I had spent hours on end researching ways to get off The List, but nothing showed up. If I was physically impaired or had a terminal disease, I wouldn't have to be enlisted.

However, I had neither, so I was back to stage one, which was working hard enough to pay off this month's rent.

It was my last month before I'd have to leave, which meant I'd have to find Bronwin someplace to stay and soon. 

"Ash," Ronnie's timid voice whispered worriedly.

"Yes?"

"I-I don't know how to---I don't know how to keep you from leaving," she whispered, her bottom lip trembling.

I turned around and saw her curly blonde hair in two mangled braids. Her blue eyes watering slightly, and her face void of color.

"Ronnie, everything's going to be okay. I promise," I whispered, taking her hands in mine, forcing her to look at me.

"No it's not! Y-Y-You're leaving me! Just like Mom and Dad! And I-I can't do anything about it!" She shouted at me.

I pulled her in for a hug, and felt her fist smack my chest. My heart felt like it was being stabbed when she started sobbing.

"Hey, I need to go. And you need to go to school, okay? I'm going to find somewhere for you to stay," I whispered, gently kissing the top of her forehead.

Instead of complaining about going, she turned away and got ready wordlessly. That hurt more than anything.

"I love you Bronwin!" I shouted, leaving the house before she could reply.

~*~*~*~*

I walked into Not Your Average Jo after work. Even though it was late--9:00--the place had great food. Almost immediately I saw Kimberly in the same booth.

Except this time, she had a storm cloud above her head.

"You okay?" I asked, walking over towards her.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and she seemed unaware of her movements. She slowly looked over at me, her brown eyes filled with pain.

"I'm f*cking great, how about you?" She asked, with a dry lap.

It was then I smelled the alcohol radiating off her.

"I think we should go for a walk," I responded immediately, grabbing her hand. Yanking her out of her seat, she started to protest.

"Let go of me! Rapist! Rapist!" She started shouting, until I placed my hand over her mouth.

"Okay, listen. I know you're drunk, luckily they don't know that--yet. I don't want to know why or how you got drunk, but you can't be drunk in public. That's how you're going to loose your Scholarship!" I scolded.

"Who the f*ck cares about Rochester? I'm going somewhere else, somewhere far away. I'm going to f*cking Fort Bragg, how exciting?" She muttered sarcastically.

"What do you mean?" I asked, although I already knew.

"I made the f*cking List, isn't that exciting? My boyfriend's mad at me for talking to you, and now he wants to get me pregnant so I won't have to go," she slurred, leaning heavily against me.

"That sucks," I muttered, trying to straighten her out.

"Yeah it does, doesn't it? So what's new with you Mr. Secretary?"

"I have to find my sister a place to stay," I said matter of factly.

"Why's that? Don't you have parents?" She asked confused, as she ended up leading me towards her car.

"My parents died four years ago. Car crash, drunk driver. Anyway, I made that List too, so I have to find someplace for Bronwin to stay--"

"Sh*t I'm sorry. How'd I not know that?" She chastised herself.

"It's fine really--"

"No it's not fine! I've been too caught up in my own problems--God that sucks. F*ck," she swore.

"Here, let me drive you home--"

"No, I got it. I'm fine, totally cool," she muttered, before tripping over her feet. "Weird, didn't know my shoes were untied."

I'll take a moment to say, her shoes, in fact, didn't have laces. She was wearing flats.

"No, I'm driving," I told her.

"Whatever Mr. BossyPants," she giggled, rolling her eyes.

Kimberly directed me towards her house, and she somberly stared out of the window. I kept looking from the road to her. Her brown long hair was curled, but it looked messy. Like she fell asleep or got ran over by a train---must be the gin. Her dress was dirty and falling off her shoulder, and her mascara was leaving tiny dots on her cheeks from tears.

"What?" She demanded, her voice on the verge of cracking.

"Nothing, just making sure you were okay," I muttered.

"Well I'm not," Kimberly muttered.

"Not what?"

"Not okay. I'm tired, sad, and angry. Rochester revoked my scholarship because I've been drafted, my parents are arguing all the time now. They aren't even home, d*mn it. And Jason just--I think he's going to leave me. And I'm not scared of that, I feel like it's time--like it has been time. It's just, he was always there, you know? I was used to it, everyone was used to it. And I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore, turn right. It's on your left. And I feel like such a b*tch for being winy and mopey and having to have a stranger drive me home cause I'm stupid," she sighed, tears falling down her cheeks.

