Hey, Darling.

I had 105 missed calls.

One hundred and four of them were from Garrett.

One was from Kennedy.

I didn’t know what to think about that. At first, my heart kind of dropped, and I started thinking about how much easier things would be if I had decided to date Garrett instead. He did seem like the ideal boyfriend, I guess.

Garrett’s voicemails went like this, “Molly, I’m sorry for breaking Kenny’s nose, but he deserved it. Call me, okay? I wanna know how you’re doing.”

Kennedy’s was longer, but a bit less composed. “Molly?” His voice was really low and somewhat timid. “I’m fucking sorry. I just want to say - ow, fuck, that hurts - that I’m sorry. I know that I was the biggest douche on this side of Arizona, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I never should have tried to force you to do something you didn’t want to. And what I said at my house, I didn’t mean it. I don’t want someone else. I want you, Molly, even if that’s hard to believe.”

I thought about calling him back. I even went so far as dialing the first six digits of his number, but when my thumb hovered over the seven I realized that I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go after him.

He would have to come after me.

I did call Garrett back, though, because he was just being a really good friend and I forgave him. We talked for a little, but he had practice and he had to go. He was already back on speaking terms with Kennedy, apparently, but everyone in the band was constantly telling him how much of a dick he had been.

John especially. He said John gave it to him good, and looked like he was going to break his nose all over again.

That surprised me a lot, I guess, because John and I had never really been close. Maybe he thought it was his obligation, since he was dating my sister.

It was a Monday, and I had just gotten up and stumbled downstairs when I saw John sitting on the sofa alone. I looked around for Mia, but I didn’t see her anywhere.

“Where’s Mia?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

“She had to pee,” he said, and I nodded, before heading towards the kitchen for some orange juice.

“Molly,” John called after me, and I stopped.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” He asked.

I nodded and stumbled my way over to him. I fell into one of the antique chairs facing the couch. It surprised me by how comfortable John was here. I lived in this house this summer and I wasn’t even all that comfortable.

“Hmm?” I asked as I rubbed my eye with my fist. It took me at least fifteen minutes to wake up in the morning.

“Have you talked to Kennedy?” John wondered.

I shook my head. “He called but I didn’t answer.”

“Look, Molly, I know that you’re pissed at him, but Kennedy’s a complicated guy. He’s been hurt before and…” John trailed off, and my eyes narrowed instinctively.

“And?” I questioned. My voice was harsh. “Him having been hurt before is a rational justification as to why he forced himself on me?”

It was a rhetorical question.

“Well, no, but--”

“There are not buts,” I said. “Kennedy was an ass. He hurt me more than words can explain. If he wants to apologize than he can it, but don’t spend your time trying to soften me up. It’s a waste of breath.”

John nodded just as Mia walked in the room.

“Yo.” She said, and I nodded towards her.

Mia and I had drifted apart over the summer. She spend most of her summer with John, so we hadn’t had a lot of time to spend together. She almost seemed like a different person. I wondered if I was a different person, too.

“Kennedy’s here.” She announced suddenly. I stood up, shocked, and immediately started smoothing down my shorts.

“What?” I asked.

“He’s pacing outside. He hasn’t rung the doorbell yet.”

“Oh.”

“You should go talk to him, you know.” She told me, and I arched an eyebrow.

“Why?” I wanted to know.

“Because even though he was a grade-A douche, let him explain himself. Then you can tell him to fuck off or whatever, but at least give him a chance.” She reasoned.

I shrugged. “He doesn’t deserve a chance.”

John and Mia both looked frustrated.

I knew I was being difficult; I was trying to be difficult. Kennedy didn’t deserve to give an apology and then expect everything to be okay again. That wasn’t how I worked; I held grudges, even when I knew I shouldn’t. I did not forgive and forget.

“Molly, please,” Mia huffed. “Just let him babble a little, okay? You’re a bigger person than most people, so you’ll be nice enough to give him a chance.”

