A/N--Happy Update Day!! I'm just letting you all know that this story is slowly starting to come to its' end...I'm pretty sure there are only 3 or so chapters left.  So just be warned!

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The sun is shining bright and loud when I wake up the next morning, Jesse’s arm warm and heavy over my hips.  We didn’t last very long on the going out last night, as the drink I had at dinner did nothing but enhance my sleepiness, and Jesse could barely even find the energy to look around the record store which I know he’d be all over if he weren’t tired and horny.

So by eight o’clock we were in bed, and after one round of lazy yet immensely satisfying sex, we were tucked away for sleep.

Careful not to move the sleeping body next to me, I extend my arm towards the end table and pick up my phone to check the time, internally groaning when I see that it’s already ten o’clock.  I had so many plans for today, plans that we could only do today because it’s the only true daytime in the city we have together, and we’re already a couple of hours behind when I wanted to start.

“Jess,” I murmur, knowing it’s probably mean of me to wake him up while he’s on vacation, but not really caring because he’ll have all of winter break to sleep in late.  I turn on my side and rub circles into the exposed skin of his lower back, realizing this is the third day in a row I’ve gotten the pleasure of waking him up.

His wake up is pretty swift, which it should be considering we got a ridiculous amount of sleep last night, and when I see that now familiar gleam in his eye, I’m quick to roll out of bed and tell him that we’re leaving this room in half-an-hour.  After I promise to make it up to him another time, he rolls out of bed and we quickly make to get ready for the day, moving around the room in this comfortable routine that makes me yearn for the day this is an every morning thing.

It’s a bit scary for me to picture a future with this guy, someone who I started a relationship out with by drunkenly sleeping together and running away, but it’s just so easy to do.  I can see us years from now waking up together, him coercing me into a quickie before we both get dressed for work, us sitting down at a cute little breakfast table and sipping coffee together, him kissing me goodbye before we get into our separate cars.

It’s so easy to picture, so vibrant in my mind, and when I’m done with my hair and makeup I don’t even realize it’s been twenty minutes.  I look my reflection in the mirror, my green eyes brighter and not quite as sad as they’ve been, my winter-pale skin taking on a barely noticeable glow, my lips pink and slightly bruised.  I feel like I’m looking at a completely different person; a happy person, a loved person.

Before I can let myself sink any deeper into picturing a happy future that may not even happen, that probably won’t happen, I shake my head to stir myself back to reality and then slip on some black tights, a floral skirt, a crop top I stole from Carly’s side of the closet, and then a black jacket to fight the chill.

Jesse’s munching on a granola bar he probably had to get from the vending machine down the hall, and when I raise a brow at him he says, “I got you one too.  It’s the only flavor they had.”

“Thanks,” I say graciously.  I then tell him, “We have to be out of the room at noon, but I talked to the people at the front desk and they said we can put our stuff in the valet’s room so we don’t have to carry it throughout the day.”

“Alright,” he nods, taking the final bite of his breakfast, tossing the wrapper into the trashcan, and then rising to his feet so he can quickly shove all his belongings in his bag.

We’re out of the room in just fifteen minutes, and I feel a bit of sadness when we shut the door for the final time.  It’s probably just the sentimental romantic in me, but still.  It’s the room where I was first truly intimate with someone, the room I felt that final click in my heart telling me I was in love.

I kind of don’t want to part with it.

But I do, knowing Jesse will tease me if I mull over it too long.

The first place we head to is that record store, as Jesse’s finally in the mindset to enjoy it, and after far too long of a time I’m dragging him out of the store so that we can go other places before we’re due at the airport.

I force him to walk down Rodeo Drive with me even though I know I can’t afford a scrap of material from any of the stores, but just so that I have the experience.  We also make our way down the Walk of Fame, taking snapshots on our phone of the stars belonging to our favorite celebrities.

By the time that’s over we’re both starving, but me not wanting to waste any valuable time, decide it’s best for us to just buy slices of pizza from a truck on the side of the road.  It’s probably my greatest idea of the trip, because I wolf down my slice like it’s the last one on earth, and Jesse whines when he takes the last bite.

