Chapter 9 - Ethan's Pov:

I know it's really not her thing, four-wheeling in a truck and doing outdoorsy stuff, but the fact that it isn't might be good for her. Maybe doing something completely out of the ordinary will help her feel better and make it a little bit easier on her when I bring up my rules of living together, ones that are going to be hard to discuss but that need to be discussed, otherwise this is going to end up being disastrous.

"The desert?" She gapes at me, completely thrown off by where I've driven us. She gestures at the sandy hills out in front of us that are marked with tire tracks. "This is where you brought me? To the middle of the desert? Why do you keep bringing me to dirty places?"

"It's not dirt. It's sand." I unclip my seat belt and turn down the music. "And I don't know why you sound so surprised since I've brought you here before."

She crosses her arms and taps her foot on the floor. "Yeah, but it's weird that you keep doing it."

I silence the engine. "Why?"

Her lips part. "Because it's out in the middle of nowhere and there's nothing to do here but talk."

"There's plenty to do here," I insist. "And being out in the middle of nowhere is the best place to be." The corners of my lips quirk. "Remember, we already talked about this. You, me, the mountains, and the quiet."

Her plump lips tug upward. "Oh yes, you and your mountain-man obsession."

"Don't judge me," I say. "Just because I like a little bit less of a materialistic life doesn't mean there's something wrong with me."

She unfolds her arms and leans over the console, propping herself up on her elbows, and the curves of her breast rise up out of the top of her shirt. "I never said there was something wrong with you. I just don't get why you would bring me out here to distract my mind."

I blink my eyes and tear my gaze from her tits. "Because it's the perfect place."

Her lips curl to a smirk. "Are you enjoying the view?" She presses on her chest a little harder and I know her tits are popping out even more, but I don't look down, even though I know it's going to be a fucking amazing view, one I've almost seen and still want to. There's no use denying it.

I maintain my gaze and gesture out at the desert. "Of course, what's not to love about the view?"

She frowns and then turns forward in her seat, fidgeting a little. "So show me what's so fascinating about the desert."

I climb out of the truck and stroll around the front of it, knowing she's confused as hell. When I open her door, sure enough, she has a perplexed expression.

"What are you doing?" she asks, staring me down with her arms crossed.

I wave my hands at her, motioning her to scoot over. "Showing you a good time," I say. She rolls her tongue in her mouth and scans me over, looking like she wants to rip off my clothes, and I realize I'm giving her the wrong idea. "Scoot over into the driver's seat, Lila," I clarify cautiously, reminding myself that now is not the time to try anything with her. She's too vulnerable at the moment and I already decided I wasn't going to go down that road.

Her cheeks redden with embarrassment as she swings her leg over the console and sits down behind the wheel. As she's pulling her other leg over, I notice that she has a scar looping around the bottom of her ankle.

"How'd you get that scar?" I ask, hopping in and shutting the door. "I've never noticed it before."

She places her hands on the top of the steering wheel, sighing. "It's just from something really stupid I did a long time ago." She lowers the steering wheel and scoots the seat forward, even though I haven't told her she's driving anywhere yet.

"Are you going somewhere?" I joke, strapping my seat belt on.

She frowns, blowing out a breath and wisps of her blonde hair flutter around in front of her face. "Isn't that why you asked me to scoot over?"

I nod, deciding to let the teasing go. "Yeah, put your seat belt on, though."

Sighing again, she reaches around and grabs the seat belt. "I don't see why you're having me drive," she states, clicking the seat belt.

"Because it's therapeutic."

She glances at me from the corner of her eye. "Like your drums?"

"Were they not therapeutic?" I question. "Because it seemed to me like you relaxed."

She looks me over from head to toe and for some dumb reason I find myself squirming like a fucking moron. "Ethan, why are you doing this?"

My eyebrows knit. "What? Letting you drive my truck?"

She shakes her head. "No, helping me. I know... we've talked and hung out enough that I know it's going to drive you crazy having me live with you. I know you like your alone time."

"Yeah... I do, but I'm guess I'm making an exception for you."

"But why? I mean, all I've done for the last few days is be a bitch to you and I know you lived with Micha and everything, but living with a girl is way different."

"Are you insulting your gender?" I tease.

She shrugs, picking at her fingernails. "Not insulting. I'm just stating the obvious. We do things, you know. Like want to talk and watch sappy movies and leave our bras and panties hanging in the bathroom because we can't machine dry them."

I fidget uncomfortably, trying to figure out what to say. "Well, you and I talk a lot anyway and I don't mind sappy movies every once in a while, as long they're poetic, and the bra and panties..." I dither with a waver of my head. "I mean, why the hell would that bother me?"

Her cheeks flush a little and I wonder what she's thinking about. "But you never said why you're doing it?"

