(He was there again! This guy, who looks so much like Paul with his fine blonde hair, the laid-back, I'm-gonna-fuck-you-senseless, come-and-get-me smile and those startling multi-blue eyes… and no, she really couldn't see his eyes, but simply knew.)

She got out of her newly acquired Honda ("MY BABY!" she had cried when she went to pick it up from the auto body shop; another rear-ended accident) and nonchalantly swayed to the door of her father's house. Her sister, Jordan, was gone; her white Jetta wasn't in the driveway and she rolled her eyes at the possible activities her sister was up to. Once inside, she bypassed the living room riddled with various food containers and the ever-missing remote- most likely in the couch cushions, courtesy of Dad- and in her safe haven.

Her room was semi-lived in: the walls were barren and only the necessities tended to. The bed was made up of a sheet, two comforters, a sleeping bag and sentimental blankets she'd gotten through the years, a nightstand sadly in need to a new coat of paint, two lamps, thousand books pitched about the floor- and a thousand may not be too exaggerated. A dresser, some clothes along with the books… It wasn't much, but this was better than the room at her mother's (the green-skinned, hooked-nose witch; may she burn in hell). Even though the blonde wanted to transfer her things from her mom's to this room, she just couldn't get the motivation to actually do it.

Time seemed to move quickly when one was thinking of her week-long lover, reliving the memories and the sensual feelings they had shared. That spring break was one of the best- the best, in fact, and once she had turned her back from him and boarded her plane home, she cried in the bathroom where no one would see her. She smiled fondly in first thinking that he was shorter than what she usually liked, but he made it up with sex- the passionate, recklessly abandoned kind that one only found with their true soul mate. In a week, He (for actually thinking his name hurt too much) had shown her what love was supposed to be, what a relationship was supposed to be than what she had known for a little over two years with Christopher; and, like always when she thought about her first love, her blue eyes closed briefly in pain before shoving those memories in a box, sealing it up and locking it away in a room that she threw away the key.

She found herself thinking about that guy that seemed to be stalking her ever since she got back from Virginia. He was always there, just standing, and she could feel his eyes undressing her, cataloging her moves without exception. She was only 5'4", with a brunette/blonde dyed hair that used to be dyed a really dark, deep red (her natural color was a blonde with brunette and platinum blonde highlights; yes, natural!); she, too, had blue eyes that changed along with her mood: deep sea blue when she was happy or excited, ice cold when seriously pissed off. The girl wasn't model material by any means, but she was thin and desirable; she just didn't think so. But the way that this man looked at her- so erotic, completely electrifying that she found herself with flashbacks of her and Paul (she cringed, but really, c'mon) tangled in the sheets, lips on her heated skin. His teeth- oh my God his teeth would sink into her skin and sent her soaring, climbing the sky and turned her head so he could have more access to her neck. She'd whimper, even begged some, and he was the first one who had made love to her (and the only one, if she had any say about it). All she had to do was remember Paul duct taping her to the bed frame and eating her pussy until she cried for mercy, grinding against his hips and his eyes rolling in the back of his head and she would feel heat and desire rush to her pussy, soaking her panties, and the headboard breaking… A small smile broke out across her face at that thought.

Daylight faded into hues of orange, pinks, and violets until the moon rose high and kissed her skin, luminescent and smooth with her inky eyelashes fanning her cheekbones. Like every night, he watched her sleep. His Kristin, his wonderful, beautiful woman who beheld his gaze, stole his heart and kept it close to hers. Paul knew that she had fallen for him during that week she flew out to see him; what was supposed to be just a vacation for her, and company for him metamorphosed into a blossoming love- sweet, tender and alive. She was afraid, though, of the love that had attacked them both. Kristin denied it, tried to shove it away and had said that she was going to meet up with her ex-boyfriend and patch things up. She hadn't yet, and never would if he had his way.

Paul never meant to fall for this girl he'd watch grow up. Being the best friend of her cousin and honorary family member, she was considered off-limits, and so he didn't even look twice in her direction. He could blame it on his "mom"- her Aunt Cindy, who swore that she wasn't setting them up- and she would happily take it, with the I-told-you-so grin and that Mom's-know-best twinkle in her eyes. First setting this vacation up, Cindy was the middle-man, relaying what so-an-so said and back and forth and back and forth. "She's just great," Cindy would go on again, commenting on how wonderful and great friends they were going to be, and Paul, being a good son, would just nod his head and mumble a "we'll see, Mom," before tuning her out again.

After getting her Facebook request, and confirming it, the friendship began. They grew and blossomed over the internet, her questioning and his answering, his comforting and her confiding. It was also the late-night phone calls, the soothing voice that was uniquely her; and when he saw her for the first time off that plane… it was all he could do to not drop his jaw and howl at the moon. The whole week was like coming home. They talked and laughed and played games, walked around town just to be together. His love for her grew, and when they first made love and whispered, "I love you, Kristin," she freaked and ran into the bathroom. That was the turning point. Once she admitted that she was scared, but yes, she was falling for him, his heart exploded and his grin wide; she, too, was happier. They're time was short, and all too soon it was a hug, a kiss, and she was on her way.

His Kristin stirred in distress, panic, whispery breaths escaping her parted lips. Oh, how he longed to reach out and stroke her face, to calm her fears with just a touch like he knew he could; a hug, a touch, a simple kiss to wash away her worries. Just like the other nights, Kristin brokenly whispered his name and woke up crying. All he could do was watch her curl inside herself, clutch his dog tags for dear life, and blindly find the half-empty vodka bottle he knew she would replace tomorrow.

Paul shed some tears of his own, heart breaking like hers until she died. What was he to do? He was just a ghost; only a ghost.

Brian really, really didn't want to be here.

The term "hot August nights" was aptly named, however he was chilled to the bone to the point to where he thought his blood had literally frozen. And even though it was hot as fuck outside, people still wore the traditional black for this solemn occasion.

The Navy man hung out in the back of the crowd, silently sweeping the area for- well, he didn't know what for. His best friend? His best friend's lover? Brian wasn't sure. The whole situation seemed sad, really. Kristin comes out, she and Paul fall in love, she goes home and he goes to Iraq and BAM! Paul's body gets blown to bits. Kristin was, naturally, devastated. Four, sometimes five times a day he would call her just to make sure she hadn't killed herself, to see if she wanted to talk, or just to have him on the other side of the phone while he listened to her cry and beg God for some kind of mercy. When this happened, Brian would tear up over the bleakness of it all.

As it turned out, Kristin didn't commit suicide. She was just driving downtown when another car lost control and slammed them both into a telephone pole. The other driver survived, and Kristin died a few days later in Intensive Care; her and her unborn child.

"And may God rest these souls. Amen."