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Prince - Personal Edition

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By Colleen Hoover

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Copyright © 2012 by Colleen HooverCover design by Sarah Hansen of Okaycre-

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Without limiting the rights under copyrightreserved above, no part of this publicationmay be reproduced, stored in or introducedinto a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any

form, or by any means (electronic, mechanic-al, photocopying, recording, or otherwise)without the prior written permission of theabove author of this book.This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,places, brands, media, and incidents areeither the product of the author's imagina-tion or are used fictitiously. The author ac-knowledges the trademarked status andtrademark owners of various products refer-enced in this work of fiction, which havebeen used without permission. The publica-tion/use of these trademarks is not author-ized, associated with, or sponsored by thetrademark owners.

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Table of Contents

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 7:29 p.m.

Saturday, August 25th, 2012 11:50 p.m.

Monday, August 27th, 2012 7:15 a.m.

Monday, August 27th, 2012 3:55 p.m.

Monday, August 27th, 2012 4:47 p.m.

Monday, August 27th, 2012 5:25 p.m.

Monday, August 27th, 2012 7:10 p.m.

Tuesday, August 28th, 2012 6:15 a.m.

Tuesday, August 28th, 2012 7:55 a.m.

Wednesday, August 29th, 2012 6:15a.m.

Friday, August, 31st, 2012 11:20 a.m.

Friday, August 31st, 2012 4:50 p.m.

Saturday, September 1st, 2012 5:05p.m.

Saturday, September 1st, 2012 7:15p.m.

Wednesday, June 23rd, 1999 3:55 p.m.

Monday, September 3rd, 2012 7:20a.m.

September 4th, 2012 6:15 a.m.

Friday, September 28th, 2012 12:05p.m.

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Friday, September 28th, 2012 11:50p.m.

Saturday, September 29th, 2012 8:40a.m.

Saturday, September 29th, 2012 9:20a.m.

Saturday, September 29th, 2012 10:25a.m.

Saturday, September 29th, 2012 10:15p.m.

Monday, October 22nd, 2012 12:05p.m.

Friday, October 26th, 2012 3:40 p.m.

Tuesday, February 2nd, 1999 9:30p.m.

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Saturday, October 27th, 2012 Some-time in the middle of the night.

Saturday, October 27th, 2012 8:20p.m.

Saturday, April 17th, 1999 2:30 p.m.

Saturday, October 27th, 2012 11:20p.m.

Saturday, October 27th, 2012 11:57p.m.

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 12:37 a.m.

Wednesday, June 23rd, 1999 4:10 p.m.

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 2:45 a.m.

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 3:10 a.m.

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Sunday, October 28th, 2012 7:50 a.m.

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 5:15 p.m.

Sunday, May 2nd, 1999 2:35 p.m.

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 7:10 p.m.

Thursday, May 18th, 1999 10:00 p.m.

Sunday, October 28th, 2012 7:29 p.m.

Monday, October 29th, 2012 9:50 a.m.

Monday, October 29th, 2012 4:15 p.m.

Monday, October 29th, 2012 4:35 p.m.

Tuesday, January 6th, 1998 6:20 a.m.

Monday, October 29th, 2012 4:57 p.m.

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Monday, October 29th, 2012 5:29 p.m.

Monday, October 29th, 2012 11:35 p.m.

Monday, June 14th, 1999 7:00 p.m.

Tuesday, October 30th, 2012 12:10a.m.

Tuesday, October 30th, 2012 9:05 a.m.

Tuesday, October 30th, 2012 7:20 p.m.

Tuesday, October 30th, 2012 8:45 p.m.

Tuesday, October 30th, 2012 10:15p.m.

Saturday, May 8th, 1999 9:10 p.m.

Acknowledgments

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About the Author

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For Vance.Some fathers give you life. Some show youhow to live it. Thank you for showing me

how to live mine.

I stand up and look down at the bed, holdingmy breath in fear of the sounds that are es-calating from deep within my throat.I will not cry.I will not cry.Slowly sinking to my knees, I place my handson the edge of the bed and run my fingersover the yellow stars poured across the deepblue background of the comforter. I stare atthe stars until they begin to blur from thetears that are clouding my vision.I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my head in-to the bed, grabbing fistfuls of the blanket.My shoulders begin to shake as the sobs I’vebeen trying to contain violently break out ofme. With one swift movement, I stand up,

scream and rip the blanket off the bed,throwing it across the room.I ball my fists and frantically look around forsomething else to throw. I grab the pillowsoff the bed and chuck them at the reflectionin the mirror of the girl I no longer know. Iwatch as the girl in the mirror stares back atme, sobbing pathetically. The weakness inher tears infuriates me. We begin to run to-ward each other until our fists collide againstthe glass, smashing the mirror. I watch asshe falls into a million shiny pieces onto thecarpet.I grip the edges of the dresser and push itsideways, letting out another scream that hasbeen pent up for way too long. When thedresser comes to rest on its back, I rip openthe drawers and throw the contents acrossthe room, spinning and throwing and kickingat everything in my path. I grab at the sheerblue curtain panels and yank them until therod snaps and the curtains fall around me. I

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reach over to the boxes piled high in thecorner and, without even knowing what’s in-side, I take the top one and throw it againstthe wall with as much force as my five foot,three-inch frame can muster.“I hate you!” I cry. “I hate you, I hate you, Ihate you!”I’m throwing whatever I can find in front ofme at whatever else I can find in front of me.Every time I open my mouth to scream, Itaste the salt from the tears that are stream-ing down my cheeks.Holder’s arms suddenly engulf me from be-hind and grip me so tightly I become immob-ile. I jerk and toss and scream some moreuntil my actions are no longer thought out.They’re just reactions.“Stop,” he says calmly against my ear, un-willing to release me. I hear him, but I pre-tend not to. Or I just don’t care. I continue tostruggle against his grasp but he only tight-ens his grip.

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“Don’t touch me!” I yell at the top of mylungs, clawing at his arms. Again, it doesn’tfaze him.Don’t touch me. Please, please, please.The small voice echoes in my mind and I im-mediately become limp in his arms. I becomeweaker as my tears grow stronger, consum-ing me. I become nothing more than a vesselfor the tears that won’t stop shedding.I am weak, and I’m letting him win.Holder loosens his grip around me andplaces his hands on my shoulders, then turnsme around to face him. I can’t even look athim. I melt against his chest from exhaustionand defeat, taking in fistfuls of his shirt as Isob, my cheek pressed against his heart. Heplaces his hand on the back of my head andlowers his mouth to my ear.“Sky.” His voice is steady and unaffected.“You need to leave. Now.”

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Two months earlier…

I’d like to think most of the decisions I’vemade throughout my seventeen years havebeen smart ones. Hopefully intelligence ismeasured by weight, and the few dumb de-cisions I’ve made will be outweighed by theintelligent ones. If that’s the case, I’ll need tomake a shitload of smart decisions tomorrowbecause sneaking Grayson into my bedroomwindow for the third time this month weighspretty heavily on the dumb side of the scale.However, the only accurate measurement ofa decision’s level of stupidity is time…so Iguess I’ll wait and see if I get caught before Ibreak out the gavel.

Despite what this may look like, I am not aslut. Unless, of course, the definition of slutis based on the fact that I make out with lotsof people, regardless of my lack of attractionfor them. In that case, one might havegrounds for debate.“Hurry,” Grayson mouths behind the closedwindow, obviously irritated at my lack ofurgency.I unlock the latch and slide the window up asquietly as possible. Karen may be an uncon-ventional parent, but when it comes to boyssneaking through bedroom windows at mid-night, she’s your typical, disapprovingmother.“Quiet,” I whisper. Grayson hoists himself upand throws one leg over the ledge, thenclimbs into my bedroom. It helps that thewindows on this side of the house are barelythree feet from the ground; it’s almost likehaving my own door. In fact, Six and I haveprobably used our windows to go back and

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forth to each other’s houses more than we’veused actual doors. Karen has become so usedto it, she doesn’t even question my windowbeing open the majority of the time.Before I close the curtain, I glance to Six’sbedroom window. She waves at me with onehand while pulling on Jaxon’s arm with theother as he climbs into her bedroom. As soonas Jaxon is safely inside, he turns and stickshis head back out the window. “Meet me atyour truck in an hour,” he whispers loudly toGrayson. He closes Six’s window and shutsher curtains.Six and I have been joined at the hip sincethe day she moved in next door four yearsago. Our bedroom windows are adjacent toone another, which has proven to be ex-tremely convenient. Things started out inno-cently enough. When we were fourteen, Iwould sneak into her room at night and wewould steal ice cream from the freezer andwatch movies. When we were fifteen, we

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started sneaking boys in to eat ice cream andwatch movies with us. By the time we weresixteen, the ice cream and movies took abackseat to the boys. Now, at seventeen, wedon’t even bother leaving our respective bed-rooms until after the boys go home. That’swhen the ice cream and movies take preced-ence again.Six goes through boyfriends like I go throughflavors of ice cream. Right now her flavor ofthe month is Jaxon. Mine is Rocky Road.Grayson and Jaxon are best friends, which ishow Grayson and I were initially thrown to-gether. When Six’s flavor of the month has ahot best friend, she eases him into my graces.Grayson is definitely hot. He’s got an undeni-ably great body, perfectly sloppy hair, pier-cing dark eyes…the works. The majority ofgirls I know would feel privileged just to bein the same room as him.It’s too bad I don’t.

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I close the curtains and spin around to findGrayson inches from my face, ready to getthe show started. He places his hands on mycheeks and flashes his panty-dropping grin.“Hey, beautiful.” He doesn’t give me achance to respond before his lips greet minein a sloppy introduction. He continues kiss-ing me while slipping off his shoes. He slidesthem off effortlessly while we both walk to-ward my bed, mouths still meshed together.The ease at which he does both things simul-taneously is impressive and disturbing. Heslowly eases me back onto my bed. “Is yourdoor locked?”“Go double check,” I say. He gives me a quickpeck on the lips before he hops up to ensurethe door is locked. I’ve made it thirteen yearswith Karen and have never been grounded; Idon’t want to give her any reason to startnow. I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks and eventhen, I doubt she’ll change her parentingstyle as long as I’m under her roof.

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Not that her parenting style is a negativeone. It’s just…very contradictory. She’s beenstrict my whole life. We’ve never had accessto the internet, cell phones or even a televi-sion because she believes technology is theroot of all evil in the world. Yet, she’s ex-tremely lenient in other regards. She allowsme to go out with Six whenever I want, andas long as she knows where I am, I don’teven really have a curfew. I’ve never pushedthat one too far, though, so maybe I do havea curfew and I just don’t realize it.She doesn’t care if I cuss, even though Irarely do. She even lets me have wine withdinner every now and then. She talks to memore like I’m her friend than her daughter(even though she adopted me when I wasfive) and has somehow even warped me intobeing (almost) completely honest with herabout everything that goes on in my life.There is no middle ground with her. She’seither extremely lenient or extremely strict.

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She’s like a conservative liberal. Or a liberalconservative. Whatever she is, she’s hard tofigure out, which is why I stopped tryingyears ago.The only thing we’ve ever really butted headson was the issue of public school. She hashomeschooled me my whole life (publicschool is another root of evil) and I’ve beenbegging to be enrolled since Six planted theidea in my head. I’ve been applying to col-leges and feel like I’ll have a better chance atgetting into the schools that I want if I canadd a few extracurricular activities to the ap-plications. After months of incessant pleasfrom Six and me, Karen finally conceded andallowed me to enroll for my senior year. Icould have enough credits to graduate frommy home study program in just a couple ofmonths, but a small part of me has alwayshad a desire to experience life as a normalteenager.

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Of course, if I had known then that Six wouldbe leaving for a foreign exchange the sameweek as what was supposed to be our firstday of senior year together, I never wouldhave entertained the idea of public school.But I’m unforgivably stubborn and wouldrather stab myself in the meaty part of myhand with a fork than tell Karen I’ve changedmy mind.I’ve tried to avoid thinking about the factthat I won’t have Six this year. I know howmuch she was hoping the exchange wouldwork out, but the selfish part of me wasreally hoping it wouldn’t. The idea of havingto walk through those doors without her ter-rifies me. But I realize that our separation isinevitable and I can only go so long beforeI’m forced into the real world where otherpeople besides Six and Karen live.My lack of access to the real world has beenreplaced completely by books, and it can’t behealthy to live in a land of happily ever

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afters. Reading has also introduced me to the(perhaps dramatized) horrors of high schooland first days and cliques and mean girls. Itdoesn’t help that, according to Six, I’vealready got a bit of a reputation just being as-sociated with her. Six doesn’t have the besttrack record for celibacy, and apparentlysome of the guys I’ve made out with don’thave the best track record for secrecy. Thecombination should make for a pretty inter-esting first day of school.Not that I care. I didn’t enroll to makefriends or impress anyone, so as long as myunwarranted reputation doesn’t interferewith my ultimate goal, I’ll get along just fine.I hope.Grayson walks back toward the bed after en-suring my door is locked, and he shoots me aseductive grin. “How about a little striptease?” He sways his hips and inches hisshirt up, revealing his hard-earned set of abs.I’m beginning to notice he flashes them any

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chance he gets. He’s pretty much yourtypical, self-absorbed bad boy.I laugh when he twirls the shirt around hishead and throws it at me, then slides on topof me again. He slips his hand behind myneck, pulling my mouth back into position.The first time Grayson snuck into my roomwas a little over a month ago, and he made itclear from the beginning that he wasn’t look-ing for a relationship. I made it clear that Iwasn’t looking for him, so naturally we hit itoff right away. Of course, he’ll be one of thefew people I know at school, so I’m worried itmight mess up the good thing we’ve got go-ing—which is absolutely nothing.He’s been here less than three minutes andhe’s already got his hand up my shirt. I thinkit’s safe to say he’s not here for my stimulat-ing conversation. His lips move from mymouth in favor of my neck, so I use the mo-ment of respite to inhale deeply and try againto feel something.

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Anything.I fixate my eyes on the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars adhered to the ceiling above mybed, vaguely aware of the lips that haveinched their way to my chest. There areseventy-six of them. Stars, that is. I knowthis because for the last few weeks I’ve hadample time to count them while I’ve been inthis same predicament. Me, lying unnotice-ably unresponsive, while Grayson exploresmy face and neck, and sometimes my chest,with his curious, over-excited lips.Why, if I’m not into this, do I let him do it?I’ve never had any emotional connection tothe guys I make out with. Or rather, the guysthat make out with me. It’s unfortunatelymostly one sided. I’ve only had one guy comeclose to provoking a physical or emotionalresponse from me once, and that turned outto be a self-induced delusion. His name wasMatt and we ended up dating for less than amonth before his idiosyncrasies got the best

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of me. Like how he refused to drink bottledwater unless it was through a straw. Or theway his nostrils flared right before he leanedin to kiss me. Or the way he said, “I loveyou,” after only three weeks of declaringourselves exclusive.Yeah. That last one was the kicker. Buh-byeMatty boy.Six and I have analyzed my lack of physicalresponse to guys many times in the past. Fora while she suspected I might be gay. After avery brief and awkward “theory testing” kissbetween us when we were sixteen, we bothconcluded that wasn’t the case. It’s not that Idon’t enjoy making out with guys. I do enjoyit—otherwise, I wouldn’t do it. I just don’tenjoy it for the same reasons as other girls.I’ve never been swept off my feet. I don’t getbutterflies. In fact, the whole idea of beingswooned by anyone is foreign to me. The realreason I enjoy making out with guys issimply because it makes me feel completely

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and comfortably numb. It’s situations likethe one I’m in right now with Grayson whenit’s nice for my mind to shut down. It justcompletely stops, and I like that feeling.My eyes are focused on the seventeen starsin the upper right quadrant of the cluster onmy ceiling, when I suddenly snap back toreality. Grayson’s hands have ventured fur-ther than I’ve allowed them to in the pastand I quickly become aware of the fact thathe has unbuttoned my jeans and his fingersare working their way around the cottonedge of my panties.“No, Grayson,” I whisper, pushing his handaway.He pulls his hand back and groans, thenpresses his forehead into my pillow. “Comeon, Sky.” He’s breathing heavily against myneck. He adjusts his weight to his right armand looks down at me, attempting to play mewith his smile.

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Did I mention I’m immune to his panty-dropping grin?“How much longer are you gonna keep thisup?” He slides his hand over my stomachand inches his fingertips into my jeans again.My skin crawls. “Keep what up?” I attemptto ease out from under him.He pushes up on his hands and looks downat me like I’m clueless. “This ‘good girl’ actyou’ve been trying to put on. I’m over it, Sky.Let’s just do this already.”This brings me back to the fact that, contraryto popular belief, I am not a slut. I’ve neverhad sex with any of the boys I’ve made outwith, including the currently poutingGrayson. I’m aware that my lack of sexual re-sponse would probably make it easier on anemotional level to have sex with randompeople. However, I’m also aware that itmight be the very reason I shouldn’t havesex. I know that once I cross that line, the ru-mors about me will no longer be rumors.

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They’ll all be fact. The last thing I want is forthe things people say about me to be valid-ated. I guess I can chalk my almost eighteenyears of virginity up to sheer stubbornness.For the first time in the ten minutes he’sbeen here, I notice the smell of alcohol reek-ing from him. “You’re drunk.” I push againsthis chest. “I told you not to come over heredrunk again.” He rolls off of me and I standup to button my pants and pull my shirt backinto place. I’m relieved he’s drunk. I’m bey-ond ready for him to leave.He sits up on the edge of the bed and grabsmy waist, pulling me toward him. He wrapshis arms around me and rests his headagainst my stomach. “I’m sorry,” he says.“It’s just that I want you so bad I don’t thinkI can take coming over here again if youdon’t let me have you.” He lowers his handsand cups my butt, then presses his lipsagainst the area of skin where my shirt meetsmy jeans.

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“Then don’t come over here.” I roll my eyesand back away from him, then head to thewindow. When I pull the curtain back, Jaxonis already making his way out of Six’s win-dow. Somehow we both managed to con-dense this hour-long visit into ten minutes. Iglance at Six and she gives me the all-know-ing “time for a new flavor” look.She follows Jaxon out of her window andwalks over to me. “Is Grayson drunk, too?”I nod. “Strike three.” I turn and look atGrayson who’s lying back on the bed, ignor-ant to the fact that he’s no longer welcome. Iwalk over to the bed and pick his shirt up,tossing it at his face. “Leave,” I say. He looksup at me and cocks an eyebrow, then be-grudgingly slides off the bed when he seesI’m not making a joke. He slips his shoesback on, pouting like a four-year-old. I stepaside to let him out.Six waits until Grayson has cleared the win-dow, then she climbs inside when one of the

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guys mumbles the word “whores.” Once in-side, Six rolls her eyes and turns around tostick her head out.“Funny how we’re whores because you didn’tget laid. Assholes.” She shuts the windowand walks over to the bed, plopping down onit and crossing her hands behind her head.“And another one bites the dust.”I laugh, but my laugh is cut short by a loudbang on my bedroom door. I immediately gounlock it, then step aside preparing for Kar-en to barge in. Her motherly instincts don’tlet me down. She looks around the roomfrantically until she eyes Six on the bed.“Dammit,” she says, spinning around to faceme. She puts her hands on her hips andfrowns. “I could have sworn I heard boys inhere.”I walk over to the bed and attempt to hidethe sheer panic coursing throughout mybody. “And you seem disappointed be-cause…” I absolutely don’t understand her

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reaction to things sometimes. Like I said be-fore…contradictory.“You turn eighteen in a month. I’m runningout of time to ground you for the first timeever. You need to start screwing up a littlemore, kid.”I breathe a sigh of relief, seeing she’s onlykidding. I almost feel guilty that she doesn’tactually suspect her daughter was being feltup five minutes earlier in this very room. Myheart is pounding against my chest so in-credibly loud, I’m afraid she might hear it.“Karen?” Six says from behind us. “If itmakes you feel better, two hotties just madeout with us, but we kicked them out right be-fore you walked in because they were drunk.”My jaw drops and I spin around to shoot Sixa look that I’m hoping will let her know thatsarcasm isn’t at all funny when it’s the truth.Karen laughs. “Well, maybe tomorrow nightyou’ll get some cute sober boys.”

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I don’t think I have to worry about Karenhearing my heartbeat anymore, because itjust completely stopped.“Sober boys, huh? I think I can arrange that,”Six says, winking at me.“Are you staying the night?” Karen says toSix as she makes her way back to the bed-room door.Six shrugs her shoulders. “I think we’ll stayat my house tonight. It’s my last week in myown bed for six months. Plus, I’ve got Chan-ning Tatum on the flat screen.”I glance back at Karen and see it starting.“Don’t, Mom.” I begin walking toward her,but I can see the mist forming in her eyes.“No, no, no.” By the time I reach her, it’s toolate. She’s bawling. If there’s one thing Ican’t stand, it’s crying. Not because it makesme emotional, but because it annoys the hellout of me. And it’s awkward.“Just one more,” she says, rushing towardSix. She’s already hugged her no less than

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ten times today. I almost think she’s sadderthan I am that Six is leaving in a few days.Six obliges her request for the eleventh hugand winks at me over Karen’s shoulder. Ipractically have to pry them apart, just soKaren will get out of my room.She walks back to the door and turns aroundone last time. “I hope you meet a hot Italianboy,” she says to Six.“I better meet more than just one,” Sixdeadpans.When the door closes behind Karen, I spinaround and jump on the bed, then punch Sixin the arm. “You’re such a bitch,” I say. “Thatwasn’t funny. I thought I got caught.”She laughs and grabs my hand, then standsup. “Come. I’ve got Rocky Road.”She doesn’t have to ask twice.

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I debated on whether or not to run thismorning but I ended up sleeping in, instead.I run every day except Sunday, but it seemswrong having to get up extra early today. Be-ing the first day of school is enough torturein itself, so I decide to put off my run untilafter school.Luckily, I’ve had my own car for about a yearnow, so I don’t have to rely on anyone otherthan myself to get me to school on time. Notonly do I get here on time, I get here forty-five minutes early. I’m the third car in theparking lot, so at least I get a good spot.I use the extra time to check out the athleticfacilities next to the parking lot. If I’m goingto be trying out for the track team, I should

at least know where to go. Besides, I can’tjust sit in my car for the next half hour andcount down the minutes.When I reach the track, there’s a guy acrossthe field running laps, so I cut right and walkup the bleachers. I take a seat at the very topand take in my new surroundings. From uphere, I can see the whole school laid out infront of me. It doesn’t look nearly as big orintimidating as I’ve been imagining. Sixmade me a hand-drawn map and even wrotea few pointers down, so I pull the paper outof my backpack and look at it for the firsttime. I think she’s trying to overcompensatebecause she feels bad for abandoning me.I look at the school grounds, then back at themap. It looks easy enough. Classrooms in thebuilding to the right. Lunchroom on the left.Track and field behind the gym. There is along list of her pointers, so I begin readingthem.

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-Never use the restroom next to thescience lab. Ever. Not ever.-Only wear your backpack across oneshoulder. Never double-arm it, it’slame.-Always check the date on the milk.-Befriend Stewart, the maintenanceguy. It’s good to have him on yourside.-The cafeteria. Avoid it at all costs, butif the weather is bad, just pretend youknow what you’re doing when youwalk inside. They can smell fear.-If you get Mr. Declare for math, sit inthe back and don’t make eye contact.He loves high school girls, if you knowwhat I mean. Or, better yet, sit in thefront. It’ll be an easy A.

The list goes on, but I can’t read anymoreright now. I’m still stuck on, “they can smellfear.” It’s times like these that I wish I had a

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cell phone, because I would call Six rightnow and demand an explanation. I fold thepaper up and put it back in my bag, then fo-cus my attention on the lone runner. He’sseated on the track with his back turned tome, stretching. I don’t know if he’s a studentor a coach, but if Grayson saw this guywithout a shirt, he’d probably become a lotmore modest about being so quick to flashhis own abs.The guy stands up and walks toward thebleachers, never looking up at me. He exitsthe gate and walks to one of the cars in theparking lot. He opens his door and grabs ashirt off the front seat, then pulls it on overhis head. He hops in the car and pulls away,just as the parking lot begins to fill up. Andit’s filling up fast.Oh, God.I grab my backpack and purposefully pullboth arms through it, then descend the stairsthat lead straight to Hell.

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Did I say Hell? Because that was putting itmildly. Public school is everything I wasafraid it would be and worse. The classesaren’t so bad, but I had to (out of pure neces-sity and unfamiliarity) use the restroom nextto the science lab, and although I survived,I’ll be scarred for life. A simple side notefrom Six informing me that it’s used as moreof a brothel than an actual restroom wouldhave sufficed.It’s fourth period now and I’ve heard thewords “slut” and “whore” whispered not sosubtly by almost every girl I’ve passed in thehallways. And speaking of not-so-subtle, theheap of dollar bills that just fell out of mylocker, along with a note, were a good indic-ator that I may not be very welcome. The

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note was signed by the principal, but I findthat hard to believe based on the fact that“your” was spelled “you’re,” and the notesaid, “Sorry you’re locker didn’t come with apole, slut.”I stare at the note in my hands with a tight-lipped smile, shamefully accepting my self-inflicted fate that will be the next twosemesters. I seriously thought people onlyacted this way in books, but I’m witnessingfirst hand that idiots actually exist. I’m alsohoping most of the pranks being played atmy expense are going to be just like thestripper-cash prank I’m experiencing rightnow. What idiot gives away money as an in-sult? I’m guessing a rich one. Or rich ones.I’m sure the clique of giggling girls behindme that are scantily, yet expensively clad, areexpecting my reaction to be to drop mythings and run to the nearest restroom cry-ing. There are only three issues with theirexpectations.

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1) I don’t cry. Ever.2) I’ve been to that restroom and I’ll never goback.3) I like money. Who would run from that?

I set my backpack on the ground below mylocker and pick the money up. There are atleast twenty one-dollar bills on the ground,and more than ten still in my locker. I scoopthose up as well and shove it all into mybackpack. I switch books and shut my locker,then slide my backpack on both shouldersand smile.“Tell your daddies I said thank you.” I walkpast the clique of girls (that are no longergiggling) and ignore their glares.

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It’s lunchtime, and looking at the amount ofrain flooding the courtyard, it’s obvious thatKarma has retaliated with shitty weather.Who she’s retaliating against is still up in theair.I can do this.I place my hands on the doors to the cafeter-ia and open them, half-expecting to begreeted by fire and brimstone.I step through the doorway and it’s not fireand brimstone that I’m met with. It’s adecibel of noise unlike anything my earshave ever been subjected to. It’s almost as ifevery single person in this entire cafeteria istrying to talk louder than every other personin this entire cafeteria. I’ve just enrolled in aschool of nothing but one-uppers.I do my best to feign confidence, not wantingto attract unwanted attention from anyone.Guys, cliques, outcasts or Grayson. I make ithalfway to the food line unscathed, when

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someone slips his arm through mine andpulls me along behind him.“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. I don’teven get a good look at his face before he’sguiding me across the cafeteria, weaving inand out of tables. I would object to this sud-den disruption, but it’s the most excitingthing that’s happened to me all day. He slipshis arm from mine and grabs my hand,pulling me faster along behind him. I stopresisting and go with the flow.From the looks of the back of him, he’s gotstyle, as strange as that style may be. He’swearing a flannel shirt that’s edged with theexact same shade of hot pink as his shoes.His pants are black and tight and very figureflattering...if he were a girl. Instead, thepants just accentuate the frailty of his frame.His dark brown hair is cropped short on thesides and is a little longer on top. His eyesare…staring at me. I realize we’ve come to astop and he’s no longer holding my hand.

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“If it isn’t the whore of Babylon.” He grins atme. Despite the words that just came out ofhis mouth, his expression is contrastinglyendearing. He takes a seat at the table andflicks his hand like he wants me to do thesame. There are two trays in front of him,but only one him. He scoots one of the traysof food toward the empty spot in front of me.“Sit. We have an alliance to discuss.”I don’t sit. I don’t do anything for severalseconds as I contemplate the situation beforeme. I have no idea who this kid is, yet he actslike he was expecting me. Let’s not overlookthe fact that he just called me a whore. Andfrom the looks of it, he bought me…lunch? Iglance at him sideways, attempting to figurehim out, when the backpack in the seat nextto him catches my eye.“You like to read?” I ask, pointing at the bookpeering out of the top of his backpack. It’snot a textbook. It’s an actual book-book. So-mething I thought was lost on this

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generation of internet fiends. I reach overand pull the book out of his backpack andtake a seat across from him. “What genre isit? And please don’t say sci-fi.”He leans back in his seat and grins like hejust won something. Hell, maybe he did. I’msitting here, aren’t I?“Should it matter what genre it is if the bookis good?” he says.I flip through the pages, unable to tell if it’s aromance or not. I’m a sucker for romances,and based on the look of the guy across fromme, he might be, too.“Is it?” I ask, flipping through it. “Good?”“Yes. Keep it. I just finished it during com-puter lab.”I look up at him and he’s still basking in hisglow of victory. I put the book in my back-pack, then lean forward and inspect my tray.The first thing I do is check the date on themilk. It’s good.

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“What if I was a vegetarian?” I ask, looking atthe chicken breast in the salad.“So eat around it,” he retorts.I grab my fork and stab a piece of the chick-en, then bring it to my mouth. “Well you’relucky, because I’m not.”He smiles, then picks up his own fork andbegins eating.“Whom are we forming an alliance against?”I’m curious as to why I’ve been singled out.He glances around him and raises his handin the air, twirling it in all directions. “Idiots.Jocks. Bigots. Bitches.” He brings his handdown and I notice that his nails are allpainted black. He sees me observing his nailsand he looks down at them and pouts. “Iwent with black because it best depicts mymood today. Maybe after you agree to joinme on my quest, I’ll switch to something abit more cheerful. Perhaps yellow.”I shake my head. “I hate yellow. Stick withblack, it matches your heart.”

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He laughs. It’s a genuine, pure laugh thatmakes me smile. I like…this kid whose nameI don’t even know.“What’s your name?” I ask.“Breckin. And you’re Sky. At least I’m hopingyou are. I guess I could have confirmed youridentity before I spilled to you the details ofmy evil, sadistic plan to overtake the schoolwith our two person alliance.”“I am Sky. And you really have nothing toworry about, seeing as though you reallyhaven’t shared any details about your evilplan yet. I am curious though, how you knowwho I am. I know four or five guys at thisschool and I’ve made out with every one ofthem. You aren’t one of them, so whatgives?”For a split second, I see a flash of what lookslike pity in his eyes. He’s lucky it was just aflash, though.Breckin shrugs. “I’m new here. And if youhaven’t deducted from my impeccable

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fashion sense, I think it’s safe to say thatI’m…” he leans forward and cups his hand tohis mouth in secrecy. “Mormon,” hewhispers.I laugh. “And here I was thinking you wereabout to say gay.”“That too,” he says with a flick of his wrist.He folds his hands under his chin and leansforward a couple of inches. “In all serious-ness, Sky. I noticed you in class today and it’sobvious you’re new here, too. And after see-ing the stripper money fall out of your lockerbefore fourth period, then witnessing yournon-reaction to it, I knew we were meant tobe. Also, I figured if we teamed up, we mightprevent at least two unnecessary teenage sui-cides this year. So, what do you say? Want tobe my very bestest friend ever in the wholewide world?”I laugh. How could I not laugh at that? “Sure.But if the book sucks, we’re re-evaluating thefriendship.”

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Turns out, Breckin was my saving gracetoday…and he really is Mormon. We have alot in common, and even more out of com-mon, which makes him that much more ap-pealing. He was adopted as well, but has aclose relationship with his birth family.Breckin has two brothers who aren’t adop-ted, and who also aren’t gay, so his parentsassume his gayness (his word, not mine) hasto do with the fact that he doesn’t share abloodline with them. He says they’re hopingit fades with more prayer and high schoolgraduation, but he insists that it’s only goingto flourish.His dream is to one day be a famous Broad-way star, but he says he lacks the ability to

sing or act, so he’s scaling down his dreamand applying to business school, instead. Itold him I wanted to major in creative writ-ing and sit around in yoga pants and donothing but write books and eat ice creamevery day. He asked what genre I wanted towrite and I replied, “It doesn’t matter, solong as it’s good, right?” I think that com-ment sealed our fate.

Now I’m on my way home, deciding onwhether or not to go fill Six in on the bitter-sweet happenings of day one, or go groceryshopping in order to get my caffeine fix be-fore my daily run.The caffeine wins, despite the fact that myaffection for Six is slightly greater.My minimal portion of familial contributionis the weekly grocery shopping. Everythingin our house is sugar-free, carb-free andtaste-free, thanks to Karen’s unconventionalvegan way of life, so I actually prefer doingthe grocery shopping. I grab a six-pack of

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soda and the biggest bag of bite size SnickersI can find and throw them in the cart. I havea nice hiding spot for my secret stash in mybedroom. Most teenagers are stashing awaycigarettes and weed—I stash away sugar.When I reach the checkout, I recognize thegirl ringing me up is in my second periodEnglish class. I’m pretty sure her name isShayna, but her nametag reads Shayla.Shayna/Shayla is everything I wish I were.Tall, voluptuous and sun-kissed blonde. Ican maybe pull off five-three on a good dayand my flat brown hair could use atrim—maybe even some highlights. Theywould be a bitch to maintain considering theamount of hair that I have. It falls about sixinches past my shoulders, but I keep it pulledup most of the time due to the southernhumidity.“Aren’t you in my Science class?” Shayna/Shayla asks.“English,” I correct her.

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She shoots me a condescending look. “I didspeak English,” she says defensively. “I said,‘aren’t you in my Science class?’”Oh, holy hell. Maybe I don’t want to be thatblonde.“No,” I say. “I meant English as in ‘I’m not inyour Science class, I’m in your Englishclass.’”She looks at me blankly for a second, thenlaughs. “Oh.” Realization dawns on her face.She eyes the screen in front of her and readsout my total. I slip my hand in my back pock-et and retrieve the credit card, hoping tohurry and excuse myself from what I fear isabout to become a less than stellarconversation.“Oh, dear God,” she says quietly. “Lookwho’s back.”I glance up at her and she’s staring atsomeone behind me in the other checkoutline.

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No, let me correct that. She’s salivating oversomeone behind me in the checkout line.“Hey, Holder,” she says seductively towardhim, flashing her full-lipped smile.Did she just bat her eyelashes? Yep. I’mpretty sure she just batted her eyelashes. Ihonestly thought they only did that incartoons.I glance back to see who this Holder charac-ter is that has somehow managed to washaway any semblance of self-respect Shayna/Shayla might have had. The guy looks up ather and nods an acknowledgement, seem-ingly uninterested.“Hey….” He squints his eyes at her nametag.“Shayla.” He turns his attention back to hiscashier.Is he ignoring her? One of the prettiest girlsin school practically gives him an open invit-ation and he acts like it’s an inconvenience?Is he even human? This isn’t how the guys Iknow are supposed to react.

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She huffs. “It’s Shayna,” she says, annoyedthat he didn’t know her name. I turn back to-ward Shayna and swipe my credit cardthrough the machine.“Sorry,” he says to her. “But you do realizeyour nametag says Shayla, right?”She looks down at her chest and flips hernametag up so she can read it. “Huh,” shesays, narrowing her eyebrows as if she’s deepin thought. I doubt it’s that deep, though.“When did you get back?” she asks Holder,ignoring me completely. I just swiped mycard and I’m almost positive she should bedoing something on her end, but she’s toobusy planning her wedding with this guy toremember she has a customer.“Last week.” His response is curt.“So are they gonna let you come back toschool?” she asks.I can hear him sigh from where I’m standing.“Doesn’t matter,” he says flatly. “Not goingback.”

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This last statement of his immediately givesShayna/Shayla cold feet. She rolls her eyesand turns her attention back to me. “It’s ashame when a body like that doesn’t comewith any brains,” she whispers.The irony in her statement isn’t lost on me.When she finally starts punching numberson the register to complete the transaction, Iuse her distraction as an opportunity toglance behind me again. I’m curious to getanother look at the guy who seemed to be ir-ritated by the leggy blonde. He’s lookingdown into his wallet, laughing at somethinghis cashier said. As soon as I lay eyes on him,I immediately notice three things:

1) His amazingly perfect white teeth hiddenbehind that seductively crooked grin.2) The dimples that form in the crevicesbetween the corners of his lips and cheekswhen he smiles.3) I’m pretty sure I’m having a hot flash.

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Or I have butterflies.Or maybe I’m coming down with a stomachvirus.

The feeling is so foreign; I’m not sure what itis. I can’t say what is so different about himthat would prompt my first-ever normal bio-logical response to another person. However,I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone so incred-ibly like him before. He’s beautiful. Notbeautiful in the pretty-boy sense. Or even inthe tough-guy sense. Just a perfect mixtureof in-between. Not too big, but not at allsmall. Not too rough, not too perfect. He’swearing jeans and a white t-shirt, nothingspecial. His hair doesn’t look like it’s evenbeen brushed today and could probably use agood trim, just like mine. It’s just longenough in the front that he has to move it outof his eyes when he looks up and catches mefull on staring.Shit.

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I would normally pull my gaze away as soonas direct eye contact is made, but there’ssomething odd about the way he reacts whenhe looks at me that keeps my focus glued tohis. His smile immediately fades and hecocks his head. An inquisitive look enters hiseyes and he slowly shakes his head, either indisbelief or...disgust? I can’t put my fingeron it, but it’s certainly not a pleasant reac-tion. I glance around, hoping I’m not the re-cipient of his displeasure. When I turn backto look at him, he’s still staring.At me.I’m disturbed, to say the least, so I quicklyturn around and face Shayla again. OrShayna. Whatever the hell her name is. Ineed to regain my bearings. Somehow, in thecourse of sixty seconds, this guy has man-aged to swoon me, then terrify the hell out ofme. The mixed reaction is not good for mycaffeine-deprived body. I’d much rather heregard me with the same indifference he held

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toward Shayna/Shayla, than to look at melike that again. I grab my receipt fromwhat’s-her-face and slip it into my pocket.“Hey.” His voice is deep and demanding andimmediately causes my breathing to halt. Idon’t know if he’s referring to what’s-her-face or me, so I slip my hands through thehandles of the grocery sacks, hoping to makeit to my car before he finishes checking out.“I think he’s talking to you,” she says. I grabthe last of the sacks and ignore her, walkingas fast as I can toward the exit.Once I reach my car, I let out a huge breathas I open the back door to put the groceriesinside. What the hell is wrong with me? Agood-looking guy tries to get my attentionand I run? I’m not uncomfortable aroundguys. I’m confident to a fault, even. The onetime in my life I might actually feel whatcould possibly be an attraction for someone,and I run.Six is going to kill me.

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But that look. There was something so dis-turbing about the way he looked at me. Itwas uncomfortable, embarrassing, andsomehow flattering all at once. I’m not usedto having these sorts of reactions at all, muchless more than one at a time.“Hey.”I freeze. His voice is without a doubt directedat me now.I still can’t distinguish between butterflies ora stomach virus, but either way I’m not fondof the way that voice penetrates right to thepit of my stomach. I stiffen and slowly turnaround, all of a sudden aware that I’mnowhere near as confident as my past wouldlead me to believe.He’s holding two sacks down at his side withone hand while he rubs the back of his neckwith his other hand. I’m really wishing theweather were still shitty and rainy so hewouldn’t be standing here right now. Herests his eyes on mine and the look of

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contempt from inside the store is now re-placed with a crooked grin that seems a bitforced in our current predicament. Now thatI have a closer look at him, it’s apparent thestomach virus isn’t the root of the suddenstomach issues at all.It’s simply him.Everything about him, from his tousled darkhair, to his stark blue eyes, to that…dimple,to his thick arms that I just want to reach outand touch.Touch? Really, Sky? Get ahold of yourself!Everything about him causes my lungs to failand my heart to go into overdrive. I have afeeling if he smiles at me like Grayson triesto smile at me, my panties would be on theground in record time.As soon as my eyes leave his physique longenough for us to make eye contact again, hereleases the tight grip he has on his neck andswitches the sack to his left hand.

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“I’m Holder,” he says, extending his handout to me.I look down at his hand, then take a stepback without shaking it. This whole situationis entirely too awkward for me to trust himwith this innocent introduction. Maybe if hewouldn’t have pierced me with his intenseglare in the store, I would be more suscept-ible to his physical perfection.“What do you want?” I’m careful to look athim with suspicion rather than awe.His dimple reappears with his hasty laughand he shakes his head, then looks awayagain. “Um,” he says with a nervous stutterthat doesn’t match his confident persona inthe least. His eyes dart around the parkinglot like he’s looking for an escape, and hesighs before locking eyes with me again. Hismultitude of reactions confuses the hell outof me. He seems close to disgusted by mypresence one minute, to practically runningme down the next. I’m usually pretty good at

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reading people, but if I had to make an as-sumption about Holder based on the last twominutes alone, I’d have to say he suffersfrom split-personality disorder. His suddenshifts between flippant and intense areunnerving.“This might sound lame,” he says. “But youlook really familiar. Do you mind if I askwhat your name is?”Disappointment sets in as soon as the pick-up line escapes his lips. He’s one of thoseguys. You know. The incredibly gorgeousguys who can have anyone, anytime, any-where and they know it? The guys that, allthey have to do is flash a crooked smile or adimple and ask a girl her name and she meltsuntil she’s on her knees in front of him? Theguys that spend their Saturday nights climb-ing through windows?I’m highly disappointed. I roll my eyes andreach behind me, pulling on the door handleto my car. “I’ve got a boyfriend,” I lie. I spin

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around and open the door, then climb inside.When I reach to pull the door shut, I’m metwith resistance when it refuses to budge. Ilook up to see his hand grasping the top ofthe car door, holding it open. There’s a harddesperation in his eyes that sends chillsdown my arms.He looks at me and I get chills? Who the hellam I?“Your name. That’s all I want.”I debate on whether or not I should explainto him that my name isn’t going to help himin his stalking endeavors. I’m more thanlikely the only seventeen-year-old left inAmerica without an online presence. Withmy grip still on the door handle, I dischargea warning shot with my glare. “Do youmind?” I say sharply, my eyes darting to thehand that’s preventing me from shutting mydoor. My eyes trail from his hand to the tat-too written in small script across hisforearm.

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HopelessI can’t help but laugh internally. I am obvi-ously the target of Karma’s retaliation today.I’m finally introduced to the one guy that Ifind attractive, and he’s a high school dro-pout with the word hopeless tattooed onhimself.Now I’m irritated. I pull on the door onemore time, but he doesn’t budge.“Your name. Please.”The desperate look in his eyes when he saysplease prompts a surprisingly sympatheticreaction from me, way out of left field.“Sky,” I say abruptly, suddenly feeling com-passion for the pain that is clearly maskedbehind those blue eyes of his. The ease atwhich I give in to his request based off of onelook leaves me disappointed in myself. I letgo of the door and crank my car.“Sky,” he repeats to himself. He ponders thisfor a second, then shakes his head like I got

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the answer to his question wrong. “Are yousure?” He cocks his head at me.Am I sure? Does he think I’m Shayna/Shaylaand don’t even know my own name? I rollmy eyes and shift in my seat, pulling my IDfrom my pocket. I hold it up to his face.“Pretty sure I know my own name.” I beginto pull the ID back when he releases my doorand grabs the ID out of my hand, bringing itin closer for inspection. He eyes it for a fewseconds, then flicks it over in his fingers andhands it back to me.“Sorry.” He takes a step away from my car.“My mistake.”His expression is glossed over with hardnessnow and he watches me as I put my ID backinto my pocket. I stare at him for a second,waiting for something more, but he justworks his jaw back and forth while I put myseatbelt on.He’s giving up on asking me out that easily?Seriously? I put my fingers on the door

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handle, expecting him to hold the door openagain in order to spit out another lamepickup line. When that doesn’t happen andhe steps back even further as I shut my door,eeriness consumes me. If he really didn’t fol-low me out here to ask me out, what the hellwas this all about?He runs his hand through his hair and mut-ters to himself, but I can’t hear what he saysthrough the closed window. I throw the carin reverse and keep my eyes on him as I backout of the parking lot. He remains motion-less, staring at me the entire time I pullaway. When I’m heading in the opposite dir-ection, I adjust the rearview mirror to get alast glance at him before exiting the parkinglot. I watch as he turns to walk away, smash-ing his fist into the hood of a car.Good call, Sky. He’s got a temper.

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After the groceries are put away, I grab ahandful of chocolate from my stash andshove it in my pocket, then crawl out mywindow. I push Six’s window up and pullmyself in. It’s almost four o’clock in the af-ternoon and she’s asleep, so I tiptoe to herside of the bed and kneel down. She’s got herfacemask on and her dirty blond hair is mat-ted to her cheek, thanks to the amount ofdrool she produces while she sleeps. I inch inas close as I can to her face and scream hername.“SIX! WAKE UP!”She jerks herself up with such force that Idon’t have time to move out of her way. Herflailing elbow crashes into my eye and I fall

back. I immediately cover my throbbing eyewith my hand and sprawl out on the floor ofher bedroom. I look up at her out of my goodeye, and she’s sitting up in the bed holdingonto her head, scowling at me. “You’re sucha bitch,” she groans. She throws her coversoff and gets out of bed, then heads straightfor the bathroom.“I think you gave me a black eye,” I moan.She leaves the bathroom door open and sitsdown on the toilet. “Good. You deserve it.”She grabs the toilet paper and kicks the bath-room door shut with her foot. “You betterhave something good to tell me for wakingme up. I was up all night packing.”Six has never been a morning person, andfrom the looks of it, she’s not an afternoonperson, either. In all honesty, she’s also not anight person. If I had to guess when her mostpleasant time of day occurs, it’s probablywhile she sleeps, which may be why shehates to wake up so much.

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Six’s sense of humor and straightforwardpersonality are huge factors in why we getalong so well. Peppy, fake girls annoy the hellout of me. I don’t know that pep is even inSix’s vocabulary. She’s one black wardrobeaway from being your typical, broody teen-ager. And fake? She’s as straight shooting asthey come, whether you want her to be ornot. There isn’t a fake thing about Six, otherthan her name.When she was fourteen and her parents toldher they were moving to Texas from Maine,she rebelled by refusing to respond to hername. Her real name is Seven Marie, so shewould only answer to Six just to spite herparents for making her move. They still callher Seven, but everyone else calls her Six.Just goes to show she’s as stubborn as I am,which is one of the many reasons we’re bestfriends.

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“I think you’ll be happy I woke you up.” I pullmyself up from the floor and onto her bed.“Something monumental happened today.”Six opens the bathroom door and walks backto her bed. She lies down next to me andpulls the covers up over her head. She rollsaway from me, fluffing her pillow with herhand until she gets comfortable. “Let meguess…Karen got cable?”I roll onto my side and scoot closer to her,wrapping my arm around her. I put my headon her pillow and spoon her. “Guess again.”“You met someone at school today and nowyou’re pregnant and getting married and Ican’t be a bridesmaid at your wedding be-cause I’ll be all the way across the damnworld?”“Close, but nope.” I drum my fingers on hershoulder.“Then what?” she says, irritated.I roll over onto my back and let out a deepsigh. “I saw a guy at the store after school,

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and holy shit, Six. He was beautiful. Scary,but beautiful.”Six immediately rolls over, managing to sendan elbow straight into the same eye that sheassaulted a few minutes ago. “What?!” shesays loudly, ignoring the fact that I’m hold-ing my eye and groaning again. She sits upon the bed and pulls my hand away from myface. “What?!” she yells again. “Seriously?”I stay on my back and attempt to force thepain from my throbbing eye into the back ofmy mind. “I know. As soon as I looked athim it was like my entire body just melted tothe floor. He was…wow.”“Did you talk to him? Did you get his num-ber? Did he ask you out?”I’ve never seen Six so animated before. She’sbeing a little too giddy, and I’m not sure thatI like it.“Jesus, Six. Simmer down.”She looks down at me and frowns. “Sky, I’vebeen worried about you for four years,

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thinking this would never happen. I wouldbe fine if you were gay. I would be fine if youonly liked skinny, short, geeky guys. I wouldeven be fine if you were only attracted toreally old, wrinkly men with even wrinklierpenises. What I haven’t been fine with is thethought of you never being able to experi-ence lust.” She falls back onto the bed, smil-ing. “Lust is the best of all the deadly sins.”I laugh and shake my head. “I beg to differ.Lust sucks. I think you’ve played it up allthese years. My vote is still with gluttony.”With that, I pull a piece of chocolate out ofmy pocket and pop it into my mouth.“I need details,” she says.I scoot up on the bed until my back meetsthe headboard. “I don’t know how to de-scribe it. When I looked at him, I neverwanted to stop. I could have stared at him allday. But then when he looked back at me, itfreaked me out. He looked at me like he waspissed off that I even noticed him. Then

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when he followed me to my car and deman-ded to know my name, it was like he wasmad at me for it. Like I was inconveniencinghim. I went from wanting to lick his dimplesto wanting to get the hell away from him.”“He followed you? To your car?” she asksskeptically. I nod and give her every last de-tail of my trip to the grocery store, all theway up to the point where he smashed hisfist into the car next to him.“God, that’s so bizarre,” she says when I fin-ish. She sits up and mirrors my positionagainst her headboard. “Are you sure hewasn’t flirting with you? Trying to get yournumber? I mean, I’ve seen you with guys,Sky. You put on a good act, even if you don’tfeel it with them. I know you know how toread guys, but I think maybe the fact thatyou were actually attracted to him mighthave muddied your intuition. You think?”I shrug. She could be right. Maybe I just readhim wrong and my own negative reaction

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prompted him to change his mind about ask-ing me out. “Could be. But whatever it was, itwas ruined just as fast. He’s a dropout, he’smoody, he’s got a temper and…he’s just…he’shopeless. I don’t know what my type is, but Iknow I don’t want it to be Holder.”Six grabs my cheeks, squeezing them togeth-er, and turns my face to hers. “Did you justsay Holder?” she asks, her exquisitelygroomed eyebrow arched in curiosity.My lips are squished together due to her holdon my cheeks, so I just nod rather than giveher a verbal response.“Dean Holder? Messy brown hair? Smolder-ing blue eyes? A temper straight out of FightClub?”I shrug. “Dowds sike dim,” I say, my wordsbarely audible thanks to the grip she still hason my face. She releases her hold and I re-peat what I said. “Sounds like him.” I bringmy hand to my face and massage my cheeks.“You know him?”

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She stands up and throws her hands up inthe air. “Why Sky? Of all the guys you couldbe attracted to, why the hell is it DeanHolder?”She seems disappointed. Why does she seemso disappointed? I’ve never heard her men-tion Holder before, so it’s not like she’s everdated him. Why the hell does it seem thatthis just went from sort of exciting…to very,very bad?“I need details,” I say.She rolls her head and swings her legs off thebed. She walks to her closet and grabs a pairof jeans out of a box, then pulls them up overher underwear. “He’s a jerk, Sky. He used togo to our school but he got sent to juvi rightafter school started last year. I don’t knowhim that well, but I know enough about himto know he’s not boyfriend material.”Her description of Holder doesn’t surpriseme. I wish I could say it didn’t disappointme, but I can’t.

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“Since when is anyone boyfriend material?” Idon’t think Six has ever had a boyfriend formore than one night in her life.She looks at me, then shrugs. “Touché.” Shepulls a shirt on over her head and walks toher bathroom sink. She picks up a tooth-brush and squeezes toothpaste onto it, thenwalks back into the bedroom brushing herteeth.“Why was he sent to juvi?” I ask, not sure if Ireally want to know the answer.Six pulls the toothbrush from her mouth.“They got him for a hate crime...beat upsome gay kid from school. Pretty sure it wasa strike three kind of thing.” She puts thetoothbrush back into her mouth and walks tothe sink to spit.A hate crime? Really? My stomach does aflip, but not in the good way this time.Six walks back into the bedroom after pullingher hair into a ponytail. “This sucks,” shesays, perusing through her jewelry. “What if

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this is the one time you get horny for a guyand you never feel it again?”Her choice of words makes me grimace. “Iwasn’t horny for him, Six.”She waves her hand in the air. “Horny. At-tracted. It’s all the same,” she says flippantly,walking back to the bed. She places an ear-ring in her lap and brings the other one up toher ear. “I guess we should be relieved toknow that you aren’t completely broken.” Sixnarrows her eyes and leans over me. Shepinches my chin, turning my face to the left.“What in the hell happened to your eye?”I laugh and roll off the bed, out of harm’sway. “You happened.” I make my way towardthe window. “I need to clear my head. I’mgonna go for a run. Wanna come?”Six crinkles up her nose. “Yeah…no. Youhave fun with that.”I have one leg over the windowsill when shecalls back to me. “I want to know all about

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your first day at school later. And I have apresent for you. I’m coming over tonight.”