"Because... I like you, Lila. You're a good friend and you need help." Friend. I need to remember that.

She mulls over what I said, which was nothing but the truth. "Poetic, sappy movies, huh? Do those even exist?"

"I guess you'll have to figure that out." I grin. "Otherwise, I guess no movies."

She sucks her lip between her teeth, her blue eyes brighter than I've seen them in the last few days, which makes my heart speed up a little. "I might just have to live without them, then." She faces forward in the seat and the fading sunlight glows against her face, her skin soft, her lips full, and she doesn't have any makeup on, which is rare for her. And honestly, I prefer her without it because right now she looks fucking gorgeous in the realest way possible. "So what am I supposed to be doing here exactly?" She motions at the sandy land in front of us.

The sound of her voice tears me from my thoughts of her and I focus on the windshield. "You're going to drive."

"Drive?" She seems hesitant. "Like back to the apartment?"

"Eventually." I extend my arm over the console and push the four-wheel-drive button. The truck grinds and then locks in. As I lean away, my arm grazes her chest and it takes a lot of energy not to lean over and touch her more. "But first I want you to drive around here."

She blinks at me, stunned. "Are you joking?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" I stare at her with a serious expression.

She shakes her head with reluctance, looking horrified. "No, and I'm wondering if you lost your mind or something. Maybe when you hit that hard bump in the road on the way up here and you hit your head on the window, which is going to be a mild injury compared to what could happen if you let me drive."

"Don't worry about crashing it," I reassure her and relax back in the seat. "You'll be fine."

Her jaw drops as she grips the wheel. "Are you being serious right now? You have driven with me before."

"I remember." I laugh under my breath, thinking about how terrified I was as she recklessly weaved in and out of traffic. "I seriously thought I was going to fucking die."

She lightly punches me on the arm and I wince, but laugh. "Oh, now the asshole is going to make a grand appearance."

Stifling my laughter, I rub the spot where she hit me. "I'm just stating the obvious." I reach over and turn the keys, then lean back in the seat. "Now come on and drive. As long as you stay on the straightaway and keep the acceleration up, we'll be fine."

"And what if I don't go fast enough?"

"Then we'll get stuck."

She looks worried, and even though I'm not letting on, so am I. There are so many things that could go wrong right now, but it's fun and adrenaline pumping and that's what she needs. Good, reckless fun, without the pills, because right now, she'll be able to feel the exhilaration of it and I'm not sure how long it's been since she's felt anything at all besides need.

Her shoulders rise and fall as she attempts to release the stress, and then finally she shoves the shifter into drive and presses on the gas. I try to stay calm, but when the truck lurches forward, I tense and grip the handle above my head.

"Easy," I say, grinding my teeth. "Just go slow."

She huffs in frustration and then lets off the gas a little. The truck gradually inches forward, the engine lagging a little. She starts to smile as she maneuvers the truck up the sandy slope, but then her face plummets as the tires protest against the lack of traction and the truck rolls back.

"Push on the gas harder," I instruct, waving at her to go forward.

"But you just said not to give it a lot of gas," she says, placing her hand on the shifter.

"Except when we're going uphill."

She frowns and then floors the gas way too much and we lurch forward. I slam my head on the headrest and hear something on her side hit something hard. When I glance up, she has the heel of her hand pressed to her forehead.

"Is your head okay?" I ask as I rub my own.

She nods. "Yeah, I think so."

I cringe as the engine cuts in and out. "Lila, go, before we get stuck."

She throws her hands up exasperatedly. "I don't know why you're having me do this."

"For fun," I explain. "You need to have some fun in your life."

I must have said the magic words or something because she places her hands on top of the steering wheel and hits the gas way too hard again, the truck jerking forward. This time I'm ready and I grip the door handle, keeping myself in place. She whines in discouragement, but continues driving. The longer she does it, the more relaxed she gets and so do I, even when she hits the ramping hills and some of the bumps in the road. As she drives over a particularly large bump and the truck rumbles, bounces, and shakes, she starts to laugh.

When the truck gets on flat land again, she laughs harder and the truck starts to slow down. Ultimately, she stops it completely near the edge of the rocky road and rests her head on the steering wheel. Her shoulders shake as she sputters laugh after laugh. I remain quiet for as long as I possibly can, until I can't take it anymore.

"Care to share what's so funny?" I ask, flipping the visor down.

She shakes her head from side to side without looking up at me. "It's nothing."

"Come on, share. It's driving me crazy."

"Well, if I tell you, then you're going to think I'm crazy."

"If you don't, I'm going to think that anyway," I joke, but I'm being sort of serious.