I sighed. “Whatever,” I muttered underneath my breath before heading towards the hallway mirror. I adjusted my bun and made sure that my v-neck and yellow shorts were on correctly. Then, I slipped my feet into my moccasins beside the door and opened it slowly.

Kennedy was standing at the end of the porch, looking really nervous. He looked up at the door being open, and immediately looked shocked.

He didn’t say anything as I closed the door behind me, or as I took a place a few feet away from him. I stood, my arms crossed over my chest as he stared at me, mouth agape.

Finally, he formed words.

“Hey,” he breathed out, and then he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

I nodded, but said nothing.

“So…” He started, but then stopped as he closed his mouth. He swung his head around, looking at everything but me. He did this for a few seconds, before I started getting annoyed.

I sighed. “Did you have something to say or…?”

Kennedy looked frustrated. “Yeah.”

I waited for him to say something, but he kept silent. I blinked. He blinked. It was a whole fucking blinking contest, and then I started to get irritated.

“And that would be…?” I prompted.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. He looked like he was about to say something else, and then finally I did. “I’m a real douche bag, you know? And I never thought I’d be like that, forcing myself on you. I feel really stupid, because now you’re never going to want to talk to me again, but I want you to know that I like you a lot - I care about you a lot, even if I don’t show it. I don’t want you to hate me. I want you to like me - love me. I want this to work. And, eventually, if you do give me another chance, I want you to want to have sex with me, not because I forced myself on you.”

I said nothing. I stood there, looking at him, trying to take it all in. He did and didn’t make sense. It was…flattering, I guess, but it also kind of made me want to cry because I was so confused.

He wasn’t allowed to do this.

As I stood there, staring at him, I noticed the big bandage over the bridge of his nose and the dark circles underneath his eyes - the signs of recovering from a broken nose. I wondered idly how bad it had been.

“Molly?” Kennedy broke me from my thoughts, and I glanced up at him.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” I admitted honestly.

“You forgive me? He offered up jokingly. I shook my head and his face fell.

“I don’t - I don’t think I can do that.” I said.

Kennedy’s face looked torn. He took a step closer to me, and grabbed for my hand. I let him grab it, but I didn’t squeeze back.

“You just - you’ve hurt me a lot, you know, and I haven’t even been here for two months. It shouldn’t have to hurt this much.”

“Yes, it should.” He contradicted. “It should hurt, but it won’t hurt as much as the happiness.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Molly, just please,” He was pleading with me. “We don’t even have to be official - unless you want to, that is - let’s just have fun. Let’s have fun, okay? I won’t hurt you, again. I promise. I just want to hold your hand, kiss you, take you out to eat. I just want to have fun with you.”

It was such a good compromise. It sounded like a good idea, it really did, but my head was too rational.

My heard wanted to, really badly.

“Kennedy,” I sighed, and he clutched my hand harder. He stepped closer to me, until there were only a few inches of space between our bodies. “I want to, I really do, but…”

He looked hopeful, and I almost felt kind of bad knowing that I was going to make that feeling crash.

“I can’t.” I said. “Not now, at least. Maybe we can be friends, maybe. But I don’t trust you. I probably won’t trust you again. I’m sorry.”

He looked absolutely devastated. I was curious as to what he’s going to do. I thought maybe he’d yell, or run away and never talk to me again. Instead, he crashed his lips against mine.

It was instinct - I immediately kissed back. I moved my lips in sync with his, and it was bad how relieved my body felt touching him again. His hand moved to the small of my back, and he pushed our bodies closer together. His tongue made it’s way inside of my mouth, and he started with the stroking.

Seconds later, he pulled away. He pressed his forehead against mine.

“You can’t tell me it didn’t feel right.” He insisted as he clutched be closer to him.

I shook my head, already angered at how he would use something like that against me. He wasn’t going to be forgiven that easily. I would not be a doormat.

I pulled away from him. “Just because it feels right doesn’t mean it’s rational.”

I walked back inside the house.