I squint my eyes, wincing at the sunlight pouring in through the window. I dive back into the sheets, using them as a shield. But then I realise... something is off. It doesn't smell like my bed. It smells like... Tyler.

I look back up, giving my eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness. This isn't my room. It's Tyler's.

But Tyler isn't here.

His phone is. It's laying on the nightstand beside me, playing The Shins. Tyler's bottle of Jim Beam is sitting there, as well, along with a filthy ashtray and a dirty bong.

I replay last nights events over in my mind. Him carrying me into the kitchen, making me a milkshake, trying to be romantic. He wanted me to stay with him, but I'm not sure what that means just yet.

Did he just want company, or did he actually want to be with me specifically? I don't understand him at all. But right now, I'm happy.

I sit up in bed, trying to wake myself up. Tyler doesn't have a clock in his room, so I grab his phone. It's 11 AM, two hours past my preferred wake-up time. His phone is flooded with text and missed calls, but I don't recognise any of the names. Some of them aren't even named, they're just numbers.

I move to put it back on the nightstand, but before I can, the door opens. Tyler's walks into the room, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. His hair is wet, and there are little droplets of water running over his chest. For once, he doesn't smell like cigarettes. He smells like wood and coconuts.

"You're up," he says.

"Yeah, I just woke up."

"Did you... uhm, sleep well?"

"Yeah," I nod. Surprisingly well. In fact, I don't think I've slept that well in a long time.

He walks over to his chest of drawers. He pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a tee, but he doesn't put them on. He tosses them on the bed, keeping his eyes glued to me.

I wish he would put them on. Seeing him like this, smelling as fresh as he does.... My stomach tingles.

"Do you remember what happened last night?" I ask him.

"I do."

"You were pretty... out of it."

"Weed calms me down, Sarah. It doesn't make me forget."

"Right," I purse my lips. "I just assumed... well, because of alcohol, you know?"

"Alcohol and weed are nothing alike," he tells me.

"I know that," I scoff.

"You do?"

"I've seen it with you."

"You have?"

"When you're stoned, you're playful," I say. "But when you're drunk, you're angry."

He chuckles, glancing between me and the bottle on the nightstand. He absentmindedly scratches his balls, making me smile slightly, a blush rising to my cheeks.

"You've been watching me, have you?" he smirks.

"A little," I admit. "It's hard not to."

"Well, I've been watching you too."

"You have?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he scoffs. "I made you a strawberry milkshake, for fuck's sake!"

"But everyone knows I like them."

"You never told me."

"I never had the chance to."

"And who's fault is that? Mine."

He's smiling, but there's a sombre tone to his words. I shake my head, stepping out of his bed.

"Don't say that," I say. "It was just... circumstances."

"Circumstances?" he scoffs. "That's bullshit."

"Tyler, stop."

I take a step towards him. I know exactly where this is going, and I don't want to hear it. We've talked about this before. I just wish he could hear it. It's not his fault, and he needs to believe it.

"Forget it," he shakes his head. "I have to get to work."

Work. I need to ask him what he does for work. In fact, there's a lot I need to ask him.

"Tyler?" I ask.

"Hmm?" he mumbles.

"Did you mean what you said last night?"

"When?"

"In the kitchen... about liking me."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does," I nod. "It matters a lot."

"Why? It was stupid. I don't know what I was thinking."

"What I said at the gym, about you being too late, and not wanting to talk to you..." I hesitate. "It was a lie. I was trying to protect myself, but I didn't mean it."

"You didn't?"

"I just-," I shake my head. "I was hurt, and I just wanted it to stop."

"I know, I know. I never should've avoided you," he runs his hand through his hair, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Then why did you?" I ask.

"I felt guilty."

"For what?"

"For kissing you like that. I never should've done that."

"What do you mean? You regret it?"

"No, no. That's not it," he scowls. "I just... didn't want you to."

"I didn't regret it."

"You should've. You shouldn't be with someone like me, Sarah."

"No. Stop," I insist. "That isn't for you to decide."

"I'm just trying to protect you."

"We've talked about this. You can't protect me by hurting me," I say. "It doesn't work like that. It's completely contradictory."

His gaze falls. He knows we've discussed this before. He knows I'm right.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I don't know how to deal with all this shit," he admits.

"You need to learn you can't decide what's best for me," I tell him. "You need to talk about these things. If it involves me, talk to me."

"I know, I know, I'm fucking selfish, Sarah."

"No, that's not it," I shake my head. "You just need to understand that you're not alone."

Tyler is full of insecurities. I may not know a lot about him, but I know that for sure. It's clear in the way he speaks, in how he deals with situations.

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

"I just wish you'd realise that I care about you."

"Are you sure about that? After everything I did..."

"If I didn't, I wouldn't be here. I would've left you in the kitchen, with that gross milkshake you made."

He chuckles, his mood improving. I smile straight away, glad the words are finally settling in with him.

"It was pretty gross, wasn't it?" he laughs.

"A little," I nod. "Was that your first time making a milkshake?"

"It was. I guess I'll need to practice, huh?"

"Maybe " I grin. My heart almost thumps out of my chest. "The kitchen was so dirty."

"I cleaned it this morning," he tells me. "I threw the milkshake out, but I bought you something to make up for it."

"You did? What is it?"

"Just a bottle of strawberry milk, but it's the only thing I could think of."

"That's so sweet," I blush. "Who would've thought the big bad Tyler was actually very romantic?"

"I'm just trying to make it up to you."

"You're succeeding."

"I am?" he smirks. He takes a few steps towards me, until we're just a few feet apart.

"Very much so," I smile. But it wavers when he grabs hold of my waist. I let out a loud squeal, feeling my body lift into the air. I grab onto his shoulders instantly, trying to stabilise myself. He sets me down on his bed, so I'm standing slightly taller than him.

"You're so cute," he gushes, pulling me closer to him.

"You smell nice," I say, embracing him around his neck. "So much better than the scent of weed."

"You don't like the smell of weed?"

"No, I like the smell of Tyler."

"And what do I smell like?"

"Like... coconuts, smoke, and a little bit of wood."

"Wood?"

"Uh-huh," I nod.

"Well, I'm glad you like it," he smiles. "It just so happens that I like the smell of Sarah, too."

"You do?" I chuckle.

"Yep. You smell like strawberries and peppermint. But right now, you're a bit sweaty."

"Shut up!" I laugh. "I just woke up!"

"I don't mind it. Actually, I like it. It's kind of... hot."

"Stop!"

If I blush anymore, my face is going to explode.

He brings his arm up to my jaw, running his thumb over my cheek. His eyes are flickering between mine.

Oh, no. Oh, no. No, no, no.

He's practically naked. There's no way I can do this.

"Stop," I breathe, pulling away from him. "Don't kiss me."

"Why not?" he scowls.

"Not right now. I want to talk first," I make up an excuse. It's partially true, but in reality, I just don't want to be that close to him when he's looking this good.

"Right," his eyes fall to the floor. "Talk."

He takes a step away from me, but still helps me back down to the ground. He looks sad, but I'm not going to change my mind.

"I have to head to work, but I'll see you when I'm back?" he asks.

"Sounds good," I nod. "I'll see you then."

I give him a reassuring smile. He returns it, but barely meets my eyes. I walk out of the room, leaving our small fantasy behind.