Santana bought a new couch. It was pastel pink with metal legs and I absolutely fucking hated it.

She was laying on it with her feet dangling over the sides, a magazine on her lap. "This friendship quiz says we're not compatible," she said when I walked inside our apartment.

I threw my backpack onto the table and sat on the carpet. The couch was only big enough for one person.

"Is it because of our taste in couches?" I asked.

She sat up quickly. "What? You don't like it?"

"It's pink."

"What's wrong with pink?"

I collapsed on the ground and pointed to her magazine. "You were saying."

"Right." She lay back down, turning on her side to face me. "This friendship quiz says we're not compatible."

"Why?" I asked instead of laughing at her for taking a quiz like we were in elementary school.

"Because we've slept with the same guy. It's the first question it asks. Look." She waved the page in my face and, sure enough, it was right there beside a #1.

"This magazine is bullshit, San." I paused. "Also, we haven't slept with the same guy."

She threw the magazine across the room so quickly it could've given me whiplash.

"What?" I've never seen her eyes so big. She slid off the couch and fell onto the floor beside me. "You guys haven't slept together?"

"No. . ." I toyed with a strand of the carpet, avoiding her eyes. "We've been dating for like two weeks. We're going on our first date tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Truman called me after class and asked," I said, smiling. "He sounded kind of off. The cockiness was at a three instead of a ten."

"Weird," Santana murmured.

"Totally."

"So is it gonna happen tonight then?" She was wiggling her eyebrows.

"It'll happen when it happens," I answered.

"Great, so we can keep being friends until it does," she said, grinning.

I grabbed a pillow off the couch—also new, also pink—and threw it at her face. "We can still be friends after it does."

"Want some pointers? I can tell you what he likes—I'm kidding!"

Her laughs were muffled by the pillow I held to her face. I kicked her before walking into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for leftovers. "Where's my Chinese?"

"I ate it!"

I peeked my head around the wall. "Two things we're not doing in this apartment. One, eating my food. And two, talking about having sex with Truman. Deal?"

"I agree to the later!" she called.

I grabbed the leftover mac n' cheese and walked to my room. "Oh, one more thing."

Santana was still laying on the floor, holding the magazine again. "What's that?"

I pointed my finger at the pink blob. "Return that fucking couch."

I slammed the door to my room and opened my closet. I was halfway into a red dress, spoon of pasta in my mouth, regretting eating a bowl of pasta when having to wear such a tight dress, when my phone rang. It was Alba from the bar.

"Hola, Alba."

"Hola, cariño. Can you pick up a shift tonight?"

I groaned, throwing the spoon onto my bed. "I can't, Alba. I—"

"Please, cariño. Charles and Mia called in sick. You know how busy we get on a Friday night. Please. I'm here all alone. . ."

She knew the pity card always proved victorious.

I unzipped the dress. "Fine. I'll be there in an hour." She began yelling in Spanish, knowing full well I only spoke English and a little bit of Filipino I'd picked up from my mother.

I hung up the phone and texted Truman. Have to reschedule, got called into work. Rain check? I took off the dress and changed into my work clothes.

Alba wasn't lying. The bar was packed. I could barely keep up with all the drink orders. I was sliding beers left and right, artfully making mojitos and ignoring the dudes trying to flirt with me. I was scared Miles might have shown up, but another band was playing tonight. Thankfully.

It was a quarter passed midnight and my shift was nearly over when someone took a seat in the stool directly in front of me. I looked up from washing the counter and met those baby blues.

"You keep asking for rain checks, but it never rains here in the fall. So I'm here anyways," Truman said, grinning.

"You are such an idiot." I leaned across the bar and kissed him, sighing at how good it felt. "An adorable idiot."

"You almost ready to leave?"

I pulled my phone from the waist band of my shorts and checked the time. "Five minutes and I'm all yours. Isn't it a little too late for our date?"

He shrugged. "We can just go back to my place."

Suddenly I couldn't breathe. The counter looked ten times dirtier, and I was scrubbing it furiously.

". . . Is that okay?" he asked. I looked into his eyes. Big mistake. I looked away. The cockiness was brought back up to a ten, and I swear this boy could read my thoughts and see how nervous I was.

"Yeah. Want something to drink?" I asked.

"Can't. I drove."

I couldn't drink either, being underage. "Guess we're both gonna be sober tonight," I said, handing him a bottle of water.

"Good. I want to remember the whole night."

God. This counter was so dirty.

"Everything okay?" The smirk was back, one-hundred-watts.

"Mhm. There's just this stain that won't come out. . ." I hoped it was dark enough that he didn't see my cheeks burning.

"I don't see a stain."

"It's here, Truman."

"Whatever you say." I could hear him smiling at this point.

I sighed, relaxed my shoulders and let go of the rag. What was wrong with me? I should be the one making him sweat. "Are you okay?" I asked instead. "You sounded weird on the phone this afternoon. A little distracted."

He looked away quickly. "Yeah. My parents came over last night. It was a little. . . odd."

"Anything you wanna tell me?"

When his eyes met mine again, they were shining under the fluorescent lights. "Nothing I can say in public. No."

"Lucky for you, my shift just ended. Meet me outside?"

