"There you are."

My vision swam a little as I looked up from my sketch pad and saw Ayrton behind me. He stood with his hands in his pockets and I didn't think I imagined him swaying on the spot.

"Been looking for you for a while," he added.

I motioned at the several empty beer bottles around me, snacks and my drawing instruments. "Clearly not hard enough, I've been here for like two hours. Except for all the many times I left my spot to go get supplies."

A hiccup escaped from my throat.

Even more people had arrived, which either told me my roommates were much more popular than they let on, or we got a bunch of surprise guests. Despite that I'd managed to sneak into the kitchen unseen and into my room to get the pad where I drafted my designs. Lucky for me I could lock my door and prevent my space from being used by any of these randos. Unlucky for me, I looked around every time, trying to catch a glimpse of Becca and Miguel, but they were nowhere to be found. And every time I failed to find them, it felt like a knife was twisting inside my chest.

So back to the balcony I went. The warm breeze and the smell of the damp earth were much more comforting to me than the noise all the people behind me, in a party that was supposed to be about cheering me up. I took refuge in working on the main assignment for my Fashion Design II class. I had two big projects to deliver at the end of this semester, with strong incentives. This was one of them. There would be a design showcase that was pretty much a fashion show. Whoever won the showcase would have their pick of the best internship at a fashion house that the school had made a deal with. The house was still unknown, and that made the assignment all the more complicated. By not knowing, no one knew what kind of style to pander to in their designs.

The other big project was the Business Plan one, to be presented to an investor. It was the one I was with Miguel. The other night after my breakdown, based on his own idea, we decided to base our project on my dream of sustainable fashion. We were drafting the pitch for a fast fashion company where the raw materials were going to be recycled pieces of clothes or even plastic. Something like a twenty first century up-cycling to tackle the fashion demands of modern society, while minimizing pollution.

We came up with it together over ice cream. I loved it. It was absolutely my dream business idea. Now I had no idea how I was going to get my shit together enough to work with him in a civilized way and not feel this pang in my heart that prickled my eyes. But I couldn't come up with a reasonable excuse to get out of working with him for the assignment, so I was going to have to suck it up when all I wanted was to hide under the blankets and never see him again.

I knew I was being stupid. If Vera were here she'd be saying exactly the same thing. Now I was really regretting having teased her so much when Ashton started showing feelings for him. The fact that she didn't kill me for it was a testament to her character, because if anyone teased me right now for being an immature child with the way I handled my unrequited feelings, I'd stab them wherever it hurt the most.

That was why I asked Ayr, "Are you here to make fun of me? Or tell me to man up and socialize?"

He crouched next to me. "Fuck no. I'm not heartless."

I traced some loose lines on my pad that were the beginning of a men's jacket. I had to create two, unique and ground breaking outfits for men and two for women. That plus all my other assignments and work should keep me busy for the next couple of months until the semester ended. I technically didn't have time to be thinking about pesky things like feelings. They were distracting. I had to focus.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, as though I were a toddler on the verge of a volcanic tantrum. I took a swig of beer.

"Fine, and you?"

His eyes rolled. "Don't shut me out, you know what I mean. I could tell you were really upset back there when Becca and the hottie were burning each other's clothes off with their eyes."

"Oh, God." I groaned and slumped farther in my chair. "Was I that obvious? Did everybody see?"

"Nah," he said at first, but after thinking about it he added, "Maybe Poonam too. She gave me a look."

Fuck.

"I hope this party ends soon," I murmured.

"Okay, it's past midnight anyway. I'll start rounding people up." Ayrton stood up and squeezed my shoulder. "Also for what it's worth, I'll always be on your side, honey. Whatever you want to do, I'll back you up."

I shifted to look up at him. "What do you mean?"

"If you want to kick her out of the apartment, I'm down," he said with a shrug. "Bitch, nobody steps into my friend's territory and gets away with it."

I smiled at the sentiment. Clumsy, thanks to the alcohol, I dropped everything where it fell and stood up to give him a hug. I kinda missed his shoulders and ended up pushing his head against my chest, which made him laugh and say that comfortable as my girls were, he wasn't interested.

I pressed a sloppy kiss on his cheek and said, "Thank you, but it wouldn't be fair to her. She doesn't know how I feel—felt for him, and neither did he. It's not his fault he doesn't find me..." I trailed off as I waved at myself and finished with, "attractive."

He smacked my arm. "Throw that bullshit out of the balcony. You are a hot piece of ass and the right man will salivate at the sight of you."

I near melted.

"Thank you for objectifying me in such a sweet way."

That made him grin. "Babe, anytime. Anyway, you keep doing you. I gotta go kick some people out."