I pulled into the driveway, and turned off the car. Kimberly unbuckled herself, ready to get out, when I turned over and whispered, "You aren't stupid Kimberly. You're just hurting."

She faced me, her brown eyes watering. They were filled with a desperation to be loved, to be held, to be comforted.

And everything moved way to fast for me to stop it.

Quickly she grabbed my face in her hands and kissed me. It was a short, and her lips hovered next to mine, brushing them softly. Before I could think things through, my body had a mind of its own. I kissed her, and soon we were in the front seat of her car holding each other. Her hands in my hair, mine on her back traveling up to her neck, messing with her curls. We had a rhythm. The kisses were filled with passion, desperation, and sadness that couldn't be conveyed with words. I knew I shouldn't be kissing her. I knew it was wrong, that she wasn't thinking clearly. That she had a boyfriend, but I hadn't realized how much I longed to be loved. How much I wanted someone to touch me, to hold me, to tell me it was okay if I wasn't strong.

It was only when she tried to pull off my shirt, that I came back to my senses.

"Kimberly," I whispered, breathless.

She tugged harder on the hem, and I grabbed her hands, forcing her to look at me.

"I have a sister, and you have a boyfriend," I said, letting my words sink in.

"I-I don't care," she whispered, kissing me again.

"Kimberly, I can't do this. I-I can't hurt you," I said again.

"I don't care," she said louder.

"Well, you should. Your boyfriend loves you, and--and what I'm doing is not okay," I said quietly. I watched her turn away from me in a huff.

"Well you weren't thinking that a minute ago, were you?" She challenged, her voice laced with poison.

"You're drunk, and sad. And--and I can't--"

"Is it that hard to pretend you like me? Is it really that hard? Am I just that ugly nobody will have sex with me?" She questioned out loud, angrily. 

"Kimberly, it's not that. It's the fact that you're drunk, you'll regret it, you have a boyfriend, and I'm not going to take advantage of you. You deserve to have sex with someone you love, someone you know really well. You deserve to have that experience when you're sober, and not doing it to run away from your problems," I whispered. 

"Why do you have to be like that? Why do you have to be so f*cking right?" She muttered.

"Because I'm not drunk, now lets get you inside," I said, helping her out of the car.

~*~*~*~*

Kimberly fell down a few times going up the stairs, and I ended up having to carry her up bridal style. A laid her down on her bed, and she grabbed my hand.

"Asher," she whispered, and I felt my body tingle. It'd been a while since anyone has called me that.

"Yeah?" My voice was hoarse, my lips tingling from the car.

"You're sister can stay here. My parents would love to take care of her. They'd treat her as their own, I promise. And---and she'd have a financially stable life, she wouldn't have to worry about anything," Kimberly whispered.

And I knew it was wrong. I knew she had a boyfriend, and I knew she was drunk.

But, nonetheless, my body had a mind of its own. My lips found hers, and we kissed with an energy nether of us new we possessed. Two strangers broken because of a stupid life threatening list.

But, on my end, it felt right, kissing her. And yes, I knew it was wrong. I still do, but I would've kissed her again and again if it meant feeling slightly less broken again.

"I have to go," I whispered, before I'd do something stupid.

"How will you get home?"

"I can wait for the bus--"

"Take the spare bedroom, right down the hall. I'll tell my mom I was being stupid, and you dropped me off. I'll tell her about you living too far away or something, she'll understand---"

"I'd love to, but I've got Bronwin. I have to be there. She's probably already worried," I added, stopping by her bedroom door.

"You're a good kisser Asher," she mumbled before falling to sleep.

I wiped my forehead questioning what I'd just done, replaying the scenes in my head. I was 22, she was 19. She was an adult, but I felt like I was doing something illegal. Like I shouldn't have been kissing her, that I would get arrested for it.

But I knew why I shouldn't have been, and I knew why I did.

Because, like Kimberly, I was desperate, sad, and stupid.

And I needed to feel loved.

A/N: Todays update :)