T W E L E V E
do you like me, like me, or just like me?

My movements aren't gentle, I grab the wet paper towel doused in rubbing alcohol and just rub it against the cut across JJ's lip, and the other places he's smeared blood. His flinches back from my harsh movements.

"You're meant to warn me that it's going to hurt," he hisses and pinches his eyes shut. He braces his hands either side of my waist, fingers slightly pressed into my skin.

I shake my head, despite knowing he can't see. "Well, then you'd be nervous, the blindsided approach is much better," I decide.

My thumb presses against his cheek, while my fingers hold themselves against his neck, holding his face still so I can clean it off from the dirt. "And would it kill you to be a little more gentle?" He asks I press particularly hard.

"Do you want to die of an infection, JJ? Have you not been paying attention to Grey's Anatomy?" I scoff.

He opens his eyes and looks displeased with my service, "I should've got someone else to help me."

I throw the paper towel in the bin and stand back looking at my work, then wash my hands in the sink. JJ's hands linger, the initial sturdy grip loosening somewhat, but it's still there. I ignore him, not entirely sure what else I'm supposed to do. His thumbs begin brushing over my skin, tucking themselves just under the hem of my tank top. His touch burns my skin, I make eye contact with him, a kind of glare, kind of confused look washes over my face. When I say kind of confused, I mean pretty much all glare and perhaps a hint of confusion.

He looks back at me with an expression much softer than my own.

"You stress too much, you're going to go grey," he tells me.

"Well, your hairline is receding," I harden my glare. My retort doesn't really make much sense, it doesn't address what he said at all.

"Is it?" He asks with a smirk, "Because I really don't think so."

"Denial. It's a powerful thing, I was in denial about a lot, and look where it got me," I reply.

"In a bathroom with me. Honestly, if denial gets me in an enclosed space with you I can find something to be in denial about," he doesn't miss a beat.

"I don't like the trajectory of this conversation," I narrow my eyes.

His hands tuck themselves a little higher, "What's wrong with it? Because I'm pretty content."

"I'm thirsty," I grab his wrists and pull them from my skin, the intense heat is exchanged for a cold sensation.

I walk out of the bathroom, and through to the cluttered kitchen of the Château, now painfully aware that we are the only ones inhabiting it. Everyone else is somewhere else and I wish they were here.

JJ follows me like a puppy as I grab a clean cup and fill it up. The tap is awful and a stream of water hits me square in the chest. I turn it off, not moving for a second because I'm worried if I do I will scream, and that seems unnecessary. Thankfully at least half my cup is full, so I chug that. Then I turn around, JJ stands a few feet behind me. He looks at my wet shirt, I glance down.

"Oh, that's so great," I grumble as I see the pale-coloured tank top is now completely sheer, and you can see my black bra. "Don't act like you haven't ever seen boobs before, you're not in junior school." I roll my eyes.

"I can't help it!" He manages to stop staring.

"How can't you help it!" I give him the exact energy he gives me. "You've got perfectly working eyes, that can move away from staring."

"You've got great tits, sue me if I look at them," he gestures to my boobs.

The damp, thin material sticks to my skin, making me thoroughly uncomfortable. "Can I borrow a shirt?" I ask.

"You can always not we—"

"Think carefully," I remind him.

"Yeah, I actually just cleaned a bunch. Well, two, but good enough," he rambles and walks into the storage room with a bed he claimed as his. He grabs one and hands it to me.

"Are you going to leave?" I ask him, looking from him to the door.

"Do I have to?" He tests.

"You're desperate," I tell him blankly.

"Just for you, Mabel." He grins.

I grab the bottom of my tank top and pull it off and throw it on the ground. He hesitates, he looks from my boobs to my face. "Is this an invi—"

"The clock is ticking and I'm hungry— for actual food," I cut off the opportunity to give him an innuendo.

He takes a step closer to me and grabs either side of my face in his large hands, leaning down slightly to kiss me. Immediately I regret the kiss, his mouth tastes overwhelmingly like rubbing alcohol, and I barely tolerate alcohol when it benefits me, and I refuse to right now.

I pull away, "No kissing."

"What? Why not?" He asks, eyebrows pulling together, looking thoroughly disappointed.