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My lungs are aching; my body went numbway back at Aspen Road. My breath hasmoved from controlled inhaling and exhalingto uncontrolled gasps and spurts. This is thepoint at which I usually love running themost. When every single ounce of my body ispoured into propelling me forward, leavingme committedly focused on my next step andnothing else.My next step.Nothing else.I’ve never run this far before. I usually stopwhen I know I hit my mile and a half mark afew blocks backs, but I didn’t this time. Des-pite the familiar despair that my body is cur-rently in, I still can’t seem to shut my mind

off. I keep running in hopes that I’ll get tothat point, but it’s taking a lot longer thanusual. The only thing that makes me decideto stop going is the fact that I still have tocover as much tread going home, and I’m al-most out of water.I stop at the edge of a driveway and leanagainst the mailbox, opening the lid to mywater bottle. I wipe the sweat off my fore-head with the back of my arm and bring thebottle to my lips, managing to get about fourdrops into my mouth before it runs dry. I’vealready downed an entire bottle of water inthis Texas heat. I silently scold myself for de-ciding to skip my run this morning. I’m awuss in the heat.Fearing for my hydration, I decide to walkthe rest of the way back, rather than run. Idon’t think pushing myself to the point ofphysical exertion would make Karen toohappy. She gets nervous enough that I run bymyself as it is.

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I begin walking when I hear a familiar voicespeak up from behind me.“Hey, you.”As if my heart wasn’t already beating fastenough, I slowly turn around and see Holderstaring down at me, smiling, his dimplesbreaking out in the corners of his mouth. Hishair is wet from sweat and it’s obvious he’sbeen running, too.I blink twice, half believing this is a miragebrought on by my exhaustion. My instinct istelling me to run and scream, but my bodywants to wrap itself around his glistening,sweaty arms.My body is a damn traitor.Luckily, I haven’t recovered from the stretchI just completed, so he won’t be able to tellthat my erratic breathing pattern is mostlyfrom just seeing him again.“Hey,” I say back, breathless. I do my best tokeep looking at his face but I can’t seem tostop my eyes from dripping below his neck.

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Instead, I just look down at my feet in orderto avoid the fact that he isn’t wearing any-thing but shorts and running shoes. The wayhis shorts are hanging off of his hips is reas-on enough for me to forgive every single neg-ative thing I’ve learned about him today.“You run?” he asks, leaning his elbow on themailbox.I nod. “Usually in the mornings. I forgot howhot it is in the afternoons.” I attempt to lookback up at him, lifting my hand over my eyesto shield the sun that’s glowing over his headlike a halo.How ironic.He reaches out and I flinch before I realizehe’s just handing me his bottle of water. Theway his lips purse together in an attempt notto smile makes it obvious he can see hownervous I am around him.“Drink this.” He nudges the half empty bottleat me. “You look exhausted.”

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Normally I wouldn’t take water fromstrangers. I would especially not take waterfrom people I know are bad news, but I’mthirsty. So damn thirsty.I grab the bottle out of his hands and tilt myhead back, downing three huge gulps. I’mdying to drink the rest, but I can’t deplete hissupply, too. “Thanks,” I say, handing it backto him. I wipe my hand over my mouth andlook behind me at the sidewalk. “Well, I’vegot another mile and a half return, so I betterget started.”“Closer to two and a half,” he says, cuttinghis eyes to my stomach. He presses his lips tothe bottle without wiping the rim off, keep-ing his eyes trained on me while he tilts hishead back and gulps the rest of the water. Ican’t help but watch his lips as they cover theopening of the bottle that my lips were justtouching. We’re practically kissing.I shake my head. “Huh?” I’m not sure if hesaid something out loud or not. I’m a little

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preoccupied watching the sweat drip downhis chest.“I said it’s more like two and a half. You liveover on Conroe, that’s over two miles away.That’s almost a five mile run round trip.” Hesays it like he’s impressed.I eye him curiously. “You know what street Ilive on?”“Yeah.”He doesn’t elaborate. I keep my gaze fixed onhis and remain silent, waiting for some sortof explanation.He can see I’m not satisfied with his “yeah,”so he sighs. “Linden Sky Davis, born Septem-ber 29th. 1455 Conroe Street. Five feet threeinches. Donor.”I take a step back, suddenly seeing my near-future murder played out in front of my eyesat the hands of my dreamy stalker. I wonderif I should stop shielding my vision from thesun so I can get a better look at him in case I

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get away? I might need to recount his fea-tures to the sketch artist.“Your ID,” he explains when he sees the mix-ture of terror and confusion on my face. “Youshowed me your ID earlier. At the store.”Somehow, that explanation doesn’t ease myapprehension. “You looked at it for twoseconds.”He shrugs. “I have a good memory.”“You stalk,” I deadpan.He laughs. “I stalk? You’re the one standingin front of my house.” He points over hisshoulder at the house behind him.His house? What the hell are the chances?He straightens up and taps his fingersagainst the letters on the front of themailbox.The Holders.I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks,but it doesn’t matter. After a middle of theafternoon run in the Texas heat and a limitedsupply of water, I’m sure my entire body is

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flush. I try not to glance back at his house,but curiousity is my weakness. It’s a modesthouse, not too flashy. It fits in well with themid-income neighborhood we’re in. As doesthe car that’s in his driveway. I wonder ifthat’s his car? I can deduct from his conver-sation with whats-her-face from the grocerystore that he’s my age, so I know he must livewith his parents. But how have I not seenhim before? How could I not know I livedless than three miles from the only boy in ex-istence who can turn me into a ball offrustrated hot-flashes?I clear my throat. “Well, thanks for the wa-ter.” I can think of nothing I want more thanto escape this awkwardness. I give him aquick wave and break into a stride.“Wait a sec,” he yells from behind me. I don’tslow down, so he passes me and turnsaround, jogging backward against the sun.“Let me refill your water.” He reaches overand grabs my water bottle out of my left

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hand, brushing his hand against my stomachin the process. I freeze again.“I’ll be right back,” he says, running off to-ward his house.I’m stumped. That is a completely contra-dictory act of kindness. Another side effect ofthe split personality disorder, maybe? He’sprobably a mutation, like The Hulk. Or Je-kyll and Hyde. I wonder if Dean is his nicepersona and Holder is his scary one. Holderis definitely the one I saw at the grocery storeearlier. I think I like Dean a lot better.I feel awkward waiting, so I walk back to-ward his driveway, pausing every fewseconds to look at the path that leads back tomy home. I have no idea what to do. It feelslike any decision I make at this point will beone for the dumb side of the scale.Should I stay?Should I run?Should I hide in the bushes before he comesback outside with handcuffs and a knife?

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Before I have a chance to run, his front doorswings open and he comes back outside witha full bottle of water. This time the sun is be-hind me, so I don’t have to struggle so hardto see him. That’s not a good thing, either,since all I want to do is stare at him.Ugh! I absolutely hate lust.Hate. It.Every fiber of my being knows he’s not agood person, yet my body doesn’t seem togive a shit at all.He hands me the bottle and I quickly downanother drink. I hate Texas heat as it is, butcoupled with Dean Holder, it feels like I’mstanding in the pits of Hell.“So…earlier? At the store?” he says with anervous pause. “If I made you uneasy, I’msorry.”My lungs are begging me for air, but I some-how find a way to reply. “You didn’t makeme uneasy.”You sort of creeped me out.

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Holder narrows his eyes at me for a fewseconds, studying me. I’ve discovered todaythat I don’t like being studied…I like goingunnoticed. “I wasn’t trying to hit on you,either,” he says. “I just thought you weresomeone else.”“It’s fine.” I force a smile, but it’s not fine.Why am I suddenly consumed with disap-pointment that he wasn’t trying to hit onme? I should be happy.“Not that I wouldn’t hit on you,” he addswith a grin. “I just wasn’t doing it at that par-ticular moment.”Oh, thank you, Jesus. His clarification makesme smile, despite all my efforts not to.“Want me to run with you?” he asks, nudginghis head toward the sidewalk behind me.Yes, please.“No, it’s fine.”He nods. “Well, I was going that way anyway.I run twice a day and I’ve still got a couple…”He stops speaking mid sentence and takes a

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quick step toward me. He grabs my chin andtilts my head back. “Who did this to you?”The same hardness I saw in his eyes at thegrocery store returns behind his scowl. “Youreye wasn’t like this earlier.”I pull my chin away and laugh it off. “It wasan accident. Never interrupt a teenage girl’snap.”He doesn’t smile. Instead, he takes a stepcloser and gives me a hard look, thenbrushes his thumb underneath my eye. “Youwould tell someone, right? If someone didthis to you?”I want to respond. Really, I do. I just can’t.He’s touching my face. His hand is on mycheek. I can’t think, I can’t speak, I can’tbreathe. The intensity that exudes from hiswhole existence sucks the air out of my lungsand the strength out of my knees. I nod un-convincingly and he frowns, then pulls hishand away.

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“I’m running with you,” he says, withoutquestion. He places his hands on myshoulders and turns me in the opposite dir-ection, giving me a slight shove. He falls intostride next to me and we run in silence.I want to talk to him. I want to ask him abouthis year in juvi, why he dropped out ofschool, why he has that tattoo…but I’m tooscared to find out the answers. Not to men-tion I’m completely out of breath. So instead,we run in complete silence the entire wayback to my house.When we close in on my driveway, we bothslow down to a walk. I have no idea how toend this. No one ever runs with me, so I’mnot sure what the etiquette is when two run-ners part ways. I turn and give him a quickwave. “I guess I’ll see you later?”“Absolutely,” he says, staring right at me.I smile at him uncomfortably and turn away.Absolutely? I flip this word over in my mindas I head back up the driveway. What does

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he mean by that? He didn’t try to get mynumber, despite not knowing I don’t haveone. He didn’t ask if I wanted to run withhim again. But he said absolutely like he wascertain; and I sort of hope he is.“Sky, wait.” The way his voice wraps aroundmy name makes me wish the only word inhis entire vocabulary was Sky. I spin aroundand pray he’s about to come up with anothercheesy pick-up line. I would totally fall for itnow.“Do me a favor?”Anything. I’ll do anything you ask me to, solong as you’re shirtless.“Yeah?”He tosses me his bottle of water. I catch itand look down at the empty bottle, feelingguilty that I didn’t think to offer him a refillmyself. I shake it in the air and nod, then jogup the steps and into the house. Karen isloading the dishwasher when I run into thekitchen. As soon as the front door closes

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behind me, I gasp for the air my lungs havebeen begging for.“My God, Sky. You look like you’re about topass out. Sit down.” She takes the bottlefrom my hands and forces me into a chair. Ilet her refill it while I breathe in through mynose and out my mouth. She turns aroundand hands it to me and I put the lid on it,then stand up and run it back outside to him.“Thanks,” he says. I stand and watch as hepresses those same full lips to the opening ofthe water bottle.We’re practically kissing again.I can’t distinguish between the affect mynear five-mile run has had on me and the af-fect Holder is having on me. Both of themmake me feel like I’m about to pass out fromlack of oxygen. Holder closes the lid on hiswater bottle and his eyes roam over my body,pausing at my bare midriff for a beat too longbefore he reaches my eyes. “Do you runtrack?”

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I cover my stomach with my left arm andclasp my hands at my waist. “No. I’m think-ing about trying out, though.”“You should. You’re barely out of breath andyou just ran close to five miles,” he says. “Areyou a senior?”He has no idea how much effort it’s taking onmy behalf not to fall onto the pavement andwheeze from lack of air. I’ve never ran thisfar in one shot before, and it’s takingeverything I have to come across like it’s nota big deal. Apparently it’s working.“Shouldn’t you already know if I’m a senior?You’re slacking on your stalking skills.”When his dimples make a reappearance, Iwant to high-five myself.“Well, you make it sort of difficult to stalkyou,” he says. “I couldn’t even find you onFacebook.”He just admitted to looking me up on Face-book. I met him less than two hours ago, sothe fact that he went straight home and

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looked me up on Facebook is a little bit flat-tering. An involuntary smile breaks out onmy face, and I want to punch this patheticexcuse for a girl that has taken over my nor-mally indifferent self.“I’m not on Facebook. I don’t have internetaccess,” I explain.He cuts his eyes to me and smirks like hedoesn’t believe a thing I’m saying. He pushesthe hair back from his forehead. “What aboutyour phone? You can’t get internet on yourphone?”“No phone. My mother isn’t a fan of moderntechnology. No TV, either.”“Shit,” he laughs. “You’re serious? What doyou do for fun?”I smile back at him and shrug. “I run.”Holder studies me again, dropping his atten-tion briefly to my stomach. I’ll think twicefrom now on before I decide to wear a sportsbra outside.

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“Well in that case, you wouldn’t happen toknow what time a certain someone gets upfor her morning runs, would you?” He looksback up at me and I don’t see the person Sixdescribed to me in him at all. The only thingI see is a guy, flirting with a girl, with a semi-nervous, endearing gleam in his eye.“I don’t know if you’d want to get up thatearly,” I say. The way he’s looking at mecoupled with the Texas heat is suddenlycausing my vision to blur, so I inhale a deepbreath, wanting to appear anything but ex-hausted and flustered right now.He tilts his head toward mine and narrowshis eyes. “You have no idea how bad I wantto get up that early.” He flashes me hisdimple-laden grin, and I faint.No…literally. I fainted.And based on the ache in my shoulder andthe dirt and gravel embedded in my cheek, itwasn’t a beautiful, graceful fall. I blacked outand smacked the pavement before he even

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had a chance to catch me. So unlike the her-oes in the books.I’m flat on the couch, presumably where helaid me after carrying me inside. Karen isstanding over me with a glass of water andHolder is behind her, watching the aftermathof the most embarrassing moment of my life.“Sky, drink some water,” Karen says, liftingthe back of my neck, pressing me toward thecup. I take a sip, then lean back on the pillowand close my eyes, hoping more than any-thing that I black out again.“I’ll get you a cold rag,” Karen says. I openmy eyes, hoping Holder decided to sneak outonce Karen left the room, but he’s still here.And he’s closer now. He kneels down on thefloor beside me and reaches his hand to myhair, pulling out what I assume is either dirtor gravel.“You sure you’re okay? That was a prettynasty fall.” His eyes are full of concern andhe wipes something from my cheek with his

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thumb, then rests his hand on the couch be-side me.“Oh, God,” I say, covering my eyes with myarm. “I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.”Holder grabs my wrist and pulls my armaway from my face. “Shh.” The concern in hiseyes eases and a playful grin takes over hisfeatures. “I’m sort of enjoying it.”Karen makes her way back into the livingroom. “Here’s you a rag, sweetie. Do youwant something for the pain? Are you naus-eous?” Rather than hand the rag to me, shehands it to Holder and walks back to the kit-chen. “I might have some Calendula or Bur-dock root.”Great. If I wasn’t already embarrassedenough, she’s about to make it even worse byforcing me to down her homemade tincturesright in front of him.“I’m fine, Mom. Nothing hurts.”Holder gently places the rag on my cheekand wipes at it. “You might not be sore now,

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but you will be,” he says, too quiet for Karento hear him. He looks away from examiningmy cheek and locks eyes with me. “Youshould take something, just in case.”I don’t know why the suggestion soundsmore appealing coming out of his mouththan Karen’s, but I nod. And gulp. And holdmy breath. And squeeze my thighs together.And attempt to sit up, because me lying onthe couch with him hovering over me isabout to make me faint again.When he sees my effort to sit up, he takes myelbow and assists me. Karen walks back intothe living room and hands me a small glassof orange juice. Her tinctures are so bitter, Ihave to down them with juice in order toavoid spitting it back out. I take it from herhand and down it faster than I’ve everdowned one before, then immediately handher back the glass. I just want her to go backto the kitchen.

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“I’m sorry,” she says, extending her hand toHolder. “I’m Karen Davis.”Holder stands up and shakes her hand in re-turn. “Dean Holder. My friends call meHolder.”I’m jealous she’s getting to touch his hand. Iwant to take a number and get in line. “

Sky know each other?” she asks.He looks down at me at the same time I lookup at him. His lip barely curls up in a smile,but I notice. “We don’t, actually,” he says,looking back at her. “Just in the right placeat the right time, I guess.”“Well, thank you for helping her. I don’tknow why she fainted. She’s never fainted.”She looks down at me. “Did you eat anythingtoday?”“A bite of chicken for lunch,” I say, not ad-mitting to the Snickers I had before my run.“Cafeteria food sucks ass.”

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She rolls her eyes and throws her hands upin the air. “Why were you running withouteating first?”I shrug. “I forgot. I don’t usually run in theevenings.”She walks back to the kitchen with the glassand sighs heavily. “I don’t want you runninganymore, Sky. What would have happened ifyou would have been by yourself? You runtoo much, anyway.”She’s got to be kidding me. There is no way Ican stop running.“Listen,” Holder says, watching as the rest ofthe color drains from my face. He looks backtoward the kitchen at Karen. “I live rightover on Ricker and I run by here every dayon my afternoon runs.” (He’s lying. I wouldhave noticed.) “If you’d feel more comfort-able, I’d be happy to run with her for thenext week or so in the mornings. I usuallyrun the track at school, but it’s not a big deal.

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You know, just to make sure this doesn’thappen again.”Ah. Light bulb. No wonder those abs lookedfamiliar.Karen walks back to the living room andlooks at me, then back at him. She knowshow much I enjoy my solitary runningbreaks, but I can see in her eyes that shewould feel more comfortable if I had a run-ning partner.“I’m okay with that,” she says, looking backat me. “If Sky thinks it’s a good idea.”Yes. Yes, I do. But only if my new runningpartner is shirtless.“It’s fine.” I stand up, and when I do, I getlight headed again. I guess my face goes pale,because Holder has his hand on my shoulderin less than a second, lowering me back tothe couch. “Easy,” he says. He looks up atKaren. “Do you have any crackers she caneat? That might help.”

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Karen walks away to the kitchen and Holderlooks back down at me, his eyes full of con-cern again. “You sure you’re okay?” Hebrushes his thumb across my cheek.I shiver.A devilish grin creeps across his face whenhe sees me attempt to cover the chill bumpson my arms. He glances behind me at Karenin the kitchen, then refocuses his gaze tomine.“What time should I come stalk you tomor-row?” he whispers.“Six-thirty?” I breathe, looking up at himhelplessly.“Six-thirty sounds good.”“Holder, you don’t have to do this.”His hypnotizing blue eyes study my face forseveral quiet seconds and I can’t help butstare at his equally hypnotizing mouth whilehe speaks. “I know I don’t have to do this,Sky. I do what I want.” He leans in towardmy ear and lowers his voice to a whisper.

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“And I want to run with you.” He pulls backand studies me. Due to all the chaos parad-ing through my head and stomach, I fail tomuster a reply.Karen is back with the crackers. “Eat,” shesays, placing them in my hand.Holder stands up and says goodbye to Karen,then turns back to me. “Take care of yourself.I’ll see you in the morning?”I nod and watch him as he turns to leave. Ican’t tear my eyes away from the front doorafter it shuts behind him. I’m losing it. I’vecompletely lost any form of self-control. Sothis is what Six loves? This is lust?I hate it. I absolutely, positively hate thisbeautiful, magical feeling.“He was so nice,” Karen says. “And hand-some.” She turns to face me. “You don’tknow him?”I shrug. “I know of him,” I say. And that’s allI say. If she only knew what kind of hopelessboy she just assigned as my “running

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partner,” she’d have a conniption. The lessshe knows about Dean Holder, the better it’llbe for both of us.

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“What the hell happened to your face?” Jackdrops my chin and walks past me to therefrigerator.Jack has been a fixture in Karen’s life forabout a year and a half now. He has dinnerwith us a few nights a week, and since to-night is Six’s going away dinner, he’s gracingus with his presence. As much as he likes togive Six a hard time, I know he’ll miss her,too.“I kicked the road’s ass today,” I reply.He laughs. “So that’s what happened to theroad.”Six grabs a slice of bread and opens a jar ofNutella. I grab my plate and fill it with Kar-en’s latest vegan concoction. Karen’s cooking

is an acquired taste, one that Six still hasn’tacquired after four years. Jack, on the otherhand, is Karen’s twin incarnate, so he doesn’tmind the cooking. Tonight’s menu consistsof something I can’t even pronounce, but it’scompletely animal-product free, like it al-ways is. Karen doesn’t force me to eat vegan,so unless I’m home, I usually eat what Iwant.Everything Six eats is only eaten to compli-ment her main course of Nutella. Tonight,she’s having a cheese and Nutella sandwich.I don’t know if I could ever acquire a tastefor that.“So, when are you moving in?” I ask Jack. Heand Karen have been discussing the nextstep, but they can never seem to get past thehump of her strict anti-technology rule. Well,Jack can’t get past it. It’s not a hump thatwill ever be scaled by Karen.“Whenever your mom caves and gets ESPN,”Jack says.

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They don’t argue about it. I think their ar-rangement is fine with both of them, soneither of them is in a hurry to sacrifice theiropposing views on modern technology.“Sky passed out in the road today,” Karensays, changing the subject. “Some adorableman-boy carried her inside.”I laugh. “Guy, Mom. Please just say guy.”Six glares at me from across the table and itoccurs to me that I haven’t filled her in onmy afternoon run. I also haven’t filled her inon my first day of school. It’s been an activeday today. I wonder who I’m going to fill inafter she leaves tomorrow? Just the thoughtof her being on the other side of the world intwo days fills me with dread. I hope Breckincan fill her shoes. Well, he would probablylove to fill her shoes. Literally. But I’m hop-ing he does so in the figurative sense.“You okay?” Jack asks. “It must have been apretty good fall to get that shiner.”

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I reach up to my eye and grimace. I’d com-pletely forgotten about the black eye. “That’snot from fainting. Six elbowed me. Twice.”I expect one of them to at least ask Six whyshe attacked me, but they don’t. This justgoes to show how much they love her. Theywouldn’t even care if she beat me up, they’dtell me I probably deserved it.“Doesn’t that annoy you, having a numberfor a name?” Jack asks her. “I never under-stood that. It’s like when a parent namestheir child after one of the days of the week.”He pauses with his fork mid-air and looks atKaren. “When we have a baby, we aren’t do-ing that to them. Anything you can find on acalendar is off limits.”Karen stares at him with a stone cold expres-sion. If I had to guess by her reaction, this isthe first time Jack has mentioned babies. If Ihad to guess based on the look on her face,babies aren’t something she’s anticipating inher future. Ever.

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Jack refocuses his attention back to Six.“Isn’t your real name like Seven or Thirteenor something like that? I don’t get why youpicked Six. It’s possibly the worst numberyou could pick.”“I’m going to accept your insults for whatthey are,” Six says. “Just your way of buryingyour devastation over my impendingabsence.”Jack laughs. “Bury my insults wherever youwant. There’ll be more to come when you getback in six months.”

After Jack and Six leave, I help Karen in thekitchen with the dishes. Since the secondJack brought up babies, she’s been unusuallyquiet.

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“Why did that freak you out so bad?” I askher, handing her the plate to rinse.“What?”“His comment about having a baby with you.You’re in your thirties. People have babies atyour age all the time.”“Was it that noticeable?”“It was to me.”She grabs another plate from me to rinse,then lets out a sigh. “I love Jack. I just loveme and you, too. I like our arrangement andI don’t know if I’m ready to change it, muchless bring another baby into the picture. ButJack is so intent on moving forward.”I turn the water off and wipe my hands onthe hand-towel. “I’ll be eighteen in a fewweeks, Mom. As much as you want our ar-rangement to stay the same…it won’t. I’ll beoff at college after next semester and you’llbe living here alone. It might not hurt to en-tertain the idea of at least letting him movein.”

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She smiles at me, but it’s a pained smile justlike it always is when I bring up college. “Ihave been entertaining the idea, Sky. Believeme. It’s just a huge step that can’t be undoneonce it’s taken.”“What if it’s a step you don’t want undone,though? What if it’s a step that just makesyou want to take another step, and anotherstep, until you’re full-on sprinting?”She laughs. “That’s exactly what I’m afraidof.”I wipe off the counter and rinse the rag off inthe sink. “I don’t understand you,sometimes.”“And I don’t understand you, either,” shesays, nudging my shoulder. “I’ll never for thelife of me understand why you wanted to goto public school so bad. I know you said itwas fun, but tell me how you really feel.”I shrug. “It was good,” I lie. My stubbornnesswins every time. There’s no way I’m tellingher how much I hated school today, despite

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the fact that she would never say, “I told youso.”She dries her hands and smiles at me.“Happy to hear it. Now maybe when I askyou again tomorrow, you’ll tell me the truth.”

I grab the book Breckin gave me out of mybackpack and plop down on my bed. I getthrough all of two pages when Six crawlsthrough my window.“School first, then present,” she says. Shescoots in on the bed next to me and I put thebook down on my nightstand.“School sucked ass. Thanks to you and yourinability to just say no to guys, I’ve inheritedyour terrible reputation. But by divine inter-vention, I was rescued by Breckin, the adop-ted gay Mormon who can’t sing or act but

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loves to read and is my new very bestestfriend ever in the whole wide world.”Six pouts. “I’m not even out the door yet andyou’ve already replaced me? Vicious. And forthe record, I don’t have an inability to say noto guys. I have an inability to grasp the moralramifications of premarital sex. Lots and lotsof premarital sex.”She places a box in my lap. An unwrappedbox.“I know what you’re thinking,” she says.“And you should know by now that my lackof wrapping doesn’t reflect how I feel aboutyou. I’m just lazy.”I pick the box up and shake it. “You’re theone leaving, you know. I should be the onegetting you a gift.”“Yes, you should be. But you suck at gift giv-ing and I don’t expect you to change on myaccount.”She’s right. I’m a horrible gift giver, butmostly because I hate receiving gifts so

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much. It’s almost as awkward as people cry-ing. I turn the box and find the flap, then un-tuck it and open it. I pull out the tissue paperand a cell phone drops into my hand.“Six,” I say. “You know I can’t…”“Shut up. There is no way I’m going halfwayacross the world without a way to commu-nicate with you. You don’t even have anemail address.”“I know, but I can’t…I don’t have a job. Ican’t pay for this. And Karen…”“Relax. It’s a prepaid phone. I put justenough minutes on it to where we can texteach other once a day while I’m gone. I can’tafford international phone calls, so you’reout of luck there. And just to keep with yourmother’s cruel, twisted parental values, thereisn’t even internet on the damn thing. Justtexting.”She grabs the phone and turns it on, thenenters her contact info. “If you end up get-ting a hot boyfriend while I’m away, you can

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always add extra minutes. But if he uses upany of mine I’m cutting his balls off.”She hands me back the phone and I press thehome button. Her contact information pullsup as Your very, VERY bestest friend ever inthe whole wide world.I suck at receiving gifts and I really suck atgoodbyes. I set the phone back in the boxand bend over to pick my backpack up. I pullthe books out and set them on the floor, thenturn around and dump my backpack overher and watch all the dollar bills fall in herlap.“There’s thirty-seven dollars here,” I say. “Itshould hold you over until you get back.Happy foreign exchange day.”She picks up a handful of dollars and throwsthem up in the air, then falls back on the bed.“Only one day at public school and thebitches already made your locker rain?” shelaughs. “Impressive.”

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I lay the goodbye card on her chest that Iwrote to her, then lean my head into hershoulder. “You think that’s impressive? Youshould have seen me work the pole in thecafeteria.”She picks the card up and brushes her fin-gers over it, smiling. She doesn’t open it be-cause she knows I don’t like it when thingsget uncomfortably emotional. She tucks thecard back to her chest and leans her head onmy shoulder.“You’re such a slut,” she says quietly, at-tempting to hold back tears that we’re bothtoo stubborn to cry.“So I’ve heard.”

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The alarm sounds and I instantly debateskipping today’s run until I remember who’swaiting for me outside. I get dressed fasterthan I’ve ever dressed since the first day Istarted getting dressed, then head to the win-dow. There’s a card taped to the inside of mywindow with the word “slut” written on it inSix’s handwriting. I smile and pull the cardoff the window, then throw it on my bed be-fore heading outside.He’s sitting on the curb stretching his legs.His back is to me, which is good. Otherwisehe would have caught my frown as soon as Inoticed he was wearing a shirt. He hears meapproaching and spins around to face me.

“Hey, you.” He smiles and stands up. I noticewhen he does, that his shirt is alreadysoaked. He ran here. He ran over two mileshere, he’s about to run three more miles withme, then he’ll be running over two mileshome. I seriously don’t understand why he’sgoing through all this trouble. Or why I’m al-lowing it. “You need to stretch first?” he asks.“Already did.”He reaches out and touches my cheek withhis thumb. “Doesn’t look so bad,” he says.“You sore?”I shake my head. Does he really expect me tovocalize a response when his fingers aretouching my face? It’s pretty hard to speakand hold your breath at the same time.He pulls his hand back and smiles. “Good.You ready?”I let out a breath. “Yeah.”And we run. We run side by side for a whileuntil the path narrows, then he falls into stepbehind me, which makes me incredibly self-

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conscious. I normally lose myself when I run,but this time I’m acutely aware of everysingle thing, from my hair, to the length ofmy shorts, to each drop of sweat that trailsdown my back. I’m relieved once the pathwidens and he falls back into step beside me.“You better try out for track.” His voice issteady and it doesn’t sound anything likehe’s already ran four miles this morning.“You’ve got more stamina than most of theguys from the team last year.”“I don’t know if I want to,” I say, unattract-ively breathless. “I don’t really know anyoneat school. I planned on trying out, but so farmost of the people at school are sortof…mean. I don’t really want to be subjectedto them for longer periods of time under theguise of a team.”“You’ve only been in public school for a day.Give it time. You can’t expect to behomeschooled your whole life, then walk inthe first day with a ton of new friends.”

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I stop dead in my tracks. He takes a fewmore steps before he notices I’m no longerbeside him. When he turns around and seesme standing still on the pavement, he rushestoward me and grabs my shoulders. “Are youokay? Are you dizzy?”I shake my head and push his arms off myshoulders. “I’m fine,” I say with a very aud-ible amount of annoyance in my response.He cocks his head. “Did I say somethingwrong?”I start walking in the direction of my house,so he follows suit. “A little,” I say, cutting myeyes toward him. “I was halfway joking aboutthe stalking yesterday, but you admitted tolooking me up on Facebook right after meet-ing me. Then you insist on running with me,even though it’s out of your way. Now yousomehow know how long I’ve been in publicschool? And that I was homeschooled? I’mnot gonna lie, it’s a little unnerving.”

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I wait for the explanation, but instead he justnarrows his eyes and watches me. We’reboth still walking forward, but he just si-lently watches me until we round the nextcorner. When he does finally speak, hiswords are preempted with a heavy sigh. “Iasked around,” he finally says. “I’ve livedhere since I was ten, so I have a lot offriends. I was curious about you.”I eye him for a few steps, then drop my gazedown to the sidewalk. I suddenly can’t lookat him, wondering what else his “friends”have told him about me. I know the rumorshave been going around since Six and I be-came best friends, but this is the first timeI’ve ever felt remotely defensive or embar-rassed by them. The fact that he’s going outof his way to run with me can only mean onething. He’s heard the rumors, and he’s prob-ably hoping they’re true.He can tell I’m uncomfortable, so he grabsmy elbow and stops me. “Sky.” We turn and

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face each other, but I keep my eyes trainedon the concrete. I’m actually wearing morethan just a sports bra today but I fold myarms across my t-shirt anyway and hug my-self. There’s nothing showing that needs cov-ering up, but I somehow feel really nakedright now.“I think we got off on the wrong foot at thestore yesterday,” he says. “And the talk aboutstalking, I swear, it was a joke. I don’t wantyou to feel uncomfortable around me. Wouldit make you feel better if you knew moreabout me? Ask me something and I’ll tellyou. Anything.”I’m really hoping he’s being genuine becauseI can already tell he isn’t the kind of guy agirl gets a simple crush on. He’s the kind ofguy you fall hard for, and the thought of thatterrifies me. I don’t really want to fall hardfor anyone at all, especially someone who’sonly making an effort because he thinks I’measy. I also don’t want to fall for someone

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who has already branded himself hopeless.But I’m curious. So curious.“If I ask you something, will you be honest?”He tilts his head toward me. “That’s all I’llever be.”The way he lowers his voice when he speaksmakes my head spin and for a second, I’mafraid if he keeps talking like that, I’ll passout again. Luckily, he takes a step back andwaits on my response. I want to ask himabout his past. I want to know why he wassent away and why he did what he did andwhy Six doesn’t trust him. But again, I’m notsure I want to know the truth yet.“Why did you drop out of school?”He sighs like that’s one of the questions hewas hoping to be able to dodge. He beginswalking forward again and I’m the one fol-lowing him this time.“Technically, I haven’t dropped out yet.”“Well you obviously haven’t been in over ayear. I’d say that’s dropping out.”

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He turns back to me and looks torn, like hewants to tell me something. He opens hismouth, then shuts it again after hesitating. Ihate that I can’t read him. Most people areeasy to read. They’re simple. Holder is allkinds of confusing and complicated.“I just moved back home a few days ago,” hesays. “My mother and I had a pretty shittyyear last year, so I moved in with my Dad inAustin for a while. I’ve been going to schoolthere, but felt like it was time to come backhome. So here I am.”The fact that he failed to mention his stint injuvi makes me question his ability to beforthcoming. I understand it’s probably notsomething he wants to talk about, but heshouldn’t claim that he’ll only ever be honestwhen he’s being anything but.“None of that explains why you decided todrop out, rather than just transfer back.”He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. Tobe honest, I’m still trying to decide what I

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want to do. It’s been a pretty fucked up year.Not to mention I hate this school. I’m tiredof the bullshit and sometimes I think itwould be easier to just test out.”I stop walking and turn to face him. “That’s acrap excuse.”He cocks an eyebrow at me. “It’s crap that Ihate high school?”“No. It’s crap that you’re letting one bad yeardetermine your fate for the rest of your life.You’re nine months away from graduation,so you drop out? It’s just…it’s stupid.”He laughs. “Well, when you put it soeloquently.”“Laugh all you want. You quitting school isjust giving in. You’re proving everyone that’sever doubted you right.” I look down and eyethe tattoo on his arm. “You’re gonna dropout and show the world just how hopelessyou really are? Way to stick it to ‘em.”He follows my gaze down to his tattoo and hestares at it for a moment, working his jaw

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back and forth. I really didn’t mean to go offon a tangent, but skimping on an educationis a touchy subject with me. I blame Karenfor all those years of drilling it in my headthat I’m the only one that can be held ac-countable for the way my life turns out.Holder shifts his eyes away from the tattoothat we’re both staring at, and he looks backup and nudges his head toward my house.“You’re here,” he says matter-of-factly. Heturns away from me without so much as asmile or a wave goodbye.I stand on the sidewalk and watch him as hedisappears around the corner without oncelooking back in my direction.And here I was, thinking I would actuallyhave a conversation with just one of his per-sonalities today. So much for that.

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I walk into first period and Breckin is seatedin the back of the room in all of his hot pinkglory. How I didn’t notice those hot pinkshoes and the boy they’re attached to beforelunch yesterday boggles my mind.“Hey, gorgeous,” I say as I slide into anempty seat next to him. I take the cup of cof-fee out of his hands and take a sip. He letsme, because he doesn’t know me well enoughyet to object. Or maybe he lets me because heknows the ramifications of intercepting aself-proclaimed caffeine addict.“I learned a lot about you last night,” he says.“It’s too bad your mother won’t let you haveinternet. It’s an amazing place to discover

facts about yourself that you never evenknew.”I laugh. “Do I even want to know?” I tilt myhead back and finish off his coffee, then handhim back the cup. He looks down at theempty cup and places it back on my desk.“Well,” he says. “According to some probingon Facebook, you had someone namedDaniel Wesley over on Friday night and thatresulted in a pregnancy scare. Saturday youhad sex with someone named Grayson andthen kicked him out. Yesterday…” he drumshis fingers on his chin. “Yesterday you wereseen running with a guy named Dean Holderafter school. That concerns me a bit because,rumor has it…he doesn’t like Mormons.”Sometimes I’m thankful I don’t have accessto the internet like everyone else.“Let’s see,” I say, running through the list ofrumors. “I don’t even know who Daniel Wes-ley is. Saturday, Grayson did come over, buthe barely got to cop a feel before I kicked his

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drunk ass out. And yes, I was running with aguy named Holder yesterday, but I have noidea who he is. We just happened to be run-ning at the same time and he doesn’t live farfrom me, so…”I immediately feel guilty for downplaying therun with Holder. I just haven’t figured himout and I’m not sure I’m ready for someoneto infiltrate mine and Breckin’s twenty-hourold alliance just yet.“If it makes you feel better, I found out fromsome chick named Shayna that I’m a productof old money and I’m filthy rich,” he says.I laugh. “Good. Then you won’t have a prob-lem bringing me coffee every morning.”The classroom door opens and we both lookup, just as Holder walks in dressed in a casu-al white t-shirt and dark denim jeans, hishair freshly washed since our run this morn-ing. As soon as I see him, the stomach virus/hot flashes/butterflies return.

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“Shit,” I mutter. Holder walks to Mr. Mul-ligan’s desk and lays a form on it, then walkstoward the back of the room fiddling with hisphone the whole time. He takes a seat in thedesk directly in front of Breckin and nevereven notices me. He turns the volume downon his phone, then puts it in his pocket.I’m too in shock that he showed up to evenspeak to him. Did I somehow change hismind about re-enrolling? Am I happy aboutthe fact that I may have changed his mind?Because I sort of feel nothing but regret.Mr. Mulligan walks in and sets his things onthe desk, then turns toward the blackboardand writes his name, followed by the date.I’m not sure if he honestly thinks we forgotwho he was since yesterday, or if he justwants to remind us that he thinks we’reignorant.“Dean,” he says, still facing the blackboard.He spins around and eyes Holder. “Welcome

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back, albeit a day late. I take it you won’t begiving us any trouble this semester?”My mouth drops at his condescending re-mark right off the bat. If this is the kind ofshit Holder has to put up with when he’shere, no wonder he didn’t want to comeback. At least I just get shit from other stu-dents. I don’t care who the student is, teach-ers should never be condescending. Thatshould be the first rule in the teacher hand-book. The second rule should be that teach-ers aren’t allowed to write their names onblackboards beyond third grade.Holder shifts in his seat and replies to Mr.Mulligan’s comment with just as much bite.“I take it you won’t be saying anything thatwill incite me to give you trouble thissemester, Mr. Mulligan?”Okay, the “shit giving” is obviously a two-way street. Maybe my next lesson, beyondtalking him into coming back to school,

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should be to teach him the meaning of re-specting authority.Mr. Mulligan tucks his chin in and glares atHolder over the rims of his glasses.“Dean. Why don’t you come to the front ofthe room and introduce yourself to yourclassmates. I’m sure there are some newfaces since you left us last year.”Holder doesn’t object, which I’m sure is ex-actly what Mr. Mulligan expected him to do.Instead, he practically leaps from his chairand walks swiftly to the front of the room.His sudden burst of energy causes Mr. Mul-ligan to take a quick step back. Holder spinsaround to face the class, not an ounce of self-doubt or insecurity about him.“Gladly,” Holder says, cutting his eyes to-ward Mr. Mulligan. “I’m Dean Holder.People call me Holder.” He looks away fromMr. Mulligan and back toward the class. “I’vebeen a student here since freshmen year withthe exception of a one and a half semester

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sabbatical. And according to Mr. Mulligan, Ilike to incite trouble, so this class should befun.”Several of the students laugh at this com-ment, but I fail to find the humor in it. I’vealready been doubting him based oneverything I’ve heard, now he’s showing histrue colors by the way he’s acting. Holderopens his mouth to continue with his intro-duction, but breaks out into a smile as soonas he spots me in the back of the room. Hewinks at me and I immediately want to crawlunder my desk and hide. I give him a quick,tight-lipped smile, then look down at mydesk as soon as other students begin turningaround in their seats to see who he’s staringat.An hour and a half ago, he walked away fromme in a pissy mood. Now he’s smiling at melike he’s just seen his best friend for the firsttime in years.Yep. He’s got issues.

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Breckin leans across his desk. “What the hellwas that?” he whispers.“I’ll tell you at lunch,” I say.“Is that all the wisdom you wish to impart onus today?” Mr. Mulligan asks Holder.Holder nods, then walks back to his seat,never pulling his gaze from mine. He sits andcranes his neck, facing me. Mr. Mulligan be-gins his lecture and everyone’s focus returnsto the front of the room. Everyone butHolder’s. I glance down to my book and flipit open to the current chapter, hoping he’lldo the same. When I glance back up, he’s stillstaring at me.“What?” I mouth, tossing my palms up in theair.He narrows his eyes and watches me silentlyfor a moment. “Nothing,” he finally says. Heturns around in his seat and opens the bookin front of him.Breckin taps his pencil on my knuckles andlooks at me inquisitively, then returns his

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attention back to his book. If he’s expectingan explanation over what just happened,he’ll be disappointed when I’m unable to givehim one. I don’t even know what justhappened.I steal several glances in Holder’s directionduring the lecture, but he doesn’t turnaround again for the entire period. When thebell rings, Breckin jumps out of his seat anddrums his fingers on my desk.“Me. You. Lunch,” he says, raising his eye-brow at me. He walks out of the classroomand I turn my gaze to Holder. He’s watchingthe classroom door that Breckin just walkedout of with a hard look in his eyes.I grab my things and head out the door be-fore Holder has a chance to strike up a con-versation. I really am glad he decided to re-enroll, but I’m disturbed at the way helooked at me like we were best friends. Ireally don’t want Breckin, or anyone else forthat matter, thinking I’m okay with the

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things Holder does. I’d rather just not associ-ate myself with him, but I have a feelingthat’s going to be an issue for him.I go to my locker and switch books, grabbingmy English text. I wonder if Shayna/Shaylawill actually acknowledge me in class today.Probably not, that was twenty-four hoursago. I doubt she has enough brain cells to re-call information from that long ago.“Hey, you.”I squeeze my eyes shut apprehensively, notwanting to turn around to see him standingthere in all his beautiful glory.“You came.” I adjust the books in my locker,then turn around and face him. He smiles,then leans up against the locker next tomine.“You clean up nice,” he says, eyeing me upand down. “Although, the sweaty version ofyou isn’t so bad, either.”He cleans up nice, too, but I’m not about totell him that.

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“Are you here stalking me or did you actuallyre-enroll?”He grins mischievously and drums his fin-gers against the locker. “Both.”I really need to cut it out with the stalkingjokes. It would be funnier if I didn’t think hewas actually capable.I look around at the hallway clearing out.“Well, I need to get to class,” I say. “Welcomeback.”He narrows his eyes at me, almost as if hecan sense my discomfort. “You’re beingweird.”I roll my eyes at his assessment. How can heknow how I’m being? He doesn’t even knowme. I look back into my locker and try tomask the real thoughts on why I’m being“weird.” Thoughts like, why does his past notscare me more than it does? Why does hehave a temper so bad that he would do whathe did to that poor kid last year? Why doeshe want to go out of his way to run with me?

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Why was he asking around about me? In-stead of verbally admitting to the questionsinside my head, I just shrug and go with,“I’m just surprised to see you here.”He leans his shoulder against the locker nextto mine and shakes his head. “Nope. It’ssomething else. What’s wrong?”I sigh and lean against my locker. “You wantme to be honest?”“That’s all I ever want you to be.”I pull my lips into a tight line and nod.“Fine,” I say. I roll my shoulder against thelocker and face him. “I don’t want to give youthe wrong idea. You flirt and say things likeyou have intentions with me that I’m notwilling to reciprocate. And you’re…” I pause,searching for the right word.“I’m what?” he says, watching me intently.“You’re…intense. Too intense. And moody.And a little bit scary. And there’s the otherthing,” I say, without saying it. “I just don’twant you getting the wrong idea.”

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“What other thing?” He says it like he knowsexactly what other thing I’m referring to, buthe’s daring me to say it.I let out a breath and press my back againstthe locker, staring down at my feet. “Youknow,” I say, not wanting to bring up his pastany more than he probably does.Holder steps in front of me and places hishand on the locker beside my head, thenleans in toward me. I look up at him and he’sstaring down at me, less than six inches frommy face.“I don’t know, because you’re skirtingaround whatever issue it is you have with melike you’re too afraid to say it. Just say it.”Looking up at him right now, feeling trappedlike I’m feeling, the same panic returns to mychest that he left there after our firstencounter.“I heard about what you did,” I say abruptly.“I know about the guy you beat up. I knowabout you being sent to juvi. I know that in

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the two days I’ve known you, you’ve scaredthe shit out of me at least three times. Andsince we’re being honest, I also know that ifyou’ve been asking around about me, thenyou’ve probably heard about my reputation,which is more than likely the only reasonyou’re even making an effort with me. I hateto disappoint you, but I’m not screwing you.I don’t want you thinking anything will hap-pen between us besides what’s already hap-pening. We run together. That’s it.”His jaw tightens, but his expression neverchanges. He lowers his arm and takes a stepback, allowing me room to breathe again. Idon’t understand why anytime he steps with-in a foot of my personal space, it sucks thebreath out of me. I especially don’t under-stand why I like that feeling.I tuck my books to my chest and begin toshove past him when an arm goes around mywaist and I’m pulled away from Holder. Iglance next to me to see Grayson eyeing

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Holder up and down, his grip tighteningaround my waist.“Holder,” Grayson says coldly. “Didn’t knowyou were coming back.”Holder doesn’t even acknowledge Grayson.He continues to stare at me for severalseconds, only breaking his gaze from mine tolook down at Grayson’s hand that’s grippingmy waist. He nods his head slightly andsmiles, as if he’s come to some sort of realiz-ation, then brings his eyes back to mine.“Well, I’m back,” he says bluntly, withoutlooking directly at Grayson.What the hell is this? Where did Graysoncome from, and why does he have his armaround me like he’s staking claim?Holder cuts his eyes away from mine andturns around to walk away, but stops ab-ruptly. He spins back around and looks atme. “Track tryouts are Thursday afterschool,” he says. “Go.”Then he’s gone.

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Too bad Grayson isn’t.“You busy this Saturday?” Grayson says inmy ear, pulling me against him.I push off his chest and pull my neck awayfrom him. “Stop,” I say, irritated. “I think Imade myself pretty clear last weekend.”I slam my locker shut and walk away, won-dering how in the hell I’ve escaped drama myentire life, yet I have enough for an entirebook from the last two days alone.

Breckin takes his seat across from me andslides me a soda. “They didn’t have coffee,but I found caffeine.”I smile. “Thank you very bestest friend in thewhole wide world.”

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“Don’t thank me, I bought it with evil inten-tions. I’m using it to bribe you so I can getthe dirt on your love life.”I laugh and open the soda. “Well, you’ll bedisappointed, because my love life isnonexistent.”He opens his own soda and grins. “Oh, Idoubt that. Not from the way bad boy hasbeen eyeing you from over there.” He nudgeshis head to the right.Holder is three tables down, staring at me.He’s sitting with several guys from the foot-ball team that seem excited to have himback. They’re patting him on the back andtalking around him, never noticing that he’snot even a part of their conversation. Hetakes a drink of his water, his eyes keepingtheir lock on mine. He sets his drink downon the table a little too forcefully, thennudges his head to the right as he stands up.I glance to the right and see the exit to the

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cafeteria. He’s walking toward it, expectingme to follow him.“Huh,” I say, more to myself than to Breckin.“Yeah. Huh. Go see what the hell he wants,then report back to me.”I take another drink of my soda, then set iton the table. “Yes, sir.”My body stands up to follow Holder, but Ileave my heart at the table. I’m pretty sure itjumped out of my chest as soon as he indic-ated for me to follow him. I can put up agood front for Breckin all I want, but dammitif I can’t have a little control over my ownorgans.Holder is several feet in front of me andwhen he swings the doors open, they swingshut behind him. I place my hand on theswinging doors when I reach them and hesit-ate a moment before pushing out into thehallway. I think I’d rather be heading to de-tention right now than to talk to him. My

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stomach is tied up in so many knots it couldmake a boy scout envious.I look both ways, but I don’t see him. I take afew steps until I get to the edge of the lock-ers, then round the corner. His back isleaned up against one of them and his kneeis bent, his foot propped against the lockerbehind him. His arms are folded across hischest and he’s looking right at me. The babyblue hue of his eyes isn’t even kind enough tomask the anger behind them.“Are you dating Grayson?”I roll my eyes and walk to the lockers oppos-ite him and lean against them. I’m really get-ting tired of his mood swings already, and Ijust met the guy. “Does it matter?” I’m curi-ous as to how it’s any of his business. Hegives me that silent pause that I’ve noticedcomes before almost everything he says.“He’s an asshole.”

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“Sometimes you are, too,” I say quickly, notneeding near as much time as he does tocome up with a response.“He’s not good for you.”I let out an exasperated laugh. “And youare?” I ask, throwing his point right back athim. If we were keeping score, I’d say it’s twoand zero in my favor.He drops his arms and turns around to facethe lockers, hitting one of them with a flatpalm. The sound of skin against metal rever-berates in the hallway and straight into mystomach.“Don’t factor me into this,” he says, turningback around. “I’m talking about Grayson, notme. You shouldn’t be with him. You have noidea what kind of person he is.”I laugh. Not because he’s funny…but becausehe’s serious. This guy that I don’t even knowis seriously trying to tell me who I shouldand shouldn’t date? I roll my head backagainst the locker in a wave of defeat.

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“Two days, Holder. I’ve known you all of twodays.” I kick off the lockers behind me andwalk toward him. “In those two days, I’veseen five different sides of you, and only oneof them has been appealing. The fact thatyou think you have any right to even voice anopinion about me or my decisions is absurd.It’s ridiculous.”Holder works his jaw back and forth andstares down at me, arms tightly foldedagainst his chest. He takes a challenging steptoward me. His eyes are so hard and cold,I’m beginning to think this is a sixth side ofhim that I’m seeing. An even angrier, morepossessive side.“I don’t like him. And when I see things likethis?” He brings his hand to my face andgently runs his finger underneath the prom-inent bruise on my eye. “And then see himwith his arm around you? Forgive me if I geta little ridiculous.”

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His fingertips trailing across my cheekbonehave left me breathless. It’s a struggle tokeep my eyes open and not lean in towardhis palm, but I hold fast to my resolve. I’mbuilding up an immunity to this boy. Or…atleast I’m attempting to. That’s my new goal,anyway.I take a step away from him until his hand isno longer touching my face. He curls his fin-gers up into a fist and drops his hand to hisside.“You think I should stay away from Graysonbecause you’re afraid he has a temper?” I tiltmy head to the side and narrow my eyes athim. “A bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”After another few seconds of studying me, helets out a short sigh with a barely noticeableroll of the eyes. He looks away and shakes hishead, grabbing at the back of his neck. Hestays in this position, facing opposite me forseveral seconds. When he slowly turnsaround, he doesn’t look me in the eyes. He

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folds his arms across his chest once againand looks down at the floor.“Did he hit you,” he says without any inflec-tion in his voice. He keeps his head trainedto the floor, but looks up at me through hiseyelashes. “Has he ever hit you?”Here he goes again, inducing me into sub-mission by a simple switch in demeanor.“No,” I say, quietly. “And no. I told you…itwas an accident.”We stare at each other in complete silenceuntil the bell for second lunch rings and thehallway fills with students. I’m the first tobreak my gaze. I walk back to the cafeteriawithout looking back at him.

