Is it that easy? The thought of not hearing her laugh, not sinking into her soft body, just… hurts.

And that pisses me off too.

“I don’t do relationships,” I remind Meg and she shakes her head at me in disgust.

“I think you like her.”

“When she’s not being a cold bitch, yeah, I like her.”

“I think she has trust issues, Leo.” Meg looks down at her coffee in thought.

“Don’t we all?” I ask sarcastically.

“I suppose.” She shrugs. “Remember, her brother is super famous, and she had to watch him deal with that. It’s probably not easy being related to someone that famous.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “I bet a lot of people have used her to get to him.”

“Are people using you to get to me?” I ask, pissed all over again.

“No.” she waves me off. “Until recently, most people didn’t know you and I are connected. But she and Luke are tight, and people suck.”

“But I have no reason to use her to get to Luke. I knew Luke before I knew her.”

“I’m just saying that could be why she’s so difficult to get to know, and why she’s not quick to make friends.”

I cross my arms over my chest and frown.

“I don’t think she has a lot of friends,” Meg murmurs, and I silently agree.

“I don’t need her shit,” I state again, firmly.

“Okay, so then why are you so pissed?” She asks. “You would typically flip her the bird and go about your life.”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me, Leo.” Meg’s eyes are as soft as her voice, and she smiles gently at me, and I know I can’t fool her.

“She’s different,” I mutter with a scowl.

“Go apologize.”

“It’s going to take more than that.”

“Leo, if you pursue something with her, are you ready to tell her everything about before?” My stomach clenches at the thought.

Fuck. That should never touch her.

But, I remember her reaction at the story of my surgery, how she just held me, the first person to do so since my mom died, and my chest suddenly feels heavy.

“Not yet, but she’s the first person since you who I would consider telling.”

Meg’s eyes go wide, and to my horror, fill with tears. She blinks them away quickly.

“Okay.” She nods. “Don’t make me regret telling you this…”

***

~Samantha~

I’m dying. God is finally punishing me for being such a bitch, and is killing me slowly.

I deserve it.

My stomach heaves again, and I’m not sure if it’s because I have the flu, or if I can’t stop thinking about the horrible things I said to Leo the other night. The horrible things we said to each other.

It’s clearly best that we don’t see each other again. Any relationship between us would be toxic.

I’m an idiot.

No it wouldn’t because he’s not really an asshole and I’m not really a bitch, we’re just two people who have baggage and don’t trust anyone.

More heaving.

Jesus, what is coming up? I haven’t eaten anything since dinner at Luke’s house on Saturday. There’s nothing left in me except my internal organs.

Although, I’m pretty sure I just threw up a kidney.

I wash my face and rinse out my mouth for the fortieth time today and look for a clean sleep shirt. I sleep in concert t-shirts. They’re soft and big and comfort me. And today I need a Nash shirt.

I may never see him again, but I want him wrapped around me.

I pull a large, grey t-shirt out of my drawer and slip it over my head. The band’s photo is on the front, Leo in the center. It’s been washed a millions times since I bought it during their first major tour, and it’s my favorite.

I slip into another pair of clean panties and move toward the bed when someone starts pounding on the door.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I pad through the apartment to the front door and open the door without looking through the peephole and almost pass out at the sight of Leo.

Leo.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as my stomach rolls again.

“You’re sick,” he murmurs and smiles hesitantly, like he doesn’t know how I’ll react, and then his eyes lower to my t-shirt and his smile widens.

It’s so fucking good to see him, but before I can say a word, my stomach heaves again. I throw my hand over my mouth and run for the bathroom.

There goes the other kidney.

I hear shuffling around in the kitchen and then in my hallway and briefly wonder what in the world he’s doing, but I throw up some more.

Finally, it stops, and I feel Leo move behind me and scoop my hair back and secure it into an elastic. He lays a cold cloth on my neck and rubs his big hand up and down my back.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly.

“It’s stopping,” I whisper. “I need the bed.”

“Come on, I’ll help.” He takes my hand to help me to my feet, stands guard while I rinse my mouth again, and then scoops me into his arms and heads for my bed.

“You shouldn’t be here, Leo. I’m a mess and I can’t talk to you when I’m like this.”

I rest my head on the soft cotton t-shirt on his shoulder and enjoy his warm, strong arms around me. He kisses my forehead and frowns down at me.