We don’t have time for the double-decker star tour bus, unfortunately, but we are lucky enough to make it just in time to grab the last two tickets for an incredible tour through Paramount Studios.   It takes quite a bit longer than expected, long enough to where we only have enough time to head back to the hotel to grab our things before our flight out.

We’re both exhausted by the time we board our flight that night at six on the dot, my feet sore and my legs weak.  As soon as we’re seated I curl into my seat, into my boyfriend, and after keeping him calm and distracted through another takeoff, I fall right to sleep.

I wake up to a heavy weight on top my head, and when I cast my eyes to the side I see that Jesse’s finally fallen asleep.  Not moving because I really don’t want to wake up for the fourth time in three days, I carefully extract my phone from my purse and go to my pictures.

Even though Jesse pouted like an adolescent every time I mentioned the word “picture”, I still managed to get some really good ones.  I made sure we documented every well-known landmark we saw, and I made even surer that I got some really good pictures of Jesse and I together.

My favorite is of us standing together in front of The Laugh Factory, his arm threaded around my shoulders and mine around his waist.  He’s about a head taller than me, something I don’t think I’ve ever noticed before, and he’s flashing the camera that adorably white and boyish smile I love so much.

I quickly set it as the background of phone, and then after going through the rest of the snapshots, I shoot a quick text to my mom telling her that I’ll be landing soon and that I should be home by two in the morning or so.  I know she’s already asleep, but the last time I talked to her she was completely adamant of me keeping her up to date on every move I made.

She has no idea that Jesse accompanied me on this trip, hell I haven’t even told her that Jesse exists, and I’d feel more guilty if I didn’t know how big of a deal she’d make of it.  She’d demand to meet him, that much is for sure, and she’d put him through the most intensive interview possible.

While I’m definitely feeling much stronger in Jesse and I’s relationship, I still have my whole backstory hanging over my head before I can even think of introducing him to my parents.  And now that we’ve slept together, now that I’ve given him that final piece of me, the thought of him running him off is more terrifying than ever.

He wakes up the minute the plane begins its descent towards the pavement, and I don’t miss as his eyes flash nervously over to the window the second they open.  But luckily the landing is as smooth as possible, and we’re off the plane and heading towards baggage claim not too long after.

I think we’re both attempting to hold up the other as we wait for our bags, me anchored against his side and his chin resting atop my head as numerous yawns escape his mouth.  It takes longer than I expected for our bags to come around, especially because the airport is so much less crowded in the middle of the night than the day, and once we’re driving off in my car, it’s already well past midnight.

On the drive towards Jesse’s parents’, he threads his fingers through my spare hand and asks me softly, “You staying with us tonight?  I’m sure my parents would be fine with you crashing on the couch.”

Even though the thought of spending one last night under the same roof with him before we don’t see each other for weeks is comforting and wanted, I reluctantly answer, “I can’t.  My parents are expecting me home.”

He asks through a yawn, “They’re still awake?”

“No,” I respond, “But if I’m sleeping somewhere other than their house they’ll know something’s up.  I only paid for two extra nights in the dorms, and they know Carly and her family went to Aspen for their vacation.”

We’re pulling into his neighborhood when he says, “I’m going to miss you.”

I give him a quick glance sideways, a tender longing tugging at my heart when I see the seriousness in his eye.  I give him a sad smile and respond, “I’m going to miss you too.”

I pull into his darkened driveway just a few moments later, the snapping sound of his seatbelt coming on done putting a sense of unhappiness in my gut.  I expected to enjoy our time together, but I also expected to want some time alone after spending a consecutive three days with him.  Never did I imagine this desperate want to stay with him, to feel this dread in my stomach of not seeing him for three weeks.

Knowing I won’t be able to leave without having him hold me again, I undo my belt as well and quickly thread my arms around his neck, burying my head against him and feeling the warmth of him permeate my skin.  He holds me just as tightly, despite the awkwardness of the console between us, his arms tight around my back.