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I’ve been running for almost three years. Idon’t remember what started it or whatmade it so enjoyable that I became so discip-lined at it. I think a lot of it has to do withhow frustratingly sheltered I am. I try to staypositive about it, but it’s hard seeing the in-teractions and relationships the other stu-dents have at school that I’m not a part of.Not having internet access wouldn’t havebeen a big deal in high school a few yearsago, but now it’s pretty much social suicide.Not that I care what anyone thinks.I won’t deny it, I’ve had an overwhelmingurge to look Holder up online. In the pastwhen I had these urges to find out moreabout people, Six and I would just look themup at her house. But Six is on a transatlantic

flight over the Atlantic ocean right now, so Ican’t ask her. Instead, I just sit on my bedand wonder. I wonder if he’s really as bad ashis reputation makes him out to be. I wonderif he has the same affect on other girls thathe does on me. I wonder who his parents are,if he has siblings, if he’s dating anyone. Iwonder why he seems so intent on beingangry with me all the time when we just met.Is he always this angry? Is he always socharming when he isn’t busy being angry? Ihate that he’s either one way or the other andnever in between. It would be nice to see alaid back, calm side to him. I wonder if heeven has an in between. I wonder…becausethat’s all I can do. Silently wonder about thehopeless boy who somehow burrowed him-self into the forefront of my thoughts andwon’t go the hell away.I snap out of my trance and finish pulling myrunning shoes on. At least our tiff in the hall-way yesterday was left unresolved. He won’t

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be running with me today because of it, andI’m pretty relieved about that. I need thequiet time to myself today, more than any. Idon’t know why, though. It’ll just be spentwondering.About him.I open my bedroom window and crawl out-side. It’s darker than usual for this time ofmorning. I look up and see that the sky isovercast, a perfect indicator of my mood. Itake in the direction of the clouds, thenglance at the sky to the left, curious if I haveenough time to run before the bottom fallsout.“Do you always climb out your window orwere you just hoping to avoid me?”I spin around at the sound of his voice. He’sstanding at the edge of the sidewalk, deckedout in shorts and running shoes. No shirttoday.Dammit.

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“If I was trying to avoid you I would have juststayed in bed.” I walk toward him with con-fidence, hoping to hide the fact that the sightof him is causing my entire body to go hay-wire. A small part of me is disappointed heshowed up today, but most of me is stupidly,pathetically happy. I walk past him and droponto the sidewalk to stretch. I spread my legsout in front of me and lean forward, grabbingmy shoes and burying my head against myknees—partly for the muscle stretch, butmostly to avoid having to look at him.“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up.” He dropsdown and claims a spot on the sidewalk infront of me.I raise up and look at him. “Why wouldn’t I?I’m not the one with the issues. Besides,neither of us owns the road.” I practicallysnap at him. I’m not even sure why.He does that staring and thinking thingagain where his intense gaze somehowrenders me unresponsive. It’s becoming such

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a habit of his I almost want to give it a name.It’s like he holds me with his eyes while he si-lently thinks, purposefully giving no tells inhis expression. I’ve never met anyone thatputs so much thought into their own re-sponses. The way he lets things soak in whilehe prepares his own response—it’s like wordsare limited and he only wants to use the onesthat are absolutely necessary.I stop stretching and face him, unwilling toback down from this visual standoff. I’m notgoing to let him perform his little Jedi mindtricks on me, no matter how much I wish Icould perform them on him. He’s completelyunreadable and even more unpredictable. Itpisses me off.He stretches his legs out in front of me. “Giveme your hands. I need to stretch, too.”He’s sitting with his hands out in front of melike we’re about to play patty-cake. If anyonewas to drive by right now I can just imaginethe rumors. Just the thought of it makes me

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laugh. I place my hands in his outstretchedpalms and he pulls me forward toward himfor several seconds. When he eases the ten-sion, I pull back while he stretches forward,only he doesn’t look down. He keeps his gazelocked on mine in his debilitating eye-holdwhile he stretches.“For the record,” he says, “I wasn’t the onewith the issue yesterday.”I pull him harder, more out of malice than adesire to help him stretch.“Are you insinuating I’m the one with theissue?”“Aren’t you?”“Clarify,” I say. “I don’t like vague.”He laughs, but it’s an irritable laugh. “Sky, ifthere’s one thing you should know about me,it’s that I don’t do vague. I told you I’ll onlyever be honest with you, and to me, vague isthe same thing as dishonesty.” He pulls myhands forward and leans back.

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“That’s a pretty vague answer you just gaveme,” I point out.“I was never asked a question. I’ve told youbefore, if you want to know something, justask. You seem to think you know me, yetyou’ve never actually asked me anythingyourself.”“I don’t know you.”He laughs again and shakes his head, thenreleases my hands. “Forget it.” He stands upand starts walking away.“Wait.” I pull myself up from the concreteand follow him. If anyone has the right to beangry here, it’s me. “What did I say? I don’tknow you. Why are you getting all pissy withme again?”He stops walking and turns around, thentakes a couple of steps toward me. “I guessafter spending time with you over the lastfew days, I thought I’d get a slightly differentreaction from you at school. I’ve given youplenty of opportunity to ask me whatever

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you want to ask me, but for some reason youwant to believe everything you hear, despitethe fact that you never heard any of it fromme. And coming from someone with her ownshare of rumors, I figured you’d be a littleless judgmental.”My own share of rumors? If he thinks he’sgoing to win points by having something incommon with me, he’s dead wrong.“So that’s what this is about? You thoughtthe slutty new girl would be sympathetic tothe gay-bashing asshole?”He groans and runs his hands through hishair, frustrated. “Don’t do that, Sky.”“Don’t do what? Call you a gay-bashing as-shole? Okay. Let’s practice this honestypolicy of yours. Did you or did you not beatup that student last year so badly that youspent a year in juvenile detention?”He puts his hands on his hips and shakes hishead, then looks at me with what seems likedisappointment in his expression.

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“When I said don’t do that, I wasn’t referringto you insulting me. I was referring to you in-sulting yourself.” He takes a step forward,closing the gap between us. “And yes. I beathis ass to within an inch of his life, and if thebastard was standing in front of me rightnow, I’d do it again.”His eyes are filled with pure anger and I’mtoo scared to even ask him why or what it’sabout. He may have said he’d be honestabout it…but his answers terrify me morethan asking the questions. I take a step backat the same time he does. We’re both quietand I’m wondering how we even got to thispoint.“I don’t want to run with you today,” I say.“I don’t really feel like running with you,either.”With that, we both turn in opposite direc-tions. Him toward his house, me toward mywindow. I don’t even feel like running alone,today.

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I climb back in my window just as the rainstarts pouring from the sky, and for asecond, I feel sorry for him that he still has torun home. But only for a second, becauseKarma’s a bitch, and Holder is definitely whoshe’s retaliating against right now. I close thewindow and walk to my bed. My heart is ra-cing as fast as if I had just ran the threemiles. Except right now it’s racing becauseI’m so incredibly pissed.I met the guy a couple of days ago, yet I’venever argued more with anyone in my entirelife. I could add up all the arguments Six andI have had over the last four years, and itwouldn’t begin to compare to the last forty-eight hours with Holder. I don’t even knowwhy he even bothers. I guess after this morn-ing, he more than likely won’t.I pick the envelope up from my nightstandand tear it open. I pull Six’s letter out andlean back on my pillow and read it, just hop-ing to escape from the chaos in my head.

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Sky,

Hopefully by the time you’re reading this(because I know you won’t read it rightaway) I’ll be madly in love with a hot Italianboyfriend and not thinking about you at all.But I know that isn’t the case, because I’ll bethinking about you all the time.I’ll be thinking about all the nights westayed up with our ice cream and ourmovies and our boys. But mostly, I’ll bethinking about you, and all the reasons whyI love you.Just to name a few: I love how you suck atgoodbyes and feelings and emotions, be-cause I do, too. I love how you always scoopfrom the strawberry and vanilla side of theice cream because you know how much Ilove the chocolate, even though you love it,too. I love how you aren’t weird and awk-ward, despite the fact that you’ve been

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severely cut off from socialization to thepoint where you make the Amish looktrendy.But most of all, I love that you don’t judgeme. I love that in the past four years, you’venever once questioned me about my choices(as poor as they may be) or the guys I’vebeen with or the fact that I don’t believe incommitment. I would say that it’s simple foryou not to judge me, because you’re a dirtyslut, too. But we both know you’re not. Sothank you for being a non-judgmentalfriend. Thank you for never being condes-cending or treating me like you’re betterthan me (even though we both know youare.) As much as I can laugh about thethings people say about us behind ourbacks, it kills me that they say these thingsabout you, too. For that, I’m sorry. But nottoo sorry, because I know if you were giventhe choice to either be my slutty best friendor be the girl with the good reputation,

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you’d screw every guy in the world. Becauseyou love me that much. And I’d let you, be-cause I love you that much.And one more thing I love about you, thenI’ll shut up because I’m only six feet awaywriting this letter right now and it’s reallyhard to not climb out my window and comesqueeze you.I love your indifference. I love how youreally just don’t give a shit what peoplethink. I love how you are focused on yourfuture and everyone else can kiss your ass. Ilove how, when I told you I was leaving forItaly after talking you into enrolling at myschool, you just smiled and shrugged yourshoulders even though it would have tornmost best friends apart. I left you hangingto follow my dream, and you didn’t let it eatyou up. You didn’t even give me crap aboutit.I love how (last one, I swear) when wewatched The Forces of Nature and Sandra

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Bullock walked away in the end and I wasscreaming at the TV for such an ugly end-ing, you just shrugged your shoulders andsaid, “It’s real, Six. You can’t get mad at areal ending. Some of them are ugly. It’s thefake happily ever afters that should piss youoff.”I’ll never forget that, because you wereright. And I know you weren’t trying toteach me a lesson, but you did. Noteverything is going to go my way and noteveryone gets a happily ever after. Life isreal and sometimes it’s ugly and you justhave to learn how to cope. I’m going to ac-cept it with a dose of your indifference, andmove on.So, anyway. Enough about that. I just wantyou to know that I’ll miss you and this newvery best friend ever in the whole wideworld at school better back off when I gethome in six months. I hope you realize howamazing you are, but in case you don’t, I’m

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going to text you every single day to remindyou. Prepare to be bombarded for the nextsix months with endless annoying texts ofnothing but positive affirmations about Sky.

I love you,6

I fold the letter up and smile, but I don’t cry.She wouldn’t expect me to cry over it, nomatter how much she might have just mademe want to. I reach over to the nightstandand take the cell phone she gave me out ofthe drawer. I already have two missed textmessages.

Have I told you lately how awesomeyou are? Missing you.

It’s day two, you better text me back. Ineed to tell you about Lorenzo. Also,you’re sickeningly smart.

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I smile and text her back. It takes me aboutfive tries before I figure it out. I’m almosteighteen and this is the first text I’ve eversent? This has to be one for Guinness.

I can get used to these daily positiveaffirmations. Make sure to remind meof how beautiful I am, and how I havethe most impeccable taste in music,and how I’m the fastest runner in theworld. (Just a few ideas to get youstarted.) I miss you, too. And I can’twait to hear about Lorenzo, you slut.

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The next few days at school are the same asthe first two. Full of drama. My locker seemsto have become the hub for sticky notes andnasty letters, none of which I ever see actu-ally being placed on or in my locker. I reallydon’t get what people gain out of doingthings like this if they don’t even own up toit. Like the note that was stuck to my lockerthis morning. All it said was, “Whore.”Really? Where’s the creativity in that? Theycouldn’t back it up with an interesting story?Maybe a few details of my indiscretion? If Ihave to read this shit every day, the leastthey could do is make it interesting. If I wasgoing to stoop so low as to leave an unfoun-ded note on someone’s locker, I’d at least

have the courtesy of entertaining whoeverreads it in the process. I’d write somethinginteresting like, “I saw you in bed with myboyfriend last night. I really don’t appreci-ate you getting massage oil on my cucum-bers. Whore.”I laugh and it feels odd, laughing out loud atmy own thoughts. I look around and no oneis left in the hallway but me. Rather than ripthe sticky notes off of my locker like I prob-ably should, I take out my pen and makethem a little more creative. You’re welcome,passersby.

Breckin sets his tray down across from mine.We’ve been getting our own trays now, sincehe seems to think I want nothing but salad.He smiles at me like he’s got a secret that heknows I want. If it’s another rumor, I’ll pass.“How were track tryouts yesterday?” he asks.

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I shrug. “I didn’t go.”“Yeah, I know.”“Then why’d you ask?”He laughs. “Because I like to clarify thingswith you before I believe them. Why didn’tyou go?”I shrug again.“What’s with the shoulder shrugs? You havea nervous tic?”I shrug. “I just don’t feel like being a part of ateam with anyone here. It’s lost its appeal.”He frowns. “First of all, track is one of themost individual sports you can join. Second,I thought you said extracurricular activitieswere the reason you were here.”“I don’t know why I’m here,” I say. “Maybe Ifeel like I need to witness a good dose of hu-man nature at its worst before I enter thereal world. It’ll be less of a shock.”He points a celery stick at me and cocks hiseyebrow. “This is true. A gradual introduc-tion to the perils of society will help cushion

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the blow. We can’t release you alone into thewild when you’ve been pampered in a zooyour whole life.”“Nice analogy.”He winks at me and bites his stick of celery.“Speaking of analogies. What’s up with yourlocker? It was covered in sexual analogiesand metaphors today.”I laugh. “You like that? Took me a while, butI was feeling creative.”He nods. “I especially liked the one that said‘You’re such a slut, you screwed Breckin theMormon.’”I shake my head. “Now that one I can’t layclaim to. That was an original. But they’refun, aren’t they? Now that they’ve beendirtied up?”“Well,” he says. “They were fun. They aren’tthere anymore. I saw Holder ripping themoff your locker just now.”

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I snap my gaze back up to his and he’s grin-ning mischievously again. I guess this is thesecret he was having trouble holding in.“That’s strange.” I’m curious why Holderwould bother to do such a thing. We haven’tbeen running together since we spoke last. Infact, we don’t even interact at all. He sitsacross the room now in first period and Idon’t see him at all the rest of the day, asidefrom lunch. Even then, he sits on the otherside of the cafeteria with his friends. Ithought after coming to an impasse, we’dsuccessfully moved on to mutual avoidance,but I guess I was wrong.“Can I ask you something?” Breckin says.I shrug again, mostly just to irritate him.“Are the rumors about him true? About histemper? And his sister?”I try not to appear taken aback by his com-ment, but it’s the first I’ve heard anythingabout a sister. “I don’t know. All I know isthat I’ve spent enough time with him to

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know he scares me enough to not want tospend more time with him.”I really want to ask him about the sister com-ment, but I can’t help which situations mystubbornness rears its ugly head in. Forsome reason, probing for information aboutDean Holder is one of those situations.“Hey,” a voice from behind me says. I imme-diately know it isn’t Holder’s, because I’m in-different to the voice. About the time I turnaround, Grayson swings his leg over the seatbench next to me and sits. “You busy afterschool?”I dip my celery stick into a blob of ranchdressing and take a bite. “Probably.”Grayson shakes his head. “That’s not a goodenough answer. I’ll meet you at your car afterlast period.”He’s up and gone before I can object. Breckinsmirks at me.I just shrug.

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I have no idea what Grayson wants to talkabout, but if he’s thinking he’s coming overtomorrow night, he needs a lobotomy. I’m soready to just swear off guys for the rest of theyear. Especially if it means not having Six toeat ice cream with after they go home. Icecream was the only appealing part to makingout with the guys.At least he’s true to form. He’s waiting at mycar, leaning up against my driver’s side doorwhen I reach the parking lot. “Hey, Prin-cess,” he says. I don’t know if it’s the soundof his voice or the fact that he just gave me anickname, but his words make me cringe. Iwalk up to him and lean against the car nextto him.“Don’t call me princess again. Ever.”

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He laughs and slides in front of me, grippingmy waist in his hands. “Fine. How aboutbeautiful?”“How about you just call me Sky?”“Why do you have to be so angry all thetime?” He reaches up to my face and holdsmy cheeks in his hands, then kisses me.Sadly, I let him. Mostly because I feel likehe’s earned it for putting up with me for anentire month. He doesn’t deserve a whole lotof return favors, though, so I pull my faceaway after just a few seconds.“What do you want?”He snakes his arms around my waist andpulls me against him. “You.” He starts kiss-ing my neck, so I push against him and hebacks away. “What?”“Can you not take a hint? I told you I’m notsleeping with you, Grayson. I’m not trying toplay games or get you to chase me like othersick, twisted girls do. You want more and I

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don’t, so I think we just need to accept thatwe’re at an impasse and move on.”He stares at me, then sighs and pulls meagainst him, hugging me. “I don’t need more,Sky. It’s fine the way it is. I won’t push itagain. I just like coming to your house and Iwant to come over tomorrow night.” He triesto flash me that panty-dropping grin. “Nowstop being mad at me and come here.” Hepulls my face to his and kisses me again.As irritated and as angry as I am, I can’t helpbut be relieved that as soon as his lips meetmine, my irritation subsides, thanks to thenumbness that takes over. For that reasonalone, I continue to let him kiss me. Hebacks me against the car and runs his handsin my hair, then kisses down my jaw and tomy neck. I lean my head against the car andbring my wrist up behind him to check thetime on my watch. Karen’s going out of townfor work, so I need to go to the grocery storeto get enough sugar to last me all weekend. I

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don’t know how long he plans on feeling meup, but ice cream is really starting to soundtempting right about now. I roll my eyes anddrop my arm. All at once, my heart ratetriples and my stomach flips and I get all ofthe feelings a girl is supposed to get when ahot guys lips are all over her. Only I’m nothaving the reaction to the hot guy whose lipsare all over me. I’m having the reaction tothe hot guy glaring at me from across theparking lot.Holder is standing next to his car with his el-bow on the top of his doorframe, watchingus. I immediately shove Grayson off of meand turn around to get in my car.“So we’re on for tomorrow night?” he asks.I climb inside the car and crank it, then lookup at him. “No. We’re done.”I pull the door shut and back out of the park-ing lot, not sure if I’m angry, embarrassed orinfatuated. How does he do that? How thehell does he incite these kinds of feelings

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from me from clear across a parking lot? Ithink I’m in need of an intervention.

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“Is Jack going with you?” I open the car doorfor Karen so she can throw the last of herluggage into the backseat.“Yeah, he’s coming. We’ll be home….I’ll behome on Sunday,” she says, correcting her-self. It pains her to count Jack as a “we.” Ihate that she feels that way because I reallylike Jack and I know he loves Karen, so Idon’t understand what her hang-up is at all.She’s had a couple of boyfriends in the pasttwelve years, but as soon as it starts gettingserious for the guy, she runs.Karen shuts the backdoor and turns to me.“You know I trust you, but please…”“Don’t get pregnant,” I interrupt. “I know, Iknow. You’ve been saying that every time

you leave for the past two years. I’m not get-ting pregnant, Mom. Only terribly high andcracked out.”She laughs and hugs me. “Good girl. Andwasted. Don’t forget to get really wasted.”“I won’t forget, I promise. And I’m renting aTV for the weekend so I can sit around andeat ice-cream and watch trash on cable.”She pulls back and glares at me. “Now that’snot funny.”I laugh and hug her again. “Have fun. I hopeyou sell lots of herbal thingies and soaps andtinctures and whatever else it is you do atthese things.”“Love you. If you need me, you know you canuse Six’s house phone.”I roll my eyes at the same instructions shegives me every time she leaves. “See ya,” Isay. She gets in the car and pulls out of thedriveway, leaving me parent-free for theweekend. To most teenagers, this would bethe point at which they pull out their phones

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and post an invite to the most kick-ass partyof the year. Not me. Nope. Instead, I go in-side and decide to bake cookies, becausethat’s the most rebellious thing I can comeup with.

I love to bake, but I don’t claim to be verygood at it. I usually end up with more flourand chocolate on my face and hair than inthe actual end product. Tonight’s no excep-tion. I’ve already made a batch of chocolatechip cookies, a batch of brownies andsomething I’m not sure what it was supposedto be. I’m working on pouring the flour intothe mixture for a homemade German chocol-ate cake when the doorbell rings.I’m pretty sure I should know what to do insituations like this. Doorbells ring all thetime, right? Not mine. I stare at the door, notsure what I’m expecting it to do. When it

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rings for a second time, I put down the meas-uring cup and wipe my hair out of my eyes,then walk to the front door. When I open it,I’m not even surprised to see Holder. Okay,I’m surprised. But not really.“Hey,” I say. I can’t think of anything else tosay. Even if I could think of something elseto say, I probably wouldn’t be able to say itsince I can’t freaking breathe! He’s standingon the top step of my entryway, handshanging loosely in the pockets of his jeans.His hair still needs a trim, but when hebrings his hand up and pushes it out of hiseyes, the thought of him trimming that hairis suddenly the worst idea in the world.“Hi.” He’s smiling awkwardly and he looksnervous and it’s terribly attractive. He’s in agood mood. For now, anyway. Who knowswhen he’ll get pissed off and feel like arguingagain.“Um,” I say, uneasily. I know the next step isto invite him in, but that’s only if I’m actually

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wanting him inside my house, and to be hon-est, the jury is still out on that one.“You busy?” he asks.I glance back into the kitchen at the incon-ceivable mess I’ve made. “Sort of.” It’s not alie. I’m sort of incredibly busy.He looks away and nods, then points behindhim to his car. “Yeah. I guess I’ll…go.” Hetakes a step back off the top step.“No,” I say, much too quickly and a decibeltoo loudly. It’s an almost desperate no, and Icringe from embarrassment. As much as Idon’t know why he’s here or why he evenkeeps bothering, my curiosity gets the best ofme. I step aside and open the door further.“You can come in, but you might be put towork.”He hesitates, then ascends the step again. Hewalks inside and I shut the door behind us.Before it can get any more awkward, I walkinto the kitchen and pick up the measuringcup and get right back to work like there isn’t

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some random, temperamental, hot guystanding in my house.“You prepping for a bake sale?” He makeshis way around the bar and eyes the plethoraof desserts covering my counter.“My mom’s out of town for the weekend.She’s anti-sugar, so I kind of go crazy whenshe’s not here.”He laughs and picks up a cookie, but looks atme first for permission.“Help yourself,” I say. “But be warned, justbecause I like to bake doesn’t mean I’m goodat it.” I sift the last of the flour and pour it in-to the mixing bowl.“So you get the house to yourself and youspend Friday night baking? Typical teen-ager,” he says mockingly.“What can I say?” I shrug. “I’m a rebel.”He turns around and opens a cabinet, eyeingthe contents, then shuts it. He steps to theleft and opens another cabinet, then takesout a glass. “Got any milk?” he asks while

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heading to the refrigerator. I pause from stir-ring and watch as he pulls the milk out andpours himself a glass like he’s right at home.He takes a drink and turns around to catchme staring at him, then he grins. “Youshouldn’t offer cookies without milk, youknow. You’re a pretty pathetic hostess.” Hegrabs another cookie and walks himself andthe milk to the bar and takes a seat.“I try to save my hospitality for invitedguests,” I say, turning back to the counter.“Ouch.”I turn the mixer on, creating an excuse to nothave to talk to him for three minutes on me-dium to high speed. I try to remember what Ilook like, without noticeably searching for areflective surface. I’m pretty sure I’ve gotflour everywhere. I know my hair is beingheld up with a pencil and my sweatpants arebeing worn for the fourth evening in a row.Unwashed. I try to nonchalantly wipe awayany visible traces of flour, but I’m aware it’s a

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lost cause. Oh well, there’s no way I couldlook any worse right now than when I waslaid out on the couch with gravel embeddedinto my cheek.I turn the mixer off and depress the buttonto free the mixing blades. I bring one to mymouth and lick it, and walk the other one towhere he’s seated. “Want one? It’s Germanchocolate.”He takes it out of my hand and smiles. “Howhospitable of you.”“Shut up and lick it or I’m keeping it for my-self.” I walk to the cabinet and grab my owncup, but pour myself a glass of water instead.“You want some water or do you want tocontinue pretending you can stomach thatvegan shit?”He laughs and crinkles up his nose, thenpushes his cup across the bar toward me. “Iwas trying to be nice, but I can’t take anothersip of whatever the hell this is. Yes, water.Please.”

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I laugh and rinse out his cup, then slide himthe glass of water. I take a seat in the chairacross from him and eye him while I bite in-to a brownie. I’m waiting for him to explainwhy he’s here, but he doesn’t. He just sitsacross from me and watches me eat. I don’task him why he’s here because I sort of likethe quiet between us. It works better whenwe both shut up, since all of our conversa-tions tend to end in arguments.Holder stands up and walks into the livingroom without an explanation. He looksaround curiously, his attention being stolenby the photographs on the walls. He walkscloser to them and slowly scans each picture.I lean back in my chair and watch him benosey.He’s never in much of a hurry and seems soassured in every movement he makes. It’slike all of his thoughts and actions are metic-ulously planned out days in advance. I canjust picture him in his bedroom, writing

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down the words he plans to use the followingday, because he’s so selective with them.“Your mom seems really young,” he says.“She is young.”“You don’t look like her. Do you look likeyour dad?” He turns and faces me.I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t rememberwhat he looks like.”He turns back to the pictures and runs hisfinger across one of them.“Is your dad dead?” He’s so blunt about it,I’m almost certain he knows my dad isn’tdead or he wouldn’t have asked it like that.So carelessly.“I don’t know. Haven’t seen him since I wasthree.”He walks back toward the kitchen and takesa seat in front of me again. “That’s all I get?No story?”“Oh, there’s a story. I just don’t want to tellit.”

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He smiles at me again, but it’s a wary smilewhen accompanied by the quizzical look inhis eyes. “Your cookies were good,” he says,skillfully changing the subject. “Youshouldn’t downplay your baking abilities.”Something beeps and I jump up from myseat and run to the oven. I open it, but thecake isn’t even close to being done. When Iturn around, Holder is holding up my cellphone. “You got a text,” he laughs. “Yourcake is fine.”I throw the oven mitt on the counter, thenwalk back to my seat. He’s scrolling throughthe texts on my phone without a shred of re-spect for privacy. I really don’t care, though,so I just let him.“I thought you weren’t allowed to have aphone,” he says. “Or was that a really pathet-ic excuse to avoid giving me your number?”“I’m not allowed. My best friend gave it tome the other day. It can’t do anything buttext.”

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He turns the screen around to face me.“What the hell kind of texts are these?” Heturns the phone around and reads one.“Sky, you are beautiful. You are possibly themost exquisite creature in the universe andif anyone tells you otherwise, I’ll cut abitch.” He arches an eyebrow and looks up atme, then back down to the phone. “Oh, God.They’re all like this. Please tell me you don’ttext these to yourself for daily motivation.”I laugh and reach across the bar and snatchthe phone out of his hand. “Stop. You’re ru-ining the fun of it.”He leans his head back and laughs. “Oh myGod, you do? Those are all from you?”“No!” I say, defensively. “They’re from Six.She’s my best friend and she’s halfwayaround the world and she misses me. Shewants me to not be sad, so she sends me nicetexts every day. I think it’s sweet.”“Oh, you do not. You think it’s annoying andyou probably don’t even read them.”

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How does he know that?I set the phone down and cross my arms overmy chest. “She means well,” I say, still notadmitting that the texts are annoying the liv-ing hell out of me.“They’ll ruin you. Those texts will inflateyour ego so much, you’ll explode.” He grabsthe phone and pulls his own phone out of hispocket. He scrolls through the screens onboth phones and punches some numbers onhis phone. “We need to rectify this situationbefore you start suffering from delusions ofgrandeur.” He hands me back my phone andtypes something into his own phone, thenputs it in his pocket. My phone sounds off,indicating a new text message. I look down atthe screen and laugh.

Your cookies suck ass. And you’rereally not that pretty.

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“Better?” he says, teasingly. “Did the ego de-flate enough?”I laugh and set the phone down on thecounter, then stand up. “You know just theright things to say to a girl.” I walk to the liv-ing room and turn around. “Want a tour ofthe house?”He stands up and follows me while I pointout boring facts and knick-knacks and roomsand pictures, but of course he’s slowly soak-ing it all in, never in a rush. He has to stopand inspect every tiny thing, never speakinga single word the whole time.When we finally get to my bedroom, I swingopen the door. “My room,” I say, flashing myVanna White pose. “Feel free to look around,but being as though there aren’t any peopleeighteen or older here, stay off the bed. I’mnot allowed to get pregnant this weekend.”He pauses as he’s passing through the door-way and tilts his head toward me. “Only this

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weekend? You plan on getting knocked upnext weekend, instead?”I follow him into my bedroom. “Nah. I’llprobably wait a few more weeks.”He inspects the room, slowly turning arounduntil he’s facing me again. “I’m eighteen.”I cock my head to the side, confused as towhy he pointed out that random fact. “Yayfor you?”He cuts his eyes to the bed, then back to me.“You said to stay off your bed because I’mnot eighteen. I’m just pointing out that Iam.”I don’t like the way my lungs just constrictedwhen he looked at my bed. “Oh. Well then, Imeant nineteen.”He spins around, then walks slowly to theopen window. He bends down and sticks hishead out of it, then pulls back inside. “So thisis the infamous window, huh?”He doesn’t look at me, which is probably agood thing because if looks could kill he’d be

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dead. Why the hell did he have to go and saysomething like that? I was actually enjoyinghis company for a change. He turns back tome and his playful expression is gone, re-placed by a challenging one that I’ve seen toomany times before.I sigh. “What do you want, Holder?” Heeither needs to get his point across aboutwhy he’s here, or he needs to leave. He foldshis arms across his chest and narrows hiseyes at me.“Did I say something wrong, Sky? Or untrue?Unfounded, maybe?” It’s obvious in histaunting remarks that he knows exactly whathe was insinuating with the window com-ment. I’m not in the mood to play his games;I have cakes that need baking. And eating.I walk to the door and hold it open. “Youknow exactly what you said and you got thereaction you wanted. Happy? You can gonow.”

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He doesn’t. He drops his arms and turnsaround, then walks to my nightstand. Hepicks up the book Breckin gave me and in-spects it as though the last thirty secondsnever even occurred.“Holder, I’m asking you as nicely as I’m go-ing to ask you. Please leave.”He lays the book down gently, then proceedsto lay down on the bed. He literally laysdown on my bed. He’s on my damn bed.I roll my eyes and walk over to where he is,then reach down and pull his legs off my bed.If I have to physically remove him from thehouse, I’ll do it. When I grab his wrists andlift upward, he pulls me to him in a movethat happens faster than my mind can evencomprehend. He flips me over until I’m onmy back and he’s holding my arms to themattress. It happens so unexpectedly; I don’teven have time to fight him. And looking upat him right now, half of me doesn’t even

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want to fight him. I don’t know if I shouldscream for help or rip off my clothes.He releases my arms and brings one of hishands to my face. He brushes his thumbacross my nose and laughs. “Flour,” he says,wiping it away. “It’s been bugging me.” Hesits up against my headboard and brings hisfeet back onto the bed. I’m still flat on themattress, staring up at the stars, actuallyfeeling something other than nothing for thefirst time ever while looking at them.I can’t even move, because I’m sort of afraidhe’s crazy. I mean literally, clinically insane.It’s the only logical explanation for his per-sonality. And the fact that I still find him soincredibly attractive can only mean onething. I’m insane, too.“I didn’t know he was gay.”Yep, he’s crazy.I turn my head toward him, but say nothing.What the hell do you say to a crazy person

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who literally refuses to leave your house,then starts spouting off random shit?“I beat him up because he was an asshole. Ihad no idea he was gay.”His elbows are resting on his knees and he’slooking right at me, waiting for a reaction. Ora response. Neither of which he’s getting fora few seconds, because I need to process this.I look back up at the stars and give myselftime to analyze the situation. If he’s notcrazy, then he’s definitely trying to make apoint. But what point? He comes over here,uninvited, to defend his reputation and in-sult mine? What would be the point of evengoing forth with the effort? I’m just one per-son, what does my opinion matter?Unless, of course, he likes me. The thoughtliterally makes me smile and I feel dirty andwrong for hoping a lunatic likes me. I had itcoming, though. I should have never let himin the house, knowing I’m alone. And now heknows I’ll be home all weekend alone. If I

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had to weigh tonight’s decisions, this wouldprobably be so heavy it would break thedumb side of the scale. I foresee this endingin one of two ways. We’ll either come to amutual understanding of one another, orhe’s going to kill me and chop me up intotiny pieces and bake me into cookies. Eitherway, it makes me sad for all the dessert thatisn’t being eaten right now.“Cake!” I yell, jumping up off the bed. I runto the kitchen just in time to smell my latestdisaster. I grab the oven mitt and pull thecake out, then throw it on the counter in dis-appointment. It’s not too badly burnt. I couldprobably salvage it by drowning it in icing.I shut the oven and decide that I’m movingon to a new hobby. Maybe I’ll make jewelry.How hard could that be? I grab two morecookies and walk back to my bedroom andhand one of the cookies to Holder, then laydown on the bed next him.

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“I guess the gay-bashing asshole remark wasreally judgmental on my part then, huh? Youaren’t really an ignorant homophobe whospent the last year in juvenile detention?”He grins and scoots down on the bed next tome and looks up at the stars. “Nope. Not atall. I spent the entire last year living with myfather in Austin. I don’t even know where thestory about me being sent to juvi came intothe picture.”“Why don’t you defend yourself against therumors if they aren’t true?”He turns his head toward me on the pillow.“Why don’t you?”I purse my lips together and nod. “Touché.”We both sit quietly on the bed eating ourcookies. Some of the things he’s said over thepast few days are starting to make sense, andI begin to feel more and more like the peopleI despise. He told me outright that he wouldanswer anything if I just asked, yet I chose tobelieve the rumors about him instead. No

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wonder he was so irritated with me. I wastreating him just like everyone else treatsme.“The window comment from earlier?” I say.“You were just making a point about ru-mors? You really weren’t trying to be mean?”“I’m not mean, Sky.”“You’re intense. I’m right about that, atleast.”“I may be intense, but I’m not mean.”“Well, I’m not a slut.”“I’m not a gay bashing asshole.”“So we’re all clear?”He laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.”I inhale a deep breath, then exhale, prepar-ing to do something I don’t do very often.Apologize. If I wasn’t so stubborn, I mighteven admit that my judgmental behavior thisweek was completely mortifying and he hadevery right in the world to be angry with mefor being so ignorant. Instead, I keep theapology short and sweet.

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“I’m sorry, Holder,” I say quietlyHe sighs heavily. “I know, Sky. I know.”And we sit like this in complete silence forwhat seems like forever but also doesn’t feellike near long enough. It’s getting late andI’m afraid he’s about to say he needs to leavebecause there’s nothing else to say, but Idon’t want him to. It feels right, being herewith him now. I don’t know why, but it justdoes.“I need to ask you something,” he says, fi-nally breaking the silence. I don’t respond,because it doesn’t feel like his statement iswaiting for a response. He’s just taking oneof his moments to prepare whatever it is hewants to ask me. He takes a breath, thenrolls over onto his side to face me. He tuckshis elbow under his head and I can feel himlooking at me, but I keep staring at the stars.He’s way too close for me to look at him rightnow, and by the way my heart is alreadypounding against my chest, I’m afraid

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moving any closer will physically kill me. Itdoesn’t seem possible that lust can cause aheart to take this much of a beating. It’sworse than running.“Why were you letting Grayson do what hewas doing to you in the parking lot?”I want to crawl under my covers and hide. Iwas hoping this wouldn’t come up. “I alreadytold you. He’s not my boyfriend and he’s notthe one who gave me the black eye.”“I’m not asking because of any of that. I’masking because I saw how you reacted. Youwere irritated with him. You even looked alittle bored. I just want to know why you al-low him to do those things if you clearlydon’t want him touching you.”His words throw me for a loop and I’m sud-denly feeling claustrophobic and sweaty. Idon’t feel comfortable talking about this. Itmakes me uneasy how he reads me so well,yet I can’t read him for anything.“My lack of interest was that obvious?” I ask.

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“Yep. And from fifty yards away. I’m just sur-prised he didn’t take the hint.”This time I turn to face him without think-ing, and tuck my elbow under my head. “Iknow, right? I can’t tell you how many timesI’ve turned him down but he just doesn’tstop. It’s really pathetic. And unattractive.”“Then why do you let him do it?” he says,eyeing me sharply. We’re in a compromisingposition right now, facing each other on thesame bed. The way he’s staring at me anddropping his eyes to my lips prompts me toroll onto my back again. I don’t know if hefeels the same, but he rolls onto his back,too.“It’s complicated.”“You don’t have to explain,” he says. “I wasjust curious. It’s really not my business.”I tuck my hands behind my head and look upat the stars that I’ve counted more timesthan I can count. I’ve been in this bed withHolder longer than I’ve probably been in this

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bed with any boy, and it occurs to me that Ihaven’t felt the need to count a single star.“Have you ever had a serious girlfriend?”“Yep,” he says. “But I hope you aren’t aboutto ask for details, because I don’t go there.”I shake my head. “That’s not why I’m ask-ing.” I pause for a few seconds, wanting toword things the right way. “When you kissedher, what did you feel?”He pauses for a moment, probably thinkingthis is a trick question. “You want honesty,right?” he asks.“That’s all I ever want.”I can see him smile out of the corner of myeyes. “Alright then. I guess I felt…horny.”I try to appear unaffected, hearing that wordcome out of his mouth, but...wow. I cross mylegs, hoping it’ll help minimize the hotflashes racing through me. “So you get thebutterflies and the sweaty palms and the rap-id heartbeat and all that?”

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He shrugs. “Yeah. Not with every girl I’vebeen with, but most of them.”I angle my head in his direction, trying not toanalyze the way that sentence came out. Heturns his head toward me and grins.“There weren’t that many.” He smiles andhis dimple is even cuter close up. For a mo-ment, I get lost in it. “What’s your point?”I bring my eyes back to his, briefly, then facethe ceiling again. “My point is that I don’t. Idon’t feel any of that. When I make out withguys, I don’t feel anything at all. Just numb-ness. So sometimes I let Grayson do what hedoes to me, not because I enjoy it, but be-cause I like not feeling anything at all.” Hedoesn’t respond and his silence makes meuncomfortable. I can’t help but wonder ifhe’s mentally labeling me as crazy. “I know itdoesn’t make sense, and no, I’m not a lesbi-an. I’ve just never been attracted to anyonebefore you and I don’t know why.”

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As soon as I say it, he darts his head towardme at the same second I squeeze my eyesshut and throw my arm over my face. I can’tbelieve I just admitted, out loud, that I’m at-tracted to him. I could die right now and itwouldn’t be soon enough.I feel the bed shift and he encompasses mywrist with his hand and removes my armfrom over my eyes. I reluctantly open themand he’s propped up on his hand, smiling atme. “You’re attracted to me?”“Oh, God,” I groan. “That’s the last thing youneed for your ego.”“That’s probably true,” he laughs. “Betterhurry up and insult me before my ego gets asbig as yours.”“You need a hair cut,” I blurt out. “Reallybad. It gets in your eyes and you squint andyou’re constantly moving it out of the waylike you’re Justin Bieber and it’s reallydistracting.”

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He fingers his hair with his hand and frowns,then falls back onto the bed. “Man. Thatreally hurt. It seems like you’ve thought thatone out for a while.”“Just since Monday,” I admit.“You met me on Monday. So technically,you’ve been thinking about how much youhate my hair since the moment we met?”“Not every moment.”He’s quiet for a minute, then grins again. “Ican’t believe you think I’m hot.”“Shut up.”“You probably faked passing out the otherday, just so you could be carried in my hot,sweaty, manly arms.”“Shut up.”“I’ll bet you fantasize about me at night, righthere in this bed.”“Shut up, Holder.”“You probably even…”

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I reach over and clamp my hand over hismouth. “You’re way hotter when you aren’tspeaking.”When he finally shuts his mouth, I removemy hand and put it back behind my head.Again, we both go a while without speaking.He’s probably silently gloating in the factthat I admitted I’m attracted to him, whileI’m silently cringing that he’s now privy tothat knowledge.“I’m bored,” he says.“So go home.”“I don’t want to. What do you do when you’rebored? You don’t have internet or TV. Doyou just sit around all day and think abouthow hot I am?”I roll my eyes. “I read,” I say. “A lot. Some-times I bake. Sometimes I run.”“Read, bake and run. And fantasize aboutme. What a riveting life you lead.”“I like my life.”

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“I sort of like it, too,” he says. He rolls overand grabs the book off of my nightstand.“Here, read this.”I take the book out of his hands and open itto the marker on page two. It’s as far as I’vegotten. “You want me to read it out loud?You’re that bored?”“Pretty damn bored.”“It’s a romance,” I warn.“Like I said. Pretty damn bored. Read.”I scoot my pillow up toward the headboardand make myself comfortable, then startreading.This morning if you would have told me I’dbe reading a romance novel to Dean Holderin my bed tonight, I’d tell you that you werecrazy. But then again, I’m obviously not thebest judge of crazy.

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When I open my eyes, I immediately slidemy hand to the other side of the bed, but it’sempty. I sit up and look around. My light isoff and my covers are on. The book is closedon the nightstand, so I pick it up. There’s abookmark almost three-quarters of the waythrough.I read until I fell asleep? Oh, no, I fell asleep.I throw the covers off and walk to the kit-chen, then flip on the light and look aroundin shock. The entire kitchen is clean and allthe cookies and brownies are wrapped insaran wrap. I look down at my phone sittingon the counter and pick it up to find a newtext message.

You fell asleep right when she wasabout to find out her mother’s secret.How dare you. I’ll be back tomorrownight so you can finish reading it tome. And by the way, you have really

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bad breath and you snore way tooloud.

I laugh. I’m also grinning like an idiot, butluckily no one is here to witness it. I glance atthe clock on the stove and it’s only just pasttwo in the morning, so I go back to the bed-room and crawl into bed, hoping he reallydoes show up tomorrow night. I don’t knowhow this hopeless boy weaseled his way intomy life this week, but I know I’m definitelynot ready for him to leave.

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I’ve learned an invaluable lesson about lusttoday. It causes double the work. I took twoshowers today, instead of just one. I changedclothes four times instead of the usual two.I’ve cleaned the house once (that’s one morethan I usually clean it) and I’ve checked thetime on the clock no less than a thousandtimes. I may have checked my phone for in-coming texts just as many.Unfortunately, he didn’t state in his textfrom last night what time he would be here,so by five o’clock I’m pretty much sitting andwaiting. There isn’t much else to do, sinceI’ve already baked enough sweets for an en-tire year and I’ve ran no less than four milestoday. I thought about cooking dinner for us,

but I have no idea what time he’s comingover, so I wouldn’t know when to have itready. I’m sitting on the couch, drummingmy nails on the sofa, when I get a text fromhim.

What time can I come over? Not thatI’m looking forward to it or anything.You’re really, really boring.

He texted me. Why didn’t I think of that? Ishould have texted him a few hours ago toask what time he would be here. It wouldhave saved me so much unnecessary, pathet-ic fretting.

Be here at seven. And bring mesomething to eat. I’m not cooking foryou.

I set the phone down and stare at it. An hourand forty five minutes to go. Now what? I

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look around at my empty living room and,for the first time ever, the boredom starts tohave a negative affect on me. Up until thisweek, I was pretty content with my lacklusterlife. I wonder if being exposed to the tempta-tions of technology has left me wantingmore, or if it’s being exposed to the tempta-tions of Holder. Probably both.I stretch my legs out on the coffee table infront of me. I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirttoday after finally deciding to give my sweat-pants a break. I also have my hair down, butonly because Holder has never seen me inanything other than a ponytail. Not that I’mtrying to impress him.I’m totally trying to impress him.I pick up a magazine and flip through it, butmy leg is shaking and I’m fidgeting to thepoint that I can’t focus. I read the same pagethree times in a row, so I throw the magazineback on the coffee table and lean my headback into the couch. I stare at the ceiling.

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Then I stare at the wall. Then I stare at mytoes and wonder if I should repaint them.I’m going crazy.I finally groan and reach for my phone, thentext him again.

Now. Come right now. I’m bored outof my freaking mind and if you don’tcome right now I’ll finish the book be-fore you get here.

I hold the phone in my hands and watch thescreen as it bounces up and down against myknee. He texts back right away.

Lol. I’m getting you food, bossy pants.Be there in twenty.

Lol? What the hell does that mean? Lots oflove? Oh, God, that better not be it. He’ll beout the door faster than Matty-boy. Butreally, what the hell does it mean?

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I stop thinking about it and focus on the lastword. Twenty. Twenty minutes. Oh, shit, thatsuddenly seems way too soon. I run to thebathroom and check my hair, my clothes, mybreath. I make a quick run through thehouse, cleaning it for the second time today.When the doorbell finally rings, I actuallyknow what to do this time. Open it.He’s standing with two armfuls of groceries,looking very domesticated. I eye the grocer-ies suspiciously. He holds the sacks up andshrugs. “One of us has to be the hospitableone.” He eases past me and walks straight tothe kitchen and sets the sacks on thecounter. “I hope you like spaghetti and meat-balls, because that’s what you’re getting.” Hebegins removing items from the sacks andpulling cookware out of cabinets.I shut the front door and walk to the bar.“You’re cooking dinner for me?”

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“Actually, I’m cooking for me, but you’re wel-come to eat some if you want.” He glances atme over his shoulder and smiles.“Are you always so sarcastic?” I ask.He shrugs. “Are you?”“Do you always answer questions withquestions?”“Do you?”I pick up a hand towel off the bar and throwit at him. He dodges it, then walks to the re-frigerator. “You want something to drink?”he asks.I put my elbows on the bar and rest my chinin my hands, watching him. “You’re offeringto make me something to drink in my ownhouse?”He searches through the refrigerator shelves.“Do you want milk that tastes like ass or doyou want soda?”“Do we even have soda?” I’m almost positiveI already drank up the stash I boughtyesterday.

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He leans back out of the refrigerator andarches an eyebrow. “Can either of us say any-thing that isn’t a question?”I laugh. “I don’t know, can we?”“How long do you think we can keep thisup?” He finds a soda and grabs two glasses.“You want ice?”“Are you having ice?” I’m not stopping withthe questions until he does. I’m highlycompetitive.He walks closer to me and places our glasseson the counter. “Do you think I should haveice?” he says with a challenging grin.“Do you like ice?” I challenge back.He nods his head, impressed that I’ve keptup to speed with him. “Is your ice any good?”“Well, do you prefer crushed ice or cubedice?”He narrows his eyes at me, aware that I justtrapped him. He can’t answer that one with aquestion. He pops the lid open and begins

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pouring the soda into my cup. “No ice foryou.”“Ha!” I say. “I win.”He laughs and walks back to the stove. “I letyou win because I feel sorry for you. Anyonethat snores as bad as you do deserves a breakevery now and then.”I smirk at him. “You know, the insults arereally only funny when they’re in text form.”I pick my glass up and take a drink. It defin-itely needs ice. I walk to the freezer and pullout a few ice cubes and drop them into mycup.When I turn around, he’s standing right infront of me, staring down at me. The look inhis eyes is slightly mischievous, but just seri-ous enough that it causes my heart to palpit-ate. He takes a step forward until my backmeets the refrigerator behind me. He casu-ally lifts his arm and places his hand on therefrigerator beside my head.

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I don’t know how I’m not sinking to the floorright now. My knees feel like they’re about togive out.“You know I’m kidding, right?” he sayssoftly. His eyes are scrolling over my faceand he’s smiling just enough that his dimplesare showing.I nod and hope he backs the hell away fromme, because I’m about to have an asthma at-tack and I don’t even have asthma.“Good,” he says, moving in just a couplemore inches. “Because you don’t snore. Infact, you’re pretty damn adorable when yousleep.”He really shouldn’t say things like that. Espe-cially when he’s leaning in this close to me.His arm bends at the elbow and he’s sud-denly a whole lot closer. He leans in towardmy ear and I inhale sharply.“Sky,” he whispers seductively into my ear. “Ineed you…to move. I need in the fridge.” Heslowly pulls back and keeps his eyes trained

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on mine, watching for my reaction. A smilepulls at the corners of his mouth and he triesto hold it in, but he breaks out in laughter.I push against his chest and duck under hisarm. “You’re such an ass!”He opens the refrigerator, still laughing. “I’msorry, but damn. You’re so blatantly attrac-ted to me, it’s hard not to tease you.”I know he’s joking, but it still embarrassesthe hell out of me. I sit back down at the barand drop my head into my hands. I’m begin-ning to hate the girl he’s turning me into. Itwouldn’t be near as hard to be around him ifI wouldn’t have slipped and told him I wasattracted to him. It also wouldn’t be as hardif he weren’t so funny. And sweet, when hewants to be. And hot. I guess that’s whatmakes lust so bittersweet. The feeling isbeautiful, but the effort it takes to deny it isway too hard.

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“Want to know something?” he asks. I lookup at him and he’s looking down at the panin front of him, stirring.“Probably not.”He glances at me for a few seconds, thenlooks back down at the pan. “It might makeyou feel better.”“I doubt it.”He cuts his eyes to me again and the playfulsmile is gone from his lips. He reaches into acabinet and pulls out a pan, then walks to thesink and fills it with water. He walks back tothe stove and begins stirring again. “I mightbe a little bit attracted to you, too,” he says.I unnoticeably inhale, then let out a slow,controlled breath in an attempt not to appearblindsided by that comment.“Just a little bit?” I ask, doing what I do bestby infusing awkward moments with sarcasm.He smiles again, but keeps his eyes trainedon the pan in front of him. The room growssilent for several minutes. He’s focused on

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cooking and I’m focused on him. I watch himas he moves effortlessly around the kitchenand I’m in awe at his level of comfort. This ismy house and I’m more nervous than he is. Ican’t stop fidgeting and I wish he would starttalking again. He doesn’t seem as affected bythe silence, but it’s looming in the air aroundme and I need to get rid of it.“What does lol mean?”He laughs. “Seriously?”“Yes, seriously. You typed it in your textearlier.”“It means laugh out loud. You use it whenyou think something is funny.”I can’t deny the relief I feel that it wasn’t lotsof love.“Huh,” I say. “That’s dumb.”“Yeah, it is pretty dumb. It’s just habitthough, and the abbreviated texts make it alot faster to type once you get the hang of it.Sort of like OMG and WTF and IDK and…”

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“Oh, God, stop,” I say, interrupting him be-fore he spouts off more abbreviations. “Youspeaking in abbreviated text form is reallyunattractive.”He turns to me and winks, then walks to theoven. “I’ll never do it again, then.”And it happens again…the silence. Yesterdaythe silence between us was fine, but for somereason, it’s incredibly awkward tonight. It isfor me, anyway. I’m beginning to think I’mjust nervous for what the rest of the nightholds. It’s obvious with the chemistrybetween us that we’ll end up kissing eventu-ally. It’s just really hard to focus on the hereand now and be engaged in conversationwhen that’s the only thing on my mind. Ican’t stand not knowing when he’ll do it. Willhe wait until after dinner when my breathsmells like garlic and onions? Will he waituntil it’s time for him to leave? Will he justspring it on me when I’m least expecting it? Ialmost just want to get it over with right

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now. Cut to the chase so the inevitable can beput aside and we can get on with the night.“You okay?” he asks. I snap my gaze back upto his and he’s standing across the bar fromme. “Where’d you go? You checked out for awhile there.”I shake my head and pull myself back intothe conversation. “I’m fine.”He picks up a knife and begins chopping atomato. Even his tomato chopping skills areeffortless. Is there anything this boy is badat? His knife stills on the cutting board and Ilook up at him. He’s looking down at me witha serious expression.“Where’d you go, Sky?” He watches me for afew seconds, waiting on my response. WhenI fail to give him one, he drops his eyes backto the cutting board.“Promise you won’t laugh?” I ask.He squints his eyes and ponders my ques-tion, then shakes his head. “I told you thatI’ll only ever be honest with you, so no. I

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can’t promise I won’t laugh because you’rekind of funny and that’s only setting myselfup for failure.”“Are you always so difficult?”He grins at me, but doesn’t respond. Hekeeps eyeing me like he’s challenging me tosay what’s really on my mind. Unfortunately,I don’t back down from challenges.“Okay, fine.” I sit up straight in my chair andtake a deep breath, then let all my thoughtsout at once. “I’m really not any good at thiswhole dating thing, and I don’t even know ifthis is a date, but I know that whatever it is,it’s a little more than just two friendshanging out, and knowing that makes methink about later tonight when it’s time foryou to leave and whether or not you plan tokiss me and I’m the type of person who hatessurprises so I can’t stop feeling awkwardabout it because I do want you to kiss meand this may be presumptuous of me, but Isort of think you want to kiss me, too, and so

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I was thinking how much easier it would be ifwe just went ahead and kissed already so youcan go back to cooking dinner and I can stoptrying to mentally map out how our night’sabout to play out.” I inhale an incrediblyhuge breath, being as though I have none leftin my lungs.He stopped chopping somewhere in themiddle of that rant, but I’m not sure whichpart. He’s looking at me with his mouthslightly agape. I take a deep breath andslowly exhale, thinking I may have just com-pletely sent him out the front door. Andsadly, I wouldn’t blame him if he ran.He lays the knife gently on the cutting boardand places his palms on the counter in frontof him, never breaking his gaze from mine. Ifold my hands in my lap and wait for a reac-tion. It’s all I can do.“That,” he says, pointedly, “was the longestrun-on sentence I’ve ever heard.”

