Broken Submission

Clean Slate

Sorry guys, I realized that I completely missed my last update. But news! I'm an aunt! My niece was born at 4:30 am on Monday morning! She kind of looks like a smooshed human burrito, but her parents are convinced that she's gorgeous, so I'll trust their opinion lol

Derek's fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he sped down the highway, scenery passing in a blue. The surroundings eventually shifted from country to city, until at last he pulled up to the bright apartments, towering stacks of little white boxes lining the sidewalks.

Eyes searching the balconies, his breath froze when he spotted her. Jack had kept him updated, his last text saying that she had spent the last few hours curled up on the porch.

Amelia.

Derek turned the car off and stepped out, wincing as the door clanged against its frame. But she didn't turn. His feet struck the ground as though they were filled with sand, heavy and unsteady, but he pushed through. Distractedly returning greetings, Derek made his way through the building. At last, he stood before Jack and Damien's door.

He took a deep breath and knocked. Footsteps sounded through the door, and it swung up. Jack looked him up and down.

"I thought you were giving her space?"

Derek shook his head. "I need to talk to her."

Jack sighed. "You two drive me insane. Most of the time you're falling off one another—dangerously close to codependent—and the rest it's like you're on different planets."

Derek chose to ignore that. "Thank you for watching out for her."

Jack shook his head. "I didn't do it as a favor to you. That girl—" he stopped, clearly changing his mind. "Anyway, Damien would have driven me up a wall if I hadn't." He stepped to the side. "She's still on the porch."

Derek nodded to him, stepping through the doorway and heading for the French doors. He paused, fingers on the handle. Silhouetted by the setting sun, Amelia's hair ringed her profile in fire. Something about the way she stared out over the skyline reminded him of one of the Greek figureheads that graced the front of a ship. 

Unconsciously swaying forward, his hand bumped the glass. He froze as she turned, eyes locking on his, lips parting in shock.

As though in a dream, he slid the door open and stepped onto the balcony. His eyes didn't leave hers.

Neither said a word.

His fingers twitched, and he ached to hold her close. But... he might have sacrificed that right.

"How are you?"

She stared at him. "How—how am I? That's all you have to say?" A fire kindled behind her eyes, and he wondered uneasily if he was in more trouble than he'd anticipated. "You fight our friends," the use of 'our' warmed him, but her next words quenched that, "and then you run out on me, and all you have to say is 'how are you?'"

He shook his head. "I wasn't running out on you, Amelia," he protested. "I thought that we both needed space to figure things out. I made sure that you could contact me and that you were taken care of—"

"I'm an adult, Derek," she said, voice deadly quiet. "And I thought you were too. But an adult doesn't run off, leaving a note with their best friend like a third grader."

He flushed. "I thought—"

She cut him off. "What is our relationship—our community—built on? Communication and consent." Amelia's bony hands balled into fists. "You failed to communicate, and you breached consent by attempting to instate some kind of temporary care giver in your absence without negotiation."

"Hey," he said, "me asking people to look out for you is not a bad thing. It's what friends do for one another."

"And the other?" she asked, jaw clenched.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. You're right. I acted impulsively, in the moment. But if you can believe me—I did it because I know how important communication is." He held up a hand as Amelia opened her mouth. "Let me, please. I feel like we've been... stuck. Our communication has never been ideal, and that's on both of us. I thought that if we both had some time, we could come back together with a real idea of what we wanted moving forward."

"And?" Her eyes searched his. "What is it you want?"

"You." Derek stepped forward, taking her hands. "But I need you to be honest with both of us if that's not what you want."

She nodded slowly, fingers tightening around his.

And then she let go.

Heart in his throat, he forced himself to stay still as she stepped back.

She didn't want him.

And so Derek was caught entirely off guard when she thrust her hand forward. Brow crinkling, he stared at it.

Color rose to her cheeks. "You're supposed to shake it."

Unsure what was happening, Derek hesitantly clasped her hand and gave it a shake.

She smiled at him, the expression a little tired but mostly hopeful. "Hi, I'm Amelia."

He stared at her.

Her hand tightened around his, brown eyes locked on green ones. "This is what I want Derek," she said. "A fresh start. With you. I want to go on dates and ask silly questions and be awkward and fumbling and fun. If that's something you'd be willing to—"

His mouth sealed over hers quickly before pulling back. "Yes," he whispered. Derek pressed his forehead to hers, "Amelia Scott, will you go on a date with me?"