I whisper to him, “Thank you for coming with me.”

His grip around me tightens, his fingers bunching up the fabric of my tank top.  He says, “Thank you for bringing me.  I loved it.”

I pull away from him just enough so that I can look him in the eye, so that I can check that he’s not lying to me.  When I see nothing but the utmost sincerity looking back at me, that intimate spark in his eye, I feel a smile stretch my lips.  I ask him, “I didn’t annoy you too much with my constant planning?”

“Nahh,” he drawls, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear.  “I do wish we had a few more nights together though.”

“I do too,” I tell him honestly, craving not just the skin on skin intimacy, but the feel of his body curled against mine, his breath hitting my neck.  Waking up with him is something I feel I’ll never be truly satisfied with until I can do it every morning.

He brings his hand to cup the back of my neck, his fingers caressing the light hairs there, and asks me, “You’re okay, right?  With what we did?”

I nod the second the question is out of his mouth, not wanting him to think he took advantage or to think anything less than me absolutely loving it.  I tell him, “It was perfect, Jess.”

He gives me that tenderly seductive smile of his and then merges our mouths together, that hand on my neck tilting it just enough so that he has ample access to me.  His lips are soft and lingering, long and deliberate, making my lower stomach throb with the need to have him again.

I can tell he’s feeling the same because he groans as he backs away from me, his eyes half-shut and tormented, and his lips glistening with my kiss as they curve downward.  His hands fall from their contact with me, all that warmth suddenly chilled.  He says, “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper, my whole body longing to just curl up in his lap and never leave.  I then watch him as he climbs out of the car, shutting the passenger door and then opening the back one to grab his things.

It closes with a loud thud, and when I see him heading around to my window, I quickly roll it down and then meet lips with him as his head ducks into the space.  My fingers earnestly seek out that familiar scruff of his jawline, my thumb rubbing over the coarse hairs just to feel that little prickle.

When he pulls away and those dark and beautiful eyes of his meet mine, that overwhelming look of affection and rawness in them, I can’t help what I do next.

I murmur the words have been feeling, but have never said.  The words that I know will be the gunshot for him to run away.

I tell him the truth.

“I love you.”

----------

“How was your trip?” my mom asks me the next morning when I finally trudge down the lengthy stairs and plop down on one of the barstools.  I’m sure I’m a sight for sore eyes, my unwashed hair poking at all angles, my eyes swollen with heavy sleep, my furry white blanket wrapped around my winter-chilled body.

I probably look as pathetic as I feel.

She’s standing there, on the other side of the bar, whisking a bowl that looks and smells like it’ll be a batch full of snicker doodles later.  It’s just her and me for the next few weeks, Sean and Maria not able to come down again so soon after Thanksgiving, and my dad being busy with work on everyday without a special mention on a calendar.

But right now I’m not even able to dread these next few weeks alone with her, not with my sleep-hangover mess of a brain, and not with my emotional goodbye with Jesse early this morning on constant replay.

So instead I just answer her and say, “It was fun.  Busy.”

She raises an eyebrow, “You get some sightseeing done?  The show was Tuesday during the day, right?”

I nod, “Yes ma’am,” knowing better than to include my partner for all my extracurricular activities.  “And I walked around a little bit.  My hotel was on Sunset, so I was able to see a lot without having to walk too far.”

“And how did the show go?” she asks curiously, thankfully steering clear of any detail-wanting questions.

“It went great,” I tell her honestly.  “Angela Davis gave me a compliment, and apparently she doesn’t hand those out too freely.  And one of the models was super nice to me.  She said she’d have to check out my videos and show her friends.”

“Wow,” my mom grins proudly, startling me a little bit.  I haven’t seen any ounce of pride coming my way from her for years.  She asks, “You think they’ll ask you too again?”

“I hope so,” I tell her, “But I’m sure it’s not very likely.  Most of the makeup team is from the area, and they don’t have to pay for them a flight and room.”

She nods understandingly, and then adds, “But they don’t have quite the following like you do.  I’m sure once you post something about how great the show was, and they see the influx in sells, they’ll want you all the time.”