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I roll my eyes and slouch back against myseat, then fold my arms across my chest. Ijust practically begged him to kiss me, andhe’s critiquing my grammar?“Relax,” he says with a grin. He slides the to-matoes off the cutting board and into thepan, then places it on the stove. He adjuststhe temperature of one of the burners andpours the pasta into the boiling water. Onceeverything is set, he dries his hands on thehand towel, then walks around the bar towhere I’m seated.“Stand up,” he directs.I look up at him warily, but I do what hesays. Slowly. When I’m standing up, facinghim, he places his hands on my shouldersand looks around the room. “Hmm,” he says,thinking audibly. He glances into the kit-chen, then slides his hands down myshoulders and grabs my wrists. “I sort ofliked the fridge backdrop.” He pulls me intothe kitchen, then positions me like a puppet

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with my back against the refrigerator. Heplaces both of his hands against the refriger-ator on either side of my head, and looksdown at me.It’s not the most romantic way I’ve picturedhim kissing me, but I guess it’ll do. I justwant to get it over with. Especially now thathe’s making such a big production out of it.He begins to lean in toward me, so I take adeep breath and close my eyes.I wait.And I wait.Nothing happens.I open my eyes and he’s so close I actuallyflinch, which only makes him laugh. Hedoesn’t back away, though, and his breathteases my lips like fingers. He smells likemint leaves and soda and I never thought thetwo would make a good combination, butthey really do.“Sky?” he says, quietly. “I’m not trying to tor-ture you or anything, but I already made up

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my mind before I came over here. I’m notkissing you tonight.”His words cause my stomach to sink fromthe weight of my disappointment. My self-confidence has just gone out the window,and I really need an ego building text fromSix right now.“Why not?”He slowly drops one of his hands and bringsit to my face, then traces down my cheekwith his fingers. I try not to shudder underhis touch, but it’s taking every ounce of mywillpower not to appear completely flusteredright now. His eyes follow his hand as itslowly moves down my jaw, then my neck,stopping at my shoulder. He brings his eyesback to mine and there’s an undeniableamount of lust in them. Seeing the look inhis eyes eases my disappointment by a tinyfraction.“I want to kiss you,” he says. “Believe me, Ido.” He drops his eyes to my lips and brings

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his hand back up to my cheek, cupping it. Iwillingly lean into his palm this time. I prettymuch relinquished control to him the mo-ment he walked through the front door. NowI’m nothing but putty in his hands.“But if you really want to, then why don’tyou?” I’m terrified he’s about to spout off anexcuse that contains the word girlfriend.He cases my face in both of his hands andtilts my face up toward his. He brushes histhumbs back and forth along my cheekbonesand I can feel the rapid rise and fall of hischest against mine. “Because,” he whispers.“I’m afraid you won’t feel it.”I suck in a quick breath and hold it. The con-versation we had on my bed last night re-plays in my head, and I realize that I nevershould have told him any of that. I nevershould have said I feel nothing but numb-ness when I kiss people, because he’s the ab-solute exception to the rule. I bring my hand

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to his hand on my cheek, and I cover it withmine.I’ll feel it, Holder. I already do. I want to saythose words out loud, but I can’t. Instead, Ijust nod.He closes his eyes and inhales, then pulls meaway from the refrigerator and into his chest.He wraps one arm around my back andholds his other hand against my head. Myarms are still awkwardly at my sides, so Itentatively bring them up and wrap themaround his waist. When I do this, I quietlygasp at the peacefulness that consumes me,being wrapped up in him like this. We bothsimultaneously pull each other closer and hekisses me on top of the head. It’s not the kissI was expecting, but I’m pretty sure I love itjust as much.We’re standing in the same position whenthe timer on the oven dings. He doesn’t im-mediately release me though, which makesme smile. When he does begin to drop his

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arms, I look down to the floor, unable to lookat him. Somehow, me trying to rectify theawkwardness about kissing him has justmade things even more awkward for me.As if he can sense my embarrassment, hetakes both of my hands in his and interlocksour fingers. “Look at me.” I lift my eyes tohis, trying to hide the disappointment fromrealizing our mutual attraction is on two dif-ferent levels. “Sky, I’m not kissing you to-night but believe me when I tell you, I’venever wanted to kiss a girl more. So stopthinking I’m not attracted to you because youhave no idea just how much I am. You canhold my hand, you can run your fingersthrough my hair, you can straddle me while Ifeed you spaghetti, but you are not gettingkissed tonight. And probably not tomorrow,either. I need this. I need to know for surethat you’re feeling every single thing that I’mfeeling the moment my lips touch yours. Be-cause I want your first kiss to be the best first

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kiss in the history of first kisses.” He pullsmy hand up to his mouth and kisses it. “Nowstop sulking and help me finish themeatballs.”I grin, because that was seriously the best ex-cuse ever for being turned down. He couldturn me down every day for the rest of mylife, so long as it’s followed up by that excuse.He swings our hands between us, peeringdown at me. “Okay?” he says. “Is that enoughto get you through a couple more dates?”I nod. “Yep. But you’re wrong about onething.”“What’s that?”“You said you want my first kiss to be thebest first kiss, but this won’t be my first kiss.You know that.”He narrows his eyes and pulls his handsfrom mine, then cups my face again. Hepushes me back against the refrigerator andbrings his lips dangerously close to mine.The smile is gone from his eyes and is

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replaced by a very serious expression. An ex-pression so intense, I stop breathing.He leans in excruciatingly slowly until hislips just barely reach mine, and the anticipa-tion of them alone is enough to paralyze me.He doesn’t close his eyes, so neither do I. Heholds me in this position for a moment, al-lowing our breath to blend between us. I’venever felt so helpless and out of control ofmyself, and if he doesn’t do something with-in the next three seconds, I’m more thanlikely going to pounce him.He looks at my lips and when he does, itprompts me to pull my bottom lip betweenmy teeth. Otherwise, I just might bite him.“Let me inform you of something,” he says ina low voice. “The moment my lips touchyours, it will be your first kiss. Because ifyou’ve never felt anything when someone’skissed you, then no one’s ever really kissedyou. Not the way I plan on kissing you.”

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He drops his hands and keeps his eyeslocked on mine while he backs up to thestove. He turns around to tend to the pastalike he didn’t just ruin me for any other guyfor the rest of my life.I can’t feel my legs, so I do the only thing Ican. I slide down the refrigerator until mybutt meets the floor, and I inhale.

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“Your spaghetti sucks ass.” I take anotherbite and close my eyes, savoring what is pos-sibly the best pasta that’s ever passed mylips.“You love it and you know it,” he says. Hestands up from the table and grabs two nap-kins, then brings them back and hands meone. “Now wipe your chin, you’ve got suckyass spaghetti sauce all over it.”After the incident against the refrigerator,the night pretty much went back to normal.He gave me a glass of water and helped mestand up, then slapped me on the ass and putme to work. It was all I needed to let go ofthe awkwardness. A good slap on the ass.

“Have you ever played Dinner Quest?” I askhim.He slowly shakes his head. “Do I want to?”I nod. “It’s a good way to get to know eachother. After our next date, we’ll be spendingmost of our time making out, so we need toget all the questions out of the way now.”He laughs. “Fair enough. How do you play?”“I ask you a really personal, uncomfortablequestion and you aren’t allowed to take adrink or eat a bite of food until you answer ithonestly. And vice versa.”“Sounds easy enough,” he says. “What if Idon’t answer the question?”“You starve to death.”He drums his fingers on the table, then layshis fork down. “I’m in.”I probably should have had questions pre-pared, but considering I just made this gameup thirty seconds ago, that would have beensort of hard. I take a sip of what’s left of mywatered down soda and think. I’m a little

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nervous about delving too deep, it alwaysseems to end badly with us.“Okay, I have one.” I set my cup down on thetable and lean back in my chair. “Why didyou follow me to my car at the grocerystore?”“Like I said, I thought you were someoneelse.”“I know, but who?”He shifts uncomfortably in his seat andclears his throat. He naturally reaches for hisglass, but I intercept it.

“No drinks. Answer the question first.”He sighs, but eventually relents. “I wasn’tsure who you reminded me of, you just re-minded me of someone. I didn’t realize untillater that you reminded me of my sister.”I crinkle my nose. “I remind you of your sis-ter?” I wince. “That’s kind of gross, Holder.”He laughs, then grimaces. “No, not like that.Not like that at all, you don’t even look any-thing like she did. There was just something

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about seeing you that made me think of her.And I don’t even know why I followed you. Itwas all so surreal. The whole situation was alittle bizarre, and then running into you infront of my house later…” He stops mid-sen-tence and looks down at his hand as hetraces the rim of his plate with his fingers. “Itwas like it was meant to happen,” he saysquietly.I take a deep breath and absorb his answer,careful to tiptoe around that last sentence.He looks up at me with a nervous glance andI realize that he thinks his answer may havejust scared me. I smile at him reassuringlyand point to his drink. “You can drink now,”I say. “Your turn to ask me a question.”“Oh, this one’s easy,” he says. “I want toknow whose toes I’m stepping on. I receiveda mysterious inbox message from someonetoday. All it said was, ‘If you’re dating mygirl, get your own prepaid minutes and quitwasting mine, Jackass.’”

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I laugh. “That would be Six. The bearer of mydaily doses of positive affirmation.”He nods. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Heleans forward and narrows his eyes at me.“Because I’m pretty competitive, and if itcame from a guy, my response would nothave been as nice.”“You responded? What’d you say?”“Is that your question? Because if it isn’t, I’mtaking another bite.”“Hold your horses and answer the question,”I say.“Yes, I responded to her text. I said, ‘How doI buy more minutes?’”My heart is a big puddle of mush right now,and I’m trying not to grin. It’s really patheticand sad. I shake my head. “I was only joking,that wasn’t my question. It’s still my turn.”He puts his fork back down and rolls hiseyes. “My food’s getting cold.”I place my elbows on the table and fold myhands under my chin. “I want to know about

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your sister. And why you referred to her inthe past tense.”He tilts his head back and looks up, rubbinghis hands down his face. “Ugh. You really askthe deep questions, huh?”“That’s how the game is played. I didn’tmake up the rules.”He sighs again and smiles at me, but there’sa hint of sadness in his smile and it instantlymakes me wish I could take the questionback.“Remember when I told you my family had apretty fucked up year last year?”I nod.He clears his throat and begins tracing therim of his plate again. “She died thirteenmonths ago. She killed herself, even thoughmy mother would rather we use the term,‘purposefully overdosed.’”He never stops looking at me when hespeaks, so I show him the same respect, eventhough it’s really difficult to look him in the

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eyes right now. I have no idea how to re-spond to that, but it’s my own fault for bring-ing it up.“What was her name?”“Lesslie. I called her Les.”Hearing his nickname for her stirs up sad-ness within me and I suddenly don’t feel likeeating anymore. “Was she older than you?”He leans forward and picks up his fork, thentwirls it in his bowl. He brings the forkful ofpasta to his mouth. “We were twins,” he saysflatly, right before taking the bite.Jesus. I reach for my drink, but he takes itout of my hands and shakes his head. “Myturn,” he says with a mouthful. He finisheschewing and takes a sip, then wipes hismouth with a napkin. “I want to know thestory about your dad.”I’m the one groaning this time. I fold myarms on the table in front of me and acceptmy payback. “Like I said, I haven’t seen himsince I was three. I don’t have any memories

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of him. At least, I don’t think I do. I don’teven know what he looks like.”“Your mom doesn’t have any pictures ofhim?”It dawns on me when he asks this questionthat he doesn’t even know I’m adopted. “Youremember when you said my mom lookedreally young? Well, it’s because she is. Sheadopted me.”Being adopted isn’t really a stigma I’ve everhad to overcome. I’ve never been embar-rassed by it, ashamed of it, or felt the need tohide the fact. But the way Holder is lookingat me right now, you would think I just toldhim I was born with a penis. He’s staring atme uncomfortably and it makes me fidget.“What? You’ve never met anyone who wasadopted?”It takes him a few more seconds to recover,but he puts away his puzzled expression andlocks it up, replacing it with a smile. “You

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were adopted when you were three? ByKaren?”I shake my head. “I was five. I was put intofoster care when I was three, after my biolo-gical mother died. My dad couldn’t raise meon his own. Or he didn’t want to raise me onhis own. Either way, I’m fine with it. I luckedout with Karen and I have no urge whatso-ever to go figure it all out. If he wanted toknow where I was, he’d come find me.”I can tell he’s not finished with the questionsby the look in his eyes, but I really want totake a bite and get the ball back in my court.I point to his arm with my fork. “What doesyour tattoo mean?”He holds his arm out and traces his fingersover it. “It’s a reminder. I got it after Lesdied.”“A reminder for what?”He picks up his cup and diverts his eyes frommine. It’s the only question he hasn’t beenable to answer with direct eye contact. “It’s a

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reminder of the people I’ve let down in mylife.” He takes a drink and places his glassback on the table, still unable to make eyecontact.“This game’s not very fun, is it?”He laughs softly. “It’s really not. It sort ofsucks ass.” He looks back up at me andsmiles. “But we need to keep going because Istill have questions. Do you remember any-thing from before you were adopted?”I shake my head. “Not really. Bits and pieces,but it comes to a point that, when you don’thave anyone to validate your memories, youjust lose them all. The only thing I have frombefore Karen adopted me is some jewelry,and I have no idea who it came from. I can’tdistinguish now between what was reality,dreams or what I saw on TV.”“Do you remember your mother?”I pause for a moment and mull over hisquestion. I don’t remember my mother. Atall. That’s the only thing about my past that

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makes me sad. “Karen is my mother,” I saypointblank. “My turn. Last question, then weeat dessert.”“Do you think we even have enoughdessert?” he teases.I glare at him, then ask my last question.“Why did you beat him up?”I can tell by the shift in his expression thathe doesn’t need me to elaborate on the ques-tion. He shakes his head and pushes his bowlaway from him. “You don’t want to know theanswer to that, Sky. I’ll take thepunishment.”“But I do want to know.”He tilts his head sideways and brings hishand to his jaw, then pops his neck. Hekeeps his hand on his chin and rests his el-bow on the table. “Like I told you before, Ibeat him up because he was an asshole.”I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s vague. Youdon’t do vague.”

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His expression doesn’t change and he keepshis eyes locked on mine. “It was my firstweek back at school since Les died,” he says.“She went to school there, too, so everyoneknew what happened. I overheard the guysaying something about Les when I waspassing him in the hallway. I disagreed withit, and I let him know. I took it too far and itcame to a point when I was on top of himthat I just didn’t care. I was hitting him, overand over, and I didn’t even care. The reallyfucked up part is that the kid will more thanlikely be deaf out of his left ear for the rest ofhis life, and I still don’t care.”He’s staring at me, but not really looking atme. It’s the hard, cold look that I’ve seen inhis eyes before. I didn’t like it then and Idon’t like it now…but at least now I can un-derstand it more.“What did he say about her?”He slumps back in his chair and drops hiseyes to an empty spot on the table between

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us. “I heard him laughing, telling his friendthat Les took the selfish, easy way out. Hesaid if she wasn’t such a coward, she wouldhave toughed it out.”“Toughed what out?”He shrugs. “Life,” he says indifferently.“You don’t think she took the easy way out,”I say, dropping the end of the sentence asmore of a statement than a question.Holder leans forward and reaches across thetable, taking my hand into both of his. Heruns his thumbs across my palm and takes ina deep breath, then carefully releases it. “Leswas the bravest fucking person I’ve everknown. It takes a lot of guts to do what shedid. To just end it, not knowing what’s next?Not knowing if there’s anything next? It’seasier to go on living a life without any lifeleft in it, than it is to just say ‘fuck it’ andleave. She was one of the few that just said,‘fuck it.’ And I’ll commend her every day I’mstill alive, too scared to do the same thing.”

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He stills my hand between his, and it isn’tuntil he does this that I realize I’m shaking. Ilook up at him and he’s staring back at me.There are absolutely no words that can fol-low that up, so I don’t even try. He stands upand leans over the table, then slides his handbehind my neck. He kisses me on top of thehead, then releases his hold and walks to thekitchen. “You want brownies or cookies?” heasks over his shoulder, as if he didn’t just ab-solutely stun me into silence.He looks back at me and I’m still staring athim in shock. I don’t even know what to say.Did he just admit that he’s suicidal? Was hebeing metaphorical? Melodramatic? I haveno idea what to do with the bomb he justplaced in my lap.He brings a plate of both cookies andbrownies back to the table, then kneels downin front of me.“Hey,” he says soothingly, taking my face inhis hands. His expression is serene. “I didn’t

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mean to scare you. I’m not suicidal if that’swhat’s freaking you out. I’m not fucked up inthe head. I’m not deranged. I’m not sufferingfrom post-traumatic stress disorder. I’m justa brother who loved his sister more than lifeitself, so I get a little intense when I thinkabout her. And if I cope better by telling my-self that what she did was noble, even thoughit wasn’t, then that’s all I’m doing. I’m justcoping.” He’s got a tight grip on my face andhe’s looking at me desperately, wanting meto understand where he’s coming from. “Ifucking loved that girl, Sky. I need to believethat what she did was the only answer shehad left, because if I don’t, then I’ll never for-give myself for not helping her find a differ-ent one.” He presses his forehead to mine.“Okay?”I nod, then pull his hands from my face. Ican’t let him see me do this. “I need to usethe bathroom.” He backs up and I rush to thebathroom and shut the door behind me, then

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I do something I haven’t done since I wasfive. I cry.I don’t ugly cry. I don’t sob and I don’t evenmake a noise. A single tear falls down mycheek and it’s one tear too many, so I quicklywipe it away. I take a tissue and wipe at myeyes in an attempt to stop any other tearsfrom forming.I still don’t know what to say to him, but Ifeel like he put a pretty tight lid on the sub-ject, so I decide to let it go for now. I shakeout my hands and take a deep breath, thenopen the door. He’s standing across the hall-way with his feet crossed at the ankles andhis hands hanging loosely in his pockets. Hestraightens up and takes a step closer to me.“We good?” he asks.I smile my best smile and nod, then take adeep breath. “I told you I think you’re in-tense. This just proves my point.”He smiles and nudges me toward the bed-room. He wraps his arms around me from

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behind and rests his chin on top of my headwhile we make our way toward my room.“Are you allowed to get pregnant yet?”I laugh. “Nope. Not this weekend. Besides,you have to kiss a girl before you can knockher up.”“Did someone not have sex education whenshe was homeschooled?” he says. “Because Icould totally knock you up without ever kiss-ing you. Want me to show you?”I hop on the bed and grab the book, openingit up to where we left off last night. “I’ll takeyour word for it. Besides, I’m hoping we’reabout to get a hefty dose of sex education be-fore we make it to the last page.”Holder drops down on the bed and I lay be-side him. He puts his arm around me andpulls me toward him, so I rest my head onhis chest and begin reading.

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I know he’s not doing it on purpose, but theentire time I’m reading I’m completely dis-tracted by him. He’s looking down at me,watching my mouth as I read, twirling myhair between his fingertips. Every time I flipa page, I glance up at him and he’s got thesame concentrated expression on his faceeach time. An expression so concentrated onmy mouth, it tells me he’s not paying a damnbit of attention to a single word I’m reading.I close the book and bring it to my stomach. Idon’t even think he notices I closed the book.“Why’d you stop talking?” he says, neverchanging his expression or pulling his gazefrom my mouth.“Talking?” I ask curiously. “Holder, I’mreading. There’s a difference. And from thelooks of it, you haven’t been paying a lick ofattention.”He looks me in the eyes and grins. “Oh, I’vebeen paying attention,” he says. “To your

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mouth. Maybe not to the words coming outof it, but definitely to your mouth.”He scoots me off of his chest and onto myback, then he slides down beside me andpulls me against him. Still, his expressionhasn’t changed and he’s staring at me like hewants to eat me. I sort of wish he would.He brings his fingers up to my lips and be-gins tracing them, slowly. It feels so incred-ible, I’m too scared to breathe for fear hemight stop. I swear it’s as though his fingershave a direct line to every sensitive spot onmy entire body.“You have a nice mouth,” he says. “I can’tstop looking at it.”“You should taste it. It’s quite lovely.”He squeezes his eyes shut and groans, thenleans in and presses his head into my neck.“Stop it, you evil wench.”I laugh and shake my head. “No way. This isyour stupid rule, why should I be the one toenforce it?”

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“Because, you know I’m right. I can’t kiss youtonight because kissing leads to the nextthing, which leads to the next thing, and atthe rate we’re going we’ll be all out of firstsby next weekend. Don’t you want to drag ourfirsts out a little longer?” He pulls his headaway from my neck and looks back down atme.“Firsts?” I ask. “How many firsts are there?”“There aren’t that many, which is why weneed to drag them out. We’ve already passedtoo many since we met.”I tilt my head sideways so I can look himstraight on. “What firsts have we alreadypassed?”“The easy ones. First hug, first date, firstfight, first time we slept together, although Iwasn’t the one sleeping. Now we barely haveany left. First kiss. First time to sleep togeth-er when we’re both actually awake. Firstmarriage. First kid. We’re done after that.Our lives will become mundane and boring

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and I’ll have to divorce you and marry a wifewho’s twenty years younger than me so I canhave a lot more firsts and you’ll be stuck rais-ing the kids.” He cups my cheek in his handand smiles at me. “So you see, babe? I’m onlydoing this for your benefit. The longer I waitto kiss you, the longer it’ll be before I’mforced to leave you high and dry.”I laugh. “Your logic terrifies me. I sort ofdon’t find you attractive anymore.”He slides on top of me, holding up his weighton his hands. “You sort of don’t find me at-tractive? That can also mean you sort of dofind me attractive.”I shake my head. “I don’t find you attractiveat all. You repulse me. In fact, you better notkiss me because I’m pretty sure I just threwup in my mouth.”He laughs, then drops his weight onto onearm, still hovering over me. He lowers hismouth to the side of my head and presses hislips to my ear. “You’re a liar,” he whispers.

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“You’re a whole lot attracted to me and I’mabout to prove it.”I close my eyes and gasp the second his lipsmeet my neck. He kisses me lightly, right be-low the ear, and it feels like the whole roomjust turned into a tilt-a-whirl. He slowlymoves his lips back to my ear and whispers,“Did you feel that?”I shake my head no, but barely.“You want me to do it again?”I’m shaking my head no out of stubbornness,but I’m hoping he’s telepathic and can hearwhat I’m really screaming inside my head,because hell yes, I liked it. Hell yes, I wanthim to do it again.He laughs when I shake my head no, so hebrings his lips closer to my mouth. He kissesme on the cheek, then continues trailing softpecks down to my ear, where he stops andwhispers again. “How about that?”Oh, God, I’ve never been so not bored in mylife. He’s not even kissing me and it’s already

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the best kiss I’ve ever had. I shake my headagain and keep my eyes closed, because I likenot knowing what’s coming next. Like thehand that just planted itself on my outerthigh and is working its way up to my waist.He slides his hand under my t-shirt until hisfingers barely graze the edge of my pants,and he leaves his hand there, slowly movinghis thumb back and forth across my stom-ach. I’m so acutely aware of everything abouthim in this moment that I’m almost positiveI could pick his thumbprint out of a lineup.He runs his nose along my jawline and thefact that he’s breathing just as heavily as Iam assures me there’s no way he can waituntil after tonight to kiss me. At least that’swhat I’m desperately hoping.When he reaches my ear again, he doesn’tspeak this time. Instead, he kisses it andthere isn’t a nerve ending in my body thatdoesn’t feel it. From my head all the way

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down to my toes, my entire body is scream-ing for his mouth.I place my hand on his neck and when I do,chills break out on his skin. Apparently, thatone simple move momentarily melts his re-solve and for a second, his tongue meets myneck. I moan and the sound completelysends him into a frenzy.He moves his hand from my waist to the sideof my head and he pulls my neck against hismouth, holding nothing back. I open myeyes, shocked at how quickly his demeanorchanged. He kisses and licks and teases everyinch of my neck, only gasping for air whenit’s absolutely necessary. As soon as I see thestars above my head, there isn’t even enoughtime to count one of them before my eyes rollback in my head and I’m holding backsounds that I’m too embarrassed to utter.He moves his lips further from my neck andcloser to my chest. If we didn’t have such alimited supply of firsts, I’d tear my shirt off

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and make him keep going. Instead, hedoesn’t even give me this option. He kisseshis way back up my neck, up my chin, andtrails soft kisses around my entire mouth,careful not to once touch my lips. My eyesare closed, but I can feel his breath againstmy mouth, and I know he’s struggling not tokiss me. I open my eyes and look at him andhe’s staring at my lips again.“They’re so perfect,” he says, breathlessly.“Like hearts. I could literally stare at yourlips for days and never get bored.”“No. Don’t do that. If all you do is stare, thenI’ll be the bored one.”He grimaces, and it’s obvious that he’s hav-ing a really, really hard time not kissing me. Idon’t know what it is about him staring atmy lips like he is, but it’s definitely the hot-test thing about this whole situation rightnow. I do something I probably shouldn’t do.I lick them. Slowly.

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He groans again and presses his foreheadagainst mine. His arm gives way beneathhim and he drops his weight on me, pressinghimself against me. Everywhere. All of him.We moan simultaneously once our bodiesfind that perfect connection, and suddenlyit’s game on. I’m tearing off his shirt and he’son his knees, helping me pull it over hishead. After it’s completely off, I wrap my legsaround his waist and lock him against me,because there could be nothing more detri-mental than if he were to pull away rightnow.He brings his forehead back to mine and ourbodies reunite and fuse together like the lasttwo pieces of a puzzle. He’s slowly rockingagainst me and every time he does it, his lipscome closer and closer, until they brushlightly against mine. He doesn’t close the gapbetween our mouths, even though I abso-lutely need him to. Our lips are simply rest-ing together, not kissing. Every time he

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moves against me, he lets out a breath thatseeps into my mouth and I try to take themall in, because it feels like I need them if Iwant to survive this moment.We remain in this rhythm for severalminutes, neither of us wanting to be the firstto initiate the kiss. It’s obvious we both wantto, but it’s also obvious that I may have justmet my match when it comes tostubbornness.He holds the side of my head in place andkeeps his forehead pressed against mine, butpulls his lips back far enough so he can lickthem. When he lets them fall back into place,the wetness of his lips sliding against minedrags me completely under, and I doubt I’llever be able to come up for air.He shifts his weight, and I don’t know whathappens when he does this, but somehow itcauses my head to roll back and the words,“Oh, God,” to come out of my mouth. I didn’tmean to pull away from his mouth when I

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tilted my head back, because I really liked itbeing there, but I like where I’m going evenmore. I wrap my arms around his back andtuck my head against his neck for somesemblance of stability, because it feels likethe entire earth has been shifted off its axisand Holder is the core.I realize what’s about to happen and I beginto internally panic. Other than his shirt,we’re completely clothed, not even kiss-ing…yet the room is beginning to spin fromthe affect his rhythmic movements are hav-ing on my body. If he doesn’t stop what he’sdoing, I’ll fall apart and melt right here be-neath him, and that would quite possiblymark the most embarrassing moment of mylife. But if I ask him to stop, then he’ll stop,and that would quite possibly mark the mostdisappointing moment of my life.I try to calm my breaths and minimize thesounds escaping my lips, but I’ve lost anyform of self-control. It’s obvious my body is

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enjoying this non-kissing friction a little toomuch and I can’t find it in me to stop. I’ll trythe next best thing. I’ll ask him to stop.“Holder,” I say breathlessly, not really want-ing him to stop, but hoping he’ll get the hintand stop anyway. I need him to stop. Liketwo minutes ago.He doesn’t. He continues kissing my neckand moving his body against mine in a waythat boys have done to me before, but thistime it’s different. It’s so incredibly differentand wonderful and it absolutely petrifies me.“Holder.” I attempt to say his name louder,but there isn’t enough effort left in my body.He kisses the side of my head and slowsdown, but he doesn’t stop. “Sky, if you’reasking me to stop, I will. But I’m hopingyou’re not, because I really don’t want tostop, so please.” He pulls back and looksdown into my eyes, still barely moving hisbody against mine. His eyes are full of acheand worry and he’s breathless when he

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speaks. “We won’t go any further than this, Ipromise. But please don’t ask me to stopwhere we already are. I need to watch youand I need to hear you because the fact that Iknow you’re actually feeling this right now isso fucking amazing. You feel incredible andthis feels incredible and please.Just…please.”

He lowers his mouth to mine and givesme the softest peck imaginable. It’s enoughof a preview of what his real kiss will feel likeand just the thought of it makes me shudder.He stops moving against me and pusheshimself up on his hands, waiting for me todecide.The moment he separates from me, my chestgrows heavy with disappointment and I al-most feel like crying. Not because he stoppedor because I’m torn about what to donext…but because I never imagined that twopeople could connect on this sort of intimatelevel, and that it could feel so

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overwhelmingly right. Like the purpose ofthe entire human race centers around thismoment; around the two of us. Everythingthat’s ever happened or will happen in thisworld is simply just a backdrop for what’s oc-curring between us right now, and I don’twant it to stop. I don’t. I’m shaking my head,looking into his pleading eyes, and all I cando is whisper, “Don’t. Whatever you do,don’t stop.”He slides his hand behind my neck andlowers his head, pressing his forehead tomine. “Thank you,” he breathes, gently eas-ing himself onto me again, recreating theconnection between us. He kisses the edgesof my mouth several times, trailing close tomy lips and down my chin and across myneck. The faster he breathes, the faster Ibreathe. The faster I breathe, the faster heplants kisses all over my neck. The faster heplants kisses all over my neck, the faster wemove together—creating a tantalizing

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rhythm between us that, according to mypulse, isn’t going to last much longer.I dig my heels into the bed and my nails intohis back. He stops kissing my neck and looksdown at me with heated eyes, watching me.He focuses on my mouth again, and as muchas I want to watch him stare at me like hedoes, I can’t keep my eyes open. They closeinvoluntarily as soon as the first wave ofchills wash over my body like a warning shotof what’s about to come.“Open your eyes,” he says firmly.I would if I could, but I’m completelyhelpless.“Please.”That one word is all I need to hear and myeyes flick open beneath him. He’s staringdown at me with such an intense need, it’salmost more intimate than if he were actu-ally kissing me right now. As hard as it is todo in this moment, I keep my eyes locked onhis as I drop my arms, clench the sheets with

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both fists and thank Karma for bringing thishopeless boy into my life. Because until thismoment—until the first waves of pure andutter enlightenment wash over me—I had noidea that he was even missing.I begin to shudder beneath him and he neveronce breaks our stare. I can no longer keepmy eyes open no matter how hard I try, so Ilet them fall shut. I feel his lips slide delic-ately back to mine, but he still doesn’t kissme. Our mouths are stubbornly resting to-gether as he holds his rhythm, allowing thelast of my moans and a rush of my breathsand maybe even part of my heart to slip outof me and into him. I slowly and blissfullyslide back down to earth and he eventuallyholds still, allowing me to recover from anexperience that he somehow made not at allembarrassing for me.When I’m completely spent and emotionallydrained and my whole body is shaking, hecontinues to kiss my neck and shoulders and

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everywhere else in the vicinity of the oneplace I want kissed the most—my mouth.But he would obviously rather hold his re-solve than give in to his stubbornness, be-cause he pulls his lips from my shoulder andbrings his face closer to mine, but still re-fuses to make the connection. He reaches upand runs his hand along my hairline,smoothing away a stray strand from myforehead.“You’re incredible,” he whispers, lookingonly at my eyes this time and not at all at mymouth. His words make up for his stubborn-ness and I can’t help but smile back. He col-lapses to the bed beside me, still panting,while he makes a cognizant effort to containthe desire that I know is still coursingthrough him.I close my eyes and listen to the silence thatbuilds between us as our gasps for breathsubside into soft, gentle rhythms. It’s quietand calm and quite possibly the most

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peaceful moment my mind has everexperienced.Holder moves his hand closer to me on thebed between us and he wraps his pinkyaround mine as if he doesn’t have thestrength to hold my entire hand. But it’s nice,because we’ve held hands before, but neverpinkies…and I realize that this is anotherfirst we passed. And realizing this doesn’tdisappoint me, because I know that firstsdon’t matter with him. He could kiss me forthe first time, or the twentieth time, or themillionth time and I wouldn’t care if it was afirst or not, because I’m pretty sure we justbroke the record for the best first kiss in thehistory of first kisses—without even kissing.After a long stretch of perfect silence, hetakes a deep breath, then sits up on the bedand looks down at me. “I have to go. I can’tbe on this bed with you for another second.”I tilt my head toward his and look at him de-jectedly as he stands up and pulls his shirt

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back on. He grins at me when he sees mepouting, then he bends forward until his faceis hovering over mine, dangerously close.“When I said you weren’t getting kissed to-night, I meant it. But dammit, Sky. I had noidea how fucking difficult you would makeit.” He slips his hand behind my neck and Igasp quietly, willing my heart to remainwithin the walls of my chest. He kisses mycheek and I can feel his hesitation when hereluctantly pulls away.He walks backward toward the window,watching me the whole time. Before he slipsoutside, he pulls his phone out and runs hisfingers swiftly over the screen for a fewseconds, then slips it back into his pocket.He smiles at me, then climbs out the windowand pulls it shut behind him.I somehow find the strength to jump up andrun to the kitchen. I grab my phone and, sureenough, there’s a missed text from him. It’sonly one word, though.

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Incredible.

I smile, because it was. It absolutely was.

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“Hey.”I keep my head buried in my arms. I don’twant him to see me crying again. I know hewon’t laugh at me—neither of them wouldever laugh at me. But I really don’t evenknow why I’m crying and I wish it wouldjust stop but it won’t and I can’t and I hateit, hate it, hate it.He sits down in the sidewalk next to me andshe sits down on the other side of me. I stilldon’t look up and I’m still sad, but I don’twant them to leave because it feels nice withthem here.“This might make you feel better,” she says.“I made us both one at school today.” She

doesn’t ask me to look up so I don’t, but Ican feel her put something on my knee.I don’t move. I don’t like getting presentsand I don’t want her to see me look at it.I keep my head down and keep crying andwish that I knew what was wrong with me.Something’s wrong with me or I wouldn’tfeel like this every time it happens. Becauseit’s supposed to happen. That’s what Daddytells me, anyway. It’s supposed to happenand I have to stop crying because it makeshim so, so sad when I cry.They sit by me for a long, long time but Idon’t know how long because I don’t know ifhours are longer than minutes. He leansover and whispers in my ear. “Don’t forgetwhat I told you. Remember what you needto do when you’re sad?”I nod into my arm, but I don’t look up athim. I have been doing what he said I shoulddo when I get sad, but sometimes I’m stillsad, anyway.

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They stay for a few more hours or minutes,but then she stands up. I wish they wouldstay for one more minute or two morehours. They never ask me what’s wrong andthat’s why I like them so much and wishthey would stay.I lift my elbow and peek out from under-neath it and see her feet walking away fromme. I grab her present off my knee and runit through my fingers. She made me abracelet. It’s stretchy and purple and hashalf of a heart on it. I slide it on my wristand smile, even though I’m still crying. I liftup my head and he’s still here, looking atme. He looks sad and I feel bad because Ifeel like I’m making him sad.He stands up and faces my house. He looksat it for a long time without saying any-thing. He always thinks a lot and it makesme wonder what he’s always thinkingabout. He stops looking at the house andlooks back down at me. “Don’t worry,” he

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says, trying to smile for me. “He won’t liveforever.” He turns around and walks backto his house, so I close my eyes and lay myhead on my arms again.I don’t know why he would say that. I don’twant my Daddy to die…I just want him tostop calling me Princess.

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I don’t pull it out very often, but for somereason I want to look at it today. I guess talk-ing about the past with Holder Saturday hasleft me feeling a little nostalgic. I know I toldHolder I’d never look for my father, butsometimes I’m still curious. I can’t help butwonder how a parent can raise a child forseveral years, then just give them away. I’llnever understand it, and maybe I don’t needto. That’s why I never push it. I never askKaren questions. I never try to separate thememories from the dreams and I don’t likebringing it up…because I just don’t need to.I take the bracelet out of the box and slide itonto my wrist. I don’t know who gave it tome, and I don’t even really care. I’m sure

with two years in foster care, I received lotsof things from friends. What’s differentabout this gift, though, is that it’s attached tothe only memory I have of that life. Thebracelet validates that my memory is a realone. And knowing that the memory is realsomehow validates that I was someone elsebefore I was me. A girl I don’t remember. Agirl that cried a lot. A girl that isn’t anythinglike who I am today.Someday I’ll throw the bracelet away becauseI need to. But today, I just feel like wearingit.

Holder and I decided to take a breather fromeach other yesterday. And I say breather, be-cause after Saturday night, we went quite awhile on my bed without breathing at all.Besides, Karen was coming home and thelast thing I wanted to do was re-introduce

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her to my new…whatever he is. We never gotfar enough to label what’s going on betweenus. It feels like I haven’t known him nearlong enough to refer to him as my boyfriend,considering we haven’t even kissed yet. Butdammit if it doesn’t piss me off to think ofhis lips being on anyone else. So whether ornot we’re dating, I’m declaring us exclusive.Can you even be exclusive without actuallykissing first? Are exclusive and dating mutu-ally exclusive?I make myself laugh out loud. Or lol.When I woke up yesterday morning, I hadtwo texts. I’m really getting into this wholetexting thing. I get really giddy when I haveone and I can’t imagine how addictive emailand Facebook and everything elsetechnology-related must be. One of the textswas from Six, going on and on about my im-peccable baking abilities, followed up withstrict instructions to call her Sunday nightfrom her house phone to catch her up on

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everything. I did. We talked for an hour andshe’s just as floored as I am that Holder isn’tat all how we expected him to be. I asked herabout Lorenzo and she didn’t even know whoI was referring to, so I laughed and droppedit. I miss her and hate that she’s gone, butshe’s loving it and that makes me happy.The second text I had was from Holder. All itsaid was, “I’m dreading seeing you at schoolon Monday. So bad.”Running used to be the highlight of my day,but now it’s receiving insulting texts fromHolder. And speaking of running andHolder, we aren’t doing that anymore. To-gether, anyway. After texting back and forthyesterday, we decided it was probably best ifwe didn’t run together on a daily basis be-cause that might be too much, too soon. Itold him I didn’t want things to get weirdbetween us. Besides, I’m really self-con-scious when I’m sweaty and snotty and

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wheezing and smelly and I would just ratherrun alone.Now I’m staring into my locker in a daze,sort of stalling because I really don’t want togo to class. It’s first period and the only classI have with Holder, so I’m really nervousabout how it’ll play out. I take Breckin’s bookout of my backpack and the other two booksI brought him, then put the rest of my thingsin my locker. I walk into the classroom andto my seat, but Breckin isn’t here yet, andneither is Holder. I sit down and stare at thedoor, not really sure why I’m so nervous. It’sjust different, seeing him here rather than onhome turf. Public school is just waytoo…public.The door opens and Holder walks in, fol-lowed closely by Breckin. They both start to-ward the back of the room. Holder smiles atme, walking down one aisle. Breckin smilesat me, walking down the other aisle, holdingtwo cups of coffee. Holder reaches the seat

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next to me and starts to lay his backpack onit at the same time Breckin reaches it and be-gins to set the coffee cups down. They lookup at each other, then they both look back atme.

Awkward.I do the only thing I know how to do in

awkward situations—infuse with sarcasm.“Looks like we have quite the predicamenthere, boys.” I smile at both of them, then eyethe coffee in Breckin’s hands. “I see the Mor-mon brought the queen her offering of cof-fee. Very impressive.” I look at Holder andcock my eyebrow. “Do you wish to revealyour offering, hopeless boy, so that I may de-cide who shall accompany me at theclassroom throne today?”Breckin looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.Holder laughs and picks his backpack up offthe desk. “Looks like someone’s in need of anego-shattering text today.” He moves his

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backpack to the empty seat in front ofBreckin and claims his spot.Breckin is still standing, holding both coffeeswith an incredibly confused look on his face.I reach out and grab one of the cups. “Con-gratulations, squire. You are the queen’schosen one today. Sit. It’s been quite theweekend.”Breckin slowly takes his seat and sets his cof-fee on his desk, then pulls his backpack offhis shoulder, eyeing me suspiciously thewhole time. Holder is seated sideways in hisdesk, staring at me. I gesture my hand to-ward Holder. “Breckin, this is Holder.Holder is not my boyfriend, but if I catchhim trying to break the record for best firstkiss with another girl, then he’ll soon be mynot breathing non-boyfriend.”Holder arches an eyebrow at me and a hintof a smile plays in the corner of his mouth.“Likewise.” His dimples are taunting me andI have to force myself to look directly into his

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eyes or I might be compelled to dosomething that would be grounds forsuspension.I gesture a hand toward Breckin. “Holder,this is Breckin. Breckin is my new very best-est friend ever in the whole wide world.”Breckin eyes Holder and Holder smiles athim, then reaches out to shake his hand.Breckin tentatively shakes Holder’s hand inreturn, then pulls it back and turns to me,narrowing his eyes. “Does not-your-boy-friend realize I’m Mormon?”I nod. “It turns out, Holder doesn’t have anissue with Mormons at all. He just has an is-sue with assholes.”Breckin laughs and turns back to Holder.“Well, in that case, welcome to the alliance.”Holder gives him a half smile, but he’s star-ing at the coffee cup on Breckin’s desk. “Ithought Mormon’s weren’t allowed to havecaffeine.”

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Breckin shrugs. “I decided to break that rulethe morning I woke up gay.”Holder laughs and Breckin smiles andeverything is right with the world. Or at leastin the world of first period. I lean back in mychair and smile. This won’t be hard at all. Infact, I think I just started loving publicschool.

Holder follows me to my locker after class.We don’t speak. I switch my books while herips more insults off my locker. There wereonly two sticky notes after class today, whichmakes me a little sad. They’re giving up soeasily and it’s only the second week ofschool.He wads the notes up and flicks them on thefloor and I shut my locker, then turn towardhim. We’re both leaning against the lockers,facing each other.

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“You trimmed your hair,” I say, noticing itfor the first time.He runs his hand through it and grins.“Yeah. This chick I know couldn’t stop whin-ing about it. It was really annoying.”“I like it.”He smiles. “Good.”I purse my lips together and rock back andforth on my heels. He’s grinning at me andhe looks adorable. If we weren’t in a hallwayright now full of people, I’d grab his shirt andpull him to me so I could show him just howadorable I think he looks. Instead, I push theimages away and smile back at him. “I guesswe should get to class.”He nods slowly. “Yep,” he says, withoutwalking away.We stand there for another thirty seconds orso before I laugh and kick off the locker, thenstart to walk away. He grabs my arm andpulls me back so quickly, I gasp. Before Iknow it, my back is against the locker and

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he’s standing in front of me, blocking me inwith his arms. He shoots me a devilish grin,then tilts my face up to his. He brings hisright hand to my cheek and slides it undermy jaw, cupping my face. He delicatelystrokes both of my lips with his thumb and Ihave to remind myself again that we’re inpublic and I can’t act on my impulses rightnow. I press myself against the lockers be-hind me, trying to use the sturdiness of themto make up for the support my knees are nolonger providing.“I wish I would have kissed you Saturdaynight,” he says. He drops his eyes to my lipswhere his thumb is still stroking them. “Ican’t stop imagining what you taste like.” Hepresses his thumb firmly against the centerof my lips, then very briefly connects hismouth to mine without moving his thumbout of the way. His lips are gone and histhumb is gone and it happens so fast, I don’t

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even realize he’s gone until the hallway stopsspinning and I’m able to stand up straight.I don’t know how much longer I can takethis. I’m reminded of my nervous rant onSaturday night, when I wanted him to justget it over with and kiss me in the kitchen. Ihad absolutely no idea what I would be infor.

“How?”It’s just one word, but as soon as I lay mytray down across from Breckin, I know ex-actly what all that word encompasses. Ilaugh and decide to spill all the details beforeHolder shows up at our table. If he shows upat our table. Not only have we not discussedrelationship labels, we also haven’t discussedlunchroom seating arrangements.“He showed up at my house on Friday andafter quite a few misunderstandings, we

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finally came to an understanding that we justmisunderstood each other. Then we baked, Iread him some smut and he went home. Hecame back over Saturday night and cookedfor me. Then we went to my room and…”I stop talking when Holder takes a seat be-side me.“Keep going,” Holder says. “I’d love to hearwhat we did next.”I roll my eyes and turn back to Breckin.“Then we broke the record for best first kissin the history of first kisses without evenkissing.”Breckin nods carefully, still looking at mewith eyes full of scepticism. Or curiosity.“Impressive.”“It was an excruciatingly boring weekend,”Holder says to Breckin.I laugh, but Breckin looks at me like I’mcrazy again. “Holder loves boring,” I assurehim. “He means that in a nice way.”

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Breckin looks back and forth between thetwo of us, then shakes his head and leansforward, picking up his fork. “Not much con-fuses me,” he says, pointing his fork at us.“But you two are an exception.”I nod in complete agreement.We continue on with lunch and have some-what normal, decent interaction between thethree of us. Holder and Breckin start talkingabout the book he let me borrow and the factthat Holder is even discussing a romancenovel at all is entertaining in itself, but thefact that he’s arguing about the plot withBreckin is sickeningly adorable. Every nowand then he places his hand on my leg orrubs my back or kisses the side of my head,and he’s going through these motions likethey’re second nature, but to me not a singleone of them goes unnoticed.I’m trying to process the shift from last weekto this week and I can’t get past the notionthat we might just be too good. Whatever

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this is and whatever we’re doing seems toogood and too right and too perfect and itmakes me think of all the books I’ve read andhow, when things get too good and too rightand too perfect, it’s only because the uglytwist hasn’t yet infiltrated the goodness of itall and I suddenly—“Sky,” Holder says, snapping his fingers infront of my face. I look at him and he’s eye-ing me cautiously. “Where’d you go?”I shake my head and smile, not knowingwhat just set off that mini internal panic at-tack. He slides his hand just below my earand runs his thumb across my cheekbone.“You have to quit checking out like that. Itfreaks me out a little bit.”“Sorry,” I say with a shrug. “I’m easily dis-tracted.” I bring my hand up and pull hishand away from my neck, squeezing his fin-gers reassuringly. “Really, I’m fine.”

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His gaze drops to my hand. He flips it overand slides my sleeve up, then twists my wristback and forth.“Where’d you get that?” he says, lookingdown at my wrist.I look down to see what he’s referring to andrealize I’m still wearing the bracelet I put onthis morning. He looks back up at me and Ishrug. I’m not really in the mood to explainit. It’s complicated and he’ll ask questionsand lunch is almost over.“Where’d you get it?” he says again, this timea little more demanding. His grip tightensaround my wrist and he’s staring at mecoldly, expecting an explanation. I pull mywrist away, not liking where this is going.“You think I got it from a guy?” I ask, puzzledby his reaction. I hadn’t really pegged himfor the jealous type, but this doesn’t reallyseem like jealousy. It seems like crazy.He doesn’t answer my question. He keepsglaring at me like I’ve got some sort of huge

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confession that I’m refusing to reveal. I don’tknow what he expects, but his attitude rightnow is more than likely going to end up withhim getting slapped, rather than with megiving an explanation.Breckin shifts uncomfortably in his seat andclears his throat. “Holder. Ease up, man.”Holder’s expression doesn’t change. If any-thing, it grows even colder. He leans forwarda few inches and lowers his voice when hespeaks. “Who gave you the damn bracelet,Sky?”His words transform into an unbearableweight in my chest and all the same warningsigns that flashed in my head when I firstmet him are flashing again, only this timethey’re in big neon letters. I know my mouthis agape and my eyes are wide, but I’m re-lieved that hope isn’t a tangible thing, be-cause everyone around me would see minecrumbling.

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He closes his eyes and faces forward, settinghis elbows on the table. His palms pressagainst his forehead and he inhales a long,deep breath. I’m not sure if the breath ismore for a calming affect, or a distraction tokeep him from yelling. He runs his handthrough his hair and grips the back of hisneck.“Shit!” he says. His voice is harsh and itcauses me to flinch. He stands up and walksaway unexpectedly, leaving his tray on thetable. My eyes follow him as he continuesacross the cafeteria without once lookingback at me. He slaps the cafeteria doors withboth palms and disappears through them. Idon’t even blink or breathe again until thedoors finish swinging, coming to a completestandstill.I turn back to Breckin and I can only imaginethe shock on my face right now. I blink andshake my head, replaying the last twominutes of the scene in my head. Breckin

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reaches across the table and takes my handin his, but doesn’t say anything. There’snothing to say. We both lost all of our wordsthe second Holder disappeared throughthose doors.The bell rings and the cafeteria becomes awhirlwind of commotion, but I can’t move.Everyone is moving around and emptyingtrays and clearing tables, but the world ofour table is a stilled one. Breckin finally letsgo of my hand and grabs our trays, thencomes back for Holder’s tray and clears offthe table. He picks up my backpack andtakes my hand again, pulling me up. He putsmy backpack over his shoulder, then walksme out of the cafeteria. He doesn’t walk meto my locker or walk me to my classroom. Heholds my hand and pulls me along behindhim until we’re out the doors and across theparking lot and he’s opening a door andpushing me inside an unfamiliar car. He

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slides into his seat and cranks the car, thenturns in his seat and faces me.“I’m not even going to tell you what I thinkabout what just happened in there. But Iknow it sucked and I have no idea why youaren’t crying right now, but I know yourheart hurts, and maybe even your pride. Sofuck school. We’re going for ice cream.” Heputs his car in reverse, then pulls out of theparking spot.I don’t know how he does it because I wasjust about to burst into tears and sob andsnot all over his car, but after those wordscome out of his mouth, I actually smile.“I love ice cream.”

The ice cream helped, but I don’t think ithelped that much because Breckin justdropped me off at my car and I’m sitting inmy driver’s seat, unable to move. I’m sad and

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I’m scared and I’m mad and I’m feeling allthe things that I’m warranted to feel afterwhat just happened, but I’m not crying.And I won’t cry.When I get home I do the only thing that Iknow will help. I run. Only when I get backand climb in the shower I realize that, likethe ice cream, the run really didn’t help thatmuch, either.I go through the same motions that I gothrough any other night of the week. I helpKaren with dinner, I eat with her and Jack, Iwork on schoolwork, I read a book. I try toact like it doesn’t affect me at all, because Ireally wish it didn’t, but the second I climbinto bed and turn off my light, my mind be-gins wandering. Only this time it doesn’twander very far, because I’m stuck on justone thing and one thing only. Why the hellhasn’t he apologized?I half expected him to be waiting at my carwhen Breckin and I got back from ice cream,

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but he wasn’t. When I pulled into my drive-way, I expected him to be there, ready togrovel and beg and provide me with even thesmallest bit of an explanation, but he wasn’there. I kept my phone hidden in my pocket(because Karen still doesn’t know I have it)and I checked it every chance I got, but theonly text I received was from Six and I stillhaven’t even read it yet.So now I’m in my bed, hugging my pillow,feeling incredibly guilty for not having theurge to egg his house and slash his tires andkick him in the balls. Because I know that’swhat I wish I was feeling. I wish I was pissedand angry and unforgiving, because it wouldfeel so much better than feeling disappointedover the realization that the Holder I hadthis weekend…wasn’t even Holder at all.

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I open my eyes and don’t climb out of beduntil the seventy-sixth star on my ceiling iscounted. I throw the covers off and changeinto my running clothes. When I climb out ofmy bedroom window, I pause.He’s standing on the sidewalk with his backto me. His hands are clasped on top of hishead and I can see the muscles in his backcontracting from labored breaths. He’s in themiddle of a run and I’m not sure if he’s wait-ing on me or just happens to be taking abreather, so I remain stilled outside my win-dow and wait, hoping he keeps running.But he doesn’t.

After a couple of minutes, I finally work upthe nerve to walk into the front yard. Whenhe hears my footsteps, he turns around. Istop walking when we make eye contact andI stare back at him. I’m not glaring or frown-ing and I’m sure as hell not smiling. I’m juststaring.The look in his eyes is a new one and theonly word I can use to describe it is regret.But he doesn’t speak, which means hedoesn’t apologize, which means I don’t havetime to try and figure him out right now. Ijust need to run.I walk past him and step onto the sidewalk,then start running. After a few steps, I hearhim begin running behind me, but I keep myeyes focused forward. He never falls into stepbeside me and I make it a point not to slowdown because I want him to stay behind me.At some point I begin running faster andfaster until I’m sprinting, but he keeps inpace with me, always just a few steps behind.