"Because all I can taste is rubbing alcohol and it's making me want to vomit," I tell him honestly.

He drops his hands and grabs my wrist, leading me through the house until he gets to the kitchen where he finds the can of Diet Coke Kie bought me and chugs the rest. I lean against the counter as I watch him.

"Fixed, now can we continue?" He asks.

I shrug, he grabs my bare waist and puts me on the counter. The two-inch difference between us is eliminated and I now look him in his eye. Not really liking the eye contact I grab the neck of his shirt and pull him forward. Our lips join once more, this time he doesn't taste of rubbing alcohol and I no longer want to vomit.

His hands grab my waist, fingers pressing into the skin.

My lips match his, creating a rhythm that makes my lungs burn. His tongue runs across the seam of my lips, I open my mouth, letting him take another piece of my quickly disappearing sanity.

My hands grab his hair, tangling my fingers in the soft blond locks. Pulling him closer, because this is one of the only times I let myself be controlled by another person.

I try not to think about the changes, the fact this isn't a forbidden, illicit affair, this is now just two people having sex. I don't have any reason to feel guilty, I'm not doing something awful. I'm free to do as I please, and who I please. My mind wanders to what this means, what this changes; because I would be a fool to not acknowledge that this changes something. As I begin to spiral I feel him pick up the string of my shorts, not pulling it, just holding it, giving me a second to change my mind.

My phone buzzes, "Pause," I pull back an inch and whisper the word breathlessly.

I glance down at my phone, the screen illuminated. It's my mother. Apparently, Robbie needs a babysitter and she's knee-deep in cleaning.

"Okay, we've got to be quick, I need to go babysit," I open my phone and text back that I need to finish something off, cringing a little at what the something entails, not wanting any questions.

He pulls the bow of my shorts, it unravels and he grabs the waistband of my shorts and pulls it down, alongside my underwear as I lift myself off the counter. When my skin comes in contact with the cool surface I cringe. This is so unhygienic, I swear if I catch something I'll sue.

Throwing that thought to the back of my mind I grab his shorts and manage to unbutton the button that is hanging on by the grace of God, then yank down the zip and then he takes over and pulls the down just enough.

"Wait wait wait, what if someone comes back? I would not survive someone walking in whilst I have sex on the counter," I get a little taste of reality.

"We better be quick then," he says, leaning down and kissing the dip of my neck, leaving a trail all up my neck to my jaw, I tilt my head up and look at the water-damaged ceiling.

I don't really want to be quick, but I can't really leave a one-year-old by herself, and my Mum rarely asks me for anything.

"Quick," I whisper, looking back down.

JJ grabs my hips and shifts me right to the edge of the counter, he looks so serious, a stark contrast to his usual demeanour. He then quickly glances back up at me, it's a 'you sure?' look. I nod, needing him to get to the point.

One of my hands moves to grab his shoulder, and the other grips the counter, trying to keep myself steady as he finally gets to the point. Looking at his face, his jaw hardens, the muscles flexing, his fingers squeeze the flesh of my thighs, holding them up around his waist.

As he begins to move and pleasure dances up my spine, reaching my head, I finally get a taste of relief as some of my issues are pushed away, making space for bliss. One of his hands slips up to the dip of my waist, his thumb rubbing up and down as he takes the need for efficiency to heart.

Then all movement stops, my eyes open and find his. He looks very concerned. "I'm not wearing a condom," he whispers.

"I'll just get a Plan B tomorrow, please keep moving," I tell him, sounding a little desperate.

"Does that really work?" He asks worriedly.

"Yes, JJ, it works," I huff. I pull the back of his neck down to me, wanting to swallow up any words, needing the conversation to end, the last thing I need on my mind is the idea of a mini JJ infesting my body like a parasite. Not happening.

JJ being a horny teenager gets right back on track, speeding up his movements. A quiet moan catches me off guard, I don't dare utter the words 'don't stop' or 'keep doing that' because the second you do men find the need to completely change everything.

I let go of the counter, grabbing both of JJ's shoulders and pulling myself closer to him, my forehead melts into his shoulder.

"Fuck," he chokes. The hand on my hip moves to the crook of my knee and pulls my leg up further.