She sighs, disheartened, and raises her head up. Tears stain her blue eyes and I have a hard time telling if they're from the laughter or if she was crying while her head was down. She dabs the corners of her eyes with her fingertips and blinks the tears back.

"It's just that... this is the most fun that I've had in a long time." She shakes her head like she's disappointed with herself. "Which is just silly."

"It's not silly," I say, resisting the urge to wipe her tears away. "I think it's fun, and trust me, I'm not silly at all." I flash a grin at her.

She gazes at me intently. "No, you kind of are, but in a good way."

I'm not sure how to respond to her since it seems like she's being genuine, but genuine about my being silly. "Lila, there's actually a reason why I brought you out here."

She pushes the truck into park and presses down on the parking break before rotating in the seat to face me. "I figured as much."

"I just want to know what your plans are," I say, staring at the sky. The sun is setting and the lights of the city in the far distance illuminate the skyline.

"Plans for what?" She sounds confused.

I focus my attention on her. "Just with stuff."

"You're already getting sick of me, aren't you? Look, Ethan, I can totally move out. I have a few friends I can stay with until I find somewhere else."

"And how are you going to pay for this other place?" I ask. "And who are these other friends you'll be staying with? Guy friends?" Why the hell did I just ask that?

"Hey, I have other friends." She presses her hand to her chest, offended. "You're just my favorite." She's not joking when she says that, and for some reason it makes me happy and also makes me mentally roll my eyes at myself.

"That doesn't answer how you can pay for your own place," I say, unbuckling my seat belt.

She tips her chin down and twists the platinum ring on her finger. "I have no idea."

I reach over and fix my finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at me. "Hey, you're totally taking me wrong here anyway. All I want to talk about is our plans for moving forward."

"Our plans?" she asks, assessing me with skepticism.

"Yeah, you and I and the place we now both call home," I explain, removing my finger from her chin.

"Oh, you want me to start paying rent." She frees a trapped breath.

"Yes and no... I know you're going to probably need a little more time to heal and what not, but I think we should probably discuss how this is going to work a little further down the road." I flip the handle of the door, hating to say it but knowing it has to be said. "Like maybe when you're feeling better, you could get a job and start helping out." I'm trying to be subtle, but it's hard. "I just think that maybe if you were doing just a little bit more stuff, like working and finding some kind of hobby, things might be a little easier."

"I know that," she says quietly, her brow puckering as she stares at the scars on her wrist. I asked her once where they came from and she said it was from something really stupid she did, which makes me wonder if she got them when she got the ankle one. "But I have no idea where to start."

"I'll help you," I assure her, reaching over and giving her knee a gentle squeeze. "I'm not going to let you go at this alone. And when you're ready, we can talk more... about anything that you want to. I'm an excellent listener."

"I know you are." She stares at me for an eternity, searching my eyes, like she doesn't quite believe I'm real. When she finally opens her mouth, I have no idea what she's going to say. "Thank you." She unlocks her seat belt and leans over, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

I'm stunned. Despite all the touching we've done, this feels different. More intimate and personal and I realize that despite the fact that we've touched each other in places most friends don't, we've never actually kissed each other, a real passionate, lips-devouring kiss. And I want to kiss her so much it takes a lot of inner strength to keep my hands to myself. My instincts shout for me to jump out of the truck and run through the desert back to the apartment, far, far away from her. But the need to help her keeps me in the seat. I need to help her, like I didn't help London. This is my second chance to get things right and I want to make things right with Lila and with us. It's an overpowering, binding, magnetic feeling, one I'm unsure what to do with other than keep going.

When she leans back in the driver's seat, the look on her face is unreadable. "What do we do now?"

I shrug and then my mouth turns upward. "How about we go home and watch a sappy, poetic movie?"

"Home?" She says it like it's unreal, like homes don't exist. "Yeah, let's go home." She opens the door and jumps out into the sand, then turns around and aims a finger at me. "But you're driving. I'm so flipping scared I'm going to wreck your truck." She blows me a kiss and then slams the door, acting just like the Lila I met a year ago, only she's not because the Lila I met never really existed. She was a mirage created by pills.

Strangely enough, I'm not the same person when I met her because what I'm doing right now-what I'm feeling at this exact moment-is something I never thought I'd do or feel. Dependency-the thing I hate. I've seen it in action, through drugs and through relationships, like my mom's dependency for my dad, but I'm letting her be dependent on me, and in a weird way, I'm kind of relying on her to let me help her and trusting her to get better.

Even though she's been a pain in the ass for the last few days, the thought of Lila moving out, living with another friend, annoys me. I kind of want her to live with me and that leaves me confused because it means that for the first time since London, I want someone to be in my life. I want Lila, more than I've ever wanted anyone.

A/N:
I don't think I'm going to do these author notes anymore.