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When we get to the marker that I use as aguide to turn around, I make it a point not tolook at him. I turn around and pass him andhead back toward my house, and the entiresecond half of the run is the exact same asthe first. Quiet.We’re less than two blocks from reaching myhouse and I’m angry that he showed up at alltoday and even angrier that he still hasn’tapologized. I begin running faster and faster,more than likely faster than I’ve ever ran be-fore, and he continues to match my speedstep for step. This pisses me off even more,so when we turn on my street I somehow in-crease my speed and I’m running toward myhouse as fast as I possibly can and it’s stillnot fast enough, because he’s still there. Myknees are buckling and I’m exerting myselfso hard that I can’t even catch a breath, but Ionly have twenty more feet until I reach mywindow.I only make it ten.

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As soon as my shoes meet the grass, I col-lapse onto my hands and knees and take sev-eral deep breaths. Never once, even in myfour-mile runs, have I ever felt this drained. Iroll onto my back on the grass and it’s stillwet with dew, but it feels good against myskin. My eyes are closed and I’m gasping soloud that I can barely hear Holder’s breathsover my own. But I do hear them and they’reclose and I know he’s on the grass next tome. We both lie still, panting for breath, andit reminds me of just a few nights ago whenwe were in the same position on my bed re-covering from what he did to me. I think he’salso reminded of this, because I barely feelhis pinky when he reaches between us andwraps it around mine. Only this time whenhe does it, I don’t smile. I wince.I pull my hand away and roll over, thenstand up. I walk the ten feet back to myhouse and I climb inside my room, then closethe window behind me.

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It’s been almost four weeks now. He nevershowed up to run with me again and he nev-er apologized. He doesn’t sit by me in classor in the cafeteria. He doesn’t send me in-sulting texts and he doesn’t show up onweekends as a different person. The onlything he does, at least I think he’s the onethat does it, is remove the sticky notes frommy locker. They’re always crumpled in a wadon the hallway floor at my feet.I continue to exist, and he continues to exist,but we don’t exist together. Days continue topass no matter who I exist with, though. Andthe more days that plant themselves betweenthe present and that weekend with him just

leave me with more and more questions thatI’m too stubborn to ask.I want to know what set him off that day. Iwant to know why he didn’t just let it go in-stead of storming off like he did. I want toknow why he never apologized, because I’malmost positive I would have given him atleast one more chance. What he did wascrazy and strange and a little possessive, butif I weighed it on a scale against all the won-derful things about him, I know it wouldn’thave weighed nearly as much.Breckin doesn’t even try to analyze it any-more so I pretend not to, either. But I do,and the thing that eats at me the most is thefact that everything that happened betweenus is starting to seem surreal, like it was alljust a dream. I catch myself questioningwhether or not that weekend even happenedat all, or if it was just another invalidatedmemory of mine that may not even be real.

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For this entire month, the one thing on theforefront of my mind more than anything(and I know this is really pathetic) is the factthat I never did get to kiss him. I wanted tokiss him so incredibly bad that knowing Iwon’t get to experience it leaves me feelinglike there’s this huge gaping hole in mychest. The ease at which we interacted, theway he would touch me like it was what hewas supposed to do, the kisses he wouldplant in my hair—they were all small piecesof something so much bigger. Something bigenough that, even though we never kissed,deserves some sort of recognition from him.Some sort of respect. He treats whateverwas about to develop between us like it waswrong, and it hurts. Because I know he feltit. I know he did. And if he felt it in thesame way that I felt it, then I know he stillfeels it.I’m not heartbroken and I still haven’t shed asingle tear over the entire situation. I can’t be

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heartbroken because luckily, I had yet to givehim that part of me. But I’m not too proud toadmit that I am a little sad about it all, and Iknow it’ll take time because I really, reallyliked him. So, I’m fine. I’m a little sad, and awhole lot confused, but I’m fine.

“What’s this?” I ask Breckin, looking down atthe table. He just placed a box in front of me.A very nicely wrapped box.“Just a little reminder.”I look up at him questioningly. “For what?”He laughs and pushes the box closer to me.“It’s a reminder that tomorrow’s your birth-day. Now open it.”I sigh and roll my eyes, then push it to theside. “I was hoping you’d forget.”He grabs the gift and pushes it back in frontof me. “Open the damn present, Sky. I knowyou hate getting gifts, but I love giving them,

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so stop being a depressing bitch and open itand love it and hug me and thank me.”I slump my shoulders and push my emptytray aside, then pull the box back in front ofme. “You’re a good gift wrapper,” I say. I un-tie the bow and tear open one end of the box,then slide open the paper. I look down at thepicture on the box and cock my eyebrow.“You got me a TV?”Breckin laughs and shakes his head, thenpicks the box up. “It’s not a TV, dummy. It’san e-reader.”“Oh,” I say. I have no idea what an e-readeris, but I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed tohave one. I would just accept it like I accep-ted Six’s cell phone, but this thing is too bigfor me to hide in my pocket.“You’re kidding, right?” He leans toward me.“You don’t know what an e-reader is?”I shrug. “It still looks like a tiny TV to me.”He laughs even louder and opens the box,pulling the e-reader out. He turns it on and

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hands it back to me. “It’s an electronic devicethat holds more books than you’ll ever beable to read.” He pushes a button and thescreen lights up, then he runs his fingeracross the front, pressing it in places untilthe whole screen is lit up with dozens ofsmall pictures of books. I touch one of thepictures and the screen changes, then thebook cover fills the entire screen. He slideshis finger across it and the page virtuallyturns and I’m staring at chapter one.I immediately start scrolling my finger acrossthe screen and watch as each page turns ef-fortlessly, one right after the other. It’s abso-lutely the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.I hit more buttons and click on more booksand scroll through more chapters and I hon-estly don’t think I’ve ever seen a more mag-nificent, practical invention.“Wow,” I whisper. I keep staring at the e-reader, hoping he’s not playing some cruel

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joke on me, because if he tries to pry this outof my hands I’ll run.“You like it?” he asks proudly. “I loadedabout two hundred free books on there soyou should be good for a while.”I look up at him and he’s grinning from earto ear. I set the e-reader down on the table,then lunge forward over the table andsqueeze his neck. It’s the best present I’veever received and I’m smiling and squeezinghim so tight, I completely don’t care that I’msupposed to be horrible at receiving gifts.Breckin returns my hug and kisses me on thecheek. When I let go of his neck and open myeyes, I involuntarily glance at the table thatI’ve been trying to avoid glancing at for al-most four weeks now.Holder is turned around in his seat, watchingus. He’s smiling. It’s not a crazy or seductiveor creepy smile. It’s an endearing smile, andas soon as I see it and the waves of sadness

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crash against my core, I look away from himand back to Breckin.I take my seat and pick the e-reader back up.“You know, Breckin. You really are prettydamn great.”He smiles and winks at me. “It’s the Mormonin me. We’re a pretty awesome people.”

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It’s the last day I’ll ever be seventeen. Karenis working out of town at her flea marketagain this weekend. She tried to cancel hertrip because she felt bad for leaving duringmy birthday, but I wouldn’t let her. Instead,we celebrated my birthday last night. Hergifts were good, but it’s nothing like the e-reader. I’ve never been more excited tospend a weekend alone.I didn’t bake near as many things as the lasttime Karen was out of town. Not because Idon’t feel like eating it, but because I’mpretty sure my addiction to reading has justreached a whole new level. It’s almost mid-night and my eyes won’t stay open, but I’veread nearly two entire books and I absolutely

need to get to the end of this one. I doze off,then awake with a jerk, only to attempt toread another paragraph. Breckin has reallygreat taste in books, and I’m sort of upsetthat it took him a whole month to tell meabout this one. I’m not a sucker for happilyever afters, but if these two characters don’tget theirs I might climb inside this e-readerand lock them both inside that damn garageforever.My eyelids slowly close and I keep trying towill them to stay open but the words are be-ginning to swim together on the screen andnothing is even making sense. I finally poweroff the e-reader and turn out my light andthink about how my last day of being seven-teen should have been so much better than itactually was.

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My eyes flick open, but I don’t move. It’s stilldark and I’m still in the same position I wasin earlier, so I know I just fell asleep. I si-lence my breaths and listen for the samesound that pulled me out of my sleep—thesound of my window sliding open.I can hear the curtains scraping against therod and someone climbing inside. I know Ishould scream, or run for my door, or lookaround for some sort of object that can beused as a weapon. Instead, I remain frozenbecause whoever it is isn’t trying to be at allquiet about the fact that they’re climbing intomy room, so I can only assume it’s Holder.But still, my heart is racing and every musclein my body stiffens when the bed shifts as helowers himself onto it. The closer he gets, themore certain I am that it’s him because noone else can cause my body to react the wayit’s reacting right now. I squeeze my eyesshut and bring my hands to my face when Ifeel the covers lift up behind me. I’m

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absolutely terrified. I’m terrified, because Idon’t know which Holder is crawling into mybed right now.His arm slides under my pillow and his otherarm wraps tightly around my body when hefinds my hands. He pulls me against hischest and laces his fingers into mine, thenburies his head in my neck. I’m very con-scious about the fact that I’m not wearinganything but a tank top and underwear, butI’m confident he’s not here for that part ofme. I’m still not positive why he’s here be-cause he’s not even talking, but he knows I’mawake. I know he knows I’m awake becausethe second his arms went around me, Igasped. He holds me as tight as he can andevery now and then, he plants his lips intomy hair and kisses me.I’m angry with him for being here, but evenangrier with myself for wanting him here. Nomatter how much I want to scream at himand make him leave, I find myself wishing he

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could squeeze me just a little bit tighter. Iwant him to lock his arms around me andthrow away the key, because this is where hebelongs and I’m scared he’ll just let me goagain.I hate that there are so many sides to himthat I don’t understand, and I don’t know if Ieven want to keep trying to understandthem. There are parts of him I love, parts ofhim I hate, parts that terrify me and partsthat amaze me. But there’s a part of him thatdoes nothing but disappoint me…and that’sthe absolute hardest part of him to accept.We lie here in complete silence for whatcould be half an hour, but I’m not sure. All Iknow is that he hasn’t released his grip at all,nor has he made any attempt at explaininghimself. But what’s new? There isn’t any-thing I’ll ever get from him unless I ask thequestions first. And right now, I just don’tfeel like asking any.

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He releases my fingers from his and bringshis hand to the top of my head. He presseshis lips into my hair and he folds the arm upthat’s underneath my pillow and he’scradling me, burying his face into my hair.His arms begin to shake and he’s holding mewith such intensity and desperation that itbecomes heartbreaking. My chest heaves andmy cheeks burn and the only thing stoppingthe tears from flowing is the fact that myeyes are closed so tight, they can’t escape.I can’t take the silence anymore, and if Idon’t get off my chest what I absolutely needto say, I might scream. I know my voice willbe layered with heartbreak and sadness andI’ll barely be able to speak while attemptingto contain my tears, but I take a deep breathanyway and say the most honest thing I cansay.“I’m so mad at you.”As if it’s possible, he somehow squeezes meeven tighter. He moves his mouth to my ear

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and kisses it. “I know, Sky,” he whispers. Hishand slips underneath my shirt and hepresses an open palm against my stomach,pulling me tighter against him. “I know.”It’s amazing what the sound of a voice you’vebeen longing to hear can do to your heart.He spoke five words just now, but in the timeit took him to speak those five words, myheart was shredded and minced, then placedback inside my chest with the expectationthat it should somehow know how to beatagain.I slip my fingers through the hand that’sresting tightly against me and I squeeze it,not even knowing what it means, but everypart of me wants to touch him and hold himand make sure he’s really here. I need toknow he’s here and that this isn’t just anoth-er vivid dream.His mouth meets my shoulder and he partshis lips, kissing me softly. The feel of histongue against my skin immediately sends a

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surge of heat through me and I can feel theflush rise from my stomach, straight up tomy cheeks.“I know, baby,” he whispers again, slowly ex-ploring my collarbone and neck with his lips.I keep my eyes shut because the distress inhis voice and the tenderness in his touch ismaking my head spin. I reach up behind meand run my hand through his hair, pressinghim deeper into my neck. His warm breathagainst my skin becomes increasingly morefrantic, along with his kisses. Both of ourbreathing picks up pace as he covers everyinch of my neck twice over.He lifts up on his arm and urges me flat ontomy back, then brings his hand to my face andbrushes the hair away from my eyes. Seeinghim this close to me brings back every singlefeeling I’ve ever felt for this boy…the goodand the bad. I don’t understand how he canput me through what he’s put me throughwhen the sorrow in his eyes is so prominent.

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I don’t know if it’s the fact that I can’t readhim at all or if I read him too well, but look-ing up at him right now I know he feels whatI’m feeling…which makes his actions thatmuch more confusing.“I know you’re mad at me,” he says, lookingdown at me. His eyes and his words are fullof remorse, but the apology still doesn’tcome. “I need you to be mad at me, Sky. ButI think I need you to still want me here withyou even more.”My chest grows heavy with his words and ittakes an extreme amount of effort to contin-ue pulling breath into my lungs. I nod myhead slightly, because I can completely agreeto that. I’m pissed at him, but I want himhere with me so much more than I don’t. Hedrops his forehead to mine and we grab holdof each other’s faces, looking desperately intoeach other’s eyes. I’m not sure if he’s aboutto kiss me. I’m not even sure if he’s about toget up and leave. The only thing I’m certain

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about right now is that after this moment, Iwill never be the same. I know by the way hisexistence is like a magnetic pull on my heart,that if he ever hurts me again, I’ll be far fromjust fine. I’ll be broken.Our chests are rising and falling as one as thesilence and tension grows thicker. The firmgrip he has on my face can be felt in everypart of me, almost as if he’s gripping mefrom the inside out. The intensity of the mo-ment causes tears to sting at my eyes, andI’m completely taken aback by my unexpec-ted emotions.“I am mad at you, Holder,” I say with an un-steady, but sure voice. “But no matter howmad I’ve been, I never for one secondstopped wanting you here with me.”He somehow smiles and frowns in the samemoment. “Jesus, Sky.” His face contorts intoan incredible amount of reprieve. “I’vemissed you so fucking bad.” He immediatelydrops his mouth and his tongue collides

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feverishly with mine. He fills me with thesweet taste of his mint leaves and soda, andhe’s everything I’ve been imagining he wouldbe and more. Our lips are finally intertwiningfor the first time, or the twentieth time, orthe millionth time. It doesn’t really matterbecause whichever time this is—it’s abso-lutely perfect. It’s incredible and flawless andalmost worth everything we’ve been throughin order to get to this moment.Our lips move passionately together as westruggle to pull ourselves closer, wanting tofind that perfect connection with our bodiesthat we’ve just found with our mouths. Heworks his mouth against mine delicately, yetfiercely, and I match him movement formovement. I release several moans and evenmore breaths and he drinks each one of themin with his mouth.We kiss and we kiss in every position pos-sible, and remain as restrained as we pos-sibly can. We kiss until I can no longer feel

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my lips, and until I’m so exhausted andspent that I’m not even sure if we’re stillkissing when he presses his head to mineagain.And that’s exactly how we fallasleep—forehead-to-forehead, wrapped si-lently together. Because nothing else isspoken between us. Not even an apology.

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I turn over to inspect the bed, half thinkingwhat happened last night was a dream.Holder isn’t here, but in his place is a smallgift-wrapped box. I push myself up againstmy headboard and pick up the gift. I stare atit for a long time before I finally lift the lidand look inside. It’s something that looks likea credit card, so I pick it up and read it.He bought me a phone card with textingminutes. Lots of them.I smile, because I know the significance ofthis card. It all lies within the message thatSix sent him. He plans on stealing her girl,and he also plans on using a lot of herminutes. The gift makes me smile and I im-mediately reach to the nightstand and grab

my phone. I have one missed text and it’sfrom Holder.

You hungry?

The text is short and simple but it’s his wayof letting me know he’s still here. Some-where. Is he making me breakfast? I go tothe bathroom before heading to the kitchenand brush my teeth. I change out of my tanktop and pull on a simple sundress, then gath-er my hair up in a ponytail. I look at my re-flection in the mirror and I see a girl whodesperately wants to forgive a boy, but notwithout a hell of a lot of groveling first.When I open the door to my bedroom, I’mmet with the smell of bacon and the sound ofgrease sizzling from the kitchen. I walk downthe hallway and around the corner, thenpause. I stare at him for a while. His back isto me and he’s working his way around thestove, humming to himself. He’s shoeless,

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wearing jeans topped with a plain whitesleeveless t-shirt. He already feels at homeagain, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.“I left early this morning,” he says, talkingwith his back still to me, “because I wasafraid your mom would walk in and think Iwas trying to get you pregnant. Then when Iwent for my run, I passed by your houseagain and realized her car wasn’t even homeand remembered you said she does thosetrade days the first weekend of every month.So I decided to pick up some groceries be-cause I wanted to cook you breakfast. I alsoalmost bought groceries for lunch and din-ner, but maybe we should take it one meal ata time today.” He turns around and faces me,slowly eyeing me up and down. “HappyBirthday. I really like that dress. I boughtreal milk, you want some?”I walk to the bar and keep my eyes trainedon him, trying to process the plethora ofwords that just came out of his mouth. I

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scoot out a chair and take a seat. He poursme a glass of milk, even though I never said Iwanted one, then slides it to me with a hugegrin on his face. Before I can take a sip of themilk, he closes the gap between us and takesmy chin in his hand.“I need to kiss you. Your mouth was so damnperfect last night, I’m scared I dreamt thatwhole thing.” He brings his mouth to mineand as soon as his tongue caresses mine, Ican already tell this is going to be an issue.His lips and his tongue and his hands are soincredibly perfect, I’ll never be able to staymad at him as long as he’s able to use themagainst me like this. I grab his shirt andforce my mouth against his even harder. Hegroans and fists his hands into my hair, thenabruptly lets go and backs away. “Nope,” hesays, smiling. “Didn’t dream it.”He walks back to the stove and turns off theburners, then transfers the bacon to a platelined with eggs and toast. He walks it to the

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bar and begins filling the plate in front of mewith food. He takes a seat and begins eating.He’s smiling at me the whole time, and itsuddenly hits me.I know. I know what’s wrong with him. Iknow why he’s happy and angry and tem-peramental and all over the place and it fi-nally makes so much sense.“Are we allowed to play Dinner Quest, eventhough it’s breakfast time?” he asks.I take a sip of my milk and nod. “If I get thefirst question.”He lays his fork down on his plate andsmiles. “I was thinking about just letting youhave all the questions.”“I only need the answer to one.”He sighs and leans back against his seat,then looks down at his hands. I can tell bythe way he’s avoiding my gaze that healready knows I know. His reaction is one ofguilt. I lean forward in my chair and glare athim.

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“How long have you been using drugs,Holder?”He shoots his eyes up to meet mine and hisexpression is stoic. He stares at me for a mo-ment and I keep my stance, wanting him toknow I’m not letting up until he tells me thetruth. He purses his lips together in a tightline, then looks down at his hands again. Fora second I’m thinking he might be preparingto bolt out the front door in order to avoidtalking about it, but then I see something onhis face I wasn’t expecting to see at all. Adimple.He’s grimacing, attempting to hold on to hisexpression, but the corners of his mouth giveway and his smile breaks out into laughter.He’s laughing and he’s laughing really hardand it’s really pissing me off.“Drugs?” he says between fits of laughter.“You think I’m on drugs?” He continueslaughing until he realizes that I don’t thinkit’s the least bit funny at all. He eventually

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stops and sucks in a deep breath, thenreaches across the table and takes my handin his. “I’m not on drugs, Sky. I promise. Idon’t know why you would think that, but Iswear.”“Then what the hell is wrong with you?”His expression drops with that question, andhe releases my hand from his. “Can you be alittle less vague?” He falls back into his chairand folds his arms over his chest.I shrug. “Sure. What happened to us and whyare you acting like it never happened?”His elbow is resting on the table and he looksdown at his arm. He slowly traces each letterof his tattoo with his fingers, deep inthought. I know silence isn’t considered asound, but right now the silence between usis the loudest sound in the world. He pullshis arm off the table and looks up at me.“I didn’t want to let you down, Sky. I’ve leteveryone down in my life that’s ever lovedme, and after that day at lunch I knew I let

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you down, too. So…I left you before youcould start loving me. Otherwise, any effortto try not to disappoint you would behopeless.”His words are full of apology and sadnessand regret, but he still can’t just say them.He overreacted and jealousy got the best ofhim, but if he would have just said those twowords we would have been spared an entiremonth of emotional agony. I’m shaking myhead, because I just don’t get it. I don’t un-derstand why he couldn’t just say I’m sorry.“Why couldn’t you just say it, Holder? Whycouldn’t you just apologize?”He leans forward across the table and takesmy hand, looking me hard in the eyes. “I’mnot apologizing to you…because I don’t wantyou to forgive me.”The sadness in his eyes must mirror mineand I don’t want him seeing it. I don’t wanthim seeing me sad, so I squeeze my eyesshut. He lets go of my hand and I hear him

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walk around the table until his arms arearound me and he’s picking me up. He setsme down on the bar so that we’re at eye leveland he brushes the hair from my face andmakes me open my eyes again. His eyebrowsare pulled together and the pain on his faceis raw and real and heartbreaking.“Babe, I screwed up. I’ve screwed up morethan once with you, I know that. But believeme, what happened at lunch that day wasn’tjealousy or anger or anything that shouldever scare you. I wish I could tell you whathappened, but I can’t. Someday I will, but Ican’t right now and I need you to accept that.Please. And I’m not apologizing to you, be-cause I don’t want you to forget whathappened and you should never forgive mefor it. Ever. Never make excuses for me,Sky.”He leans in and kisses me briefly, then pullsback and continues. “I told myself to juststay away from you and let you be mad at

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me, because I do have so many issues thatI’m not ready to share with you yet. And Itried so hard to stay away, but I can’t. I’mnot strong enough to keep denying whateverthis is we could have. And yesterday in thelunchroom when you were hugging Breckinand laughing with him? It felt so good to seeyou happy, Sky. But I wanted so bad to bethe one who was making you laugh like that.It was tearing me up inside that you werethinking that I didn’t care about us, or thatspending that weekend with you wasn’t thebest weekend I’ve ever had in my life. Be-cause I do care and it was the best. It wasthe best fucking weekend in the history of allweekends.”My heart is beating wildly, almost as fast asthe words are pouring out of him. He re-leases his firm hold on my face and strokeshis hands over my hair, dropping them to thenape of my neck. He keeps them there and

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calms himself with a deep breath, thencontinues.“It’s killing me, baby,” he says, his voicemuch more calm and quiet. “It’s killing mebecause I don’t want you to go another daywithout knowing how I feel about you. AndI’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you,because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this isI’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like.It’s so much more. And for the past fewweeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’vebeen trying to figure out why there isn’tsome other word to describe it. I want to tellyou exactly how I feel but there isn’t a singlegoddamned word in the entire dictionarythat can describe this point between likingyou and loving you, but I need that word. Ineed it because I need you to hear me say it.”He pulls my face to his and he kisses me.They’re short kisses, mostly pecks, but hekisses me over and over, pulling back

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between each kiss, waiting for me torespond.“Say something,” he pleads.I’m looking into his terrified eyes and for thefirst time since we met…I think I actually un-derstand him. All of him. He doesn’t reactthe way he does because there are five differ-ent sides to his personality. He reacts theway he does because there’s only one side toDean Holder.Passionate.He’s passionate about life, about love, abouthis words, about Les. And I’ll be damned if Iwasn’t just added to his list. The intensity heconveys isn’t unnerving…it’s beautiful. I’vegone so long trying to find ways to feel numbany chance I get, but seeing the enthusiasmbehind his eyes right now…it makes me wantto feel every single thing about life. Thegood, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly, thepleasure, the pain. I want that. I want tostart feeling life the same way he does. And

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my first step to doing so starts with thishopeless boy in front of me who’s pouringhis heart out, searching for that perfectword, wanting desperately to help me addfeeling back into living.Back into living.The word comes to me like it’s always beenthere, tucked away between like and love inthe dictionary, right where it belongs. “Liv-ing,” I say.The desperation in his eyes eases slightly,and he lets out a short, confused laugh.“What?” He shakes his head, trying to under-stand my response.“Live. If you mix the letters up in the wordslike and love, you get live. You can use thatword.”He laughs again, but this time it’s a laugh ofrelief. He wraps his arms around me and hekisses me with nothing but a hell of a lot ofrelief. “I live you, Sky,” he says against mylips. “I live you so much.”

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I have no idea how he does it, but I’ve com-pletely forgiven him, have become infatuatedwith him and now I can’t stop kissing him,all in the span of fifteen minutes. He defin-itely has a way with words. I’m starting tonot mind that it takes him so long to think ofthem. He pulls away from my mouth andsmiles, grabbing my waist with his hands.“So what do you want to do for your birth-day?” he asks, pulling me down off the bar.He gives me another quick peck on themouth and walks to the living room wherehis wallet and keys are on the end table.“We don’t have to do anything. I don’t expectyou to entertain me just because it’s mybirthday.”

He slips his keys into the pocket of his pantsand looks up at me. His mouth hints at awicked smile and he won’t stop staring atme.“What?” I ask. “You look guilty.”He laughs and shrugs. “I was just thinking ofall the ways I could entertain you if westayed here today. Which is exactly why weneed to leave.”Which is exactly why I want to stay here.“We could go see my Mom,” I suggest.“Your mom?” He looks at me warily.“Yeah. She runs an herbal booth at the fleamarket. It’s the place she goes the first week-end of every month. I never go because she’sthere fourteen hours a day and I get bored.But it’s one of the biggest flea markets in theworld and I’ve always wanted to go walkaround. It’s only an hour and a half drive.They have funnel cake,” I add, trying to makeit sound enticing.

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Holder walks back to me and wraps his armsaround me. “If you want to go to the fleamarket, then we’re going to the flea market.I’m gonna run home and change and I havesomething I need to do. Pick you up in anhour?”I nod. I know it’s just a flea market, but I’mexcited. I don’t know how Karen will feelwith me showing up unannounced withHolder. I haven’t really told her anythingabout him, so I feel bad sort of springing himon her like this. It’s her own fault, though. Ifshe didn’t ban technology I could call herand give her a heads up.Holder gives me another quick peck andwalks to the front door.“Hey,” I say, just as he’s about to walk out.He spins around and looks at me. “It’s mybirthday and the last two kisses you’ve givenme have been pretty damn pathetic. If youexpect me to spend the day with you, I

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suggest you start kissing me like a boyfriendkisses his…”The word slips from my mouth and I imme-diately cut the rest of the sentence off. Westill haven’t discussed labels yet and the factthat we just made up within the past halfhour makes my lackadaisical use of the wordboyfriend feel like something Matty-boywould have said to me. “I mean…” I stutter,then I just give up and clamp my mouthshut. I can’t recover from that.He’s turned around facing me, still standingby the front door. He’s not smiling. He’slooking at me with that look again, holdingmy gaze with his, not speaking. He tilts hishead toward me and raises both of his eye-brows curiously. “Did you just refer to me asyour boyfriend?”He’s not smiling about the fact that I just re-ferred to him as my boyfriend and that real-ization makes me wince. God, this seems sochildish.

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“No,” I say stubbornly, folding my armsacross my chest. “Only cheesy fourteen-year-olds do that.”He takes a few steps toward me, never chan-ging his expression. He stops two feet infront of me and mirrors my stance. “That’stoo bad. Because when I thought you re-ferred to me as your boyfriend just now, itmade me want to kiss the living hell out ofyou.” He narrows his eyes and there’s a play-ful look about him that immediately relievesthe knot in my stomach. He turns aroundand heads back to the door. “I’ll see you in anhour.” He opens the door and turns aroundbefore he leaves, slowly easing his way out-side, teasing me with his playful grin andlickable dimples.I sigh and roll my eyes. “Holder, wait.”He pauses and proudly leans against thedoorframe.“You better come kiss your girlfriend good-bye,” I say, feeling every bit as cheesy as I

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sound. His face washes with victory and hewalks back into the living room. He slips hishand to the small of my back and pulls meagainst him. It’s our first freestanding kissand I love the way he’s securing me protect-ively with his arm around my lower back. Hetraces his fingers along my cheek and runsthem through my hair, bringing his lipscloser to mine. He’s not staring at my lips,though. He’s looking straight into my eyesand his are full of something I can’t place.It’s not lust this time; it’s more like a look ofappreciation.He continues to stare at me without closingthe gap between our lips. He’s not teasing meor trying to get me to kiss him first. He’s justlooking at me with appreciation and affec-tion, and it turns my heart to butter. Myhands are on his shoulders, so I slowly runthem up his neck and through his hair, en-joying whatever this silent moment is that’soccurring between us. His chest rises and

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falls against the rhythm of mine and his eyesbegin searching my face, scrolling over everyfeature. The way he’s looking at me is caus-ing my entire body to grow weak, and I’mthankful his arm is still locked around mywaist.He lowers his forehead to mine and lets out along sigh, looking at me with a look that’squickly turned into something resemblingpain. It prompts me to slide my hands downto his cheeks and softly stroke them with myfingers, wanting to take away whatever it isthat’s behind those eyes right now.“Sky,” he says, focusing on me intently. Hesays it like he’s about to follow it up withsomething profound, but instead, my nameis the only thing he says. He slowly brings hismouth to mine and our lips meet. He inhalesa deep breath as he presses his closed lipsagainst mine, breathing me into him. Hepulls away and looks back down into my eyesfor several more seconds, stroking my cheek.

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I’ve never been savored like this before, andit’s absolutely beautiful.He dips his head again and rests his lipsagainst mine, my top lip between both of his.He kisses me as soft as possible, treating mymouth as though it’s breakable. I part mylips and allow him to deepen his kiss, whichhe does, but even then it’s still soft. It’s ap-preciative and gentle and he keeps one handon the back of my head and one on my hip ashe slowly tastes and teases every part of mymouth. This kiss is just like he is—studiedand never in a hurry.Just when my mind has succumbed to everypart of being wrapped up in him, his lipscome to a standstill and he slowly pulls back.My eyes flutter open and I let out a breaththat may have been mixed with the words,“Oh my.”Seeing my breathless reaction causes him tobreak out with a smug grin. “That was ourfirst official kiss as a couple.”

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I wait for the panic to set in, but it doesn’t.“A couple,” I repeat, quietly.“Damn straight.” He still has his hand on mylower back and I’m pressed against him,looking up at his eyes as they focus down onme. “And don’t worry,” he adds. “I’ll be in-forming Grayson myself. I ever see him try-ing to touch you like he does and he’ll be re-introduced to my fist.”His hand moves from my lower back and upto my cheek. “I’m really leaving now. I’ll seeyou in an hour. I live you.” He gives me aquick peck on the lips and backs away, thenturns toward the door.“Holder?” I say as soon as I suck enoughbreath back into my lungs to speak. “Whatdo you mean by reintroduced? Have you andGrayson been in a fight before?”Holder’s expression turns into a tight-lippedblank one and he nods, but barely. “I toldyou before, babe. He’s not a good person.”

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The door closes behind him and he leaves mewith even more questions. But what’s new?I decide to forego my own shower and callSix, instead. I’ve got a lot to catch her up on.I run to my room and crawl out the window,then slide hers up and pull myself inside. Ipick up the phone by her bed and take outmy cell phone to find the text that she sentwith her international number. When I startdialing, my cell phone receives an incomingmessage from Holder.

I’m really dreading spending all daywith you. This doesn’t sound like funat all. Also, your sundress is reallyunflattering and way too summery,but you should definitely keep it on.

I grin. Dammit, I really do live this hopelessboy.

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I dial the number to reach Six and lay backon her bed. She answers groggily on the thirdring.“Hey,” I say. “You sleeping?”I can hear her yawn. “Obviously not. But youreally need to start taking time differencesinto consideration.”I laugh. “Six? It’s afternoon there. Even if Idid take time differences into consideration,it wouldn’t matter with you.”“I had a rough morning,” she says, defens-ively. “I miss your face. What’s up?”“Not much.”“You lie. You sound annoyingly happy. I’mguessing you and Holder finally worked outwhatever the hell happened at school thatday?”“Yep. And you are the first to know that I,Linden Sky Davis, am now a taken woman.”She groans. “Why anyone would subjectthemselves to that sort of misery is beyondme. But I’m happy for you.”

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“Tha…” I was about to say thanks, but mywords are cut off by a very loud “Oh my,God!” from Six’s end.“What?”“I forgot. It’s your freaking birthday and Iforgot! Happy birthday Sky and holy crapI’m the worst best friend ever.”“It’s okay,” I laugh. “I’m sort of glad you for-got. You know how I hate presents and sur-prises and everything else that comes withbirthdays.”“Oh, wait. I just remembered how incrediblyawesome I am. Check behind your dressertoday.”I roll my eyes. “Figures.”“And tell your new boyfriend to get himsome damn minutes.”“Will do. I gotta go, your mom’s gonna shitwhen she sees this phone bill.”“Yeah, well…she should be more in tune withthe earth like your mom.”I laugh. “Love you, Six. Be safe, okay?”

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“Love you, too. And Sky?”“Yeah?”“You sound happy. I’m happy you’re happy.”I smile and the line disconnects. I head backto my room and, as much as I hate presents,I’m still human and naturally curious. I im-mediately walk to my dresser and look be-hind it. On the floor is a wrapped box, so Ibend down and pick it up. I walk to my bedand sit, then slide the lid off of it. It’s a boxfull of Snickers.Dammit, I love her.

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I’m standing at my window impatiently wait-ing when Holder finally pulls up into thedriveway. I walk out my front door and lockit behind me, then turn toward the car andfreeze. He’s not alone. The passenger dooropens and a guy steps out. When he turnsaround, I’m positive my facial expression isstuck between an OMG and a WTF. I’mlearning.Breckin is holding the passenger door openwith a huge grin on his face. “Hope you don’tmind a third wheel today. My second bestfriend in the whole wide world invited me tocome.”I reach the passenger door, confused as hell.Breckin waits until I climb inside, then he

opens the back door and climbs into the backseat. I lean forward and tilt my head towardHolder who’s laughing like he just revealedthe punch line to a really funny joke. A jokeI’m not a part of.“Would one of you like to explain what thehell is going on?” I say.Holder grabs my hand and pulls it to hismouth, giving my knuckles a kiss. “I’ll letBreckin explain. He talks faster, anyway.”I spin around in my seat as Holder beginsbacking out of the driveway. I arch an eye-brow at Breckin.He shoots me a clear look of guilt. “I’ve sortof had a double alliance going on for abouttwo weeks now,” he says sheepishly.I shake my head, attempting to wrap thisconfession around my mind. I glance backand forth between them. “Two weeks? Youguys have been talking for two weeks?Without me? Why didn’t you tell me?”“I was sworn to secrecy,” Breckin says.

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“But…”“Turn around and put your seatbelt on,”Holder says to me.I glare at him. “In a minute. I’m trying to fig-ure out why you made up with Breckin twoweeks ago, but it took you until today tomake up with me.”He glances at me, then looks back at the roadin front of him. “Breckin deserved an apo-logy. I acted like an asshole that day.”“And I didn’t deserve one?”He looks at me dead on this time. “No,” hesays firmly, turning his gaze back to the road.“You don’t deserve words, Sky. You deserveactions.”I stare at him, wondering how long he stayedup at night forming that perfect sentence. Heglances back at me and lets go of my hand,then tickles the top of my thigh. “Quit beingso serious. Your boyfriend and your very bestfriend in the whole wide world are taking youto a flea market.”

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I laugh and slap his hand away. “How can Ifeel happy when my alliance has been infilt-rated? You two have a hell of a lot of kissingup to do today.”Breckin rests his chin on the top of my head-rest and looks down at me. “I think I’ve beenthe one that suffered the most out of this or-deal. Your boyfriend has ruined my last twoFriday nights in a row, moping and whiningabout how much he wants you but how hedoesn’t want to let you down and blah, blah,blah. It’s been rough not complaining to youabout him at lunch every day.”Holder darts his head back toward Breckin.“Well, now you two can complain about meall you want. Life is back to how it shouldbe.” He slides his fingers through mine andsqueezes my hand. My skin tingles and I’mnot sure if it’s from his touch or his words.“I still think I deserve an ass kissing today,” Isay to both of them. “I want you to buy mewhatever I want at the flea market. I don’t

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care how much it costs or how big and heavyit is.”“Damn straight,” Breckin says.I groan. “Oh, God, Holder’s already rubbingoff on you.”Breckin laughs and reaches over the seat tograb my hands, then pulls me toward him.“He must be, because I really want to cuddleyou in the backseat right now,” Breckin says.“I’m not rubbing off on you that much if youthink I’d only be cuddling her in a backseat,”Holder says. He slaps me on the ass right be-fore I fall into the back with Breckin.

“You can’t be serious,” Holder says, holdingthe saltshaker I just placed in his hands.We’ve been walking around the flea marketfor over an hour now and I’m sticking to myplan. They’re buying me whatever the hell Iwant. I have a betrayal to overcome and it’s

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going to take a lot of random purchases be-fore I feel better.I look at the figurine in his hands and nod.“You’re right. I should get the matching set.”I pick up the peppershaker and hand it tohim. They aren’t anything I would ever want.I’m not sure how they could be anythinganyone would ever want. Who makes ceram-ic salt and peppershakers fashioned out ofsmall and large intestines?“I bet they belonged to a doctor,” Breckinsays, admiring them with me. I reach intoHolder’s pocket and pull out his wallet, thenturn to the man behind the table. “Howmuch?”He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, unenthu-siastically. “A dollar each?”“How about a dollar for both?” I ask. Hetakes the dollar out of my hands and nods usaway.

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“Way to bargain,” Holder says, shaking hishead. “These better be on your kitchen tablenext time I come over.”“Gross, no,” I say. “Who’d want to stare atguts while they eat?”We browse a few more pavilions until wereach the pavilion Karen and Jack are set upin. When we reach their booth, Karen does adouble take, eyeing Breckin and Holder.“Hey,” I say, holding out my hands.“Surprise!”Jack jumps up and walks around the booth,giving me a quick hug. Karen follows himand is eyeing me guardedly the entire time.“Relax,” I say, after seeing her eye bothHolder and Breckin with concern. “Neitherone of them are getting me pregnant thisweekend.”She laughs and finally wraps her armsaround me. “Happy Birthday.” She pullsback and her motherly instincts kick in aboutfifteen seconds too late. “Wait. Why are you

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here? Is everything okay? Are you okay? Isthe house okay?”“It’s fine. I’m fine. I was just bored so I askedHolder to come shopping with me.”Holder is behind me introducing himself toJack. Breckin slips past me and gives Karen ahug. “I’m Breckin,” he says. “I’m in an alli-ance to overtake the public school systemand all its minions with your daughter.”“Was,” I clarify, glaring at Breckin. “He wasin an alliance with me.”“I like you already,” Karen says, smiling atBreckin. She looks past me at Holder andshakes his hand. “Holder,” she says politely.“How are you?”“Good,” he says, his response guarded. I lookat him and he appears extremely uncomfort-able. I don’t know if it’s the salt and pepper-shakers he’s holding, or the fact that seeingKaren this time has a different effect, nowthat he’s dating her daughter. I try to deflectthe mood by turning around and asking

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Karen if she has a sack we can use for ourthings. She reaches under the table andholds it out to Holder. He places the shakersinside and she looks down into the sack andback up at me questionably.“Don’t ask,” I say. I take the sack from herand open it up so Breckin can place the otherpurchase inside. It’s a small, wood-framedpicture of the word “melt,” written in blackink on white paper. It was twenty-five centsand made absolutely no sense, so of course Ihad to have it.A couple of customers walk to the table soboth Jack and Karen walk around the boothand begin helping them. I turn around andHolder is eyeing both of them with a hardlook in his eyes. I haven’t seen him with anexpression like this since that day in thecafeteria. It unnerves me a little, so I walk upto him and slide my arm around his back,desperately wanting that look to go away.

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“Hey,” I say, pulling his focus down to me.“You okay?”He nods and kisses me on the forehead. “I’mgood,” he says. He wraps his arm around mywaist and smiles down at me reassuringly.“You promised me funnel cake,” he says,brushing my cheek with his hand.I nod, relieved to see he’s okay. I don’t reallywant Holder having one of his intense mo-ments right now in front of Karen. I don’tknow that she’ll quite understand his pas-sionate approach to life like I’m starting to.“Funnel cake?” Breckin says. “Did you sayfunnel cake?”I turn back around and Karen’s customer isgone. She’s standing frozen behind the table,eyeing the arm that’s wrapped around mywaist. She looks pale.What’s the deal with everyone and theirweird looks today?“You okay?” I ask her. It’s not like she’s nev-er seen me with a boyfriend before. Matt

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practically lived at our house the entiremonth I dated him.She looks up at me, then glances at Holderbriefly. “I just didn’t realize you two weredating.”“Yeah. About that,” I say. “I would have toldyou, but we sort of just started dating aboutfour hours ago.”“Oh,” she says. “Well…you look cute togeth-er. Can I talk to you?” She nudges her headbehind her, indicating she wants privacy. Islip my arm out of Holder’s and follow her toa safe speaking distance. She spins aroundand shakes her head.“I don’t know how I feel about this,” shesays, talking in a low whisper.“About what? I’m eighteen and I have a boy-friend. Big deal.”She sighs. “I know, it’s just…what happenstonight? When I’m not there? How do Iknow he won’t hang around all night?”

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I shrug. “You don’t. You just have to trustme,” I say, instantly feeling guilty for the lie.If she knew he already spent last night withme, I think it’s safe to say Holder would nolonger be my breathing boyfriend.“It’s just weird, Sky. We’ve never really dis-cussed guy rules for when I’m not home.”She looks extremely nervous, so I do what Ican to ease her mind.“Mom? Trust me. We literally just agreed tostart dating a few hours ago. There’s no wayanything will happen between us that youfear might happen. He’ll be gone by mid-night, I promise.”She nods unconvincingly. “It’s just…I don’tknow. Seeing the two of you just now withyour arms around each other? The way bothof you were interacting? It’s not the way newcouples look at each other, Sky. It just threwme off because I thought maybe you’ve beenseeing him for a while but you’ve been

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keeping it from me. I want you to be able totalk to me about anything.”I grab her hand and squeeze it. “I know,Mom. And believe me, if we wouldn’t havecame here together today I would have toldyou all about him tomorrow. I’d probablyhave talked your ear off. I’m not keepinganything hidden from you, okay?”She smiles and gives me a quick squeeze. “Istill expect you to talk my ear off about himtomorrow.”

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“Sky, wake up.”I lift my head off of Breckin’s arm and wipedrool off the side of my cheek. He looksdown at his wet shirt and grimaces.“Sorry,” I laugh. “You shouldn’t be socomfortable.”We’ve arrived back at his house after spend-ing eight hours walking and perusing junk.Holder and Breckin finally gave in and we allgot a little competitive, seeing who could findthe most random object. I think I still wonwith the gut shakers, but Breckin came in aclose second with a velvet painting of apuppy riding on the back of a unicorn.“Don’t forget your painting,” I say when hesteps out of the car. He leans in and grabs

the painting from the floorboard, then kissesmy cheek.“See you Monday,” he says to me. He looksup at Holder. “Don’t think you’re getting myseat first period now just because she’s yourgirlfriend.”Holder laughs. “I’m not the one bringing hercoffee every morning. I doubt she’d let meoverthrow you.”Breckin shuts the door and Holder waits un-til he’s inside his house before he leaves.“What do you think you’re doing backthere?” he says, smiling at me in the rearviewmirror. “Get up here.”I shake my head and remain put. “I sort oflike having a chauffer.”He puts the car in park and unbuckles hisseatbelt, then turns around in his seat.“Come here,” he says, reaching for my arms.He grabs my wrists and pulls me forward un-til our faces are just inches apart. He lifts hishands to my face and smashes my cheeks

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together like I’m a little kid. He gives me aloud peck on my squished together lips. “Ihad fun today,” he says. “You’re kind ofweird.”I cock my eyebrow, not sure if he just com-plimented me or not. “Thanks?”“I like weird. Now get your ass in the frontseat with me before I climb in the backseatand not cuddle you.” He pulls my arm for-ward and I climb into the front seat, then putmy seatbelt on.“What are we doing now? Your house?” Iask.He shakes his head. “Nope. One more stop.”“My house?”He shakes his head again. “You’ll see.”

We drive until we’re on the outskirts of town.I recognize we’re at the local airport when hepulls the car over to the side of the road. He

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gets out without saying anything and comesaround to open my door. “We’re here,” hesays, waving his hand at the runway spreadout in a field across from us.“Holder, this is the smallest airport within atwo hundred mile radius. If you’re expectingto watch a plane land, we’ll be here for twodays.”He pulls on my hand and leads me down asmall hill. “We’re not here to watch theplanes.” He continues walking until he getsto a fence that edges the airport grounds. Heshakes it to test for sturdiness, then takes myhand in his again. “Take off your shoes, it’llbe easier,” he says. I look at the fence, thenlook back at him.“You expect me to climb that thing?”“Well,” he says, looking at it. “I could pickyou up and throw you over, but it might hurta little more.”“I’m in a dress! You didn’t tell me we wereclimbing fences tonight. Besides, it’s illegal.”

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He rolls his head and pushes me toward thefence. “It’s not illegal when my step-dadmanages the airport. And no, I didn’t tell youwe’d be climbing fences because I was scaredyou would change out of this dress.”I grab the fence and begin to test it when, inone swift movement, his hands are on mywaist and I’m up in the air, already scalingover it.“Jesus, Holder!” I yell, jumping down theother side.“I know. That went a little too fast. I forgot tocop a feel.” He pulls up on the fence andswings his leg over, then jumps down. “Comeon,” he says, grabbing my hand and pullingme forward.We walk until we reach the runway. I pauseand peer out over the massive length of it.I’ve never been on an airplane before and thethought of it sort of terrifies me. Especiallyseeing that there’s a huge lake edging the farend of the runway.

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“Have any planes ever landed in that lake?”“Just one,” he says, pulling me down withhim. “But it was a small Cessna and the pilotwas lit. He was okay, but the plane is still atthe bottom of the lake.” He lowers himselfonto the runway and tugs at my hand, want-ing me to do the same.“What are we doing?” I ask, adjusting mydress and slipping off my shoes.“Shush,” he says. “Lay down and look up.”I lay my head back and look up, then suck ina sharp breath. Laid out before me in everydirection is a blanket of stars brighter thanI’ve ever seen them.“Wow,” I whisper. “They don’t look like thisfrom my backyard.”“I know. That’s why I brought you.” Hereaches down between us and wraps hispinky around mine.We sit for a long time without speaking, butit’s a peaceful silence. Every now and then helifts his pinky and grazes the side of my

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hand, but that’s all he does. We’re side-by-side and I’m in a dress with fairly easy ac-cess, but he never even so much as tries tokiss me. It’s evident he didn’t bring me outhere in the middle of nowhere just to makeout with me. He brought me out here toshare this experience with me. Somethingelse he’s passionate about.There is so much about Holder that surprisesme, especially within the last twenty-fourhours. I’m still not clear on what made himso upset in the cafeteria that day, but heseems confident that he knows exactly whatit was and that it’ll never happen again. Andright now, all I can do is take his word. All Ican do is take my trust and place it back intohis hands. I just hope he knows that it’s allthe trust I have left to give him. I know for afact that if he hurts me like he’s hurt me be-fore, it’ll be the last time he ever hurts me.I tilt my head toward his and watch him ashe stares up to the sky. His brows are

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furrowed together and he’s clearly gotsomething on his mind. It seems like he al-ways has something on his mind and I’mcurious if I’ll ever break through that. Thereare so many things I still want to know abouthis past and his sister and his family. Butbringing it all up, when he’s so deep inthought, would take him out of wherever hismind is right now. I don’t want to do that. Iknow exactly where he is and what he’s do-ing, staring off into space like he is. I know,because it’s exactly what I do when I stare atthe stars on my ceiling.I watch him for a long time, then turn mygaze back up to the sky and begin to escapemy own thoughts, when he breaks the silencewith a question that comes out of nowhere.“Have you had a good life?” he asks quietly.I ponder his question, but mostly because Iwant to know what he was thinking aboutthat made him ask it. Was he really thinking

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about my life or was he thinking about hisown?“Yeah,” I reply honestly. “Yeah, I have.”He sighs heavily, then takes my hand com-pletely in his. “Good.”Nothing else is spoken until half an hourlater when he says he’s ready to leave.

We pull up to my house at a few minutes be-fore midnight. We both get out of the car andhe grabs my sacks of random stuff and fol-lows me to the front door. He stands in thedoorway and sets them down. “I’m not com-ing in any further,” he says, putting hishands in his pockets.“Why not? Are you a vampire? Do you needpermission to enter?”He smiles. “I just don’t think I should stay.”I walk to him and put my arms around him,then kiss him on the chin. “Why not? Are you

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tired? We can lay down, I know you barelygot any sleep last night.” I really don’t wanthim to leave. I slept better last night in hisarms than any other night before it.He responds to my embrace by wrapping hisarms around my shoulders and pulling meagainst his chest. “I can’t,” he says. “It’s acombination of things, really. The fact thatmy mom will inundate me with questionsabout where I’ve been since last night. Thefact that I heard you promise your mom Iwould leave by midnight. The fact that theentire time you were walking around today Icouldn’t stop thinking about what’s under-neath this dress.”He brings his hands to my face and staresdown at my mouth. His eyelids becomeheavy and he drops his voice to a whisper.“Not to mention these lips,” he says. “Youhave no idea how difficult it was trying tolisten to a single word you said today whenall I could think about was how soft they are.

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How incredible they taste. How perfect theyfit between mine.” He leans in and kisses mesoftly, then pulls away just as I begin to meltinto him. “And this dress,” he says, runninghis hand down my back and gently gliding itover my hip and to the top of my thigh. Ishiver under his fingertips. “This dress is themain reason I’m not walking any further intothis house.”With the way my body is responding to him,I quickly agree with his decision to leave. Asmuch as I love being with him and love kiss-ing him, I can already tell that I would haveabsolutely zero restraint, and I don’t thinkI’m ready to pass that first yet.I sigh, but I feel like groaning. As much as Ican agree with what he’s saying, my body isstill completely pissed off that I’m not beg-ging him to stay. It’s odd how just beingaround him today has somehow deepenedthe need I have to constantly want to bearound him.

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“Is this normal?” I ask, looking up into hiseyes that hold more desire than I’ve everseen in them before. I know why he’s leavingnow, because it’s clear that he wants to passthis first, too.“Is what normal?”I press my head into his chest to avoid hav-ing to look at him while I speak. Sometimes Isay things that are embarrassing, but I justhave to say them regardless. “Is the way wefeel about each other normal? We haven’treally known each other for very long. Mostof that time was spent avoiding each other.But I don’t know, it just seems different withyou. I assume when most people date, thefirst few months are spent trying to build aconnection.” I lift my head off of his chestand look up at him. “I feel like I had thatwith you the moment we met. Everythingabout us is so natural. It feels like we’realready there, and we’re trying to go back-ward now. Like we’re trying to re-get to

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know each other by slowing it down. Is thatweird?”He brushes the hair out of my face and looksdown at me with a completely different lookin his eyes this time. The lust and desire hasbeen replaced by anguish, and it makes myheart heavy seeing it in his eyes.“Whatever this is, I don’t want to analyze it. Idon’t want you analyzing it either, okay?Let’s just be grateful I finally found you.”I laugh at his last sentence. “You say that likeyou’ve been looking for me.”He furrows his brows together and places hishands on the sides of my head, tilting myface up to his. “I’ve been looking for you mywhole damn life.” His expression is solid anddetermined and he meshes our mouths to-gether as soon as the sentence leaves his lips.He kisses me hard and with more passionthan he’s kissed me all day. I’m about to pullhim inside with me but he lets go and backsaway as soon as my hands fist in his hair.

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“I live you,” he says, forcing himself off thesteps. “I’ll see you on Monday.”“I live you, too.”I don’t ask him why I’m not seeing him to-morrow, because I think the time will begood for us in order to process the lasttwenty-four hours. It’ll be good for Karen aswell, since I really need to fill her in on mynew love life. Or, my new live life, rather.