Truman nodded. I kissed him goodbye and headed straight for the bathroom. I nearly drowned myself in the sink with cold water. "Listen, Eden," I said to myself. "He's just a guy. You've slept with guys before. This won't be different. Stop being nervous, stop shaking like a baby and get out there. What the hell is wrong with you?" I nodded furiously, pumping myself up.

It lasted the walk from inside the bar to Truman's car. As soon as he slid his hands into the back pockets of my jeans and pulled me to him, I was a goner. The entire pep talk disappeared from my mind and I was a puddle of mush in his hands.

"Ready to go?" His breath fanned across my face. I nodded, not one single word coming to mind with him so close.

"I was going to take you out for dinner," he said when we were driving down Yonge Street. "I made us reservations at this little Italian place. You're half Italian, right? I thought you'd like that."

I smiled. "Half, yeah. On my dad's side." I don't remember ever telling him that.

"I'll take you another night," he said, squeezing my hand.

When we walked into his apartment, I stopped with one hand on the doorknob. I wasn't sure what I had been expecting: maybe candles, some take out on the counter. In my imagination, his apartment was empty except for the two of us. There definitely was not two guys sitting in the couch playing video games. Like there was now.

"The green bomb! Are you fucking serious, dude! Again?"

"You threw that banana at me, asshole!"

"You drove over it!"

I turned around to face Truman, my mouth hanging open. He looked just as surprised and marched into the room. "Why are you guys still here?" he yelled. "I told you to leave before I came back!"

"We're in a five-game tournament. We can't stop mid-way," one of the guys said.

"I'm kicking his ass, Tru. He plays like a girl," said the other one.

I walked into the room and coughed, crossing my arms when they turned to stare at me. Their eyes bulged open, and they sat up a little straighter.

"And that's a bad thing?" I asked. Truman was laughing, slinking his arm around my waist. "Friends of yours?" I asked, turning to him.

His nose wrinkled. "Yeah, sorry."

I finally looked at the TV and expected to see zombies, blood and guns. Not Mario-fucking-Kart.

"You guys are playing Mario Kart?" I asked, laughing.

"Yeah," they said together, eyes locked on the screen.

"Guys, this is Eden, my girlfriend. Eden, this is Jason and Jack," Truman said, sitting on the couch and pulling me down beside him.

"Hi," they said together. I realized then they were twins. Both with cropped blond hair—the only difference was the colour of their t-shirts.

"I told them to leave before we came back," Truman whispered into my ear. "I'm sorry. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

I kissed his cheek. "It's fine. Hey, I face winner," I called, pointing at the television screen.

"We're in the middle of a tournament," one of the twins said.

"What? You think a girl can't pick a toad character and launch a few bombs at you effectively?" The game ended and Truman grabbed the controller from one of their hands, passing it to me.

"Thanks, babe."

His friends were good. But they didn't know Katie and I had spent almost every day playing this after school. Truman knew though, and he was laughing every time I passed the finish line first.

Three laps later, I won.

"Point made," his friend grumbled, catching the controller when I threw it towards him.

I was laughing, leaning into Truman's chest. "That was kind of hot," he murmured into my ear.

I perked up at that, lifting my chin to meet his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

We both glanced at his friends slowly.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment," Truman said, kicking them in the shins.

"Dude, we just started a new—"

"Out. Now."

They were through the door in under five seconds. And Truman had me on his lap, arms hooked around his neck, just as the door slammed shut.

"I don't like your friends," I said, leaning in to kiss that soft spot on his throat.

"Well I don't like yours either," he whispered, placing his hands on my waist and pulling me closer.

I grabbed his face. "My only friends are Santana and your sister."

"I like one of your friends."

We both laughed, smiling at each other in the darkness. His eyes looked black, but they still shined in the sliver of moonlight coming in from the open curtains. I ran my fingers through his hair, brushing it off his forehead and holding my hand there.

"I always used to jump into bed with guys," I said, not looking in his eyes. "I think it was a defence mechanism. But I don't want us to be like that."

"What do you mean?"

I pushed back on his lap a little, until I was sitting more on his knees. "I mean, can we just take our time?"

He was smiling, reaching around my hips to grab my hands in his. "Is that why you think I brought you here? To have sex?"

"You were giving me that smile!"

"You deciphered all that from a smile?" he asked, laughing. I groaned, burying my head in his shoulder. "I just wanted to spend time with you, Eden. It's kind of the only thing I like to do these days."

"Okay. Sorry." My words were muffled by his hair. I wanted to hide in it forever.

He grabbed my face and pulled it in front of his, holding my gaze. "I've never seen you blush before."

I shoved his shoulder, rolled off his lap and threw him a controller. "Let's play."

"What does the winner get?" he asked, catching the controller and turning the TV back on.

"Abstinence," I said, throwing him a smile.

"In that case, I'm losing on purpose."

We played for an hour before I fell asleep with my head on Truman's shoulder. I woke up in the middle of the night and he was snoring, a blanket draped across the two of us. I watched him as the sun began to rise, ran my fingers along the curves of his face. I didn't think I would ever get used to that, being his.

When the sun had risen, I shut my eyes. We slept like that a little longer.

___________________

what do me and harry potter have in

common? we both came back from the dead.

ba dum tsh.

HI. sorry for not updating in like a century! but i am here, i am back writing in comic sans (spoiler: it works) and i hope you all enjoyed this update! lemme know what you thought, and thanks for sticking with me (: