I smile as Brendon nibbles on my earlobe and holds me close to his bare chest, like any good boyfriend will do. His long arms are wrapped around my torso and his hands rest over top of mine. His breath is warm and I feel stubble on his chin as it brushes against me. We say nothing, wear nothing but our underwear, and hear nothing other than the constant humming of the ceiling fan. We think of nothing but each other and where we are. We are in the forbidden garden: my bed. We both know that this is not allowed, and we both know my father will not be happy if he is to find us like this, but we also know another fact. We know that we love each other, and we know it will take hell and high waters to stop our relationship.

I feel a rush pulsing through my body. Adrenalin races through my veins. I was never one to follow the rules, but I have never broke them to this extent. Fighting with my father is a daily occurrence. Being disrespectful is too. But sneaking my hated boyfriend into my room while my parents are sleeping just down the hall- it's something that I never dared to do. But I finally did it. And I love that I did. I have never felt so comfortable in my life. Brendon and I fit together like a puzzle. We were born to be together, no matter what anyone else says. His warm body cuddled up to mine comforts me, and also excites me. Spending my night with my love is the best feeling I have ever felt, and the biggest kick in the ass to my father.

"I love you, Brendon." I whisper. He kisses my hair.

"I love you, too, champ." He whispers back.

We lay in silence and enjoy our moments together. Brendon tightens his arms around me. The house is silent... for a minute, anyways.

I hear footsteps. The devil has woken.

"Get up!" I hiss in a low voice and quickly pull myself to a sitting position. "Get up and put your clothes on!"

"What?" Brendon sighs. "Where's the fire, champ?"

"Someone is awake!"

"Aw, shit!" He huffs and slowly sits up.

I jump out of bed and snatch our clothes from the heap we created the night before. I throw a shirt and a balled up pair of jeans at Brendon before pulling my own shirt over my head. I'm in such a hurry that I put the shirt on inside out. I yank it off and see that Brendon has finally climbed out of bed. He hops around my room as he tries to pull his jeans on. He falls to the floor and I groan. We can't get caught. The feeling of adrenalin has been replaced with fear. I already had hand-shaped bruises on my arms; they alone will raise questions if anyone saw them.


Brendon and I freeze as the voice speaks. It isn't my father. It's my mom.

"Honey, are you awake?" She asks. Before I can answer, she opens my door and lets herself in. Brendon and I are still stunned in one place, and once she see's who's in my room, my mom freezes also.

"Hi Mrs. Huston." Brendon finally says. He zips his pants.

"Brendon." My mother whispers. Her face turns white. I force myself to move and pull my own pants on.

"Mom, it's not what it looks like!" I defend the two of us quickly.

"Brendon, you need to get out!" She continues to whisper frantically. "Now!"

"Mrs. Huston-" He starts to say. Mom cuts him off.

"You don't understand Brendon. Phillip will be awake soon, and if he see's you in here- oh God!" She starts breathing faster. "He's going to be furious!"

"Brendon, go!" I say.

"Through the front door?" He questions and pulls his wrinkled shirt on.

"No, you idiot! Get out the same way you came in!" I point to the window, then run my hands nervously through my hair. I start pacing. "Oh, shit, Mom! Dad can't find out!"

"Why in the world would you invite him over and not even lock the door?" Mom asks, just as nervous.

"I thought I had the door locked!"

"Uh, that was my bad." Brendon starts walking to the window. I turn and storm over to him, then demand to know what he meant by it was 'his bad'. "I had to use the bathroom! I must have forgot to lock it again."

"You were cocky enough to walk through the hall?" I hiss at him. Before I know what I'm doing, I grab him by the front of his shirt. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Alexander!" Mom gasps and runs over to me. She puts her hands on my shoulders. I realize that I have two fistfuls of Brendon's shirt in my hands. I release my grip and let my arms fall to my sides. Mom guides me back a few steps.

"Go." I say simply. Brendon acts as if nothing has happened, opens the window and climbs out. He jogs away.

"Alexander. What are you thinking?" Mom asks.

"I just wanted Brendon. I was upset over the fight with Dad." I explain simply.

"You just have to test him, don't you?" She asks with a heavy sigh.

I shoot an angry glare at her. I am testing him? I have two bruises on my arms that are the size of his fists, and I am the one in the wrong? I yell my response to her.

"You're always on his side!"