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It’s been almost a month since Holder and Ideclared ourselves a couple. So far, I haven’tfound any idiosyncrasies of his that drive mecrazy. If anything, the small habits he hasjust make me adore him even more. Like theway he still stares at me like he’s studyingme, and the way he pops his jaw when he’sirritated, and the way he licks his lips everytime he laughs. It’s actually sort of hot. Anddon’t get me started on the dimples.Luckily, I’ve had the same Holder since thenight he crawled through my window and in-to my bed. I haven’t seen any snippets of themoody and temperamental Holder at allsince then. In fact, we somehow becomemore and more in tune with each other the

more time we spend together and I feel like Ican read him now almost as well as he readsme.With Karen being home every weekend, wehaven’t had a lot of alone time. Most of ourtime together is spent at school or on datesover the weekends. For some reason, hedoesn’t feel right coming to my bedroomwhen Karen is home and he always makesexcuses when I suggest we go to his house.So instead, we’ve seen a lot of movies. We’vealso been out a few times with Breckin andhis new boyfriend, Max.Holder and I have been having a lot of funtogether, but we haven’t had a lot of fun to-gether. We’re both beginning to get a littlefrustrated at our lack of a decent place tomake out. His car is kind of small, but we’vemade do. I think we’re both counting downthe hours until Karen is out of town againnext weekend.

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I sit down at the table with Breckin and Max,waiting for Holder to bring both of our trays.Max and Breckin met at a local art galleryabout two weeks ago, not even realizing theyattended the same school. I’m happy forBreckin because I started to get the feelinghe felt like a third wheel, when it wasn’t likethat at all. I love his company, but seeinghim pour his attention into his own relation-ship has made things a lot easier.“Are you and Holder busy this Saturday?”Max asks when I take a seat.“I don’t think so. Why?”“There’s an art gallery downtown that’s dis-playing one of my pieces in their local artshow. I want you guys there.”“Sounds cool,” Holder says, taking his seatnext to me. “Which piece are youdisplaying?”

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Max shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I’m still tryingto decide between two.”Breckin rolls his eyes. “You know which oneyou need to enter and it isn’t either of thosetwo.”Max cuts his eyes to Breckin. “We live in EastTexas. I doubt the gay-themed painting willgo over very well around here.”Holder looks back and forth between them.“Who gives a shit what people around herethink?”Max’s smile fades and he picks up his fork.“My parents,” he says.“Do your parents know you’re gay?” I ask.He nods. “Yeah. They’re pretty supportive forthe most part, but they’re still hoping none oftheir friends at church find out. They don’twant to be pitied for having the child who’sdamned to Hell.”I shake my head. “If God’s the type of guythat would damn you to Hell just for loving

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someone, then I wouldn’t want to spendeternity with Him, anyway.”Breckin laughs. “I bet they have funnel cakein Hell.”“What time is it over Saturday?” Holder asks.“We’ll be there, but Sky and I have planslater that night.”“It’s over at nine,” Breckin says.I glance at Holder. “We have plans? Whatare we doing?”He grins at me and wraps his arm around myshoulder, then whispers in my ear. “My momwill be gone Saturday night. I want to showyou my bedroom.”My arms break out in chills and I suddenlyhave visions that are entirely too inappropri-ate for a high school cafeteria.“I don’t even want to know what he said tomake you blush like that,” Breckin laughs.Holder pulls his arm away and rests his handon my leg. I take a bite, then look back up atMax. “What’s the dress code for this showing

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on Saturday? I have a sundress I was think-ing about wearing that night, but it’s not veryformal.” Holder squeezes my thigh and Igrin, knowing exactly what kind of thoughts Ijust put into his head.Max begins to answer me when a guy fromthe table behind us says something to Holderthat I failed to catch. Whatever he said, it im-mediately gets Holder’s attention and heturns completely around, facing the guy.“Could you repeat that?” Holder says, glaringat him.I don’t turn around. I don’t even want to seewho the guy is that’s responsible for bringingback the temperamental Holder in less thantwo seconds flat.“Maybe I need to speak more clearly,” theguy says, raising his voice. “I said if you can’tbeat them completely to death, you might aswell join them.”Holder doesn’t move right away, which isgood. It gives me time to grab his face and

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pull his focus to mine. “Holder,” I say firmly.“Ignore it. Please.”“Yeah, ignore it,” Breckin says. “He’s just try-ing to piss you off. Max and I get that shit allthe time, we’re used to it.”Holder works his jaw back and forth, breath-ing in slowly through his nose. The expres-sion in his eyes slowly softens and he takesmy hand, then slowly turns back aroundwithout looking at the guy again. “I’m good,”he says, convincing himself more than therest of us. “I’m good.”As soon as Holder faces forward, thelaughter at the table behind us bellowsthroughout the lunchroom. Holder’sshoulders tense, so I place my hand on hisleg and squeeze, willing him to stay calm.“That’s nice,” the guy says from behind us.“Let the slut talk you down from defendingyour new friends. I guess they don’t mean asmuch to you as Lesslie did, otherwise I’d be

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in as bad of shape as Jake was last year afteryou laid into him.”It takes all I have not to jump up and kick theguy’s ass myself, so I know Holder has abso-lutely no restraint left in him. He begins toturn around and his face is expressionless.I’ve never seen him so rigid—it’s terrifying. Iknow something terrible is about to happenand I have no clue how to prevent it. Beforehe can leap across the table and beat the shitout of the guy, I do something that shockseven myself. I slap Holder as hard as I canacross the face. He immediately pulls hishand to his cheek and looks at me, com-pletely taken aback. But he’s looking at me,which is good.“Hallway,” I say determinedly as soon as Ihave his attention. I push him until he’s offthe bench and I keep my hands on his back,then push him until he’s walking toward theexit to the cafeteria. When we walk out intothe hallway, he slams his fist into the nearest

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locker, causing a loud gasp to escape frommy lips. The force behind his fist leaves ahuge dent, and I’m relieved the guy in thecafeteria wasn’t the recipient of that force.He’s seething. His face is red and I’ve neverseen him this upset before. He begins pacingthe hallway, pausing to stare at the cafeteriadoors. I’m not convinced he isn’t about towalk back through them, so I decide to gethim even further away.“Let’s go to your car.” I push him toward theexit and he lets me. We walk all the way tothe car and he’s silently fuming the entiretime. He climbs into the driver seat and Iclimb into the passenger seat and we bothshut our doors. I don’t know if he’s still onthe verge of running back inside the schooland finishing the fight that asshole was try-ing to start, but I’ll do everything I can tokeep him out of there until he isn’t angryanymore.

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What happens next isn’t what I’m expectingto happen at all. He reaches across the seatand pulls me tightly against him and beginsto shake uncontrollably. His shoulders aretrembling and he’s squeezing me, burying hishead in my neck.He’s crying.I wrap my arms around him and let him holdon to me while he lets out whatever it isthat’s been pent up inside of him. He slidesme onto his lap and squeezes me tightlyagainst him. I adjust my legs until they’re oneither side of him and I kiss him lightly onthe side of his head over and over. He’sbarely making any sound and what littlesound he is making is muffled into myshoulder. I have no idea what made himbreak just now, but it’s the absolute mostheartbreaking thing I’ve ever seen. I contin-ue to kiss the side of his head and run myhands up and down his back. I do this for

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several minutes until he’s finally quiet, buthe still has a death grip around me.“You want to talk about it?” I whisper, strok-ing his hair. I pull back and he leans his headinto the headrest and looks at me. His eyesare red and full of so much hurt, I have tokiss them. I kiss each eyelid softly, then pullback again and wait for him to speak.“I lied,” he says. His words stab at my heartand I’m terrified of what he’s about to say. “Itold you I’d do it again. I told you I’d beatJake’s ass again if I had the chance.” Hetakes my cheeks in his palms and looks at medesperately. “I wouldn’t. He didn’t deservewhat I did to him, Sky. And that kid in therejust now? He’s Jake’s little brother. He hatesme for what I did and he has every right tohate me. He has every right to say whateverthe fuck he wants to say to me, because I de-serve it. I do. That’s the only reason why Ididn’t want to come back to this school, be-cause I knew whatever anyone was going to

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say to me was deserved. But I can’t let himtalk about you and Breckin like that. He cansay whatever the fuck he wants to say aboutme or Les because we deserve it, but youdon’t.” His eyes are glossing over again andhe’s in absolute agony, holding my face in hishands.“It’s okay, Holder. You don’t have to defendeveryone. And you don’t deserve it. Jakeshouldn’t have said what he did about yoursister last year and his brother shouldn’thave said what he did today.”He shakes his head in disagreement. “Jakewas right. I know he shouldn’t have said itand I definitely know I shouldn’t have laid afinger on him, but he was right. What Les didwasn’t brave or noble or courageous. Whatshe did was selfish. She didn’t even try totough it out. She wasn’t thinking about me,she wasn’t thinking about my parents. Shewas thinking about herself and she didn’tgive a shit about the rest of us. And I hate her

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for it. I fucking hate her for it and I’m tired ofhating her, Sky. I’m so tired of hating her be-cause it’s tearing me down and making methis person I don’t want to be. She doesn’tdeserve to be hated. It’s my fault she didwhat she did. I should have helped her, but Ididn’t. I didn’t know. I loved that girl morethan I’ve ever loved anyone and I had no ideahow bad it was for her.”I wipe away his tear with my thumb and I dothe only thing I can think to do because Ihave no idea what to say. I kiss him. I kisshim desperately and try to take away his painthe only way I know how to do. I’ve never ex-perienced death like this, so I don’t even tryto understand where he’s coming from. Hewraps his hands in my hair and kisses meback with such strength, it’s almost painful.We kiss for several minutes until the tensionin him slowly begins to subside.I pull my lips from his and look directly intohis eyes. “Holder, you have every right to

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hate her for what she did. But you also haveevery right to still love her in spite of it. Theonly thing you don’t have a right to do is tokeep blaming yourself. You’ll never under-stand why she did it, so you need to stopbeating yourself up for not having all the an-swers. She made the choice she thought wasbest for her, even though it was the wrongone. But that’s what you have to remem-ber…she made that choice. Not you. And youcan’t blame yourself for not knowing whatshe failed to tell you.” I kiss him on the fore-head, then bring my eyes back to his. “Youhave to let it go. You can hold on to the hateand the love and even the bitterness, but youhave to let go of the blame. The blame iswhat’s tearing you down, babe.”He closes his eyes and pulls my head to hisshoulder, breathing out a shaky breath. I canfeel him nodding and I can sense his wholedemeanor coming to a quiet calm. He kissesme on the side of the head and we hold each

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other in silence. Whatever connection wethought we had before this…it doesn’t com-pare to this moment. No matter what hap-pens between us in this life, this moment hasjust merged pieces of our souls together.We’ll always have that, and in a way it’s com-forting to know.Holder looks at me and cocks his eyebrow.“Why the hell did you slap me?”I laugh and kiss the cheek that I slapped. Myfingerprints are barely visible now, butthey’re still there. “Sorry. I just needed to getyou out of there and I couldn’t think of anyother way to do it.”He smiles. “It worked. I don’t know if anyoneelse could have said or done anything thatwould have pulled me out of that. Thank youfor knowing exactly how to handle me, be-cause sometimes I’m not even sure how tohandle myself.”

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I kiss him softly. “Believe me. I have no ideahow to handle you, Holder. I just take youone scene at a time.”

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“What time do you think you’ll get back?” Iask. Holder has his arms around me andwe’re leaning up against my car. We haven’tbeen able to spend much time together sincewhat happened in his car at lunch onMonday. Thankfully, the guy who tried tostart shit with Holder hasn’t said anythingelse. It’s been a rather peaceful week consid-ering the dramatic start of it.“We won’t be back until pretty late. Theircompany Halloween parties usually last afew hours. But you’ll see me tomorrow. I canpick you up for lunch if you want and we’lljust stay together all day until the galleryshowing.”

I shake my head. “Can’t. It’s Jack’s birthdayand we’re taking him out to lunch because hehas to work tomorrow night. Just come pickme up at six.”“Yes ma’am,” he says. He kisses me, thenopens my door so I can climb inside. I wavegoodbye to him as he walks away, then I pullmy phone out of my backpack. There’s a textfrom Six, which makes me happy. I haven’tbeen receiving my daily promised texts likeshe said I would. I didn’t think I’d missthem, but now that I only get one every thirdday or so, it bums me out a little.

Tell your boyfriend thank you for fi-nally adding minutes to your phone.Have you had sex with him yet? Missyou.

I laugh at her candidness and text her back.

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No, we haven’t had sex yet. We’vedone almost everything else, though,so I’m sure his patience will wear outsoon. Ask me again after tomorrownight, I might have a different an-swer. Miss you more.

I hit send and stare at the phone. I haven’treally thought about whether or not I’mready to pass that first yet, but I guess I justadmitted to myself that I am. I wonder if in-viting me to his house is his way of findingout if I’m ready, too.I put the car into reverse and my phonesounds off. I pick it up and it’s a text fromHolder.

Don’t leave. I’m walking back to yourcar.

I put the car in park again and roll down mywindow, just as he approaches. “Hey,” he

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says, leaning into my window. He darts hiseyes away from mine and he looks aroundthe car nervously. I hate this uncomfortablelook about him, it always means he’s aboutto say something I might not want to hear.“Um...” He looks back at me and the sun isshining straight on him, highlighting everybeautiful feature about him. His eyes arebright and they’re looking into mine like theywould never want to look anywhere else.“You uh…you just sent me a text that I’mpretty sure you meant to send to Six.”Oh God, no. I immediately grab my phoneand check to see if he’s telling the truth. Un-fortunately, he is. I throw the phone on thepassenger seat and fold my arms across thesteering wheel, burying my face into my el-bow. “Oh my, God,” I groan.“Look at me, Sky,” he directs. I ignore himand wait for a magic wormhole to come andsuck me away from all the embarrassingsituations I get myself into. I feel his hand

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touch my cheek and he pulls my face in hisdirection. He’s looking at me, full ofsincerity.“Whether it’s tomorrow night or next year, Ican promise you it’ll be the best damn nightof my life. You just make sure you’re makingthat decision for yourself and no one else,okay? I’ll always want you, but I’m not goingto let myself have you until you’re one hun-dred percent sure you want me just as much.And don’t say anything right now. I’m turn-ing around and walking back to my car andwe can pretend this conversation neverhappened. Otherwise, you may never stopblushing.” He leans in the window and givesme a quick kiss. “You’re cute as hell, youknow that? But you really need to figure outhow to work your phone.” He winks at meand walks away. I lean my head against theheadrest and silently curse myself.I hate technology.

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I spend the rest of the night doing my best topush the embarrassing text out of my head. Ihelp Karen package things up for her nextflea market, then eventually crawl into bedwith my e-reader. As soon as I power it on,my cell phone lights up on the nightstand.

I’m walking to your house right now.I know it’s late and your mom ishome, but I can’t wait until tomorrownight to kiss you again. Make sureyour window is unlocked.

After I read the text I jump out of bed andlock my bedroom door, thankful Karencalled it an early night two hours ago. I im-mediately go to the bathroom and brush myteeth and hair, then turn out the lights andcrawl back into bed. It’s after midnight and

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he’s never snuck in while Karen was homebefore. I’m nervous, but it’s an excitingnervous. The fact that I don’t feel the leastbit guilty that he’s on his way over is proofthat I’m going to Hell. I’m the worst daugh-ter ever.Several minutes later, my window slides upand I hear him making his way inside. I’m soexcited to see him that I run to meet him atthe window and wrap my arms around hisneck, then jump up and make him hold mewhile I kiss him. His hands have a firm gripon my ass and he walks to the bed, droppingme down gently.“Well, hello to you, too,” he says, smilingwidely. He stumbles slightly, then falls ontop of me and brings his lips to mine again.He’s trying to kick off his shoes but hestruggles, then starts laughing.“Are you drunk?” I ask.He presses his fingers to my lips and tries tostop laughing, but he can’t. “No. Yes.”

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“How drunk?”He moves his head to my neck and runs hismouth lightly along my collarbone, sending asurge of heat through me. “Drunk enough towant to do bad things to you, but not drunkenough that I would do them drunk,” hesays. “But just drunk enough to still remem-ber them tomorrow if I did do them.”I laugh, completely confused by his answer,yet completely turned on by it at the sametime. “Is that why you walked here? Becauseyou’ve been drinking?”He shakes his head. “I walked here because Iwanted a goodnight kiss and thankfully Icouldn’t find my keys. But I wanted one sobad, baby. I missed you so bad tonight.” Hekisses me and his mouth tastes likelemonade.“Why do you taste like lemonade?”He laughs. “All they had were these fruityfroufrou drinks. I’m drunk off fruity froufrou

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girl drinks. It’s really sad and unattractive, Iknow.”“Well, you taste really good,” I say, pullinghis mouth back to mine. He moans andpresses himself against me, dipping histongue further into my mouth. As soon asour bodies connect on the bed, he pulls awayand stands up, leaving me breathless andalone on the mattress.“Time to go,” he says. “I already see thisheading somewhere I’m too drunk to go rightnow. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”I jump up and run and block the window be-fore he can leave. He stops in front of me andfolds his arms over his chest. “Stay,” I say.“Please. Just lay in bed with me. We can putpillows between us and I promise not to se-duce you since you’re drunk. Just stay for anhour, I don’t want you to go yet.”He immediately turns and heads back to thebed. “Okay,” he says simply. He throws

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himself onto my bed and pulls the covers outfrom beneath him.That was easy.I walk back to the bed and lay down besidehim. Neither of us places a pillow betweenus. Instead, I throw my arm over his chestand entwine my legs with his.“Goodnight,” he says, brushing my hair back.He kisses my forehead and closes his eyes. Ituck my head against his chest and listen tothe rhythm of his heart. After severalminutes, his breathing and heart rate haveboth regulated and he’s sound asleep. I can’tfeel my arm anymore, so I gently lift it off ofhim and quietly roll over. As soon as I getsituated on my pillow, he slides his arm overmy waist and his legs over mine. “I love you,Hope,” he mutters.Um…Breathe, Sky.Just breathe.It’s not that hard.

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Take a breath.I squeeze my eyes shut and try to tell myself Idid not just hear what I thought I heard. Buthe said it clear as day. And I honestly don’tknow what breaks my heart more—the factthat he called me by someone else’s name, orthe fact that he actually said love this timeinstead of live.I attempt to talk myself down from rollingover and punching him in his damn face.He’s been drinking and he was half asleepwhen he said it. I can’t assume she reallymeans something to him when it could havejust been a dream. But…who the hell isHope? And why does he love her?

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I’m sweating because it’s hot under thesecovers, but I don’t want to take them off myhead. I know if the door opens, it won’t mat-ter if I have covers on or not, but I feel saferwith them on anyway. I poke my fingers outand lift the piece of cover up that’s in frontof my eyes. I look at the doorknob like I doevery night.Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Please, don’t turn.It’s always so quiet in my room and I hateit. Sometimes I hear things that I thinkmight be the doorknob turning and it makesmy heart beat really hard and really fast.Right now, just staring at the doorknob ismaking my heart beat really hard andreally fast, but I can’t stop staring at it. I

don’t want it to turn. I don’t want that doorto open, I don’t.Everything is so quiet.So quiet.The doorknob doesn’t turn.My heart stops beating so fast, because thedoorknob never turns.My eyes get really heavy and I finally closethem.I’m so glad that tonight’s not one of thenights that the doorknob turns.It’s so quiet.So quiet.

And then it’s not, because the doorknobturns.

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“Sky.”I’m so heavy. Everything is so heavy. I don’tlike this feeling. There isn’t anything physic-ally on my chest, but I feel a pressure unlikeanything I’ve ever felt. And sadness. An over-whelming sadness is consuming me, and Ihave no idea why. My shoulders are shakingand there are sobs coming from somewherein the room. Who’s crying?Am I crying?“Sky, wake up.”I feel his arm around me. His cheek ispressed against mine and he’s behind me,holding me tightly against his chest. I grabhis wrist and lift his arm off of me. I sit up onthe bed and look around. It’s dark outside. Idon’t get it. I’m crying.

He sits up beside me and turns me towardhim, brushing at my eyes with his thumbs.“You’re scaring me, babe.” He’s looking atme and he’s worried. I squeeze my eyes shutand try to regain control, because I have noidea what the hell is happening and I can’tbreathe. I can hear myself crying and I can’tinhale a breath because of it.I look at the clock on the nightstand and itsays three. Things are starting to come backinto focus now, but…why am I crying?“Why are you crying, babe?” Holder asks. Hepulls me to him and I let him. He feels safe.He feels like home when I’m wrapped up inhim. He holds me and rubs my back, kissingthe side of my head every now and then. Hekeeps saying, “Don’t worry,” over and overand he holds me for what feels like forever.The weight gradually lifts off my chest, thesadness dissipates and I’m eventually nolonger crying.

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I’m scared though, because nothing like thishas ever happened to me before. Never in mylife have I felt sadness this unbearable, sohow could it feel so real from a dream?“You okay?” he whispers.I nod against his chest.“What happened?”I shake my head. “I don’t know. I guess itwas a bad dream.”“Want to talk about it?” He soothes my hairwith his hands.I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to re-member it.”He hugs me for a long time, then kisses meon the forehead. “I don’t want to leave you,but I need to go. I don’t want you to get introuble.”I nod, but I don’t release my grip. I want tobeg him not to leave me alone, but I don’twant to sound desperate and terrified.People have bad dreams all the time; I don’tunderstand why I’m responding like this.

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“Go back to sleep, Sky. Everything’s okay,you just had a bad dream.”I lay back down on the bed and close myeyes. I feel his lips brush against my fore-head, and then he’s gone.

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I give both Breckin and Max a hug in theparking lot of the gallery. The gallery show-ing has ended and Holder and I are goingback to his place. I know I should be nervousabout what might happen between us to-night, but I’m not nervous at all. Everythingwith him feels right. Well, everything exceptthe phrase that keeps repeating over andover in my head.I love you, Hope.I want to ask him about it, but I can’t find theright moment. The gallery showing certainlywasn’t the place to bring it up. Now seemslike a good time, but every time I open mymouth to do it, I clamp it shut again. I thinkI’m more afraid of who she is and what she

means to him than I am of actually workingup the nerve to bring it up. The longer I putoff asking him about it, the longer I have be-fore I’m forced to learn the truth.“You want to grab something to eat?” heasks, pulling out of the parking lot.“Yeah,” I say quickly, relieved that he inter-rupted my thoughts. “A cheeseburger soundsgood. And cheese fries. And I want a chocol-ate milkshake.”He laughs and takes my hand in his. “A littledemanding are we, Princess?”I let go of his hand and turn to face him.“Don’t call me that,” I snap.He glances at me and can more than likelysee the anger on my face, even in the dark.“Hey,” he says soothingly, picking up myhand again. “I don’t think you’re demanding,Sky. It was a joke.”I shake my head. “Not demanding. Don’t callme princess. I hate that word.”

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He gives me a sidelong glance, then shifts hiseyes back to the road. “Okay.”I turn my gaze out the window, trying to getthe word out of my head. I don’t know why Ihate nicknames so much, but I do. And Iknow I overreacted just now, but he can nev-er call me that again. He also shouldn’t callme by the name of any of his ex-girlfriend’seither. He should just stick to Sky…it’s muchsafer.We drive in complete silence and I becomeincreasingly more regretful for reacting like Idid. If anything, I should be more upset bythe fact that he called me by another girl’sname than by referring to me as Princess. It’salmost like I’m displacing my anger becauseI’m too afraid to bring up what’s really both-ering me. Honestly, I just want a drama-freenight with him tonight. There’ll be plenty oftime to ask him about Hope another day.“I’m sorry, Holder.”

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He squeezes my hand and pulls it onto hislap, but doesn’t say anything else.When we pull into his driveway, I get out ofthe car. We never did stop for food, but Idon’t even feel like bringing it up now. Hemeets me at the passenger door and wrapshis arms around me and I hug him back. Hewalks me until my back is against the car andI press my head to his shoulder, breathing inthe scent of him. The awkwardness from thedrive here still lingers, so I attempt to easemyself against him in a relaxing way to lethim know I’m not thinking about it. He’slightly stroking his fingers up and down myarms, covering me in chills.“Can I ask you something?” he says.“Always.”He sighs, then pulls back and looks at me.“Did I freak you out Monday? In my car? If Idid, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got intome. I’m not a pussy, I swear. I haven’t cried

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since Les died, and I sure as hell didn’t meanto do it in front of you.”I lean my head into his chest again and hughim tighter. “You know last night when Iwoke up after that dream?”“Yeah.”“That’s the second time I’ve cried since I wasfive. The only other time I cried was whenyou told me about what happened to yoursister. I cried when I was in the bathroom. Itwas just one tear, but it counts. I think whenwe’re together, maybe our emotions becomea little overwhelming and it turns us both in-to pussies.”He laughs and kisses me on top of the head.“I have a feeling I won’t be living you formuch longer.” He gives me another quickkiss, then takes my hand. “Ready for thegrand tour?”I follow him toward his house, but I’m stillstuck on the fact that he just told me he’sabout to stop living me. If he stops living me,

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that means he’ll be loving me. He just con-fessed that he’s falling in love with mewithout actually saying it. The most shockingthing about his confession is that I reallyliked it.We walk inside and the house is nothing likeI expected. It doesn’t seem very big from theoutside, but there’s a foyer. Normal housesdon’t have foyers. There’s an archway to theright that leads to a living room. The entirewalls are covered in nothing but books, and Ifeel like I’ve just died and gone to heaven.“Wow,” I say, eyeing the bookshelves in theliving room. Books are stacked on shelvesfrom floor to ceiling on every single wall.“Yeah,” he says. “Mom was pretty pissedwhen they invented the e-reader.”I laugh. “I think I already like your mom.When do I get to meet her?”He shakes his head. “I don’t introduce girlsto my mother.” His voice is as detached ashis words, and as soon as he says it, his

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expression drops and he knows he’s just hurtmy feelings. He walks swiftly to me and takesmy face in his hands. “No, no. That’s notwhat I meant. I’m not saying you’re anythinglike the other girls I’ve dated. I didn’t meanfor it to come out like that.”I hear what he’s saying, but we’ve been dat-ing as long as we have and he still isn’t con-vinced it’s real enough for me to meet hismother? I wonder if we’ll ever be realenough to him for me to meet his mother.“Did Hope get to meet her?” I know Ishouldn’t have said it, but I couldn’t keep itin any longer. Especially now, hearing himsay “other girls.” I’m not delusional; I knowhe dated other people before he met me. Ijust don’t like hearing him say it. Much lesscalling me by their names.“What?” he asks, dropping his hands. He’sbacking away from me. “Why did you saythat?” The color is draining from his face andI immediately regret saying it.

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“Never mind. It’s nothing. I don’t have tomeet your mom.” I just want whatever this isto pass. I knew I wouldn’t feel like talkingabout it tonight. I want to get back to thehouse tour and forget this conversation everhappened.He grabs my hands and says it again. “Whywould you say that, Sky? Why did you saythat name?”I shake my head. “It’s not that big of a deal.You were drunk.”He narrows his eyes at me and it’s clear I’mnot escaping this conversation. I sigh and re-luctantly give in, clearing my throat before Ispeak.“Last night when you were fallingasleep…you told me you loved me. But youcalled me Hope, so you weren’t really talkingto me. You’d been drinking and you werehalf asleep, so I don’t need an explanation. Idon’t know if I really even want to know whyyou said it.”

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He brings his hands to his hair and groans.“Sky.” He steps forward, taking me in hisarms. “I’m so sorry. It must have been a stu-pid dream. I don’t even know anyone namedHope and I’ve definitely never had an ex-girlfriend by that name if that’s what youwere thinking. I’m so sorry that happened. Ishould have never gone to your housedrunk.” He looks down at me and as much asmy instincts are telling me he’s lying, hiseyes are completely sincere. “You have to be-lieve me. It’ll kill me if you think for a secondthat I feel anything at all for someone else.I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”Every word coming from his mouth is drip-ping with sincerity and honesty. ConsideringI can’t even remember why I woke up crying,it’s possible his sleep talking really was theresult of a random dream. And hearingeverything he just said to me puts into per-spective just how serious things are becom-ing between us.

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I look up at him, attempting to prepare somesort of response to everything he just said. Ipart my lips and wait for the words to come,but they don’t. I’m suddenly the one needingmore time to process my thoughts.He’s cupping my cheeks, waiting for me tobreak the silence between us. The proximityof his mouth to mine weathers his patience.“I need to kiss you,” he says apologetically,pulling my face to his. We’re still standing inthe foyer, but he somehow picks me up ef-fortlessly and sets me down on the stairsleading to the upstairs bedrooms. I lean backand he returns his lips to mine, his handsgripping the wooden steps on either side ofmy head.Due to our position, he’s forced to lower aknee between my thighs. It isn’t that big of adeal unless you take into consideration thedress that I have on. It would be so easy forhim to take me right here on the stairs, butI’m hoping we at least make it to his room

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first before he tries. I wonder if he’s expect-ing anything, especially after the text I acci-dentally sent him. He’s a guy, of course he’sexpecting something. I wonder if he knowsI’m a virgin. Should I even tell him I’m a vir-gin? I should. He’ll probably be able to tell.“I’m a virgin,” I blurt against his mouth. Iimmediately wonder what the hell I’m doingeven speaking aloud right now. I shouldn’tbe allowed to speak ever again. Someoneshould strip me of my voice, because I obvi-ously have no filter when my sexual guard isdown.He immediately stops kissing me. He slowlybacks his face away from mine and looksdown into my eyes. “Sky,” he says directly.“I’m kissing you because sometimes I can’tnot kiss you. You know what your mouthdoes to me. I’m not expecting anything else,okay? As long as I get to kiss you, the otherstuff can wait.” He’s tucking my hair behind

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my ears now and looking down at megenuinely.“I just thought you should know. I probablyshould have picked a better time to state thatfact, but sometimes I just blurt things outwithout thinking. It’s a really bad trait and Ihate it because I do it at the most inoppor-tune moments and it’s embarrassing. Likeright now.”He laughs and shakes his head. “No, don’tstop doing that. I love it when you blurtthings out without thinking. And I love itwhen you spout off long, nervous, ridiculousrants. It’s kind of hot.”I blush. Being called hot is seriously…hot.“You know what else is hot?” he says, leaningback in to me again.The playfulness in his expression chips awayat my embarrassment. “What?”He grins. “Trying to keep our hands off eachother while we watch a movie.” He stands up

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and pulls me to my feet, then leads me upthe stairs to his room.He opens the door and walks in first, thenturns around and tells me to close my eyes. Iroll them, instead.“I don’t like surprises,” I say.“You also don’t like presents and certaincommon terms of endearment. I’m learning.But this is just something cool I want toshow you—it’s not anything I bought you. Sodeal with it and shut your eyes.”I do what he says and he pulls me forwardinto the room. I already love it in here be-cause it smells just like him. He walks me afew steps, then places his hands on myshoulders. “Sit,” he says, pushing me down. Itake a seat on what feels like a bed, then I’msuddenly flat on my back and he’s lifting upmy feet. “Keep your eyes closed.”I feel him pulling my feet onto the bed andpropping me up against a pillow. His handgrabs the hem of my sundress and he pulls it

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down, making sure it stays in place. “Gottakeep you covered up. Can’t be flashing methigh when you’re on your back like that.”I laugh, but I keep my eyes closed. He’s sud-denly crawling over me, careful not to kneeme. I can feel him positioning himself next tome on his pillow. “Okay. Open your eyes andprepare to be wowed.”I’m scared. I slowly pry my eyes open. I hes-itate to guess what I’m looking at, because Ialmost think it’s a TV. But TV’s don’t usuallytake up eighty inches of wall space. Thisthing is ginormous. He points a remote at itand the screen lights up.“Wow,” I say, impressed. “It’s huge.”“That’s what she said.”I elbow him in the side and he laughs. Hepoints the remote back up to the TV. “What’syour favorite movie ever? I have Netflix.”I tilt my head in his direction. “Net what?”He laughs and shakes his head in disappoint-ment. “I keep forgetting you’re

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technologically challenged. It’s similar to ane-reader, only with movies and televisionshows instead of books. You can watch prettymuch anything at the push of a button.”“Are there commercials?”“Nope,” he says proudly. “So what’ll it be?”“Do you have The Jerk? I love that movie.”His arm falls to his chest and he clicks thepower button and turns off the TV. He’s si-lent for several long seconds, then he sighsforcefully. He leans over and sets the remotedown on his nightstand, then rolls over andfaces me. “I don’t want to watch TVanymore.”He’s pouting? What the hell did I say?“Fine. We don’t have to watch The Jerk. Picksomething else out, you big baby,” I laugh.He doesn’t respond for a few moments whilehe continues staring at me inexpressively. Helifts his hand and runs it across my stomachand around to my waist, then grips metightly and pulls me against him. “You

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know,” he says, narrowing his eyes as he me-ticulously rakes them down my body. Hetraces the pattern of my dress with a finger,delicately stroking over my stomach. “I canhandle what this dress does to me.” He liftshis eyes from my stomach, back up to mymouth. “I can even handle having to con-stantly stare at your lips, even when I don’tget to kiss them. I can handle the sound ofyour laughter and how it makes me want tocover your mouth with mine and drink it allin.”His mouth is closing in on mine, and the wayhis voice has dropped into some sort of lyric-al, god-like octave makes my heart pummelwithin my chest. He lowers his lips to mycheek and lightly kisses it, his warm breathcolliding with my skin when he speaks. “Ican even handle the millions of times I’ve re-played our first kiss over and over in myhead this past month. The way you felt. The

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way you sounded. The way you looked up atme right before my lips met yours.”He rolls himself on top of me and brings myarms above my head, clasping them in hishands. I’m hanging on to every single wordhe’s saying, not wanting to miss a singlesecond of whatever it is he’s doing right now.He straddles me, holding his weight up withhis knees. “But what I can’t handle, Sky?What drives me crazy and makes me want toput my hands and my mouth all over everysingle inch of you? It’s the fact that you justsaid The Jerk is your favorite movie ever.Now that?” He drops his mouth to mine un-til our lips are touching. “That’s incrediblyfucking hot and I’m pretty sure we need tomake out now.”His playfulness makes me laugh and I whis-per seductively against his lips. “He hatesthese cans.”He groans and kisses me, then pulls away.“Do it again. Please. Hearing you talk in

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movie quotes is so much hotter than kissingyou.”

I laugh and give him another quote.“Stay away from the cans!”

He groans playfully in my ear. “That’s mygirl. One more. Do one more.”

“That’s all I need,” I say teasingly. “Theashtray, this paddle game, and the remotecontrol, and the lamp…and that’s all I need.I don’t need one other thing, not one.”

He’s laughing loudly now. As manytimes as Six and I stayed up watching thismovie, he’ll be surprised to know there’s a lotmore where those came from.

“That’s all you need?” Holder quips. “Areyou sure about that, Sky?” His voice issmooth and seductive and if I was standingup right now, my panties would without adoubt be on the floor.

I shake my head and my smile fades.“You,” I whisper. “I need the lamp and the

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ashtray and the paddle game and the remotecontrol…and you. That’s all I need.”

He laughs, but his laugh quickly fadesonce his eyes drop to my mouth again. Hescrutinizes it, more than likely mapping outjust what he’s about to do with it for the nexthour. “I need to kiss you now.” His mouthcollides with mine and for this moment, hereally is all I need.

He’s propped up on his hands and knees,kissing me fiercely, but I need him to drophimself on top of me. My hands are stilllocked above my head and my mouth is use-less to form words when he’s teasing it likehe is. The only thing I can do is lift my footup and kick his knee out from under him, sothat’s what I do.The second his body falls against mine, Igasp. Loudly. I hadn’t taken into considera-tion that when I lifted my leg, it would alsopush the hem of my dress up. Way up.Couple that with the hard denim of his jeans

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and you have a pretty gasp-worthycombination.“Holy shit, Sky,” he says between breathlessmoments of completely ravishing my mouthwith his. He’s winded already and we haven’teven been at it more than a minute. “God,you feel incredible. Thank you for wearingthis dress.” He’s kissing me, sporadicallymuttering into my mouth. “I really…” Hekisses my mouth, then runs his lips down mychin and halfway down my neck. “I reallylike it. Your dress.” He’s breathing so heavilynow, I can barely make out the mumblingcoming from him. He scoots slightly furtherdown on the bed until his lips are kissing thebase of my throat. I tilt my head back to givehim plenty of access, because his lips aremore than welcome anywhere on me rightnow. He releases his grip on my hands so hecan lower his mouth closer to my chest. Oneof his hands drops to my thigh, and he slowlyruns it upward, pushing away what’s left of

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the dress covering my legs. When he reachesthe top of my thigh, he stills his hand andsqueezes tightly, as if he’s silently demandinghis fingers not to venture any further.I twist my body beneath his, hoping he’ll getthe hint that I’m attempting to direct hishand to keep going wherever it wants to go. Idon’t want him to second-guess himself orthink for a second that I’m hesitant to go anyfurther. I just want him to do whatever it ishe wants to do, because I need him to. I needhim to conquer as many firsts as he can to-night, because I’m suddenly feeling greedyand I want us to pass them all.He takes my physical cues and inches hishand closer to my inner thigh. The anticipa-tion of him touching me alone is enough tocause every muscle from the waist down toclench. His lips have finally made their waypast the base of my throat and down to therise in my chest. I feel like the next step is forhim to remove the dress completely so he

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can get to what’s underneath it, but thatwould require his other hand, and I reallylike it where it is. I’d like it a little more if itwere a few inches further, but I absolutelydon’t want it further away.I bring my hands to his face and force him tokiss me harder, then drop my hands to hisback.He’s still wearing a shirt.This isn’t good.I reach around to his stomach and pull hisshirt up over his head, but I don’t realizewhen I do, that it also causes him to movehis hand off of my thigh. I may havewhimpered a little, because he grins andkisses the corner of my mouth.We keep our gaze locked and he gentlystrokes my face with his fingertips, trailingover every part of it. He never looks awayand he keeps his eyes locked on mine, evenwhen he dips his head to plant kisses aroundthe edges of my lips. The way he looks at me

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makes me feel...I try to search for an adject-ive to follow up that thought, but I can’t findone. He just makes me feel. He’s the only boythat’s ever cared whether or not I’m feelinganything at all, and for that alone, I let himsteal another small piece of my heart. But itdoesn’t feel like enough, because I unexpec-tedly want to give it all to him.“Holder,” I breathe. He slides his hands upmy waist and moves closer to me.“Sky,” he says, mimicking my tone. Hismouth reaches my lips and he slips histongue inside. It’s sweet and warm and Iknow it hasn’t been very long since I lasttasted it, but I’ve missed it. His hands are oneither side of my head and he’s being carefulnot to touch me with any part of his hands orhis body now. Only his mouth.“Holder,” I mumble, pulling away. I bringmy hand to his cheek. “I want to. Tonight.Right now.”

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His expression doesn’t change. He stares atme like he didn’t hear me. Maybe he didn’thear me, because he certainly isn’t taking meup on the offer.“Sky…” His voice is full of hesitation. “Wedon’t have to. I want you to be absolutelypositive it’s what you want. Okay?” He’scaressing my cheek now. “I don’t want torush you into anything.”“I know that. But I’m telling you I want this.I’ve never wanted it with anyone before, butI want it with you.”His eyes are trained on mine and he’s soak-ing in every single word I’ve said. He’s eitherin denial or shock, neither of which are help-ing my cause. I take both of my hands andplace them on his cheeks, then pull his lips inclose to mine. “This isn’t me saying yes,Holder. This is me saying please.”With that, his lips crash to mine and hegroans. Hearing that sound come from deep

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within his chest further solidifies my de-cision. I need him and I need him now.“We’re really doing this?” he says into mymouth, still kissing me frantically.“Yes. We’re really doing this. I’ve never beenmore positive of anything in my life.”

His hand slips up my thigh and he slipshis hand between my hip and my panties,then begins to slide them down.

“I just need you to promise me one thingfirst,” I say.He kisses me softly, then pulls his hand awayfrom my underwear (dammit) and nods.“Anything, baby.”I grab his hand and put it right back where itwas on my hip. “I want to do this, but only ifyou promise we’ll break the record for thebest first time in the history of first times.”He grins down at me. “When it’s you and me,Sky…it’ll never be anything less.”He snakes his arm underneath my back andpulls me up with him. His hands move to my

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arms and he hooks his fingers underneaththe thin straps of my dress, sliding them offmy shoulders. I close my eyes tightly andpress my cheek to his, fisting my hands in hishair. I can feel his breath meet my shoulderbefore his lips do. He barely kisses it, but it’sas if he touches and ignites every part of mefrom the inside out with that one kiss.“I’m taking it off.” My eyes are still closedand I’m not sure if he’s telling me or askingmy permission to remove the dress, but Inod anyway. He lifts my dress up and overmy head—my bare skin prickling beneath histouch. He gently lays me back against mypillow and I open my eyes, looking up athim, admiring just how incredibly beautifulhe really is. After regarding me intensely forseveral seconds, he drops his gaze to hishand that’s curved around my waist.He slowly moves his eyes up and down mybody. “Holy shit, Sky.” He runs his hand over

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my stomach, then leans down and kisses itsoftly. “You’re incredible.”I’ve never been this exposed in front ofsomeone before, but the way he’s admiringme only makes me want to be this exposed.He slides his hand up to my bra and grazeshis thumb just underneath it—causing mylips to part and my eyes to close again.Oh my, God, I want him. Really, really bad.I grab his face and pull it to mine, locking mylegs around his hips. He groans and slips hishand away from my bra and down to mywaist again. He slides my panties down mythighs, forcing me to unlock my legs and lethim take them off completely. My bra isquick to follow and once all of my clotheshave been removed, he scoots his legs off thebed and halfway stands up, leaning over me.I’ve still got hold of his face and we’re stillfrantically kissing while he removes hispants, then climbs back onto the bed withme, lowering himself on top of me. We’re

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skin to skin now for the first time, so closethat air couldn’t even pass between us, yet itstill feels like we aren’t near close enough.He reaches across the mattress and his handfumbles over the nightstand. He removes acondom out of the drawer, then lays it downon the bed, lowering himself on top of meagain. The hardness and weight of him forcesmy legs further apart. I wince when I realizethe anticipation in my stomach is suddenlyturning into dread.And nausea.And fear.My heart is racing and my breaths begin tocome in short gasps. Tears sting at my eyesas his hand moves around beside us on thebed, searching for the condom. He finds itand I hear him open it, but I’m squeezing myeyes shut. I can feel him pull back and lift uponto his knees. I know he’s putting it on andI know what comes next. I know how it feels

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and I know how much it hurts and I knowhow it’ll make me cry when it’s over.

But how do I know? How do I know ifI’ve never done this before?My lips begin to tremble when he positionshimself between my legs again. I try to thinkof something to take away the fear, so I visu-alize the sky and the stars and how beautifulit all is, attempting to ease my panic. If I re-mind myself that the sky is beautiful no mat-ter what, I can think about that and forgethow ugly this is. I don’t want to open myeyes, so I just count silently inside my head. Ivisualize the stars above my bed and I startfrom the bottom of the cluster, working myway up.One, two, three…I count and I count and I count.Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…I hold my breath and focus, focus, focus onthe stars.Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine…

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I want him to be done already. I just wanthim off of me.Seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-“Dammit, Sky!” Holder yells. He’s pulling myarm away from my eyes. I don’t want him tomake me look, so I hold my arm tighteragainst my face so everything will stay darkand I can keep silently counting.All of the sudden, my back is being lifted upin the air and I’m not against the pillow any-more. My arms are limp and his are wrappedtightly around me, but I can’t move. My armsare too weak and I’m sobbing too hard. I’mcrying so hard and he’s moving me and Idon’t know why so I open my eyes. I’m goingback and forth and back and forth and for asecond, I panic and squeeze my eyes shut,thinking he’s not finished. But I can feel thecovers around me and his arm is squeezingmy back and he’s soothing my hair with hishand, whispering in my ear.

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“Baby, it’s okay.” He’s pressing his lips intomy hair, rocking me back and forth withhim. I open my eyes again and tears areclouding my vision. “I’m sorry, Sky. I’m sosorry.”He’s kissing the side of my head over andover while he rocks me, telling me he’s sorry.He’s apologizing for something. Somethinghe wants me to forgive him for this time.He pulls back and sees that my eyes areopen. His eyes are red but I don’t see anytears. He’s shaking though. Or maybe it’s mewho’s shaking. I think we’re both shaking.He’s looking into my eyes, searching forsomething. Searching for me. I begin to relaxin his arms, because when his arms arewrapped around me, I don’t feel like I’m fall-ing off the edge of the earth. “Whathappened?” I ask him. I don’t understandwhere this is coming from.He shakes his head, his eyes full of sorrowand fear and regret. “I don’t know. You just

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started counting and crying and shaking andI kept trying to get you to stop, Sky. Youwouldn’t stop. You were terrified. What did Ido? Tell me baby, because I’m so sorry. I amso, so sorry. What the fuck did I do?”I just shake my head because I don’t have ananswer.He grimaces and drops his forehead to mine.“I’m so sorry. I never should have let it gothat far. I don’t know what the hell justhappened, but you’re not ready yet, okay?”I’m not ready yet?“So we didn’t…we didn’t have sex?”His hands loosen around me and I can feelhis whole demeanor shift. The look in hiseyes is nothing but loss and defeat. His eye-brows draw apart and he frowns, cupping mycheeks. “Where’d you go, Sky?”I shake my head, confused. “I’m right here.I’m listening.”“No, I mean earlier. Where’d you go? Youweren’t here with me because no, nothing

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happened. I could see on your face thatsomething was wrong, so I didn’t do it. Butnow you need to think long and hard aboutwhere you were inside that head of yours, be-cause you were panicked. You were hysteric-al and I need to know what it was that tookyou there so I can make sure you never goback.”He kisses me on the forehead and releaseshis hold from around my back. He stands upand pulls his jeans on, then picks up mydress. He shakes it out, then flips it over un-til it slides down his hands, then he walks to-ward me and puts it on over my head. Helifts my arms and helps me slide them intothe dress, then he pulls it down over mywaist, covering me. “I’ll go get you some wa-ter. I’ll be right back.” He kisses me tentat-ively on the lips, almost as if he’s scared totouch me again. After he walks out of theroom, I lean my head against the wall andclose my eyes.

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I have no idea what just happened, but thefear of losing him because of it is a valid one.I just took one of the most intimate thingsimaginable, and I turned it into a disaster. Imade him feel worthless, like he didsomething wrong and now he feels bad forme because of it. He probably wants me toleave, and I don’t blame him. I don’t blamehim a bit. I want to run away from me, too.I throw the covers off and stand up, then pullmy dress down. I don’t even bother lookingfor my underwear. I need to find the bath-room and get myself together so he can takeme home. This is twice this weekend that I’vebeen deduced to tears and I don’t even knowwhy—and twice that he’s had to save me. I’mnot doing it to him again.When I pass the stairs looking for the re-stroom, I glance down over the railing intothe kitchen. He’s leaning forward with his el-bows on the bar and his face buried in hishands. He’s just standing there, looking

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miserable and upset. I can’t watch him any-more, so I open the first door to my right, as-suming it’s the bathroom.It’s not.It’s Lesslie’s bedroom. I start to pull the doorshut, but I don’t. Instead, I open it wider andslip inside, then shut it behind me. I don’tcare if I’m in a bathroom, a bedroom or acloset…I just need peace and quiet. Time toregroup from whatever the hell is going onwith me. I’m beginning to think that maybe Iam crazy. I’ve never spaced out that severelybefore and it terrifies me. My hands are stillshaking, so I clasp them together in front ofme and try to focus on something else in or-der to calm myself down.I take in my surroundings and find the bed-room to be somewhat disturbing. The bedisn’t made, which strikes me as odd. Holder’sentire house is spotless, but Lesslie’s bedisn’t made. There’s a pair of jeans in themiddle of the floor and it looks like she just

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stepped out of them. I look around at theroom and it seems typical of a teenage girl.Makeup on the dresser, an iPod on the night-stand. It looks like she still lives here. Fromthe look of her room, it doesn’t look like she’sgone at all. It’s obvious no one has touchedthis room since she died. Her pictures are allstill hanging on the walls and stuck to hervanity mirror. All of her clothes are still inher closet, some piled in the closet floor. It’sbeen over a year since he said she passedaway, and I’m willing to bet that no one inhis family has accepted it yet.It feels eerie being in here, but it’s keepingmy mind off of what’s happening right now. Iwalk to the bed and look at the pictureshanging on the wall. Most of them are ofLesslie and her friends with just a few ofHolder and her together. She looks a lot likeHolder with his intense, crystal blue eyes anddark brown hair. What surprises me themost is how happy she looks. She looks so

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content and full of life in every single picture,it’s hard to imagine what was really going oninside of her head. No wonder Holder didn’thave a clue about how desolate she reallyfelt. She more than likely never let anyoneknow.I pick up a picture from her nightstand that’sturned facedown. When I flip it over andlook at it, I gasp. It’s a picture of her kissingGrayson on the cheek and they have theirarms around each other. The picture stunsme and I have to take a seat on the bed to re-gain my bearings. This is why Holder hateshim so much? This is why he didn’t want himtouching me? I wonder if he blames Graysonfor what she did.I’m holding the picture, still sitting on thebed, when the bedroom door opens. Holderpeers around the door. “What are you do-ing?” He doesn’t seem angry that I’m in here.He does seem uncomfortable, though, which

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is probably just a reaction from how I madehim feel earlier.“I was looking for the bathroom,” I say,quietly. “I’m sorry. I just needed a second.”He leans against the doorway and crosses hisarms over his chest while his eyes work theirway around the room. He’s taking ineverything like I am. Like it’s all new to him.“Has no one been in here? Since she…”“No,” he says quickly. “What would be thepoint of it? She’s gone.”I nod, then place the picture of Lesslie andGrayson back on the nightstand, facedownlike she had left it. “Was she dating him?”He takes a hesitant step into the bedroom,then walks over to the bed. He sits down be-side me and rests his elbows on his knees,clasping his hands in front of him. He looksaround the room slowly, not answering myquestion right away. He glances at me, thenwraps his arm around my shoulders, pullingme to him. The fact that he’s sitting here

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with me right now, still wanting to hold me,makes me want to burst into tears.“He broke up with her the night before shedid it,” he says quietly.I try not to gasp, but his words shock me.“Do you think he’s the reason why she did it?Is that why you hate him so much?”He shakes his head. “I hated him before hebroke up with her. He put her through a lotof shit, Sky. And no, I don’t think he’s whyshe did it. I think maybe it was the decidingfactor in a decision she had wanted to makefor a long time. She had issues way beforeGrayson ever came into the picture. So no, Idon’t blame him. I never have.” He stands upand takes my hand. “Come on. I don’t wantto be in here anymore.”I take one last glance around the room, thenstand up to follow him. I stop before wereach the door, though. He turns around andwatches me observe the pictures on herdresser. There’s a framed picture of Holder

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and Lesslie when they were kids. I pick it upand bring it in closer for inspection. So-mething about seeing him that young makesme smile. Seeing both of them thatyoung...it’s refreshing. Like there’s innocenceabout them before the ugly realities of lifehit. They’re standing in front of a white-framed house and Holder has his armaround her neck and he’s squeezing her.She’s got her arms wrapped around his waistand they’re smiling at the camera.My eyes move from their faces to the housebehind them in the photo. It’s a white-framed house with yellow trim and if youwere to see the inside of the house, the livingroom is painted two different shades ofgreen.I immediately close my eyes. How do I knowthat? How do I know what color the livingroom is?My hands start shaking and I try to suck in abreath, but I can’t. How do I know that

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house? I know that house like I somehowsuddenly know the kids in the picture. Howdo I know there’s a green and white swing setbehind that house? And ten feet from theswing set is a dry well that has to staycovered because Lesslie’s cat fell down itonce.“You okay?” Holder says. He tries to take thepicture out of my hands, but I snatch it fromhim and look up at him. His eyes are con-cerned and he takes a step toward me. I takea step back.How do I know him?How do I know Lesslie?Why do I feel like I miss them? I shake myhead, looking down at the picture and backup at Holder, then down to the picture again.This time, Lesslie’s wrist catches my eye.She’s wearing a bracelet. A bracelet identicalto mine.I want to ask him about it but I can’t. I try,but nothing comes out, so I just hold up the

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picture instead. He shakes his head and hisface drops like his heart is breaking. “Sky,no,” he says, pleadingly.“How?” My voice cracks and is barely aud-ible. I look back down to the picture in myhands. “There’s a swing set. And a well.And…your cat. It got stuck in the well.” I dartmy eyes up to his and the thoughts keeppouring out. “Holder, I know that livingroom. The living room is green and the kit-chen had a countertop that was way too tallfor us and…your mother. Your mother’sname is Beth.” I pause and try to take abreath, because the memories won’t stop.They won’t stop coming and I can’t breathe.“Holder…is Beth your mother’s name?”Holder grimaces and runs his hands throughhis hair. “Sky…” he says. He can’t even lookat me. His expression is torn and confusedand he’s…he’s been lying to me. He’s holdingsomething back and he’s scared to tell me.

