I couldn’t take it.

Not the song that was playing in my ears, reminding me of everything I'd been desperately trying to deny, or how right she felt in my arms.

Keeping an arm hooked around her thigh, I took the opportunity to pull her deeper against me. Shivering when I touched her, Molly didn’t recoil. Instead, she placed a tentative hand on my shoulder, settling the other palm against my cheek.

Fuck, I was drowning in my feelings as I watched her watch me.

Sliding my free arm behind her head, I cupped her neck and pulled her closer, angling into her deeper as our bodies moved in unison to the music.

I felt like I was ten years old again, standing on a precipice that would alter my life forever. The decision I had to make now was as compelling and lifechanging as the one I had made that night eight years ago. But the girl was the same.

Small and fragile then. And now? Fiercely brave and hauntingly vulnerable.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her. That I'd loved her since childhood and had never stopped for a single second. That I was sorry for the choices I'd made. For not being a good enough friend to her back then and not a good enough man for her now. I wanted to tell her the truth about what happened that night. About what I'd seen…heard...did. I wanted to be the one person in her life that didn’t lie to her, but I was scared. I was too drunk, and emotional, and fucking terrified of losing her again to get my words out.

"Molly." Breathing ragged, I continued to move inside of her as I battled with my conscience. "I need to tell you something…"

"Don’t do it." Her breath hitched, eyes widening in fear. "You're drunk. You won't mean it and everything will change."

"I'll mean it," I replied gruffly, stroking her nose with mine. "And maybe I want everything to change."

"No." She placed her small hand over my mouth. "Please don’t. Not tonight." Moving her hand from my mouth, she reached up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. "Tell me when you're sober."

33 Molly

When I woke up for school on Monday morning, it was to a heavy, muscular arm draped over my stomach.

For a long time, I lay perfectly still, trying to take in every cloudy flashback and hazy, drunk-fueled memory of the night before.

It didn’t take long for me to recall last night's events, especially not when Daryl was naked in my bed.

I'd had an awful lot of firsts this weekend.

A lot of firsts in this bed.

A lot of firsts with this boy.

Once I realized that I was also naked, shame came quickly.

Slipping out from under his muscular arm, I slid off the bed, grabbed a bunch of random clothes from my closet, and moved straight for my adjoining bathroom.