I dangled off the bed, my hair spread out in all directions.  Peter had let- ahem- forced me to stay with him for the time being.

I was currently looking for some job openings.  So far, McDonalds, Larry's, and a bunch of other fast food places.  But I really didn't want to work there.  Just- so boring.  

I mean, in the end, it's just money and all, but shouldn't I enjoy it?  

I'm seriously so selfish.

After an hour of debating between jobs, I came upon a website looking for people to work at a coffee shop.  I smiled.  I liked coffee.  I hadn't had it in forever, but ever since I tasted it, it was love at first sight. 

Or taste.

Peter knocked on the door, and I let him in.  He peered over at my cellphone.

"Hey, that's where I work!"  he smiled.

My eyes lit up.  "Really?"

"Yeah."  he said, sitting down next to me.

"I should probably apply, so that we could work toge-" I said, before stopping myself.

But Peter had already heard my loose words.

"Never knew you loved me so much," he replied.

I froze.

Love was both something that we had never understood.  Never felt for a long time.  

"It was a joke," Peter said quietly.

 I started to trace the bedspread.  "I'll apply for the job."

Peter nodded, walking out the room.

Well that went very well.

I had sold my bicycle for some cash when I left.  I mean, how else was I going to get going?

I silently snuck out of the window, padding closer and closer to Central Park.  My favorite place.  It was just so relaxing, so peaceful, so beautiful.  

Everything I'm not.

I swung my legs over the bench, looking at the dimming sky.  It was almost December, about the time I had left.  Not much had really changed, maybe a few things.

How had I gotten so attached in a matter of a few months?  It wasn't something I did often.  Get attached.  I was so used to the pack up and leave manner, that maybe my heart wanted a change.  

It's so funny how your heart leads your mind.  Even if your mind can trick your heart.  But the heart's purpose will always be pounding in the back of our heads.

Pulling out my phone, I sent in a quick resume, crossing my fingers that I would get the job.  Hopefully, I could move out and find a place of my own.  Get back on my feet.  Live my life.

School was nice, so far.  The kids really didn't come close to me, other than the queering looks they forwarded to me.  The seniors seemed to ignore me.  They probably didn't give a care in the world.  I mean who would?  

Don't you just wish that every single human being on this earth could be noticed?  To have their 5 minutes of fame?  Cause if I did, I wouldn't share about my experiences.  I would want to spell out the words of encouragement.  To people like me.

My life hasn't completely changed for the better.  It's still on the edge of the cliff.  

But now, I have someone holding their hand out for me to grab.  And something tells me everything will be alright.

Peter was waiting at his house for me.

"I thought you left."  he whispered.

"Why?  I left all my stuff here!"  I shrugged.

"You have no idea what I thought when you were gone.  Your clothing and belongings still here."  he groaned.

Oh.

"I can take care of myself," I shot back.  "I just went out to think."

"To think?" he asked, his tone lightening.

I nodded.

"Where?"  Peter demanded.

"The park." I said.

"That's so far!  You walked?"  Peter said, his hands raised.

"Mhm," I mumbled, knowing Peter would probably freak out.

"Wh-" he started.

"It's not a big deal!  I'll be fine!" I said, my foot tapping against the hard wood floor. 

Peter sighed.  "You know, I saw you getting put into Bing's truck.  It scares me when you're out on the streets yoursel-" 

"You saw?"  I asked.

"We-well, I, I caught a glimpse?  How else did you think we found you?"  Peter stammered.

"And it took you a freaking month?"  I asked, my tone darkening.

"I was scared!  I'm sorry, Charlotte!"  Peter said, his hair pulled from his hands.

"How long?"  I asked, knowing that Peter had hesitated to tell the authorities.  

"A week.  A stupid, freaking week!" Peter cried.  

I stared at Peter.

I wasn't angry.  

Surprisingly.  In different circumstances, I would be fuming. 

But he was freaking guilty.  Guilty. 

I stared at the man worrying his brains out on the couch, just because he didn't tell the police about a kidnapping. 

I would have rather had him leave me there if it meant death would come quicker.  At the moment.

Now?  I'm not too sure.

"I'm sorry," Peter repeated.

"It's ok!"  I said for the millionth time.  

"I know, it's ju-" Peter rambled.

"It's been a full 30 minutes of my life I'll never get back.  Of you just repeating the same stuff over and over again.  Let's just pretend this never happened."  I moaned, my head falling back.  

Peter stood up, his hair disshelved.  

He came closer and closer to me, until the gap between up disappeared.  

I wanted to go, I really did.  But again, like the other times, I stayed.

His eyes looked bloodshot, with a hint of something else.  It wasn't guilt.  It wasn't lust.  It wasn't regret.

I couldn't quite figure out what it was. 

My throat felt dry, leaving me with no words.

He hesitated, allowing me to refuse.

I didn't.   I freaking let him.

We kissed.

We kissed.

We kissed.

There was no "fireworks," like they say.  It was more of a "pleasant situation."

But it was full of passion and hurt that we poured out at each other.  The brokenness we both felt.  The break that had never gone away.  It would never go away.  But we would have people that would help us through it.  

When we broke apart for oxygen, we didn't dare say anything.  Because we knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Did we just do that?

Peter gave me a small smile, before telling me goodnight.

--

Before I went to sleep, I checked my email, finding that I had landed the job.

My life was finally taking the turn for the better.

Or at least I hoped.