Fuck. She's having another one of those moments, watching his expression change and letting him pull her in close, where it dawns on her all over again that she's in far too deep. Still, even after all the hurt and heartbreak she's endured, it always comes back down to Nick, somehow.

"Good," she assures him. It's true. He's always kept her on her toes, and maybe that's what a girl like her needs. A reprieve from monotony.

There's no way this will pan out well, she reminds herself. This is still a war, emotions be damned.

But still, when he's apologizing, earnestly apologizing, it's hard to let that be her guiding factor. Her brows raise high enough that they threaten to disappear beneath her bangs—the rest of her hair's been cropped into shoulder-length waves—and she lets out a sound of incredulous approval.

"Definitely didn't see that one coming." She wants to kiss him so fucking badly. "I forgive you." Her throat is unbearably tight, thanks to the steadily-growing lump that's lodged there.