I stood in the driveway of Moira’s bungalow, with the soft but heavy rain soaking through my denim shorts and plastering my hair to my face.

I was compelling me forward to her door. My chest swelled at the thought of her, my mind foggy with jealousy. Ration told me to turn around and go home, but my feet dragged me to her door, nonetheless.

Before I could raise my fist to knock or lift my feet to walk away, the door swung open.

She stood there, dark skinned and freshly washed, her braids wet and dripping, wearing a bathrobe and an indescribable expression.

“What are you doing here?”

I gazed at her through my rain streaked glasses, unable to think of a good enough answer. What *was* I doing there?

“I...” I started, taking a step closer. I lifted my hand to her face.

She stepped back. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her eyes downcast. “I’m seeing Edward now.”

My hand fell. “I know. And you shouldn’t be.”

Her eyes flicked back up to lock with mine. I took another step forward and she didn’t step back. Another step, and I could feel the fluff of her robe against my damp top. I raised my hand again, to hold her face and her lips moved to form a word, but I didn’t get to hear it, because suddenly, I was kissing her.

She quickly had a hand in my hair and the other on my neck. I kissed her feverishly as her hand travelled lower to cup my breast. All apprehension seemed to have left her body, but it had soon entered mine. I pulled away.

“I’m sorry I can’t do this,” I mumbled, stepping back.

She looked dumbfounded. “You came here... you kissed me...”

“I know,” I rushed, “and I shouldn’t have. When I heard about you with Edward, all I could think about was how I didn’t want you to be with anyone else, but now that I’m here... I just can’t get over what you did.”

She closed her eyes. “I can’t keep saying I’m sorry, Sam.”

“I know.”

“So what do you want from me?!” She snapped.

“I guess... I want you to hurt as much as I do.”