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He knows me. How the hell does he knowme and why hasn’t he told me?I suddenly feel sick. I rush past him andopen the door across the hall, which happensto be a bathroom, thank God. I lock the doorbehind me and throw the framed picture onthe counter, then fall straight to the floor.The images and memories start inundatingmy mind like the floodgates have just beenlifted. Memories of him, of her, of the threeof us together. Memories of us playing, meeating dinner at their house, me and Les be-ing inseparable. I loved her. I was so youngand so small and I don’t even know how Iknew them, but I loved them. Both of them.The memory is coupled by the grief of nowknowing the Lesslie I knew and loved as alittle girl is gone. I suddenly feel sad and de-pressed that she’s gone, but not for me. Notfor Sky. I’m sad for the little girl I used to beand somehow her grief over the loss of Less-lie is emerging through me.

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How have I not known? How did I not re-member him the first time I saw him?“Sky, open the door. Please.”I fall back against the wall. It’s too much. Thememories and the emotions and thegrief…it’s too much to absorb all at once.“Baby, please. We need to talk and I can’t doit from out here. Please, open the door.”He knew. The first time he saw me at thegrocery store, he knew. And when he saw mybracelet…he knew I got it from Lesslie. Hesaw me wearing it and he knew.My grief and confusion soon turn to angerand I push myself up off the floor and walkswiftly to the bathroom door. I unlock it andswing it open. His hands are on either side ofthe doorframe and he’s looking directly atme, but I feel like I don’t even know who heis. I don’t know what’s real between us andwhat’s fake anymore. I don’t know what feel-ings of his are from his life with me or thelife with that little girl I used to be.

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I need to know. I need to know who she was.Who I was. I swallow my fear and release thequestion that I’m afraid I already know theanswer to. “Who’s Hope?”His hardened expression doesn’t change, so Iask him again, but louder this time.“Who the hell is Hope?”He keeps his eyes locked on mine and hishands placed firmly on the doorframe, but hecan’t answer me. For some reason he doesn’twant me to know. He doesn’t want me to re-member who I was. I take a deep breath andtry to fight back the tears. I’m too scared tosay it, because I don’t want to know theanswer.“Is it me?” I ask, my voice shaking and full oftrepidation. “Holder…am I Hope?”He lets out a quick breath at the same timehe looks up at the ceiling, almost as if he’sstruggling not to cry. He closes his eyes andlays his forehead against his arm, then takes

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a long, deep breath before looking back atme. “Yes.”The air around me grows thick. Too thick totake in. I stand still, directly in front of him,unable to move. Everything grows quiet ex-cept for what’s inside my head. There are somany thoughts and questions and memoriesand they’re all trying to take over and I don’tknow if I need to cry or scream or sleep orrun.I need to go outside. I feel like Holder andthe bathroom and the whole damn house areclosing in on me and I need to go outside sothere’s room to get everything out of myhead. I just want it all out.I shove past him and he tries to grab my arm,but I yank it out of his grasp.“Sky, wait,” he yells after me. I keep runninguntil I reach the stairs and I descend them asfast as I can, taking two at a time. I can hearhim following me, so I speed up and my footlands further than I intend for it to. I lose my

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grip on the rail and fall forward, landing onthe floor at the base of the stairs.“Sky!” he yells. I try to pull myself up buthe’s on his knees with his arms around mebefore I even have the chance. I push againsthim, wanting him to let go of me so I can justgo outside. He doesn’t budge.“Outside,” I say, breathless and weak. “I justneed outside. Please, Holder.”I can feel him struggling from within, notwanting to release me. He reluctantly pullsme away from his chest and looks down atme, searching my eyes. “Don’t run, Sky. Gooutside, but please don’t leave. We need totalk.”I nod and he releases me, then helps mestand up. When I walk out the front door andonto the lawn, I clasp my hands together be-hind my head and inhale a huge, cold breathof air. I tilt my head back and look up at thestars, wishing more than anything that I wasup there and not down here. I don’t want the

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memories to keep coming, because with eachconfusing memory comes an even more con-fusing question. I don’t understand how Iknow him. I don’t understand why he kept itfrom me. I don’t understand how my namecould have been Hope, when all I’ve ever re-membered being called was Sky. I don’t un-derstand why Karen would tell me that Skywas my birth name if it isn’t. Everything Ithought I understood after all these years isunraveling, revealing things that I don’t wantto know. I’m being lied to, and I’m terrifiedto know what it is that everyone’s trying tokeep from me.I stand outside for what feels like forever, at-tempting to sort through this alone when Ihave no idea what it is I’m even trying to sortthrough. I need to talk to Holder and I needto know what he knows, but I’m hurt. I don’twant to face him, knowing he’s been hidingthis secret all along. It makes everything that

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I thought was happening between us nothingbut a façade.I’m emotionally spent and have had all therevelations I can take for one night. I justwant to go home and go to bed. I need tosleep on this before we go into the fact ofwhy he didn’t just tell me he knew me as achild. I don’t understand why it wassomething he even thought he should keepfrom me.I turn around and walk back toward thehouse. He’s standing in the doorway, watch-ing me. He steps aside to let me back in and Iwalk straight to the kitchen and open the re-frigerator. I grab a bottle of water and openit, then take several gulps. My mouth is dryand I never did get the water he said he wasgetting for me earlier.I set the bottle down on the bar and look athim. “Take me home.”He doesn’t object. He turns around andgrabs his keys off the entryway table, then

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motions for me to follow him. I leave the wa-ter on the bar and silently follow him to thecar. When I climb inside, he backs out of thedriveway and pulls onto the road withoutspeaking a word.We pass my turn-off and it’s apparent thathe has no intention to take me home. Iglance over at him and his eyes are focusedhard on the road in front of him. “Take mehome,” I say again.He looks at me with a determined expres-sion. “We need to talk, Sky. You have ques-tions, I know you do.”I do. I have a million questions I need to ask,but I was hoping he would let me sleep on itso I could sort them out and try to answer asmany of them as I could myself. But it’s obvi-ous he doesn’t care what I prefer at thispoint. I reluctantly take off my seatbelt andturn in my seat, leaning with my backagainst the door to face him. If he doesn’twant to give me time to let this soak in, I’ll

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just lay all of my questions on him at once.But I’m making it fast because I want him totake me home.“Fine,” I say stubbornly. “Let’s get this overwith. Why have you been lying to me for twomonths? Why did my bracelet piss you off somuch that you couldn’t speak to me forweeks? Or why you didn’t just say who youreally thought I was the day we met at thegrocery store? Because you knew, Holder.You knew who I was and for some reasonyou thought it would be funny to string mealong until I figured it all out. Do you evenlike me? Was this game you’ve been playingworth hurting me more than I’ve ever beenhurt in my life? Because that’s whathappened,” I say, furious to the point thatI’m shaking.I finally give in to the tears because it’s justone more thing that’s trying to get out andI’m tired of fighting them. I wipe them awayfrom my cheeks with the back of my hand

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and lower my voice. “You hurt me, Holder.So bad. You promised you would only everbe honest with me.” I’m not raising my voiceanymore. In fact, I’m talking so quietly thatI’m not even sure he can hear me. He keepsstaring at the road like the asshole that he is.I squeeze my eyes shut and fold my armsacross my chest, then fall back into my seat. Istare out the passenger window and curseKarma. I curse Karma for bringing this hope-less boy into my life just so he could ruin it.When he continues to drive without re-sponding to a single word I’ve said, I can donothing but let out a small, pathetic laugh.“You really are hopeless,” I mutter.

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“I need to pee,” she giggles. We’re croucheddown under their porch, waiting for Deanto come find us. I like playing hide and seek,but I like to be the one hiding. I don’t wantthem to know that I can’t do the countingthing yet like they always ask me to do.Dean always tells me to count to twentywhen they go hide, but I don’t know how. SoI just stand with my eyes closed and pretendI’m counting. Both of them are already inschool and I can’t go until next year, so Idon’t know how to count as good as they do.“He’s coming,” she says, crawling backwarda few feet. The dirt under the porch is cold,

so I’m trying not to touch it with my handslike she is, but my legs are hurting.“Les!” he yells. He walks closer to the porchand head straight for the steps. We’ve beenhiding a long time and he looks like he’stired of looking for us. He sits down on thesteps, which are almost right in front of us.When I tilt my head, I can look right up athis face. “I’m tired of looking!”I turn around and look at Lesslie to see ifshe’s ready to run to base. She shakes herhead no and holds her finger to her lips.“Hope!” he yells, still sitting on the steps. “Igive up!” He looks around the yard, thensighs quietly. He mumbles and kicks at thegravel under his foot and it makes melaugh. Lesslie punches me on the arm andtells me to be quiet.He starts laughing, and at first I think it’sbecause he hears us, but then I realize he’sjust talking to himself.

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“Hope and Les,” he says, quietly. “Hopeless.”He laughs again and stands up. “You hearthat?” he yells, cupping his hands aroundhis mouth. “The two of you are hopeless!”Hearing him turn our names into a wordmakes Lesslie laugh and she crawls outfrom under the porch. I follow her andstand up as soon as Dean turns around andsees her. He smiles and looks at both of us,our knees covered in dirt with cobwebs inour hair. He shakes his head and says itagain. “Hopeless.”

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The memory is so vivid; I have no idea howit’s just now coming to me. How I could seehis tattoo day after day and hear him sayHope and how he talks about Les, yet stillnot remember? I reach over the seat andgrab his arm, then pull his sleeve up. I knowit’s there. I know what it says. But this is thefirst time I’m looking at it, knowing what itactually means.“Why did you get it?” He’s told me before,but I want to know the real reason now. Hepulls his gaze from the road and glances atme.“I told you. It’s a reminder of the people I’velet down in my life.”

I close my eyes and fall back into my seat,shaking my head. He said he doesn’t dovague, but I can’t think of an explanationmore vague than the one he keeps giving meabout his tattoo. How could he have let medown? The fact that he thinks he somehowlet me down at that young of an age doesn’teven make sense. And the fact that he feelsenough regret about it to turn it into somecryptic tattoo is really beyond any guesses Icould fathom at this point. I don’t know whatelse I can say or do to get him to take meback home. He didn’t answer any of myquestions and now he’s playing his mindgames again by giving me cryptic, non-an-swers. I just want to go home.He pulls the car over and I’m hoping he’sturning it around. Instead, he kills the igni-tion and opens his door. I look out the win-dow and recognize that we’re at the airportagain. I’m annoyed. I don’t want to comehere and watch him stare at the stars again

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while he thinks. I want answers or I want togo home.I swing open the door and reluctantly followhim to the fence, hoping if I appease him thisone last time that I’ll get a quick explanationfrom him. He helps me scale the fence againand we both walk back to our spots on therunway and lay down.I look up in hopes of spotting a shooting star.I could really use a wish or two right now. Iwould wish I could go back to two monthsago and never step foot into the grocery storethat day.“Are you ready for answers?” he says.I turn my head toward his. “I’m ready ifyou’re actually planning on being honest thistime.”He faces me, then pulls up on his arm androlls onto his side, looking down at me. Hedoes his thing again, silently staring at me.It’s darker than it was when we were outhere the last time, so it’s hard to make out

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the expression on his face. I can tell he’s sad,though. His eyes have never been able tohide the sadness. He leans forward and liftshis hand, bringing it to my cheek. “I need tokiss you.”I almost break out into laughter, but I’mafraid if I do it will be the maniacal kind andthat terrifies me, because I already assumeI’m going crazy. I shake my head, shockedthat he would even think I would let him kissme right now. Not after finding out he’s beenlying to me for two solid months.“No,” I say forcefully. He keeps his face closeto mine and his hand on my cheek. I hatethat even though every ounce of anger in meis a result of his deceit, my body still re-sponds to his touch. It’s an odd internalbattle when you can’t decide if you want topunch the mouth sitting three inches in frontof your face, or taste it.“I need to kiss you,” he says again, this timea desperate plea. “Please, Sky. I’m scared

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that after I tell you what I’m about to tellyou…I’ll never get to kiss you again.” Hepulls himself closer to me and strokes mycheek with his thumb, never taking his eyesoff mine. “Please.”I nod slightly, unsure why my weakness isgetting the best of me. He lowers his mouthto mine and kisses me. I close my eyes andallow him in, because a huge part of me isjust as scared that this is the last time I’ll feelhis mouth against mine. I’m scared it’s thelast time I’ll ever feel anything, because he’sthe only one I’ve ever wanted to feel anythingwith.He adjusts himself until he’s on his knees,holding onto my face with one hand and bra-cing his other hand on the concrete besidemy head. I lift my hand and run it throughhis hair, pulling him to my mouth more ur-gently. Tasting him and feeling his breath asit mixes with mine momentarily takeseverything about tonight and locks it away.

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In this moment, I’m focused on him and myheart and how it’s swelling and breaking allat the same time. The thought that what Ifeel for him isn’t even warranted or true ismaking me hurt. I hurt everywhere. In myhead, in my gut, in my chest, in my heart, inmy soul. Before, I felt like his kiss could cureme. Now his kiss feels like it’s creating a ter-minal heartache deep within me.He can sense my defeat taking over as thesobs start coming from my throat. He moveshis lips to my cheek, then my ear. “I’m sosorry,” he says, holding onto me. “Baby, I’mso sorry. I didn’t want you to know.”I close my eyes and push him away from me,then sit up and take a deep breath. I wipe thetears away with the back of my hand and Ipull my legs up, hugging them tightly. I burymy face in my knees so I don’t have to look athim again.“I just want you to talk, Holder. I asked youeverything I could ever ask you on the way

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here. I need you to answer me now so I canjust go home.” My voice is defeated anddone.His hand moves to the back of my head andhe drags his fingers through my hair, overand over again while he works up a response.He clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure if youwere Hope the first time I saw you. I was soused to seeing her in every single strangerour age, I had given up trying to find her afew years ago. But when I saw you at thestore and looked into your eyes…I had a feel-ing you really were her. When you showedme your ID and I realized you weren’t, I feltridiculous. It was like the wake-up call Ineeded to finally just let the memory of hergo.”He stops talking and runs his hand slowlydown my hair, resting it on my back, but tra-cing light circles with his finger. I want topush his hand away, but I want it right whereit is even more.

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“We lived next door to you and your dad fora year. You and me and Les…we were all bestfriends. It’s so hard to remember faces fromthat long ago, though. I thought you wereHope, but I also thought that if you reallywere her, I wouldn’t be doubting it. I thoughtif I ever saw her again, I’d know for sure.“When I left the grocery store that day, I im-mediately looked up the name you gave meonline. I couldn’t find anything about you,not even on Facebook. I searched for an hourstraight and became so frustrated that I wentfor a run to cool down. When I rounded thecorner and saw you standing in front of myhouse, I couldn’t breathe. You were juststanding there, worn out and exhausted fromrunning and…Jesus, Sky. You were so beau-tiful. I still wasn’t sure if you were Hope ornot, but at that point it wasn’t even goingthrough my mind. I didn’t care who youwere; I just needed to know you.

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“After spending time with you that week, Icouldn’t stop myself from going to yourhouse that Friday night. I didn’t show upwith the intention of digging up your past oreven in the hopes that something would hap-pen between us. I went to your house be-cause I wanted you to know the real me, notthe me you had heard about from everyoneelse. After spending more time with you thatnight, I couldn’t think of anything else be-sides figuring out how I could spend moretime with you. I had never met anyone whogot me the way you did. I still wondered if itwas possible…if you were her. I was espe-cially curious after you told me you were ad-opted, but again, I thought maybe it was acoincidence.“But then when I saw the bracelet…” Hestops talking and takes his hand off of myback. His fingers slide under my chin and hepulls my face away from my knees andmakes me look him in the eyes. “My heart

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broke, Sky. I didn’t want you to be her. Iwanted you to tell me you got the braceletfrom your friend or that you found it or youbought it. After all the years I spent search-ing for you in every single face I ever lookedat, I finally found you…and I was devastated.I didn’t want you to be Hope. I just wantedyou to be you.”I shake my head, still just as confused as be-fore. “But why didn’t you just tell me? Howhard would it have been to admit that weused to know each other? I don’t understandwhy you’ve been lying about it.”He eyes me for a moment while he searchesfor a good enough response, then brusheshair away from my face. “What do you re-member about your adoption?”I shake my head. “Not a lot. I know I was infoster care after my father gave me up. Iknow Karen adopted me and we moved herefrom out of state when I was five. Other than

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that and a few odd memories, I don’t knowanything.”He squares his body up with mine and placesboth of his hands on my shoulders firmly,like he’s getting frustrated. “That’s all stuffKaren told you. I want to know what you re-member. What do you remember, Sky?”This time I shake my head slowly. “Nothing.The earliest memories I have are with Karen.The only thing I remember from before Kar-en was getting the bracelet, but that’s onlybecause I still have it and the memory stuckwith me. I wasn’t even sure who gave it tome.”Holder takes my face in his hands and lowershis lips to my forehead. He keeps his lipsthere, holding me against his mouth like he’safraid to pull away because he doesn’t wantto have to talk. He doesn’t want to have totell me whatever it is he knows.“Just say it,” I whisper. “Tell me what you’rewishing you didn’t have to tell me.”

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He pulls his mouth away and presses hisforehead against mine. His eyes are closedand he’s got a firm grip on my face. He looksso sad and it makes me want to hold himdespite my frustration with him. I reach myarms around him and I hug him. He hugs meback and pulls me onto his lap in the pro-cess. I wrap my legs around his waist and ourforeheads are still meshed together. He’sholding onto me, but this time it feels likehe’s holding onto me because his earth hasbeen shifted off its axis, and I’m his core.“Just tell me, Holder.”He runs his hand down to my lower back andhe opens his eyes, pulling his forehead awayfrom mine so he can look at me when hespeaks.“The day Les gave you that bracelet, youwere crying. I remember every single detaillike it happened yesterday. You were sittingin your yard against your house. Les and Isat with you for a long time, but you never

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stopped crying. After she gave you yourbracelet she walked back to our house but Icouldn’t. I felt bad leaving you there, becauseI thought you might be mad at your dadagain. You were always crying because ofhim and it made me hate him. I don’t re-member anything about the guy, other than Ihated his guts for making you feel like youdid. I was only six years old, so I never knewwhat to say to you when you cried. I thinkthat day I said something like, ‘Don’tworry…’”“He won’t live forever,” I say, finishing hissentence. “I remember that day. Les givingme the bracelet and you saying he won’t liveforever. Those are the two things I’ve re-membered all this time. I just didn’t know itwas you.”“Yeah, that’s what I said to you.” He bringshis hands to my cheeks and continues. “Andthen I did something I’ve regretted everysingle day of my life since.”

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I shake my head. “Holder, you didn’t do any-thing. You just walked away.”“Exactly,” he says. “I walked to my front yardeven though I knew I should have sat backdown in the grass beside you. I stood in myfront yard and I watched you cry into yourarms, when you should have been crying intomine. I just stood there…and I watched thecar pull up to the curb. I watched the passen-ger window roll down and I heard someonecall your name. I watched you look up at thecar and wipe your eyes. You stood up andyou dusted off your shorts, then you walkedto the car. I watched you climb inside and Iknew whatever was happening I shouldn’thave just been standing there. But all I didwas watch, when I should have been withyou. It never would have happened if I wouldhave stayed right there with you.”The fear and regret in his voice is causing myheart to race against my chest. I somehowfind strength to speak, despite the fear

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consuming me. “What never would havehappened?”He kisses me on the forehead again and histhumbs brush delicately over mycheekbones. He looks at me like he’s scaredhe’s about to break my heart.“They took you. Whoever was in that car,they took you from your dad, from me, fromLes. You’ve been missing for thirteen years,Hope.”

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One of the things I love about books is beingable to define and condense certain portionsof a characters life into chapters. It’s in-triguing, because you can’t do this with reallife. You can’t just end a chapter, then skipthe things you don’t want to live through,only to open it up to a chapter that bettersuits your mood. Life can’t be divided intochapters...only minutes. The events of yourlife are all crammed together one minuteright after the other without any time lapsesor blank pages or chapter breaks because nomatter what happens life just keeps goingand moving forward and words keep flowingand truths keep spewing whether you like it

or not and life never lets you pause and justcatch your fucking breath.I need one of those chapter breaks. I justwant to catch my breath, but I have no ideahow.“Say something,” he says. I’m still sitting inhis lap, wrapped around him. My head ispressed against his shoulder and my eyes areshut. He places his hand on the back of myhead and lowers his mouth to my ear, hold-ing me tighter. “Please. Say something.”I don’t know what he wants me to say. Doeshe want me to act surprised? Shocked? Doeshe want me to cry? Does he want me toscream? I can’t do any of those things be-cause I’m still trying to wrap my mindaround what he’s saying.“You’ve been missing for thirteen years,Hope.”His words repeat over and over in my mindlike a broken record.“Missing.”

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I’m hoping he means missing in a figurativesense, like maybe he’s just missed me allthese years. I doubt that’s the case, though. Icould see the look in his eyes when he saidthose words, and he didn’t want to say themat all. He knew what it would do to me.Maybe he really does mean missing in the lit-eral sense, but he’s just confused. We wereboth so young; he probably doesn’t remem-ber the sequence of events correctly. But thelast two months flash before my eyes, andeverything about him…all of his personalitiesand mood swings and cryptic words come in-to clear focus. Like the night he was standingin my doorway and said he’d been lookingfor me his whole damn life. He was being lit-eral about that.Or our first night sitting right here on thisrunway when he asked if I’d had a good life.He’s worried for thirteen years about whathappened to me. He was being very literal

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then, wanting to know if I was happy withwhere I ended up.Or the day he refused to apologize for theway he acted in the cafeteria, explaining thathe knew why it upset him but he justcouldn’t tell me yet. I didn’t question it then,because he seemed sincere that he wanted toexplain himself one day. Never in a millionyears could I have guessed why it upset himso much to see that bracelet on me. He didn’twant me to be Hope because he knew thetruth would break my heart.He was right.“You’ve been missing for thirteen years,Hope.”The last word of his sentence sends a shiverdown my spine. I slowly lift my face awayfrom his shoulder and look at him. “Youcalled me Hope. Don’t call me that. It’s notmy name.”He nods. “I’m sorry, Sky.”

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The last word of that sentence sends a shiverdown my spine as well. I slide off of him andstand up. “Don’t call me that, either,” I sayresolutely. I don’t want to be called Hope orSky or Princess or anything else that separ-ates me from any other part of myself. I’msuddenly feeling like I’m completely differentpeople, wrapped up into one. Someone whodoesn’t know who she is or where she be-longs and it’s disturbing. I’ve never felt soisolated in my life; like there isn’t a singleperson in this entire world I can trust. Noteven myself. I can’t even trust my ownmemories.Holder stands up and takes my hands, look-ing down at me. He’s watching me, waitingfor me to react. He’ll be disappointed be-cause I’m not going to react. Not right here.Not right now. Part of me wants to cry whilehe wraps his arms around me and whispers,“Don’t worry,” into my ear. Part of me wantsto scream and yell and hit him for deceiving

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me. Part of me wants to allow him to contin-ue to blame himself for not stopping what hesays happened thirteen years ago. Most ofme just wants it all to go away, though. Iwant to go back to feeling nothing again. Imiss the numbness.I pull my hands from his and begin to walktoward the car. “I need a chapter break,” Isay, more to myself than to him.He follows a step behind me. “I don’t evenknow what that means.” His voice soundsdefeated and overwhelmed. He grabs myarm to stop me, more than likely to ask howI’m feeling, but I jerk it away and spinaround to face him again. I don’t want him toask me how I’m feeling, because I have noidea. I’m running through an entire gamut offeelings right now, some I’ve never even ex-perienced before. Rage and fear and sadnessand disbelief are building up inside of meand I want it to stop. I just want to stop feel-ing everything that I’m feeling, so I reach up

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and grab his face and press my lips to his. Ikiss him hard and fast, wanting him to react,but he doesn’t. He doesn’t kiss me back. Herefuses to help make the pain go away likethis, so my anger takes over and I separatemy lips from his, then slap him.He barely flinches and it infuriates me. Iwant him to hurt like I’m hurting. I want himto feel what his words just did to me. I slaphim again and he allows it. When he stilldoesn’t react, I push against his chest. I pushhim and shove him over and over—trying togive him back every ounce of pain he’s justimmersed into my soul. I ball my fists up andhit him in the chest and when that doesn’twork, I start screaming and hitting him andtrying to get out of his arms because they’rewrapped around me now. He spins mearound so that my back is against his chestand our arms are locked together, foldedtightly across my stomach.

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“Breathe,” he whispers into my ear. “Calmdown, Sky. I know you’re confused andscared, but I’m here. I’m right here. Justbreathe.”His voice is calm and comforting and I closemy eyes and soak it in. He simulates a deepbreath, moving his chest in rhythm withmine, forcing me to take a breath and followhis lead. I take several slow, deep breaths intime with his. When I’ve stopped strugglingin his arms, he slowly turns me around andpulls me into his chest.“I didn’t want you to hurt like this,” he whis-pers, cradling my head in his hands. “That’swhy I haven’t told you.”I realize in this moment that I’m not evencrying. I haven’t cried at all since the truthpassed his lips and I make it a point to refusethe tears that are demanding to be set free.Tears won’t help me right now. They’ll justmake me weaker.

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I place my palms on his chest and lightlypush against him. I feel like I’m vulnerable tomore tears when he holds me because hefeels so comforting. I don’t need anyone’scomfort. I need to learn how to rely on my-self to stay strong because I’m the only one Ican trust—and I’m even skeptical about myown trustworthiness. Everything I thought Iknew has been a lie. I don’t know who’s in onit or who knows the truth and I find myselfwithout an ounce of trust left in my heart.Not for Holder, not for Karen…not even formyself, really.I back a step away from him and look him inthe eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me whoI was?” I ask, glaring at him. “What if I neverremembered? Would you have ever told me?Were you scared I would leave you and you’dnever get your chance to screw me? Is thatwhy you’ve been lying to me this wholetime?”

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His eyes awash with offense the moment thewords flow from my lips. “No, babe. That’snot how it was. That’s not how it is. I haven’ttold you because I’m scared of what will hap-pen to you. If I report it, they’ll take you fromKaren. They’ll more than likely arrest herand send you back to live with your fatheruntil you turn eighteen. Do you want that tohappen? You love Karen and you’re happyhere. I didn’t want to mess that up for you.”I release a quick laugh and shake my head.His reasoning makes no sense. None of thismakes any sense. “First of all,” I say. “Theywouldn’t put Karen in jail because I canguarantee you she knows nothing about this.Second, I’ve been eighteen since September.If my age was the reason you weren’t beinghonest, you would have told me by now.”He squeezes the back of his neck and looksdown at the ground. I don’t like the nervous-ness seeping from him right now. I can tell

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by the way he’s reacting that he isn’t finishedwith the confessions.“Sky, there’s so much I still need to explainto you.” He brings his eyes back up to meetmine. “Your birthday wasn’t in September.

Your birthday is May 7th. You don’t eventurn eighteen for six more months. And Kar-en?” He takes a step toward me, grabbingboth of my hands. “She has to know, Sky.She has to. Think about it. Who else couldhave done this?”I immediately pull my hands from his andback away. I know this has more than likelybeen torture for him, keeping this secret tohimself. I can see in his eyes that it’s agoniz-ing for him having to tell me all of this. ButI’ve been giving him the benefit of the doubtsince the moment I met him, and any sorrowI felt for him has just been negated by thefact that he’s now attempting to tell me thatmy own mother was somehow involved.

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“Take me home,” I demand. “I don’t want tohear anything else. I don’t want to know any-thing else tonight.”He tries to take my hands again, but I slapthem away. “TAKE ME HOME!” I scream. Ibegin walking back to the car. I’ve heardenough. I need my mom. I just need to seeher and hug her and know that I’m not com-pletely alone in this, because that’s exactlyhow I feel right now.I reach the fence before Holder does and Itry to pull myself up, but I can’t. My handsand arms are trembling and weak. I’m stillattempting it on my own when he quietlycomes up behind me and hoists me up. Ijump down over the other side and walk tothe car.He sits in the driver’s seat and pulls his doorshut, but doesn’t start the car. He’s staring atthe steering wheel with his hand paused onthe ignition. I watch his hands with mixedemotions, because I want them around me so

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bad. I want them holding me and rubbingmy back and my hair while he tells me it’ll allbe okay. But I also look at his hands in dis-gust, thinking about all the intimate wayshe’s touched me and held me, knowing allalong that he was deceiving me. How hecould be with me, knowing what he knows,yet still allow me to believe the lies? I don’tknow how I can forgive him for that.“I know it’s a lot to take in,” he says quietly.“I know it is. I’ll take you home, but we needto talk about this tomorrow.” He turns to-ward me, looking at me with hardened eyes.“Sky, you cannot talk to Karen about this. Doyou understand? Not until the two of us fig-ure it out.”I nod, just to appease him. He can’t honestlyexpect me not to talk to her about this.He turns his whole body toward mine in theseat and leans in, placing his hand on myheadrest. “I’m serious, babe. I know youdon’t think she’s capable of doing something

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like this, but until we find out more, youneed to keep this to yourself. If you tell any-one, your entire life will change. Give your-self time to process everything. Please.Please promise me you’ll wait until after to-morrow. After we talk again.”The terrified undertone in his words piercesmy heart, and I nod again, but this time I ac-tually mean it.He watches me for several seconds, thenslowly turns around and cranks the car,pulling onto the road. He drives me the fourmiles back to my home and nothing isspoken until he pulls into my driveway. Myhand is on the door handle and I’m steppingout of the car when he takes my other hand.“Wait,” he says. I wait, but I don’t turn backaround. I keep one foot on the floorboardand one foot on the driveway, facing thedoor. He moves his hand to the side of myhead and brushes a strand of hair behind myear. “Will you be okay tonight?”

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I sigh at the simplicity of his question.“How?” I ease back against my seat and turnand face him. “How can I possibly be okayafter tonight?”He stares at me and continues to stroke thehair on the side of my head with his fingers.“It’s killing me…letting you go like this. Idon’t want to leave you alone. Can I comeback in an hour?”I know he’s asking if he can come throughmy window and lay with me, but I immedi-ately shake my head no. “I can’t,” I say, myvoice cracking. “It’s too hard being aroundyou right now. I just need to think. I’ll seeyou tomorrow, okay?”He nods and pulls his hand away from mycheek, then places it back on the steeringwheel. He watches me as I step out of the carand walk away from him.

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Stepping through the front door and into theliving room, I’m hoping to be engulfed with asense of comfort that I’m desperately in needof. The familiarity and sense of belonging inthis house is something I need to calm medown so that I no longer feel like bursting in-to tears. This is my home where I live withKaren…a woman who loves me and would doanything for me, no matter what Holder maythink.I stand in the dark living room and wait forthe feeling to envelope me, but it never does.I’m looking around with suspicion anddoubt, and I hate that I’m observing my lifefrom a completely different viewpoint rightnow.

I walk through the living room, pausing justoutside Karen’s bedroom door. I contem-plate crawling into bed with her, but herlight is out. I’ve never needed to be in herpresence as much as I do in this moment, butI can’t bring myself to open up her bedroomdoor. Maybe I’m not ready to face her yet.Instead, I walk down the hallway to mybedroom.The light in my room is peering out from thecrack under the door. I put my hand on thedoorknob and turn it, then slowly open thedoor. Karen is sitting on my bed. She looksup at me when she hears the door open andshe immediately stands up.“Where have you been?” She looks worried,but her voice has an edge of anger to it. Ormaybe disappointment.“With Holder. You never said what time Ineeded to be home.”She points to the bed. “Sit down. We need totalk.”

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Everythign about her feels different now. Iwatch her guardedly. I feel like I’m goingthrough false motions of being an obedientdaughter while I nod. It’s like I’m in a scenefrom a dramatic Lifetime movie. I walk overto the bed and sit, not sure what has her soriled up. I’m sort of hoping she found outeverything that I found out tonight. It’llmake it a hell of a lot easier when I tell herabout it.She takes a seat next to me and turns towardme. “You’re not allowed to see him again,”she says firmly.I blink twice, mostly from the shock in sub-ject matter. I wasn’t expecting it to be aboutHolder. “What?” I say, confused. “Why?”She reaches into her pocket and pulls out mycell phone. “What is this?” she says throughgritted teeth.I look at my phone being held tightly in herhands. She hits a button and holds up thescreen to face me. “And what the hell kind of

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texts are these, Sky? They’re awful. He saysawful, vile things to you.” She drops thephone onto the bed and reaches for myhands, grasping them. “Why would you allowyourself to be with someone who treats youthis way? I raised you better than this.”She’s no longer raising her voice. Now she’sjust playing the part of concerned mother.I squeeze her hands in reassurance. I knowI’ll more than likely be in trouble for havingthe phone, but I need her to know that thetexts aren’t at all what she thinks they are. Iactually feel a little silly that we’re even hav-ing this conversation. When I compare thisissue to the new issues I’m facing, it seems alittle juvenile.“Mom, he’s not being serious. He sends methose texts as a joke.”She lets out a disheartened laugh and shakesher head in disagreement. “There’ssomething off about him, Sky. I don’t likehow he looks at you. I don’t like how he looks

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at me. And the fact that he bought you aphone without having any respect for myrules just goes to show you what kind of re-spect he holds for other people. Regardlessof whether or not the texts are a joke, I don’ttrust him. I don’t think you should trust him,either.”I stare at her. She’s still talking, but thethoughts inside my head are becominglouder and louder, blocking out whateverwords she’s trying to drill into my brain. Mypalms instantly begin sweating and I can feelmy heart pounding in my eardrums. All ofher beliefs and choices and rules are flashingin my mind and I’m trying to separate themand put them into their own chapters, butthey’re all running together. I pull the firstthought out of the pile of questions and justflat out ask her.“Why can’t I have a phone?” I whisper. I’mnot even sure that I ask the question loudenough for her to hear me, but she stops

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moving her mouth so I’m pretty sure sheheard me.“And internet,” I add. “Why don’t you wantme accessing the internet?”The questions are becoming poison in myhead and I feel like I have to get them out.It’s all beginning to piece together and I’mhoping it’s all coincidence. I’m hoping she’ssheltered me my whole life because she lovesme and wants to protect me. But deep down,it’s quickly becoming apparent that I’ve beensheltered my whole life because she was hid-ing me.“Why did you homeschool me?” I ask, myvoice much louder this time.Her eyes are wide and it’s obvious she has noidea what is spurring these questions rightnow. She stands up and looks down at me.“You aren’t turning this around on me, Sky.You live under my roof and you’ll follow myrules.” She grabs my phone off the bed andwalks toward the door. “You’re grounded. No

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more cell phones. No more boyfriend. We’lltalk about this tomorrow.”She slams my door shut behind her and I im-mediately fall back onto the bed, feeling evenmore hopeless than before I walked throughmy front door.I can’t be right. It’s just a coincidence, I can’tbe right. She wouldn’t do something like this.I squeeze the tears back and refuse to believeit. There has to be some other explanation.Maybe Holder is confused. Maybe Karen isconfused.I know I’m confused.I take off my dress and throw on a t-shirt,then turn out the light and crawl under thecovers. I’m hoping I wake up tomorrow torealize this whole night was just a baddream. If it’s not, I don’t know how muchmore I can take before my strength is com-pletely diminished. I stare up at the stars,glowing above my head, and I begin counting

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them. I push everyone and everything elseaway and focus, focus, focus on the stars.

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Dean walks back to his yard and he turnsaround and looks at me. I bury my headback into my arm and try to stop crying. Iknow they probably want to play hide-n-seek again before I have to go back inside,so I need to stop being sad so we can play.“Hope!”I look up at Dean and he isn’t looking at meanymore. I thought he called my name, buthe’s looking at a car. It’s parked in front ofmy house and the window is rolled down.“Come here, Hope,”the lady says. She’s smil-ing and asking me to come to her window. Ifeel like I know her, but I can’t rememberher name. I stand up so I can go see whatshe wants. I wipe the dirt off my shorts and

walk to the car. She’s still smiling and shelooks really nice. When I walk up to the car,she hits the button that unlocks the doors.“Are you ready to go, sweetie? Your daddywants us to hurry.”I didn’t know I was supposed to go any-where. Daddy didn’t say we were goinganywhere today.“Where are we going?” I ask her.She smiles and reaches over to the handle,then opens the door for me. “I’ll tell youwhen we’re on our way. Get in and put yourseatbelt on, we can’t be late.”She really doesn’t want to be late to wherewe’re going. I don’t want her to be late, so Iclimb into the front seat and shut my door.She rolls up the window and starts drivingaway from my house.

She looks at me and smiles, then reachesinto the backseat. She hands me a juice box,so I take it out of her hand and open thestraw.

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“I’m Karen,” she says. “And you get to staywith me for a little while. I’ll tell you allabout it when we get there.”I take a sip from my juice. It’s apple juice. Ilove apple juice.“But what about my daddy? Is he coming,too?”Karen shakes her head. “No, sweetie. It’lljust be you and me when we get there.”I put the straw back in my mouth because Idon’t want her to see me smile. I don’t wanther to know that I’m happy my daddy isn’tcoming with us.

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I sit up.It was a dream.It was just a dream.I can feel my heart beating wildly in every fa-cet of my body. It’s beating so hard I canhear it. I’m panting for breath and covered insweat.It was just a dream.I attempt to convince myself of just that. Iwant to believe with all my heart that thememory I just had wasn’t a real one. It can’tbe.But it was. I remember it clearly, like ithappened yesterday. With every singlememory I’ve recalled over the last few days, anew one pops up after it. Things I’ve either

been repressing or was just too young to re-call are coming back to me full-force. ThingsI don’t want to remember. Things I wish Inever knew.I throw the covers off of me and reach overto the lamp, flipping the switch. The roomfills with light and I scream at the realizationthat someone else is in my bed. As soon asthe scream escapes my mouth, he wakes upand shoots straight up on the bed.“What the hell are you doing here?” I whis-per loudly.Holder glances at his watch, then rubs hiseyes with his palms. When he wakes upenough to respond, he places his hand on myknee. “I couldn’t leave you. I just needed tomake sure you were okay.” He puts his handon my neck, right below my ear, and brushesalong my jaw with his thumb. “Your heart,”he says, feeling my pulse beating against hisfingertips. “You’re scared.”

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Seeing him in my bed, caring for me like heis…I can’t be mad at him. I can’t blame him.Despite the fact that I want to be mad at him,I just can’t. If he wasn’t here right now tocomfort me after the realization I just had, Idon’t know what I would do. He’s done noth-ing but place blame on himself for everysingle thing that’s ever happened to me. I’mbeginning to accept the fact that maybe heneeds comforting just as much as I do. Forthat, I allow him to steal another piece of myheart. I grab his hand that’s touching myneck and I squeeze it.“Holder…I remember.” My voice shakeswhen I speak and I feel the tears wanting tocome out. I swallow and push them backwith everything that I have. He scoots closerto me on the bed and turns me to face himcompletely. He places both of his hands onmy face and looks into my eyes.“What do you remember?”

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I shake my head, not wanting to say it. Hedoesn’t let go of me. He coaxes me with hiseyes, nodding his head slightly, assuring methat it’s okay to say it. I whisper as quietly aspossible, afraid to say it out loud. “It wasKaren in that car. She did it. She’s the onewho took me.”Pain and recognition consume his featuresand he pulls me to his chest, wrapping hisarms around me. “I know, baby,” he says intomy hair. “I know.”I cling to his shirt and hold onto him, want-ing to swim in the comfort that his armsprovide. I close my eyes, but only for asecond. He’s pushing me away as soon asKaren opens the door to my bedroom.“Sky?”I spin around on the bed and she’s standingin the doorway, glaring at Holder. She cutsher eyes to me. “Sky? What…what are youdoing?” Confusion and disappointmentcloud her face.

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I snap my gaze back to Holder. “Get me outof here,” I say under my breath. “Please.”He nods, then walks to my closet. He opensthe door as I stand up and grab a pair ofjeans from my dresser and pull them on.“Sky?” Karen says, watching both of us fromthe doorway. I don’t look at her. I can’t lookat her. She takes a few steps into the bed-room just as Holder opens a duffel bag andlays it on the bed.“Throw some clothes in here, babe. I’ll getwhat you need out of the bathroom.” Histone of voice is calm and collected, whichslightly eases the panic coursing through me.I walk to my closet and begin pulling shirtsoff of hangers.“You aren’t going anywhere with him. Areyou insane?” Karen’s voice is near panic, butI still don’t look at her. I continue throwingclothes into my bag. I walk to the dresser andpull open the top drawer, taking a handful ofsocks and underwear. I walk to the bed and

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Karen cuts me off, placing her hands on myshoulders and forcing me to look at her.“Sky,” she says, dumbfounded. “What areyou doing? What’s wrong with you? You’renot leaving with him.”Holder walks back into the bedroom with ahandful of toiletries and walks directlyaround Karen, piling them into the bag.“Karen, I suggest you let go of her,” he saysas calmly as a threat can possibly sound.Karen scoffs and spins around to face him.“You are not taking her. If you so much aswalk out of this house with her, I’m callingthe police.”Holder doesn’t respond. He looks at me andreaches out for the items in my hands, thenturns and places them into the duffel bag,zipping it shut. “You ready, babe?” he says,taking my hand.I nod.“This isn’t a joke!” Karen yells. Tears are be-ginning to roll down her cheeks and she’s

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frantic, looking back and forth between us.Seeing the pain on her face breaks my heartbecause she’s my mother and I love her, but Ican’t ignore the anger and betrayal I feel overthe last thirteen years of my life.“I’ll call the police,” she yells. “You have noright to take her!”I reach into Holder’s pocket, then pull outhis cell phone and take a step toward Karen.I look directly at her and as calmly as I can, Ihold the phone out to her. “Here,” I say. “Callthem.”She looks down at the phone in my hands,then back up to me. “Why are you doing this,Sky?” She’s overcome with tears now.I grab her hand and shove the phone into it,but she refuses to grasp it. “Call them! Callthe police, Mom! Please.” I’m begging now.I’m begging her to call them—to prove mewrong. To prove that she has nothing tohide. To prove that I’m not what she’s hiding.“Please,” I say again, quietly. Everything in

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my heart and soul wants her to take thephone and call them so I’ll know I’m wrong.She takes a step back at the same time shesucks in a breath. She begins to shake herhead, and I’m almost positive she knows Iknow, but I don’t stick around to find out.Holder grabs my hand and leads me to theopen window. He lets me climb out first,then he climbs out behind me. I hear Karencrying my name, but I don’t stop walking un-til I reach his car. We both climb inside andhe drives away. Away from the only familyI’ve ever really known.

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“We can’t stay here,” he says, pulling up tohis house. “Karen might come here lookingfor you. Let me run in and grab a few thingsand I’ll be right back.”He leans across the seat and pulls my face to-ward his. He kisses me, then gets out of thecar. The entire time he’s inside his house, I’mleaning my head against the headrest, star-ing out the window. There isn’t a single starin the sky to count tonight. Only lightning. Itseems fitting for the night I’ve had.Holder arrives back to the car severalminutes later and throws his own bag intothe backseat. His mother is standing in theentryway, watching him. He walks back toher and takes her face in his hands, just like

he does mine. He says something to her, butI don’t know what he’s saying. She nods andhugs him. He walks back to the car andclimbs inside.“What did you tell her?”He grabs my hand. “I told her you and yourmother got into a fight, so I was taking you toone of your relatives houses in Austin. I toldher I’d stay with my dad for a few days andthat I’d be back soon.” He looks at me andsmiles. “It’s okay, she’s used to me leaving,unfortunately. She’s not worried.”I turn and look out my window when hepulls out of the driveway, just as the rain be-gins to slap the windshield. “Are we reallygoing to stay with your dad?”“We’ll go wherever you want to go. I doubtyou want to go to Austin, though.”I look over at him. “Why wouldn’t I want togo to Austin?”He purses his lips together and flips on thewindshield wipers. He places his hand on my

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knee and brushes it with his thumb. “That’swhere you’re from,” he says quietly.I look back out the window and sigh. There isso much I don’t know. So much. I press myforehead against the cool glass and close myeyes, allowing the questions I’ve been sup-pressing all night to re-emerge.“Is my dad still alive?” I ask.“Yes, he is.”“What about my Mom? Did she really diewhen I was three?”He clears his throat. “Yes. She died in a carwreck a few months before we moved in nextdoor to you.”“Does he still live in the same house?”“Yes.”“I want to see it. I want to go there.”He doesn’t immediately respond to thisstatement. Instead, he slowly inhales abreath and releases it. “I don’t think that’s agood idea.”

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I turn to him. “Why not? I probably belongthere more than I do anywhere else. Heneeds to know I’m okay.”Holder pulls off to the side of the road andthrows the car into park. He turns in his seatand looks at me dead on. “Babe, it’s not agood idea because you just found out aboutthis a few hours ago. It’s a lot to take in be-fore you make any hasty decisions. If yourdad sees you and recognizes you, Karen willgo to prison. You need to think long andhard about that. Think about the media.Think about the reporters. Believe me, Sky.When you disappeared they camped out onour front lawn for months. The police inter-viewed me no less than twenty times over atwo-month period. Your entire life is aboutto change, no matter what decision youmake. But I want you to make the best de-cision for yourself. I’ll answer any questionsyou have. I’ll take you anywhere you want togo in a couple of days. If you want to see your

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dad, that’s where we’ll go. If you want to goto the police, that’s where we’ll go. If youwant to just run away from everything, that’swhat we’ll do. But for now, I just want you tolet this soak in. This is your life. The rest ofyour life.”His words have tightened my chest like avice. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I don’tknow if I’m thinking. He’s thought thisthrough from so many angles and I have noclue what to do. I have no fucking clue.I swing open the door and step out onto theshoulder of the highway, out into the rain. Ipace back and forth, attempting to focus onsomething in order to hold the hyperventilat-ing at bay. It’s cold and the rain is no longerjust falling; it’s pummeling. Huge raindropsare stinging my skin and I can’t keep my eyesopen due to the force of them. As soon asHolder rounds the front of the car, I swiftlywalk toward him and throw my arms aroundhis neck, burying my face into his already

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soaked shirt. “I can’t do this!” I yell over thesound of rain pounding the pavement. “Idon’t want this to be my life!”He kisses the top of my head and bendsdown to talk against my ear. “I don’t wantthis to be your life, either,” he says. “I’m sosorry. I’m so sorry I let this happen to you.”He slides a finger under my chin and pullsmy gaze up to his. His height is shielding therain from stinging my eyes, but the drops aresliding down his face, over his lips and downhis neck. His hair is soaked and matted to hisforehead, so I wipe a strand out of his eyes.He already needs a trim again.“Let’s not let this be your life tonight,” hesays. “Let’s get back in the car and pretendwe’re driving away because we want to…notbecause we need to. We can pretend I’m tak-ing you somewhere amazing...somewhereyou’ve always wanted to go. You can snuggleup to me and we can talk about how excitedwe are and we’ll talk about everything we’ll

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do when we get there. We can talk about theimportant stuff later. But tonight…let’s notlet this be your life.”I pull his mouth to mine and I kiss him. Ikiss him for always having the perfect thingto say. I kiss him for always being there forme. I kiss him for supporting whatever de-cision I think I might need to make. I kisshim for being so patient with me while I fig-ure everything out. I kiss him because I can’tthink of anything better than climbing backinside that car with him and talking abouteverything we’ll do when we get to Hawaii.I separate my mouth from his and somehow,in the midst of the worst day of my life, I findthe strength to smile. “Thank you, Holder. Somuch. I couldn’t do this without you.”He kisses me softly on the mouth again andsmiles back at me. “Yes, babe. You could.”

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His fingers have been slowly lacing throughmy hair. My head is resting in his lap andwe’ve been driving for over four hours. Heturned his phone off back in Waco after re-ceiving pleading texts from Karen, using myphone, wanting him to bring me back home.The problem with that is, I don’t even knowwhere home is anymore.As much as I love Karen I have no idea howto grasp what she did. There isn’t a situationin the world that could ever make stealing achild okay, so I don’t know that I’ll ever wantto go back to her. I plan on finding out asmuch information as I can about whathappened before I make any decisions onhow I need to handle this. I know the right

thing to do would be to immediately call thepolice, but sometimes the right thing to doisn’t always the best answer.“I don’t think we should stay at my father’shouse,” Holder says. I assumed he thought Iwas sleeping, but it’s obvious he knows I’mwide-awake since he’s talking to me. “We’llget a hotel for tonight and figure out what weneed to do tomorrow. I didn’t move out ofhis house on the best terms this summer,and we’ve got enough drama to deal with asit is.”I nod my head against his lap. “Whatever youwant to do. I just know I need a bed, I’m ex-hausted. I have no idea how you’re stillawake.” I sit up and stretch my arms out infront of me, just as Holder pulls his car intothe parking lot of a hotel.

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After he checks us in, he gives me the key tothe room and leaves to go park the car andget our things. I slide the key card into thedoor and open it, then walk into the hotelroom. There’s only one bed, which I assumedhe would request. We’ve slept in the samebed several times before so it would havebeen a lot more awkward had he requestedseparate beds.He returns to the room several minutes laterand sets our bags down. I rifle through mine,looking for something to sleep in. Unfortu-nately, I didn’t bring any pajamas, so I grab along t-shirt and some underwear.“I need to take a shower.” I grab the few toi-letries I brought and carry them into thebathroom with me and take an extremelylong shower. When I’m finished, I attempt toblow dry my hair but I’m too exhausted. Ipull my hair up in a wet ponytail instead andbrush my teeth. When I walk out of the bath-room, Holder is unpacking both of our bags

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and hanging our shirts in the closet. Heglances at me and does a double take whenhe sees I’m only wearing a t-shirt and under-wear. He eyes me, but only for a second be-fore he glances away uncomfortably. He’strying to be respectful, considering the dayI’ve had. I don’t want him treating me likeI’m fragile. If this were any other day, he’d becommenting on what I was wearing and hishands would be on my ass in two secondsflat. Instead, he turns his back to me andtakes the last of his items out of his duffelbag.“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he says.“I filled up the ice bucket and grabbed a fewdrinks. I wasn’t sure if you wanted soda orwater, so I got both.” He grabs a pair of box-er shorts and walks around me toward thebathroom, careful not to look at me. As hepasses me, I grab his wrist. He stops andturns around, carefully looking me in theeyes and nowhere else.

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“Can you do me a favor?”“Of course, babe,” he says sincerely.I slide my hand through his, then bring it upto my mouth. I lightly kiss his palm, thenrest it against my cheek. “I know you’re wor-ried about me. But if what’s happening in mylife is causing you to feel uncomfortableabout being attracted to me to the point thatyou can’t even look at me when I’m half-na-ked, it’ll break my heart. You’re the only per-son I have left, Holder. Please don’t treat medifferently.”He looks at me knowingly, then pulls hishand away from my cheek. His eyes drop tomy lips, and a small grin plays at the cornerof his mouth. “You’re giving me the go-aheadto admit that I still want you, even thoughyour life has turned to shit?”I nod. “Knowing you still want me is more ofa necessity now than it was before my lifeturned to shit.”

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He smiles, then drops his lips to mine,sweeping his hand across my waist andaround to my lower back. His other hand isplanted firmly on the back of my head, guid-ing it as he kisses me deeply. His kiss is ex-actly what I need right now. It’s the onlything that could possibly feel good in a worldfull of nothing but bad.“I really need to shower,” he says betweenkisses. “But now that I have the go ahead tostill treat you the same?” He grabs my assand pulls me against him. “Don’t fall asleepwhile I’m in there, because when I get out, Iwant to show you just how incredible I thinkyou look right now.”“Good,” I whisper against his mouth. He re-leases me, then walks to the bathroom. I laydown on the bed just as the water kicks on.I attempt to watch TV for a while since I nev-er have the opportunity, but nothing canhold my attention. It’s been such a gruelingtwenty-four hours, the sun is already up and

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we haven’t even gone to bed yet. I shut theblinds and curtains, then crawl back into bedand throw a pillow over my eyes. As soon as Ibegin to welcome sleep, I feel Holder crawlinto bed behind me. He slides one arm undermy pillow and one over my side. I can feelhis warm chest pressed against my back andthe strength of his arms around me. Heslides his hands through mine and kisses melightly on the back of the head.“I live you,” I whisper to him.He kisses my head again and sighs into myhair. “I don’t think I live you back anymore.I’m pretty sure I’ve moved beyond that. Ac-tually, I’m positive I’ve moved beyond that,but I’m still not ready to say it to you. When Isay it, I want it to be separate from this day. Idon’t want you to remember it like this.”I pull his hand to my mouth and kiss it softly.“Me, too.”