The world goes fuzzy, everything outside JJ and I sounds like static fading into the background. The only sounds I hear as his heavy breathing, the cupboard door underneath the counter I am perched on creaking as my heel hits it occasionally and my heart racing in my head.

"JJ," I whisper almost silently.

Looking at his face, I find him looking at me, his eyes trying to decide how I feel. Almost immediately I feel vulnerable, not wanting him to try and dissect what I'm thinking. I tilt my chin up and press my lips against his, my brain is as good a wet match, so completely soaked with pleasure. No guilt weighs heavy on my heart, and the knowledge nothing has ever felt better is at the forefront.

I can feel the familiar knot of pressure in my stomach building, setting fire to all my nerves, making my knees feel weak and my toes flex.

I don't hear it but feel it, a buzzing on the counter, I pull away from JJ who I don't think hears the disturbance, or does and doesn't give a fuck. Not bothering to tell him to stop I glance over at whatever the issue is.

My mother is calling me.

"Shit," I mutter.

"Ignore it," His fingers dig into my skin, and I can feel that he's getting close— just like me.

"I can't!" I grab my phone, trying to control my breathing so I don't sound like I'm in the middle of being fucked in a kitchen and planning how to get Plan B without anyone seeing me. "You gotta be quiet," I tell him seriously.

"I just wanted to call and tell you Hayley's mother is going to babysit, so don't worry about it," I can practically hear the smile on my mother's face.

"Oh, great!" I laugh tensely. JJ is glaring.

"Are you okay? You're out of breath," she notices the obvious.

"I borrowed Kie's bike, I was cycling over, but I'll just crash at hers if that's okay?" I ask.

"Okay, have a good night, sweetheart. Stay safe," she ends the call after I say a quick goodbye. I make sure the phone is well and truly hung up, I can still feel the pressure screaming in my stomach, possibly more annoyed than JJ. "You can start again," I tell him.

He grabs the back of my other knee, adjusting my position before he continues moving. He quickly is back where we left off, I swear I don't care if the King of England calls me, I'm not answering.

"Keep going," I utter the ill-fated words without thought, JJ doesn't stop, keeping everything the same.

I lean up and kiss him, grabbing a handful of his damp hair, pulling tight without thought as I get closer to the goal. The kiss doesn't have much thought to it, it's just full of lust and desperation and need. My thighs tighten around the dip of his waist as the feeling of my nerves on fire heightens, my body ready to tumble into euphoria.

This is one of the rare times in life when the world completely stops, where all I care about, where all I think about is how much I need someone. It's a closeness I have with someone that my mind tries to spare me from, but with JJ the emotion had always been removed and tossed out the window. But now, this feels so different. It's not JJ because JJ—and I would never admit this—always manages to make the world stop for a little while, it's JJ because I want it to be JJ. My options opened, and I'm here being fucked on a kitchen counter, next to pizza boxes and a half-finished bottle of vodka. And I, right this second, don't want to be anywhere else. This is exactly where I was meant to be.

My teeth bite down on his lip, not enough to hurt, or to split the scabbed-over skin, but enough that JJ smirks.

After a few more seconds even JJ melts from my mind, and all I feel is me. I can feel every part of my body, from the top of my scalp, down to my pinky toe, all tensing as a mind numbing erupts through me. I swear even the tip of my nose feels it.

Seconds are spent in a place all of my own, and as I come down from my high, I can see JJ, his hands dig into my skin as he too gets to the place we made a few detours to get to.

Then, once all is said and done, the world begins to filter back on. My situation hits me.

My eyebrows knit together, the stress JJ commented on early, that is going to turn me grey, well and truly sets back in. This was certainly a choice, a choice that seems to have managed to set the rule book I made with JJ on fire.

The new territory stresses me out, and anxiety bubbles in my stomach, destroying the last remaining seconds of pleasure I was feeling. I can feel panic knawing at my psyche, egging it on to dissolve into a full-fledged panic attack.

That can't happen.

"What's wrong?" JJ looks at me full of concern.

"I..." my mind loses track of my thoughts, "need to piss, and take a shower."

"Of course, there is actually a clean towel, and I can get you some of my shorts if you want?" He offers. My jaw hardens at his words, he sounds so nice.

I hate it. This wasn't meant to happen.