Ayr gave me another squeeze for a hug before he left and I plopped back on my chair. I was so tipsy that I nearly toppled over, which wouldn't have been fun because the balcony rail was fairly short to me. I took a peep down below and figured that a fall from three stories and right into the pool wouldn't kill me. Still, I sat back in the firm land of my chair and grabbed my pad. Maybe I'd just spend the rest of the night thinking up new concepts and drinking, and fuck the rest of my life.

"There you are."

My drunk ass's first thought was that there was a glitch in the matrix. I turned, somehow expecting to see Ayrton again and restarting the conversation we just had, and instead came face to face with the last person I wanted to see at that moment.

My nerves were so shot that I yelped and jumped from my chair. Except where would I go if Miguel was blocking the way out of the balcony?

That wasn't the worst of it. In my haste to launch myself into the sky and disappear from this planet, everything that was in my hands tried to follow suit. My pen flew somewhere, the sketch pad with all my designs made a crazy arch into the air. As I tried to catch it I stumbled upon my collection of empty beer bottles, and as I stepped on one I slipped and I saw myself taking that dip I'd imagined earlier. But then a pair of arms locked around my waist like a vice, holding me in place. Which was great, except it prevented me from reaching my pad as it bounced on the handrail and fell from the wrong side of it.

"No!" I screamed with all my lungs.

A moment later I heard the wet plop of it crashing into the pool.

I sobbed.

I didn't even care that he'd already seen me weeping my heart out before. I didn't give a single fuck from my fuck basket what he thought of me anymore. At that second I felt miserable, like the whole universe was conspiring to see me fail. And succeeding.

"Shit," he whispered in my ear.

I tore out of his hold and looked down. My sketchpad with years worth of my best designs was floating on the surface like a corpse.

That was when I started outright crying and screamed into the night the words, "worst party ever!"

Minutes passed where I lost myself in my misery, and then I heard him say. "Wait here."

I jumped around because I thought he'd left me already. Miguel waded his way in through the crowd and I stood there, swaying in the breeze with big, fat tears rolling down my face.

My addled brain took a few seconds to process what he said. Why did he say wait here? That was what I was planning to do anyway. I wouldn't be able to carry on with my life from this spot. Everything sucked. Nothing was worth a damn. Ayrton had said he'd support me no matter what and maybe that meant allowing me to live in that balcony for the rest of my sad and sore existence.

Out of the dwindling crowd appeared Becca, like a golden angel in between dinky mortals. I didn't want her to see me in such a low moment, so I turned around back towards the abyss. That was how I spotted Miguel jumping the closed off fence into the apartment complex's pool and finally put two and two together.

Wait here.

So this was what he meant.

I wanted to ask him if he was crazy, but I was too slow. Instead Becca joined me and asked, "Have you seen Miguel? I haven't seen him in a while—is that? What the heck is he doing?"

We watched as he took off his shoes and socks and left them by the pool along with his wallet and phone. Then he dove in.

My jaw dropped.

"Oh my word!" my newest roommate screeched.

Miguel swam to the middle of the pool and plucked my ruined sketchpad from the water. I was stiff as a board watching him pull himself out, water gluing his clothes to his skin. The white polo turned pretty much transparent and his jeans sagged low on his hips. He picked up his things and easily climbed over the fence again.

Becca's knees doubled over and she only held herself up by the handrail as she said, "Ugh, he's so fucking hot. I can't."

Yeah. I also couldn't.

I turned around and left her at the balcony. It was hard to get my bearings for a hot second, but after leaving a trail of apologies behind me I found my bedroom door. My hands fumbled in the pockets of my pink overalls. I couldn't remember which of its many pockets I had put the keys in and as I felt myself up I realized that I must have dropped them in the balcony. Damn it all. There went my retreat. But if I was quick enough I could get them and be back and safely locked inside my room before Miguel had time to climb up the stairs and navigate the tough landscape of the apartment's current state.

Of course he appeared in front of me before I even managed the first lap.

Miguel made a sight. Soaked through and absolutely delicious in the middle of a room full of dry and opaque people. Every eye was on him as he offered me the pad and asked, "Can it be salvaged?"

His forehead was so scrunched up in worry that anyone who didn't know better would think he was the one on the verge of a meltdown again.

My chin trembled as I grabbed the pad and tried to turn a page. It was stuck to the next, and the ink and colors inside had become splotches that made no sense.

"No, it's beyond repair." Without meeting his eyes I gave a watery smile and said, "But thanks for trying anyway."

And that was the hook, line and sinker. The perfect metaphor for the state of my heart.

Becca was next to him then, all bright and excited. They looked great together, her all fit and shorter than him, looking up at him like he was the second coming of Hercules. Her body glued to him as she lavished praised on his heroics stole back his attention, and I took that as my cue. I got my keys, and before anyone could react I was behind the closed door of my room, sliding to the floor as I hugged the soggy pad against my chest and unleashed the waterworks. If the pad hadn't been ruined already, my tears alone would have done the job.

all the AddyxMiguel shippers right now: