't be the only one with feelings, pining after her like some idiot. That isn't me. And she doesn't want that, anyway.

"I'm sorry," I say, amending my words completely. "I shouldn't have kissed you. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I like our friendship."

"So do I," she says, solidifying the statement.

"So… friends," I say, nodding with pursed lips.

"Friends," she agrees, and fakes a smile before leaving the supply closet to head back out into the hallway. But I stay.

Things don't go back to normal at the house. April and I dodge each other while pretending that we're not. If she's cooking dinner, I make it a point not to find something to eat until she's done and out of the kitchen. If she's watching TV, I study in my room.

If I'm leaving for work, she'll lag behind so she misses carpool. When I'm reading at the dining room table, she'll go out for a long walk.

We spent about five minutes being friends before it got ruined. I miss it, I miss her. I miss teasing her, I miss just being around her. She didn't ask for much, and neither did I. We had a good thing going.

And stupid feelings had to get in the way.

I don't want to go back to being friends with Charles. I've learned pretty quickly that he isn't the nicest guy with the best intentions. That's another good thing about April - she's transparent. She doesn't have ulterior motives, she isn't manipulative, she doesn't use people for her own personal gain. She couldn't care less what my last name is. Charles, on the other hand, cares very much.

And it's getting old.

I want her back.

But I won't make things weird and try to patch things up. She's avoiding me, I'm avoiding her. It's pretty obvious that a friendship isn't in the cards for us anymore, and I have to accept that and let it go.

I'll probably move out sooner than later. It's not pleasant to live here when one of my roommates hates me, the other is obsessed with me, and the other is never even around.

I wish I knew what was going on in her mind. Being able to read her thoughts would make this so much easier. Did she really regret making out with me on the couch, or did she only say that because she thinks that I do? If I could just figure out that question, this whole thing could go away. We could either go our separate ways, or maybe become something more than just friends.

But I can't read her mind, so that can't happen. I'm not about to come right out and ask. No way.

A week passes. I'm standing in the kitchen at the sink, looking out the window when I hear someone come in behind me. Assuming that it's Charles, I don't make a move to greet him.

"Um… 'scuse me," I hear, and recognize the little voice.

April scoots past me to place a glass in the sink.

"Dishwasher's full," she says. "So I just thought… I'm just gonna set it there 'til it's ready to be loaded."

"That's fine," I say. I'm on dishwasher duty this week.

She lingers, which is unusual. It wouldn't be unusual for the version of her from a few weeks ago, but it is for this April.

"How was your day?" she asks.

Now I know something is up. We haven't made small talk in forever. She's had no desire to.

"Um… good," I say, dryly. "Yours?"

"Good, too," she says, shifting her weight from foot-to-foot. "I watched a heart transplant. It was really awesome."

I raise my eyebrows. "Damn," I say. "How'd you get in on that?"

"Got lucky, I guess," she says. "Madden was in a good mood. I caught her at the right time."

"Nice," I say.

"Yeah."

Though our conversation has seemingly died, she still stays. I have no idea what she's doing, but I keep scrubbing the frying pan that I've been working on while looking out the window. I don't look at her, but I can feel her unwavering presence as she stands right next to me.

I hear a small sigh escape her, and I can see that she's still rocking on her feet while wringing her hands. Something is up, and she needs to spit it out. I'm not going to prompt her.

"Jackson," she finally says, breaking the awkward silence.

"Yeah?" I say, still concentrated on the pan.

She pauses slightly, gathering her gumption. She opens her mouth, but closes it again.

"Never mind," she says, and lets out a long breath as she turns on her heel to leave the room.

I furrow my eyebrows and look over my shoulder, watching her leave. She walks slow, but pauses right before the kitchen turns into the dining room. Her shoulders are tense and I see her take in a big breath before she turns back around.

"Would it be super weird if I wanted you to kiss me again?" she asks, voice timid and barely-there.

My eyes widen and I'm physically taken aback by her words. Kiss her again? After this whole week of avoiding me and pretending like I don't exist, not to mention forgetting that what we did ever happened?

But instead of wasting time in being confused, I dry my hands on a dish towel and cross the room to her. She watches me the whole way, a little section of her lower lip in her mouth, wondering how I'll answer.

When I get close enough, I rest my hands on either side of her neck and touch the hinges of her jaw with my thumbs. I spend a moment just holding her like that, looking at her face, studying the features I know I'll become very familiar with. But right now, they're new. Right now, her face is alight with possibilities that I can't yet imagine.

But I want to.

I close the distance between us and kiss her, soft and gentle, and she melts against me. She winds her arms around me, pulling her waist flush to mine, and smiles against my mouth. When we pull apart, she's beaming and her face is blushing pink - in the best way.

There's no way we can go back to just being friends now, and there's no way I want to.

No way at all.