Sixth Street ✓

Saturday 21st December

Her eyes darted up to his. "Just one last kiss." She whispered. "To say goodbye." He looked torn between knowing this would inevitably go back to bite his firm break-up in the ass, and desperately wanting the girl he'd been parted with for too long. At any rate, he didn't stop Becca from pressing her lips to his.

They were still saying goodbye ten minutes later, having danced their way into Becca's apartment and through to the bedroom, losing various articles of clothing along the way. Both of them were aware of what was about to happen, about what they both were about to lose, but they waited, for the other person to push away, to bring things to firm halt.

But neither of them wanted to be the responsible one. Neither of them wanted to be the one to do it.

So they didn't say anything at all.

Afterwards, Becca pressed her tomato red cheek against the cool pillow, feigning sleep as Justin tiptoed around, getting dressed before finally leaving the apartment. Only then did she wipe away the tear at the corner of her eye.

She stumbled to her feet, throwing the dress and the underwear in the trash, getting in the shower. She scrubbed at her skin as if that could somehow erase what had happened, but when that failed, she turned off the water and sat down, wet hair tickling the back of her neck as tears trickled down her cheeks.

It was supposed to be special. She was supposed to wait. Justin had discussed the matter with her, agreed that he felt the same. After all, they shared similar values, and despite numerous temptations they'd always managed to stick the rule. No sex.

Apparently, it was the sort of rule you didn't break until you were broken up. Then nothing seemed to matter much any more.

But now? She felt dirty, disgusting, ashamed. It hadn't even been something great. People talked about it all the time as if it was some magical occurrence, but it really wasn't. It was actually kind of painful. And she couldn't even talk about it to anyone, because none of her friends had did it yet.

Suddenly she heard the bathroom door creak open. Startled, she reached for her towel, cursing herself for not locking the door after Justin left. A pretty amateur mistake considering all that had happened around here lately.

But it wasn't some psycho killer, it was only Justin. She dropped her towel again. There was no point - he'd already seen everything. If he was surprised to see her cowering on the shower floor, he didn't show it. Instead, he climbed in beside her. It was a tight fit - he was soaking his designer clothes, and her knees were pulled up uncomfortably towards her chest - but they just about managed it.

"I'm sorry." He broke the silence. "I shouldn't have taken advantage."

"Don't be stupid." She countered. "If anything, I was the one who took advantage."

He smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Shall we just agree we both made the mistake?"

"Yeah." She sighed, leaning her head against the glass. "I wish we hadn't done it. We're broken up, after all."

"Well..." he hesitated. "That's why I came. Maybe we shouldn't be."

Her head snapped round towards his, carefully examining his eyes for any sign of deception. But strangely enough, he seemed genuine. "I thought you hated me." His eyebrows shot up.

"I was angry at you." He explained. "I don't hate you. How could I hate you?"

For the first time that day, Becca felt something resembling happiness. "I'm your girlfriend?"

"Just can't seem to shake you," he teased, tracing his fingers over her bare, wet shoulder. "We're both messes, aren't we?"

"Definitely," she agreed. "But at least we have each other."