VOICEOVER
There's a difference between what you want and what you need. Most people spend their whole lives confusing the two. Aaron knew the difference. He just didn't care anymore.
AARON AND MANDY – THE ABANDONED STUDIO, AFTERNOON
The old art studio behind the humanities building had been locked since before the semester started. Aaron had found the key in a drawer; some forgotten teacher, some forgotten class. He'd been coming here to be alone.
Today, he brought Mandy.
She stood by the window, her back to him, her silhouette sharp against the dusty light. She was wearing jeans and a white tank top. Her hair was in a ponytail. The wind through the cracked window made it sway.
"I need to say something," Aaron said.
"Then say it."
He paced. The floor creaked under his feet.
"This thing between us. It can't happen. You're with Jon. I'm with Vicky. We're... we're hurting people. Good people. And I can't... I won't be that guy."
Mandy didn't turn around.
"I'm ending it," he continued. "Whatever this is. The texts. The looks. The back porch. It stops now. I'm going to walk out that door, and we're going to pretend none of this happened. Okay?"
He stopped pacing. Faced her.
"Do you understand?"
Mandy turned.
She nodded. A small nod. Cute. Her ponytail bounced.
"Yes," she said.
Then she gave him a thumbs up.
Aaron exhaled. A wave of relief washed through him. "Thank you. I was so scared you'd—"
"But now the problem is," Mandy interrupted, stepping closer, "I really like you."
Aaron froze.
"And you like the way I make you feel." She tilted her head. "Plus, I'm hot. Hotter than your girlfriend. But you're not the type of guy that goes only for looks."
She smiled. Turned her head. Her ponytail followed, catching the breeze from the window.
"You also go for someone who can mentally challenge you. Understand you. Without changing who you are."
Aaron's back hit the wall.
"You're complex," she said, walking toward him. "You're broken. But you don't want to be fixed."
She stopped in front of him. Her eyes were dark. Her lips were parted.
"You want someone who understands that. And still goes with the flow."
She grabbed his collar.
"And I love it."
She pulled him down. Her mouth found his ear. Her tongue traced the edge.
"Just let mommy," she whispered, then licked down his neck, "handle... everything."
She kissed him.
It was not gentle. It was not sweet. It was a claim.
Aaron's hands found her ass. He grabbed her, lifted her. Her legs locked around his waist. Her back hit the wall. They kissed like they were trying to eat each other alive.
She pulled back, breathless, and chuckled.
"I always like them bigger," she said.
Aaron tore her tank top. The fabric ripped like paper.
Mandy ripped his shirt. Buttons scattered across the floor.
His hand found her throat. Not hard. Just there. A promise.
He sucked her ear. Her neck. Her collarbone. She moaned.
"Fuck, Arie."
He spat on her chest. The saliva glistened on her skin. He lowered his mouth to her breast, took her nipple between his lips, rolled his tongue.
"Oh... fuck... yes."
She arched her back. Her fingers tangled in his hair.
He pushed her onto the dusty floor. She laughed. A wild, breathless sound.
"Hard," she said.
He slapped her ass.
"Harder."
He slapped again. Her dark skin turned red under his palm.
"Like that," she whispered. "Just like that."
He grabbed her hips. Pulled her toward him.
And then there was nothing else. No Vicky. No Jon. No guilt. No shame. Just skin and sweat and the sound of her moaning his name.
AFTERWARDS
They lay on the dusty floor, tangled in each other, breathing hard.
Aaron stared at the ceiling. The water stains looked like maps of countries that didn't exist.
"That was..." he started.
"Cocaine," Mandy finished.
He turned his head to look at her. "What?"
"Moving from cannabis to cocaine." She smiled. Tired. Satisfied. "That's what you said, right? In your head?"
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to." She traced a finger down his chest. "I felt it."
He was quiet for a long time.
"Vicky and I have passionate sex," he said. "Good sex. But this was..."
"Different."
"Yeah."
She propped herself up on her elbow. "You know what the difference is?"
"What?"
"Vicky fucks you because she loves you. I fuck you because I see you."
He didn't know what that meant.
But it made his chest ache.
THE WALK BACK
Aaron walked Mandy to the edge of campus. They didn't hold hands. They didn't kiss. They just walked.
At the junction, she stopped.
"This doesn't have to be complicated," she said.
"It already is."
"No. It's simple. You want me. I want you. The rest is noise." She touched his face. "You'll come back. You always do."
She walked away. Her ponytail swayed.
Aaron stood there, watching her go.
He knew she was right.
That was the worst part.
OLIVER AND PECULIAR – THE PARKING LOT, EVENING
Oliver sat on the hood of his car, staring at the sky. The sun was setting. The clouds were orange and pink, like a bruise.
Peculiar found him there. She always found him.
"You're becoming predictable," she said, hopping up beside him.
"I'm not trying to be interesting."
"And yet."
She leaned back on her hands. Her purple tips caught the light.
"You almost died," she said.
"I remember."
"Do you think about it?"
"Every night."
"Does it scare you?"
He was quiet for a moment. "No. That's what scares me."
Peculiar looked at him. Really looked. "You're not okay."
"No."
"And you're not going to be okay."
"No."
"So what are you going to do?"
Oliver turned to face her. "I don't know."
She reached out. Touched his hand.
"Then maybe stop trying to figure it out," she said. "Just... be. For one night. Be here. With me."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not trying to save you. I'm not trying to fix you. I'm just here."
He looked at her hand on his. Small. Warm.
"You're young," he said.
"I'm eighteen."
"That's young."
"So? You're twenty. That's also young. We're all young. We're all stupid. We're all going to make mistakes." She squeezed his hand. "The question is: who do you want to make them with?"
Oliver didn't have an answer.
But he didn't pull away.
THE CAR
They sat in his car. The windows were down. The air was cool.
Peculiar played with the radio. Found a station playing old Fela. She hummed along.
"You have a nice voice," Oliver said.
"Don't tell anyone. It'll ruin my reputation."
"What reputation?"
"Exactly."
He laughed. A real laugh. It surprised him.
She looked at him. "There you are."
"Where?"
"Somewhere behind your eyes. I've been trying to find you."
He didn't know what to say. So he said nothing.
She leaned over. Kissed his cheek.
"Goodnight, Oliver."
"Goodnight, Peculiar."
She got out of the car. Walked away. Didn't look back.
He sat there for a long time, staring at the empty passenger seat.
For the first time in weeks, he didn't feel hollow.
He felt something else.
He didn't know what to call it.
VOICEOVER
That night, two things happened. Aaron fell into something he couldn't climb out of. And Oliver climbed out of something he didn't know he was in. Love and destruction look the same from a distance. Up close, they're different. Up close, one feels like falling. The other feels like being caught. The problem is, by the time you know which is which, you're already too deep to turn back.