"Yeah, that'd be good." I nod.

He disappears off somewhere to get a towel, I take a second to collect myself. Then put my clothes back on and go to the bathroom, JJ meets me there in a second and hands me the towel and shorts, and the shirt he already gave me.

"You sure you're okay?" He checks, holding the doorknob, about to walk out and leave me to it.

"I really, really need to pee," I tell him. It's convincing enough he leaves.

I go about my business, cleaning myself up until I feel like a human again. Then I spend another few minutes convincing myself to get out of the shower. Putting on JJ's clothes means I can't get away from his smell, it's one so uniquely him.

I walk out with my clothes, walking to the storage room he's claimed as his I put them in my bag, stuffed with my shirt.

"I'm going for a shower, I won't be long," he tells me. I nod, not uttering a word because they all feel wrong.

This feels like it's nearing domestic, and domesticity is dangerous. That's when feelings are well and indeed developed, that's when skin is fully in the game.

While he's in the shower I find disinfectant and paper towels so I can clean up the mess. I throw them all in the bin, and as I do the door to the steamy bathroom opens and I see JJ, shirtless, damp hair that was obviously aggressively towel dried.

"Want me to take the sofa?" He asks, testing water, shockingly not missing the change in my demeanour.

"No, not if you don't want to," I shake my head, not looking at him, and walk to the storage room turned bedroom. I sit myself down on the bed and shuffle to the far side, letting JJ get down after me. We both stare at the ceiling, my gaze focusing on the patch of black mould. The space between us is almost nonexistent, an inch, maybe less. "Does this feel weird?" I think out loud.

His face tilts to look at me, I focus on the black mould. "What? Us having sex? Because historically that's not all that uncommon."

"No, but kinda. It's just not the same," I'm butchering the point I'm trying to put across.

"Am I doing something wrong, because you have to tell me when it's happening," he insists.

"No, you did nothing wrong. It was good." I am really not helping with my efforts to explain.

"Then what's wrong?" He asks once again.

"I don't have a boyfriend anymore, it's not forbidden anymore, and that's essentially the only reason it started. You hated Rafe and I was tired of shitty sex," I manage to get to the point. I guess I want to know where we sit, with the dynamic has changed, where do we sit?

"That was the reason it started, yes, but to get at him I only needed to sleep with you once. Continuing for over six months wasn't the plan," he explains.

I can feel him examining my face from where he lies. "But the satisfaction of taking something from Rafe didn't leave, did it? You only needed to do it once, but every time was just salt in the wound."

He nods, not really having an argument. There is a period of silence.

"Do you like me?" I blurt without thinking.

This is the only explanation as to why he hasn't stopped and disappeared. And the question was forced into my head by Kie, her thoughts burrowed their way into my head and won't leave without answers.

But the second the word vomit leaves my mouth, I wish I just let the question eat away at my soul. That would be better than each second that passes us by in silence.

A disaster. This is all a disaster—one of completely my own making.

I gather the courage to glance over at JJ who is smirking, I look back at the ceiling. The fan creaks, catching my attention and probably spreading black mould spores around the room. It rocks on the ceiling, I hope it falls from the ceiling and chops me into little pieces so small no one can distinguish my ear from my heel.

"Mabel, are you fucking with me?" He asks like I was joking. I am clearly not joking. He has to see that.

I'm going to kill Kie, brutally, and then myself. This shit is awful.

"No, I'm not joking," my voice hardens. Embarrassment fills me. The fact to get out of this room with air that gets thicker and thicker with each second I need to climb over JJ is very present in my mind. Maybe I should knock him out, then gaslight him into thinking it was a dream.

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss and all that.

Why do I do this to myself? It must be a fundamental problem in my personality.

JJ sits up, looking down at me. Now I feel worse, I have no leverage to wack his head with something heavy. I don't want him to tell me what I've reminded him of dozens of times. It's just sex, we're not friends, and there are no feelings involved.

"For someone with actual brains, you sure act fucking stupid sometimes," he laughs. Every second it gets worse. Death seems to be the only reasonable next step for me. I sit up, tucking my hair behind my ears I move to make the awful move of crawling over him so I can sprint into the water and drown myself. JJ grabs my arm, "You really aren't joking?" He asks.

I grit my