I smile at her faith in me even though I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to make the difference she’s thinking.  While I do have enough followers to make a quite impressive army, most of them probably won’t be able to afford Ginger Hamilton’s new line, or hell, even the amount of Spark products it’d take for their sales department to notice.

They’ve given me coupons before sure, but I doubt they’d want to spring for multiple trips like the one I just took.  It was a definite one or two time thing, and I’m not going to set my sights high enough to anticipate any more than that.  I’m just going to appreciate the adventure.

She tells me, “I’m going to go and get a bunch of shopping done today.  I already have most of your gifts, so you can come if you’d like.  Or are you too tired?”

I know that if I don’t go I’ll spend the entirety of the day holed up in this large and empty house thinking of that God-awful reaction I got from Jesse last night, so I tell her with a guilty smile, “I’m sure it’s nothing Starbucks can’t cure.”

______

My mom and I are munching on a delicious flatbread appetizer at Applebee’s later that afternoon when my mom brings up my love life.  We’ve had a surprisingly enjoyable day, that huge coffee my mom bought me this morning clearing up any trace of exhaustion.  We’ve already conquered Toys R Us for my younger cousins, and we even managed to grab the last power drill that my dad’s had his eye on at Home Depot.

And now, before we head towards our last destination of the day, we’re getting delicious reinforcements.

Well, that is until my mom decides to bring up a subject she hasn’t touched since I was dating Ted.

“So…is there a man in your life?” she asks casually, normally, like it’s something that isn’t a complete taboo in our family.

I painfully gulp back a piece of bread that lodges in my throat at her question, and then ask her brokenly, “What…why would you think that?”

She looks at me a bit harder than normal at my staggered reply, and then says, “Because you’re twenty-one years old and beautiful.  Why else would I think to ask you that?”

Silently thanking God that it wasn’t because she saw some mark Jesse left I wasn’t aware of, or because she’d already heard something, I quietly point out, “I thought you didn’t…didn’t want me dating.”

She takes a sip of the sweet cocktail we both prized our hard work with, and then says a bit uncomfortably, “Mackie…I know better than to think you’ll be alone your whole life.”

“I know,” I say, hating how I used to think that just months ago.  Hell, after Jesse’s reaction last night, I still kind of think that.  But I continue, “I just, I thought you’d kind of freak out if were dating someone.  I know dad would.”

She says, “Your dad’s a different story.  He’s always been protective of you, even if he doesn’t show it, and after he had to sit through your trial and…you know…he just, I think the idea of you being with someone again scares him.  But that’s just because he doesn’t want you hurt.”

“I know,” I mutter, trying my hardest not to think of how brokenly traumatized my dad used to look every day of the trial.  When I’d be sitting next to him while Cameron or Ted or any of the other guys were at the stand, I’d see him flinch or I’d hear this horrible guttural cry in the back of his throat every time something particularly painful was brought up.

It killed me, seeing him like that.  Knowing I was part of the reason.

She continues, “And I know I don’t express myself in the best way over the phone, namely because my only daughter would never come see me,” I grimace guiltily before she says, “But I know that you’re at a point in your life where love and intimacy thrive.  And I want that for you, especially because of your past.”

To say I’m shocked would be a complete understatement.  I’m sure I look like a fish out of water, my eyes wide, my mouth gaping open with words not sure how to be spoken.

My mom’s been many things in my life, a cheerleader, a chauffer, a chaperone, a shoulder to cry on.  But I never remember her being this understanding, this open and giving.  She’s always been the type of mom to show her love through pride, through shopping trips, through striding into the principal’s office and demanding a teacher look back over a test I thought I did better on.  She’s always been the mother to do, not to feel, or to speak.

I’ve never faulted her for that, as a lot of my friend’s moms growing up would rather send them off with other parents than be involved in their life.  But not my mom.  No, she’d always be the one asking if my friends and I needed a ride to a game, or if I had a dress for the dance.

She was perfect for a selfish