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And once again in my new world full ofheartache and lies, this hopeless boy some-how finds a way to make me smile.

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We sleep through breakfast and lunch. Bythe time afternoon hits and Holder walks inwith food, I’m starving. It’s been overtwenty-four hours since I’ve eaten anything.He pulls two chairs up to the desk and takesthe items and drinks out of the sacks. Hebrought me the same thing I requested afterthe art showing last night, but that we neveractually got around to ordering. I remove thelid from the chocolate shake and down ahuge drink, then take the wrapper off myburger. When I do, a small square piece ofpaper falls out and lands on the table. I pickit up and read it.

Just because you don’t have a phoneanymore and your life is crazy dra-matic, I still don’t want your ego ex-ploding. You looked really homely inyour t-shirt and panties. I really hopeyou buy yourself some footed paja-mas today so I don’t have to look atyour chicken legs again all night.

When I set the note down and look at him,he’s grinning at me. His dimples are so ador-able; I actually lean over and lick one thistime.“What was that?” he laughs.I take a bite of my burger and shrug. “I’vebeen wanting to do that since the day I sawyou in the grocery store.”His smile turns smug and he leans back inhis chair. “You wanted to lick my face thefirst time you saw me? Is that usually whatyou do when you’re attracted to guys?”

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I shake my head. “Not your face, yourdimple. And no. You’re the only guy I’ve everhad the urge to lick.”He smiles at me confidently. “Good. Becauseyou’re the only girl I’ve ever had the urge tolove.”Holy shit. He didn’t directly say he loves me,but hearing that word come out of his mouthmakes my heart swell in my chest. I take abite of my burger to hide my smile and let hissentence linger in the air. I’m not ready for itto leave just yet.We both quietly finish our food. I stand upand clear off the table, then walk to the bedand slip my shoes on.“Where you headed?” He’s watching metighten the laces on my shoes. I don’t answerhim right away because I’m not sure where itis I’m going. I just want to get out of thishotel room. When my shoes are tied, I standup and walk to him, then wrap my armsaround him.

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“I want to go for a walk,” I say. “And I wantyou to go with me. I’m ready to start askingquestions.”He kisses my forehead then reaches to thetable and grabs the room key. “Then let’s go.”He reaches down and laces my fingersthrough his.Our hotel isn’t near any parks or walkingtrails, so instead we just head to the court-yard. There are several cabanas lining thepool, all of them empty. He leads me to oneof them. We sit and I lean my head againsthis shoulder, looking out over the pool. It’sOctober, but the weather is pretty mild. Ipull my arms through the sleeves of my shirtand hug myself, snuggling against him.“You want me to tell you what I remember?”he asks. “Or do you have specific questions?”“Both. But I want to hear your story first.”His arm is draped over my shoulders. Hisfingers are stroking my upper arm and hekisses the side of my head. I don’t care how

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many times he kisses me on the head; it al-ways feels like a first.“You have to understand how surreal thisfeels for me, Sky. I’ve thought about whathappened to you every single day for the pastthirteen years. And to think I’ve been livingtwo miles away from you for seven of thoseyears? I’m still having a hard time processingit myself. And now, finally having you here,telling you everything that happened…”He sighs and I feel his head lean against theback of the chair. He pauses briefly, thencontinues. “After the car pulled away, I wentinside the house and told Les that you leftwith someone. She kept asking me who, but Ididn’t know. My mother was in the kitchen,so I went and told her. She didn’t really payany attention to me. She was cooking supperand we were just kids. She had learned totune us out. Besides, I still wasn’t sure any-thing had happened that wasn’t supposed tohappen, so I didn’t sound panicked or

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anything. She told me to just go outside andplay with Les. The way she was so nonchal-ant about it made me think everything wasokay. Being six years old, I was positiveadults knew everything, so I didn’t say any-thing else about it. Les and I went outside toplay and another couple of hours passed bywhen your dad came outside, calling yourname. As soon as I heard him call yourname, I froze. I stopped in the middle of myyard and watched him standing on his porch,calling for you. It was that moment that Iknew he had no idea you had left withsomeone. I knew I did something wrong.”“Holder,” I interrupt. “You were just a littleboy.”He ignores my comment and continues on.“Your dad walked over to our yard and askedme if I knew where you were.” He pauses andclears his throat. I wait patiently for him tocontinue, but it seems like he needs to gatherhis thoughts. Hearing him tell me what

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happened that day feels like he’s telling me astory. It feels nothing like what he’s saying isdirectly related to my life or to me.“Sky, you have to understand something. Iwas scared of your father. I was barely sixyears old and knew I had just donesomething terribly wrong by leaving youalone. Now your police chief father is stand-ing over me, his gun visible on his uniform. Ipanicked. I ran back into my house and ranstraight to my bedroom and locked the door.He and my mother beat on the door for halfan hour, but I was too scared to open it andadmit to them that I knew what happened.My reaction worried both of them, so he im-mediately radioed for backup. When I heardthe police cars pull up outside, I thought theywere there for me. I still didn’t understandwhat had happened to you. By the time mymother coaxed me out of the room, threehours had already passed since you left inthe car.”

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He’s still rubbing my shoulder, but his grip istighter on me now. I push my arms throughthe sleeves of my shirt so I can take his handand hold it.“I was taken to the station and questionedfor hours. They wanted to know if I knew thelicense plate number, what kind of car tookyou, what the person looked like, what theysaid to you. Sky, I didn’t know anything. Icouldn’t even remember the color of the car.All I could tell them was exactly what youwere wearing, because you were the onlything I could picture in my head. Your dadwas furious with me. I could hear him yellingin the hallway of the station that if I wouldhave just told someone right when ithappened, they would have been able to findyou. He blamed me. When a police officerblames you for losing his daughter, you tendto believe he knows what he’s talking about.Les heard him yelling, too, so she thought itwas all my fault. For days, she wouldn’t even

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talk to me. Both of us were trying to under-stand what had happened. For six years welived in this perfect world where adults arealways right and bad things don’t happen togood people. Then, in the span of a minute,you were taken and everything we thoughtwe knew turned out to be this false image oflife that our parents had built for us. Werealized that day that even adults do horriblethings. Children disappear. Best friends gettaken from you and you have no idea ifthey’re even alive anymore.“We watched the news constantly, waitingfor reports. For weeks they would show yourpicture on TV, asking for leads. The most re-cent picture they had of you was from rightbefore your mother died, when you wereonly three. I remember that pissing me off,wondering how almost two years could havegone by without someone having taken amore recent picture. They would show pic-tures of your house and would sometimes

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show our house, too. Every now and then,they would mention the boy next door whosaw it happen, but couldn’t remember anydetails. I remember one night…the last nightmy mother allowed us to watch the coverageon TV…one of the reporters showed apanned out image of both of our houses.They mentioned the only witness, but re-ferred to me as ‘The boy who lost Hope.’ Itinfuriated my mother so bad; she ran outsideand began screaming at the reporters, yellingat them to leave us alone. To leave me alone.My dad had to drag her back inside thehouse.“My parents did their best to try and makeour life as normal as possible. After a coupleof months, the reporters stopped showingup. The endless trips to the police station formore questioning finally stopped. Thingsbegan to slowly return to normal for every-one in the neighborhood. Everyone but Les

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and me. It was like all of our hope was takenright along with our Hope.”Hearing his words and the desolation in hisvoice causes me nothing but guilt. One wouldthink what happened to me would have beenso traumatic that it would have affected memore than the people around me. However, Ican barely even remember it. It was such anuneventful occurrence in my life, yet it prac-tically ruined him and Lesslie. Karen was socalm and pleasant and filled my head withlies about a life of adoption and foster care,that I never thought to even question it. LikeHolder said, at such a young age you believethat adults are all so honest and truthful, younever even think to question them.“I’ve spent so many years hating my fatherfor giving up on me,” I say quietly. “I can’tbelieve she just took me from him. Howcould she do that? How could anyone dothat?”“I don’t know, babe.”

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I sit up straight, then turn around to lookhim in the eyes. “I need to see the house,” Isay. “I want more memories, but I don’t haveany and right now it’s hard. I can barely re-member anything, much less him. I just wantto drive by. I need to see it.”He rubs my arm and nods. “Right now?”

***“Yes. I want to go before it gets dark.”The entire drive, I’m absolutely silent. Mythroat is dry and my stomach is in knots. I’mscared. I’m scared to see the house. I’mscared he might be home and I’m scared Imight see him. I don’t really want to see himyet; I just want to see the place that was myfirst home. I don’t know if it will help me re-member but I know it’s something I have todo.He slows the car down and pulls over to thecurb. I’m looking at the row of houses across

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the street, scared to pull my gaze from mywindow because it’s so hard to turn and look.“We’re here,” he says quietly. “It doesn’t looklike anyone’s home.”I slowly turn my head and look out his win-dow at the first home I ever lived in. It’s lateand the day is being swallowed by night, butthe sky is still bright enough that I canclearly make out the house. It looks familiar,but seeing it doesn’t immediately bring backany memories. The house is tan with a darkbrown trim, but the colors don’t look familiarat all. As if Holder can read my mind, hesays, “It used to be white.”I turn in my seat and face the house, tryingto remember something. I try to visualizewalking through the front door and seeingthe living room, but I can’t. It’s likeeverything about that house and that life hasbeen erased from my mind somehow.

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“How can I remember what your living roomand kitchen look like, but I can’t remembermy own?”He doesn’t answer me, because he more thanlikely knows I’m not really looking for an an-swer. He just places his hand on top of mineand holds it there while we stare at thehouses that changed the paths of our livesforever.

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“Is your daddy giving you a birthdayparty?” Lesslie asks.I shake my head. “I don’t have birthdayparties.”Lesslie frowns, then sits down on my bedand picks up the unwrapped box lying onmy pillow. “Is this your birthday present?”she asks.I take the box out of her hands and set itback on my pillow. “No. My daddy buys mepresents all the time.”“Are you going to open it?” she asks.I shake my head again. “No. I don’t wantto.”

She folds her hands in her lap and sighs,then looks around the room. “You have a lotof toys. Why don’t we ever come here andplay? We always go to my house and it’sboring there.”I sit on the floor and grab my shoes to putthem on. I don’t tell her I hate my room. Idon’t tell her I hate my house. I don’t tell herwe always go to her house because I feelsafer over there. I take my shoelacesbetween my fingers and scoot closer to heron the bed. “Can you tie these?”She grabs my foot and puts it on her knee.“Hope, you’re about to turn five. You need tolearn how to tie your own shoes. Me andHolder knew how to tie our shoes when wewere five.” She scoots down on the floor andsits in front of me. She says it like she’s somuch older than me. She just turned six.She’s only one year older than me becauseI’m almost five.

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“Watch me,” she says. “You see this string?Hold it out like this.” She puts the strings inmy hands and shows me how to wrap it andpull it until it ties like it’s supposed to. Whenshe helps me tie both of them two times, sheunties them and tells me to do it again bymyself. I try to remember how she showedme to tie them. She stands up and walks tomy dresser while I do my very best to loopthe shoestring.“Was this your mom?” she says, holding upa picture. I look at the picture in her hands,then look down at my shoes again.“Yeah.”“Do you miss her?” she asks.I nod and keep trying to tie my shoe and notthink about how much I miss her. I miss herso much.“Hope, you did it!” Lesslie squeals. She sitsback down on the floor in front of me andhugs me. “You did it all by yourself. Youknow how to tie your shoes now.”

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I look down at my shoes and smile.546/752

“Lesslie taught me how to tie my shoes,” Isay quietly, still staring at the house.Holder looks at me and smiles. “You remem-ber her teaching you that?”“Yeah.”“She was so proud of that,” he says, turninghis gaze back across the street.I place my hand on the door handle andopen it, then step out. The air is growingcolder now, so I reach back into the frontseat and grab my hoodie, then slip it on overmy head.“What are you doing?” Holder says.I know he won’t understand and I reallydon’t want him to try and talk me out of it, soI shut the door and cross the street without

answering him. He’s right behind me, callingmy name when I step onto the grass. “I needto see my room, Holder.” I continue walking,somehow knowing exactly which side of thehouse to walk to without having any actualconcrete memories of the layout of thehouse.“Sky, you can’t. No one’s here. It’s too risky.”I speed up until I’m running. I’m doing thiswhether he gives me his approval or not.When I reach the window that I’m somehowcertain leads to what used to be my bed-room, I turn and look at him. “I need to dothis. There are things of my mother’s that Iwant in there, Holder. I know you don’t wantme to do this, but I need to.”He places his hands on my shoulders and hiseyes are concerned. “You can’t just break in,Sky. He’s a cop. What are you gonna do, bustout the damn window?”“This house is technically still my home. It’snot really breaking in,” I reply. He does raise

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a good point, though. How am I supposed toget inside? I purse my lips together andthink, then snap my fingers. “The birdhouse!There’s a birdhouse on the back porch with akey in it.”I turn and run to the backyard, shockedwhen I see there actually is a birdhouse. Ireach my fingers inside and sure enough,there’s a key. The mind is a crazy thing.“Sky, don’t.” He’s practically begging me notto go through with this.“I’m going in alone,” I say. “You know wheremy bedroom is. Wait outside the window andlet me know if you see anyone pull up.”He sighs heavily, then grabs my arm as soonas I insert the key into the back door. “Pleasedon’t make it obvious you were here. Andhurry,” he says. He brings me in for a hug,then waits for me to walk inside. I turn thekey and check to see if it unlocks the door.The doorknob turns.

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I walk inside and shut the door behind me.The house is dark and sort of eerie. I turn leftand walk through the kitchen, somehowknowing exactly where the door to my bed-room is. I’m holding my breath and tryingnot to think about the seriousness or implic-ations of what I’m doing. The thought of get-ting caught is terrifying, because I’m still notsure if I even want to be found. I do whatHolder says and walk carefully, not wantingto leave any evidence behind that I was here.When I reach my door, I take a deep breathand place my hand on the doorknob, thenslowly turn it. When the door opens and theroom becomes visible, I flip on the light toget a better look at it.Other than a few boxes piled into the corner,everything looks familiar. It still looks like asmall child’s room, untouched for thirteenyears. It makes me think of seeing Lesslie’sroom and how no one has touched it since

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she died. It must be hard to move past thephysical reminders of people you love.I run my fingers across the dresser and leavea line in the dust. Seeing the trace of my fin-ger quickly reminds me that I’m not wantingto leave evidence of my being here, so I liftmy hand and bring it down to my side, thenwipe away the trail with my shirt.The picture isn’t on the dresser of my biolo-gical mother where I remember it to be. Ilook around the room, hoping to findsomething of hers that I can take with me. Ihave no memories of her, so a picture ismore than I could ever ask for. I just wantsomething to tie me to her. I need to seewhat she looks like and hope it will give meany memories at all that I can hold on to.I walk over to the bed and sit down. Thetheme in the room is the sky, which is ironic,considering the name Karen gave me. Thereare clouds and moons on the curtains andwalls, and the comforter is covered in stars.

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There are stars everywhere. The big plastickind that stick to walls and ceilings and glowin the dark. The room is covered in them,just like the stars that are on my ceiling backat Karen’s house. I remember begging Karenfor them when I saw them at the store a fewyears ago. She thought they were childish,but I had to have them. I wasn’t even surewhy I wanted them so bad, but now it’s be-coming clear. I must have loved stars when Iwas Hope.The nervousness already planted in mystomach intensifies when I lie back on thepillow and look up at the ceiling. A familiarwave of fear washes over me, and I turn tolook at the bedroom door. It’s the exact samedoorknob I was praying wouldn’t turn in thenightmare I had the other night.I suck in a breath and squeeze my eyes shut,wanting the memory to go away. I’ve some-how locked it away for thirteen years, but be-ing here on this bed…I can’t lock it away

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anymore. The memory grabs hold of me likea web, and I can’t break out of it. A warmtear trickles down my face and I wish I hadlistened to Holder. I should never have comeback here. If I had never came back, I neverwould have remembered.

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I used to hold my breath and hope he wouldthink I was sleeping. It doesn’t work, be-cause he doesn’t care if I’m sleeping or not.One time I tried to hold my breath andhoped he would think I was dead. Thatdidn’t work either, because he never evennoticed I was holding my breath.The doorknob turns and I’m all out of tricksright now and I try to think of another onereally fast but I can’t. He closes the door be-hind him and I hear his footsteps comingcloser. He sits down beside me on my bedand I hold my breath anyway. Not because Ithink it’ll work this time, but because it helpsme not feel how scared I am.

“Hey, Princess,” he says, tucking my hairbehind my ear. “I got you a present.”I squeeze my eyes shut because I do want apresent. I love presents and he always buysme the best presents because he loves me.But I hate it when he brings the presents tome at nighttime, because I never get themright away. He always makes me tell himthank you first.I don’t want this present. I don’t.“Princess?”My daddy’s voice always makes my tummyhurt. He always talks to me so sweet and itmakes me miss my mommy. I don’t remem-ber what her voice sounded like, but daddysaid it sounded like mine. Daddy also saysthat mommy would be sad if I stop takinghis presents because she’s not here to takehis presents anymore. This makes me sadand I feel really bad, so I roll over and lookup at him.

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“Can I have my present tomorrow, Daddy?”I don’t want to make him sad, but I don’twant that box tonight. I don’t.Daddy smiles at me and brushes my hairback. “Sure you can have it tomorrow. Butdon’t you want to thank Daddy for buying itfor you?”My heart starts to beat really loud and Ihate it when my heart does that. I don’t likethe way my heart feels and I don’t like thescary feeling in my stomach. I stop lookingat my daddy and I look up at the stars in-stead, hoping I can think about how prettythey are. If I keep thinking about the starsand the sky, maybe it will help my heart tostop beating so fast and my tummy to stophurting so much.I try to count them, but I keep stopping atnumber five. I can’t remember what numbercomes after five, so I have to start over. Ihave to count the stars over and over andonly five at a time because I don’t want to

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feel my daddy right now. I don’t want to feelhim or smell him or hear him and I have tocount them and count them and count themand count them until I don’t feel him or hearhim or smell him anymore.Then when my daddy finally stops makingme thank him, he pulls my nightgown backdown and whispers, “Goodnight Princess.” Iroll over and pull the covers over my headand squeeze my eyes shut and I try not tocry again but I do. I cry like I do every timedaddy brings me a present at night.I hate getting presents.

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I stand up and look down at the bed, holdingmy breath in fear of the sounds that are es-calating from deep within my throat.I will not cry.I will not cry.Slowly sinking to my knees, I place my handson the edge of the bed and run my fingersover the yellow stars poured across the deepblue background of the comforter. I stare atthe stars until they begin to blur from thetears that are clouding my vision.I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my head in-to the bed, grabbing fistfuls of the blanket.My shoulders begin to shake as the sobs I’vebeen trying to contain violently break out of

me. With one swift movement, I stand up,scream and rip the blanket off the bed,throwing it across the room.I ball my fists and frantically look around forsomething else to throw. I grab the pillowsoff the bed and chuck them at the reflectionin the mirror of the girl I no longer know. Iwatch as the girl in the mirror stares back atme, sobbing pathetically. The weakness inher tears infuriates me. We begin to run to-ward each other until our fists collide againstthe glass, smashing the mirror. I watch asshe falls into a million shiny pieces onto thecarpet.I grip the edges of the dresser and push itsideways, letting out another scream that hasbeen pent up for way too long. When thedresser comes to rest on its back, I rip openthe drawers and throw the contents acrossthe room, spinning and throwing and kickingat everything in my path. I grab at the sheerblue curtain panels and yank them until the

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rod snaps and the curtains fall around me. Ireach over to the boxes piled high in thecorner and, without even knowing what’s in-side, I take the top one and throw it againstthe wall with as much force as my five foot,three-inch frame can muster.“I hate you!” I cry. “I hate you, I hate you, Ihate you!”I’m throwing whatever I can find in front ofme at whatever else I can find in front of me.Every time I open my mouth to scream, Itaste the salt from the tears that are stream-ing down my cheeks.Holder’s arms suddenly engulf me from be-hind and grip me so tightly I become immob-ile. I jerk and toss and scream some moreuntil my actions are no longer thought out.They’re just reactions.“Stop,” he says calmly against my ear, un-willing to release me. I hear him, but I pre-tend not to. Or I just don’t care. I continue to

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struggle against his grasp but he only tight-ens his grip.“Don’t touch me!” I yell at the top of mylungs, clawing at his arms. Again, it doesn’tfaze him.Don’t touch me. Please, please, please.The small voice echoes in my mind, and Iimmediately become limp in his arms. I be-come weaker, as my tears grow stronger,consuming me. I become nothing more thana vessel for the tears that won’t stopshedding.I am weak, and I’m letting him win.Holder loosens his grip around me andplaces his hands on my shoulders, then turnsme around to face him. I can’t even look athim. I melt against his chest from exhaustionand defeat, taking in fistfuls of his shirt as Isob, my cheek pressed against his heart. Heplaces his hand on the back of my head andlowers his mouth to my ear.

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“Sky.” His voice is steady and unaffected.“You need to leave. Now.”I can’t move. My body is shaking so hard, I’mafraid my legs won’t move, even if I will themto. As if he knows this, he scoops me up inhis arms and walks me out of the bedroom.He carries me across the street and placesme in the passenger seat. He takes my handand looks at it, then grabs his jacket out ofthe backseat. “Here, use that to wipe off theblood. I’m going back inside to straighten upwhat I can.” The door shuts and he sprintsback across the street. I look down at myhand, surprised that I’m cut. I can’t even feelit. I wrap my hand up in the sleeve of hisjacket, then pull my knees up into the seatand hug them while I cry.I don’t look at him when he gets back in thecar. My whole body is shaking from the sobsthat are still pouring out of me. He cranksthe car and pulls away, then reaches acrossthe seat and places his hand on the back of

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my head, stroking my hair in silence the en-tire way back to the hotel.He helps me out of the car and walks meback to the hotel room, never once asking meif I’m okay. He knows I’m not; there’s reallyno point in even asking. When the hotelroom door closes behind us, he walks me tothe bed and I sit. He pushes my shouldersback until I’m flat on the bed and he slips offmy shoes. He walks to the bathroom, thencomes back with a wet rag and picks up myhand, wiping it clean. He checks it for shardsof glass, then gently lifts my hand to hismouth and kisses my hand.“It’s just a few scratches,” he says. “Nothingtoo deep.” He adjusts me onto the pillow andslips his own shoes off, then climbs onto thebed beside me. He pulls the blanket over usand pulls me to him, tucking my headagainst his chest. He holds me and neveronce asks me why I’m crying. Just like heused to do when we were kids.

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I try to get the images out of my head of whatI remember happening to me at night in myroom, but they won’t go away. How any fath-er could do that to his little girl...it’s beyondmy scope of comprehension. I tell myselfthat it never happened, that I’m imagining it,but every part of me knows it did happen.Every part of me that remembers why I washappy to get in that car with Karen. Everypart of me that remembers all the nights I’vemade out with guys in my bed, never feelinga single thing while looking up at the stars.Every part of me that broke out into a full-blown panic attack the night Holder and I al-most had sex. Every single part of me re-members, and I would do anything just toforget. I don’t want to remember how myfather sounded or felt at night, but with eachpassing second the memories become moreand more vivid, only making it harder for meto stop crying.

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Holder is kissing me on the side of my head,telling me again how it’ll be okay, that Ishouldn’t worry. But he has no idea. He hasno idea how much I remember and what it’sdoing to my heart and my soul and my mindand to my faith in humanity as a whole.To know that those things were done to meat the hands of the only adult I had in mylife—it’s no wonder I’ve blocked everythingout. I hold barely any memories of the day Iwas taken by Karen, and now I know why. Itdidn’t feel like I was in the middle of acalamitous event the moment she stole meaway from my life. To a little girl who wasterrified of her life, I’m sure it felt more likeKaren was rescuing me.I lift my gaze to Holder’s and he’s lookingdown at me. He’s hurting for me; I can see itin his eyes. He wipes away my tears with hisfinger and kisses me softly on the lips. “I’msorry. I should have never let you go inside.”

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He’s blaming himself again. He always feelslike he’s done something terrible, when I feellike he’s been nothing short of my hero. He’sbeen with me through all of this, steadily car-rying me through my panic attacks andfreak-outs until I’m calm. He’s done nothingbut be there for me, yet he still feels like thisis somehow his fault.“Holder, you didn’t do anything wrong. Stopapologizing,” I say through my tears. Heshakes his head and tucks a loose strand ofhair behind my ear.“I shouldn’t have taken you there. It’s toomuch for you to deal with after just findingeverything out.”I lift up on my elbow and look at him. “Itwasn’t just being there that was too much. Itwas what I remembered that was too much.You have no control over the things my fath-er did to me. Stop placing blame on yourselffor everything bad that happens to thepeople around you.”

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He slides his hand up and through my hairwith a worried look on his face. “What areyou talking about? What things did he do toyou?” The words are so hesitant to come outof his mouth because he more than likelyknows. I think we’ve both known whathappened to me as a child—we’ve just beenin denial.I drop my arm and rest my head on his chestand don’t answer him. My tears come backfull force and he wraps one arm tightlyaround my back and grips the back of myhead with his other. He presses his cheek tothe top of my head. “No, baby,” he whispers.“No,” he says again, not wanting to believewhat I’m not even saying. I grab fistfuls ofhis shirt and just cry while he holds me withsuch conviction that it makes me love himfor hating my father just as much as I do.He kisses the top of my head and continuesto hold me. He doesn’t tell me he’s sorry orask how he can fix it because we both know

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we’re at a loss. Neither of us knows what todo next. All I know at this point is that I havenowhere to go. I can’t go back to the fatherwho has rightful custody over me. I can’t goback to the woman who wrongfully took me.And with light shed on my past it turns outI’m still underage, so I can’t even rely on my-self. Holder is the only thing about my lifethat hasn’t left me completely hopeless.

And even though I feel protectedwrapped up in his arms, the images andmemories won’t escape my head and no mat-ter what I do or how hard I try, I can’t stopcrying. He’s quietly holding me and I can’tstop thinking about the fact that I need it tostop. I need Holder to take all of these emo-tions and feelings away for a little while be-cause I can’t take it. I don’t like rememberingwhat happened all those nights my fathercame into my room. I hate him. With everyounce of my being, I hate that man for steal-ing that first away from me.

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I lift up and scoot my face closer to Holder,leaning over him. He places his hand on theside of my head and his eyes search mine,wanting to know if I’m okay.I’m not.I slide my body on top of his and kiss him,wanting him to take away the feelings. I’drather feel nothing at all than the hatred andsadness consuming me right now. I grabHolder’s shirt and try to lift it over his head,but he pushes me off of him and onto myback. He lifts up on his arm and looks downat me.“What are you doing?” he asks.I slide my hand behind his neck and pull hisface to mine, pressing my lips back to his. If Ijust kiss him enough, he’ll relent and kiss meback. Then it’ll all go away.He places his hand on my cheek and kissesme back momentarily. I let go of his headand start to pull off my shirt, but he pulls my

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hands away and brings my shirt back down.“Stop it. Why are you doing this?”His eyes are full of confusion and concern. Ican’t answer his question about why I’m do-ing this, because I’m not even sure. I know Ijust want the feeling to go away, but it’s morethan that. It’s so much more than that, be-cause I know if he doesn’t take away whatthat man did to me right now, I feel like I’llnever be able to laugh or smile or breatheagain.I just need Holder to take it away.I inhale a deep breath and look him directlyin the eyes. “Have sex with me.”His expression is unyielding and he’s staringat me hard now. He pushes up from the bedand stands up, then paces the floor. He runshis hands through his hair nervously andwalks back toward the bed, standing at theedge of it.“Sky, I can’t do this. I don’t know why you’reeven asking for this right now.”

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I sit up in the bed, suddenly scared that hewon’t go through with it. I scoot to the edgeof the bed where he’s standing and I sit upon my knees, grasping his shirt. “Please,” Ibeg. “Please, Holder. I need this.”He pulls my hands from his shirt and takestwo steps back. He shakes his head, stillcompletely confused. “I’m not doing this,Sky. We’re not doing this. You’re in shock orsomething…I don’t know. I don’t even knowwhat to say right now.”I sink back down onto the bed in defeat. Thetears start flowing again and I look up at himin complete desperation.“Please.” I drop my gaze to my hands andfold them together in my lap, unable to lookhim in the eyes when I speak. “Holder…he’sthe only one that’s ever done that to me.” Islowly raise my eyes back up to meet his. “Ineed you to take that away from him.Please.”

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If words could break souls, my words justbroke his in two. His face drops and tears fillhis eyes. I know what I’m asking him to doand I hate that I’m asking him for this, but Ineed it. I need to do whatever I can to min-imize the pain and the hatred in me. “Please,Holder.”He doesn’t want our first time to be this way.I wish it wasn’t, but sometimes factors otherthan love make these decisions for you. Fact-ors like hate. Sometimes in order to get rid ofthe hate, you become desperate. He knowshate and he knows pain and right now heknows how much I need this, whether heagrees with it or not.He walks back to the bed and sinks to hisknees on the floor in front of me, bringinghimself to my eye level. He grabs my waistand scoots me to the edge of the bed, thenslides his hands behind my knees and wrapsmy legs around him. He pulls my shirt overmy head, never once looking away from my

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eyes. When my shirt is off, he pulls his ownshirt off. He wraps his arms around me andstands up, picking me up with him and walk-ing to the side of the bed. He lays me downgently and lowers himself on top of me, thenplaces his palms against the mattress oneither side of my head, looking down at mewith uncertainty. His finger brushes a tearaway that’s sliding down my temple. “Okay,”he says assuredly, despite his contrastingeyes.He lifts up onto his knees and reaches to hiswallet on the nightstand. He takes a condomout, then removes his pants, never once tak-ing his eyes off mine. He’s watching me likehe’s waiting for any signs that I’ve changedmy mind. Or maybe he’s watching me like heis because he’s afraid I’m about to have an-other panic attack. I’m not even sure that Iwon’t, but I have to do this. I can’t let myfather own this part of me for one moresecond.

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Holder’s fingers grasp the button on myjeans and he unbuttons them, then slidesthem off of me. I shift my gaze to the ceiling,feeling myself slip further and further awaywith every step closer he gets.I wonder if I’m ruined. I wonder if I’ll ever beable to find pleasure in being with him inthis way.He doesn’t ask if I’m sure this is what I want.He knows I’m sure, so the question remainsunspoken. He lowers his lips to mine andkisses me while he removes my bra and un-derwear. I’m glad he’s kissing me, because itgives me an excuse to close my eyes. I don’tlike the way he’s looking at me…like hewishes he were anywhere else right now thanhere with me. I keep my eyes closed when hislips separate from mine in order for him toput on the condom. When he’s back on top ofme, I pull him against me, wanting him to dothis before he changes his mind.“Sky.”

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I open my eyes and see doubt in his expres-sion, so I shake my head. “No, don’t thinkabout it. Just do it, Holder.”He closes his eyes and buries his head in myneck, unable to look at me. “I just don’t knowhow to deal with all of this, baby. I don’tknow if this is wrong or if it’s what you reallyneed. I’m scared if I do this, I’ll make it evenharder for you.”His words cut to my heart, because I knowexactly what he means. I don’t know if this iswhat I need. I don’t know if it’ll ruin thingsbetween us. But right now I’m so desperateto take this one thing away from my fath-er—I’d risk it all. My arms that are wrappedtightly around him begin to shake, and I cry.He keeps his head buried in my neck andcradles my face in his hand, but as soon as hehears my tears, I can feel him attempting tohold back his own. The fact that this is caus-ing him just as much distress lets me knowthat he understands. I tuck my head into his

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neck and lift myself against him, silentlypleading with him to just do what I’m asking.He does. He positions himself against me,kisses me on the side of the head, then slowlyenters me.I don’t make a sound, despite the pain.I don’t even breathe, despite my need for air.I don’t even think about what’s going onbetween us right now, because I’m not think-ing at all. I’m picturing the stars on my ceil-ing and I’m wondering if I just tear the damnthings off the ceiling if I’ll never have tocount them again.I’m successfully able to keep myself separ-ated from what he’s doing until he abruptlystills himself on top of me, his head still bur-ied tightly against my neck. He’s breathingheavily and, after a moment, he sighs andseparates himself from me completely. Helooks down at me and closes his eyes, thenrolls away from me, sitting up on the edge ofthe bed with his back to me.

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“I can’t do it,” he says. “It feels wrong, Sky. Itfeels wrong because you feel so good but I’mregretting every single fucking second of it.”He stands up and pulls his pants on, thengrabs his shirt and the room key from thedresser. He never looks back at me as heexits the hotel room without another word.I immediately crawl off the bed and get inthe shower because I feel dirty. I feel guiltyfor having him do what he just did and I’mhoping the shower will somehow wash awaythat guilt. I scrub every inch of my body withsoap until my skin hurts, but it doesn’t help.I’ve successfully taken another intimate mo-ment and ruined it for him. I could see theshame in his face when he left. When hewalked out the door, refusing to look at me.I turn off the water and step out of theshower. After I dry off, I grab the robe fromthe back of the bathroom door and put it on.I brush out my hair and place my toiletriesback into my cosmetic bag. I don’t want to

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leave without telling Holder, but I can’t stayhere. I also don’t want him to feel like he hasto face me again after what just happened. Ican call a cab to take me to the bus stationand be gone before he comes back.If he’s planning on even coming back.I open the bathroom door and step out intothe hotel room, not expecting him to be sit-ting on the bed with his hands claspedbetween his knees. He darts his eyes up tomine as soon as he sees the bathroom dooropen. I pause mid-step and stare back athim. His eyes are red and he’s got a make-shift bandage made out of his t-shirt,wrapped around his hand and covered inblood. I rush to him and take his hand, un-wrapping the shirt to inspect it.“Holder, what’d you do?” I twist his handback and forth and take in the gash acrosshis knuckles. He pulls his hand away and re-wraps it with the piece of t-shirt.

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“I’m fine,” he says, brushing it off. He standsup and I take a step back, expecting him towalk out the door again. Instead, he staysdirectly in front of me, looking down at me.“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, looking up at him.“I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. I justneeded…”He grabs my face and presses his lips tomine, cutting me off mid-apology. “Shut up,”he says, looking into my eyes. “You have ab-solutely nothing to apologize for. I didn’tleave earlier because I was mad at you. I leftbecause I was mad at myself.”I back out of his grasp and turn to the bed,not wanting to watch as he places even moreblame on himself. “It’s okay.” I walk back tothe bed and lift the covers. “I can’t expectyou to want me in that way right now. It waswrong and selfish and way out of line for meto ask you to do that and I’m really sorry.” Ilay down on the bed and roll away from him

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so he can’t see my tears. “Let’s just go tosleep, okay?”My voice is much calmer than I expected it tobe. I really don’t want him to feel bad. He’sdone nothing but be here for me throughoutall of this, and I’ve done nothing for him inreturn. The best thing I could do for him atthis point is to just break it off so he doesn’tfeel obligated to stand by me through this.He doesn’t owe me a thing.“You think I’m having a hard time with thisbecause I don’t want you?” He walks aroundto the side of the bed that I’m facing and hekneels down. “Sky, I’m having a hard timewith this because everything that’s happenedto you is breaking my fucking heart and Ihave no idea how to help you. I want to bethere for you and help you through this butevery word that comes out of my mouth feelslike the wrong one. Every time I touch you orkiss you, I’m afraid you don’t want me to.Now you’re asking me to have sex with you

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because you want to take that from him, andI get it. I absolutely get where you’re comingfrom, but it doesn’t make it easier to makelove to you when you can’t even look me inthe eyes. It hurts so much because you don’tdeserve for it to be like this. You don’t de-serve this life, baby, and there isn’t a fuckingthing I can do to make it better for you. Iwant to make it better but I can’t and I feelso helpless.”He has somehow sat up on the bed andpulled me to him during all of that, but I wasso caught up in his words I didn’t even no-tice. He wraps his arms around me and pullsme onto his lap, then wraps my legs aroundhim. He takes my face in his hands and looksme directly in the eyes.“And even though I stopped, I should havenever even started without telling you firsthow much I love you. I love you so much,baby. I don’t deserve to touch you until you

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know for a fact that I’m touching you be-cause I love you and for no other reason.”He presses his lips to mine and doesn’t evengive me a chance to tell him I love him in re-turn. I love him so much it physically hurts.I’m not thinking about anything else rightnow but how much I love this boy and howmuch he loves me and how despite what’sgoing on in my life, I wouldn’t want to beanywhere else than in this moment with him.I try to convey everything I’m feelingthrough my kiss, but it’s not enough. I pullaway and kiss his chin, then his nose, thenhis forehead, then I kiss the tear that’srolling down his cheek. “I love you, too. Idon’t know what I’d do right now if I didn’thave you, Holder. I love you so much and I’mso sorry. I wanted you to be my first, and I’msorry he took that from you.”Holder adamantly shakes his head andshushes me with a quick kiss. “Don’t youever say that again. Don’t you ever think that

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again. Your father took that first from you inan unthinkable way, but I can guarantee youthat’s all he took. Because you are so strong,baby. You’re amazing and funny and smartand beautiful and so full of strength andcourage. What he did to you doesn’t takeaway from any of the best parts of you. Yousurvived him once and you’ll survive himagain. I know you will.”He places his palm over my heart, then pullsmy hand to his chest over his own heart. Helowers his eyes to my level, ensuring I’m herewith him, giving him my complete attention.“Fuck all the firsts, Sky. The only thing thatmatters to me with you are the forevers.”I kiss him. Holy shit, do I kiss him. I kiss himwith every ounce of emotion that’s coursingthrough me. He cradles my head with hishand and lowers me back to the bed, climb-ing on top of me. “I love you,” he says. “I’veloved you for so long but I just couldn’t tell

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you. It didn’t feel right letting you love meback when I was keeping so much from you.”Tears are streaming down my cheeks again,and even though they’re the exact same tearsthat come from the exact same eyes, they’recompletely new to me. They aren’t tears fromheartache or anger…they’re tears from theincredible feeling overcoming me right now,hearing him say how much he loves me.“I don’t think you could have picked a bettertime to tell me you loved me than tonight.So I’m happy you waited.”He smiles, looking down at me with fascina-tion. He dips his head and kisses me, infus-ing my mouth with the taste of him. Hekisses me softly and gently, delicately slidinghis mouth over mine as he unties my robe. Igasp when his hand eases inside, strokingmy stomach with his fingertips. The feel ofhis touch on me right now is a completelydifferent sensation than just fifteen minutesago. It’s a sensation I want to feel.

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“God, I love you,” he says, moving his handfrom my stomach and across my waist. Heslowly trails his fingers down to my thighand I moan into his mouth, resulting in aneven more determined kiss. He places a flatpalm on the inside of my leg and puts slightpressure against it, wanting to ease himselfagainst me, but I flinch and become tense.He can feel my involuntary moment of hesit-ation, so he pulls his lips from mine andlooks down at me. “Remember, baby. I’mtouching you because I love you. No otherreason.”I nod and close my eyes, still afraid that thesame numbness and fear is about to washover me again. Holder kisses my cheek andpulls my robe closed.“Open your eyes,” he says gently. When I do,he reaches up and traces a tear with his fin-ger. “You’re crying.”I smile up at him reassuringly. “It’s okay.They’re the good kind of tears.”

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He nods, but doesn’t smile. He studies mefor a moment, then takes my hand in his andlaces our fingers together. “I want to makelove to you, Sky. And I think you want it,too. But I need you to understand somethingfirst.” He squeezes my hand and bendsdown, kissing another escaping tear. “Iknow it’s hard for you to allow yourself tofeel this. You’ve gone so long training your-self to block the feelings and emotions outany time someone touches you. But I wantyou to know that what your father physicallydid to you isn’t what hurt you as a little girl.It’s what he did to your faith in him thatbroke your heart. You suffered through oneof the worst things a child can go through atthe hands of your hero…the person you idol-ized…and I can’t even begin to imagine whatthat must have felt like. But remember thatthe things he did to you are in no way re-lated to the two of us when we’re togetherlike this. When I touch you, I’m touching

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you because I want to make you happy.When I kiss you, I’m kissing you because youhave the most incredible mouth I’ve everseen and you know I can’t not kiss it. Andwhen I make love to you—I’m doing exactlythat. I’m making love to you because I’m inlove with you. The negative connotationyou’ve been associating with physical touchyour whole life doesn’t apply to me. Itdoesn’t apply to us. I’m touching you becauseI’m in love with you and for no otherreason.”His gentle words flood my heart and ease mynerves. He kisses me softly and I relax be-neath his hand—a hand that’s touching meout of nothing but love. I respond by com-pletely dissolving into him, allowing my lipsto follow his, my hands to intertwine withhis, my rhythm to match his. I quickly be-come invested, ready to experience him be-cause I want to and for no other reason.“I love you,” he whispers.

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The entire time he’s touching me, exploringme with his hands and his lips and his eyes,he continues to tell me over and over howmuch he loves me. And for once, I remaincompletely in the moment, wanting to feelevery single thing he’s doing and saying tome. When he finally tosses the wrapper asideand readies himself against me, he looksdown at me and smiles, then strokes the sideof my face with his fingertips.“Tell me you love me,” he says.I hold his gaze with unwavering confidence,wanting him to feel the honesty in my words.“I love you, Holder. So much. And just so youknow...so did Hope.”His eyebrows draw apart and he lets out aquick rush of air as if he’s been holding it infor thirteen years, waiting for those exactwords. “Baby, I wish you could feel what thatjust did to me.” He immediately covers mymouth with his and the familiar, sweet mix-ture of him seeps into my mouth at the same

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moment he pushes inside of me, filling mewith so much more than just himself. He fillsme with his honesty, his love for me, and fora moment…he fills me with a piece of ourforevers. I grasp his shoulders and movewith him, feeling everything. Every singlebeautiful thing.

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I roll over and Holder is sitting up next to meon the bed, looking down at his phone. Heshifts his focus to me when I stretch, thenbends down to kiss me but I immediatelyturn my head.“Morning breath,” I mumble, crawling out ofbed. Holder laughs, then returns his atten-tion back to his phone. I somehow made itback into my t-shirt overnight, but I’m noteven sure when that happened. I take it offand slip into the bathroom to shower. WhenI’m finished, I walk back into the room andhe’s packing up our things.“What are you doing?” I ask, watching himfold my shirt and place it back into the bag.

He looks up at me briefly, then back down tothe clothes spread out on the bed.“We can’t stay here forever, babe. We need tofigure out what you want to do.”I take a few steps toward him, my heartspeeding up in my chest. “But…but I don’tknow yet. I don’t even have anywhere to go.”He hears the panic in my voice and walksaround the bed, slipping his arms aroundme. “You have me, Sky. Calm down. We cango back to my house and figure this out.Besides, we’re both still in school. We can’tjust stop going and we definitely can’t live ina hotel forever.”The thought of going back to that town, justtwo miles from Karen, makes me uneasy. I’mafraid being so close to her will incite me toconfront her, and I’m not ready to do thatyet. I just want one more day. I want to seemy old house again for one last time in hopesthat it will spark more memories. I don’twant to rely on Karen to have to tell me the

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truth. I want to figure out as much as I canon my own.“One more day,” I say. “Please, let’s just stayone more day, then we’ll go. I need to try andfigure this out and in order to do that, I needto go there one more time.”Holder puts space between us and he eyesme, shaking his head. “No way,” he saysfirmly. “I’m not putting you through thatagain. You’re not going back.”I place my hands on his cheeks reassuringly.“I need to, Holder. I swear I won’t get out ofthe car this time. I swear. But I need to seethe house again before we go. I rememberedso much while I was there. I just want a fewmore memories before you take me back andI have to decide what to do.”He sighs and paces the floor, not wanting toagree to my desperate plea.“Please,” I say, knowing he won’t be able tosay no if I continue to beg. He slowly turns to

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the bed and picks the bags of clothes up,tossing them toward the closet.“Fine. I told you I would do whatever it wasyou felt you needed to do. But I’m nothanging all of those clothes back up,” hesays, pointing to the bags by the closet.I laugh and rush to him, throwing my armsaround his neck. “You’re the best, most un-derstanding boyfriend in the whole wideworld.”He sighs and returns my hug. “No, I’m not,”he says, pressing his lips to the side of myhead. “I’m the most whipped boyfriend inthe whole wide world.”

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Out of all the minutes in the day, we wouldpick the same ten minutes to sit across thestreet from my house that my father picks topull up into the driveway. As soon as his carcomes to a stop in front of the garage, Holderlifts his hand to his ignition to crank the car.I reach over and place my trembling hand onhis. “Don’t leave,” I say. “I need to see whathe looks like.”Holder sighs and forces his head into theback of his seat, knowing full well that weshould leave, but also knowing there’s noway I’ll let him.I quit looking at Holder and look back at thepolice cruiser parked in the driveway across

the street from us. The door opens and aman steps out, decked out in a uniform. Hisback is to us and he’s holding a cell phone upto his ear. He’s in the middle of a conversa-tion, so he pauses in the yard and continuestalking into the phone without heading in-side. Looking at him, I don’t have any reac-tion at all. I don’t feel a single thing until themoment he turns around and I see his face.“Oh my, God,” I whisper aloud. Holder looksat me questioningly and I just shake myhead. “It’s nothing,” I say. “He just looks…fa-miliar. I haven’t had an image of him in myhead at all but if I was to see him walkingdown the street, I would know him.”We both continue to watch him. Holder’shands are gripping the steering wheel andhis knuckles are white. I look down at myown hands and realize I’m gripping the seatbelt in the same fashion.My father finally pulls the phone from hisear and places it into his pocket. He begins

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walking in our direction and Holder’s handsimmediately fall back to the ignition. I gaspquietly, hoping he doesn’t somehow knowwe’re watching him. We both realize at thesame time that my father is just headed tothe mailbox at the end of the driveway, andwe immediately relax.“Have you had enough?” Holder saysthrough gritted teeth. “Because I can’t stayhere another second without jumping out ofthis car and beating his ass.”“Almost,” I say, not wanting him to do any-thing stupid, but also not wanting to leavejust yet. I watch as my father sorts throughthe mail, walking back toward the house, andfor the first time it hits me.What if he remarried?What if he has other children?What if he’s doing this to someone else?My palms begin to sweat against the slickmaterial of the seatbelt, so I release it andwipe them across my jeans. My hands begin

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to tremble even more than before. I suddenlycan’t think of anything else other than thefact that I can’t let him get away with this. Ican’t let him walk away, knowing he mightbe doing this to someone else. I need toknow. I owe it to myself and to every singlechild my father comes in contact with to en-sure he’s not the evil monster that’s paintedin my memories. In order to know for sure, Iknow I need to see him. I need to speak tohim. I need to know why he did what he didto me.When my father unlocks the front door anddisappears inside, Holder lets out a hugebreath.“Now?” He says, turning toward me.I know beyond a doubt he would tackle meright now if he expected me to do what I’mabout to do. Just so I don’t give off any clues,I force a smile and nod. “Yeah, we can gonow.”

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He places his hand back on the ignition. Atthe same time he turns his wrist to crank it, Irelease my seat belt, swing open the doorand run. I run across the street and acrossmy father’s front yard, all the way to theporch. I never even hear Holder coming upbehind me. He doesn’t make a noise as hewraps his arms around me and physicallylifts me off my feet, carrying me back downthe steps. He’s still carrying me and I’m kick-ing him, trying to pry his arms from aroundmy stomach.“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”He doesn’t put me down, he just continues todominate my strength while he carries meacross the yard.“Let go of me right now Holder or I’llscream! I swear to God, I’ll scream!”With that threat, he spins me around to facehim and he shakes my shoulders, glaring atme with utter disappointment. “Don’t dothis, baby. You don’t need to face him again,

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not after what he’s done. I want you to giveyourself more time.”I look up at him with an ache in my heartthat I’m sure is clearly seen in my eyes. “Ihave to know if he’s doing this to anyoneelse. I need to know if he has more kids. Ican’t just let it go, knowing what he’s capableof. I have to see him. I have to talk to him. Ineed to know that he’s not that man any-more before I can allow myself to get back inthat car and just drive away.”He shakes his head. “Don’t do this. Not yet.We can make a few phone calls. We’ll findout whatever we can online about him first.Please, Sky.” He slides his hands from myshoulders to my arms and urges me towardhis car. I hesitate, still adamant that I needto see him face to face. Nothing I find outabout him online will tell me what I can gainfrom just hearing his voice or looking him inthe eyes.“Is there a problem here?”

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Holder and I both snap our heads in the dir-ection of the voice. My father is standing atthe base of the porch steps. He’s eyeingHolder, who still has a firm grip on my arms.“Young lady, is this man hurting you?”The sound of his voice alone makes my kneesbuckle. Holder can feel me weakening, so hepulls me against his chest. “Let’s go,” hewhispers, wrapping his arm around me andushering me forward, back toward his car.“Don’t move!”I freeze, but Holder continues to try andpush me forward with more urgency.“Turn around!” My father’s voice is more de-manding this time. Holder pauses rightalong with me now, both of us knowing theramifications of ignoring the directions of acop.“Play it off,” Holder says into my ear. “Hemight not recognize you.”I nod and inhale a deep breath, then we bothturn around slowly. My father is several feet

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away from the house now, closing in on us.He’s eyeing me hard, walking toward mewith his hand on his holster. I dart my eyesto the ground, because his face is full of re-cognition and it terrifies me. He stops sever-al feet from us and pauses. Holder tightenshis grip around me and I continue to stare atthe ground, too scared to even breathe.“Princess?”

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“Don’t you fucking touch her!”Holder is yelling and there’s pressure undermy arms. His voice is close, so I know he’sholding me. I drop my hands to my sides andfeel grass between my fingers.“Baby, open your eyes. Please.” Holder’shand is caressing the side of my face. I slowlyopen my eyes and look up. He’s lookingdown over me, my father hovering right be-hind him. “It’s okay, you just passed out. Ineed you to stand up. We need to leave.”He pulls me to my feet and keeps his armaround my waist, practically doing the stand-ing for me.My father is right in front of me now, staring.“It is you,” he says. He glances at Holder,

then back to me. “Hope? Do you rememberme?” His eyes are full of tears.Mine aren’t.“Let’s go,” Holder says again. I resist his pulland step out of his grasp. I look back at myfather…at a man who is somehow portrayingemotions like he once must have loved me.He’s full of shit.“Do you?” he says again, taking another stepcloser. Holder inches me back with each stepcloser my father gets. “Hope, do you remem-ber me?”“How could I forget you?”The irony is, I did forget him. Completely. Iforgot all about him and the things he did tome and the life I had here. But I don’t wanthim to know that. I want him to know that Iremember him, and every single thing heever did to me.“It’s you,” he says, fidgeting his hand downat his side. “You’re alive. You’re okay.” Hepulls out his radio, I’m assuming in an

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attempt to call in the report. Before his fingercan even press the button, Holder reachesout and knocks the radio out of his hand. Itfalls to the ground and my father bendsdown and grabs it, then takes a defensivestep back, his hand resting on his holsteragain.“I wouldn’t let anyone know she’s here if Iwere you,” Holder says. “I doubt you wouldwant the fact that you’re a fucking pervert tobe front page news.”All the color immediately washes from myfather’s face and he looks back at me withfear in his eyes. “What?”He’s looking at mein disbelief. “Hope, whoever took you…theylied to you. They told you things about methat weren’t true.” He’s closer now and hiseyes are desperate and pleading. “Who tookyou, Hope? Who was it?”I take a confident step toward him. “I re-member everything you did to me. And if youjust give me what I’m here for, I swear I’ll

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walk away and you’ll never hear from meagain.”He continues to shake his head, disbelievingthe fact that his daughter is standing right infront of him. I’m sure he’s also trying to pro-cess the fact that his whole life is now injeopardy. His career, his reputation, his free-dom. If it were possible, his face grows evenpaler when he realizes that he can’t deny itany longer. He knows I know.“What is it you want?”I look toward the house, then back to himagain. “Answers,” I say. “And I want any-thing you have that belonged to my mother.”Holder has a death grip on my waist again. Ireach down and grip his hand with mine, justneeding the reassurance that I’m not aloneright now. My confidence is quickly fadingwith each moment being spent in my father’spresence. Everything about him, from hisvoice to his facial expressions to his move-ments, makes my stomach ache.

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My father glances at Holder briefly, thenturns to look at me again. “We can talk in-side,” he says quietly, his eyes dartingaround to the houses surrounding us. Thefact that he appears nervous now only provesthat he’s weighed his options and he doesn’thave very many to choose from. He nudgeshis head toward the front door and beginsmaking his way up the steps.“Leave your gun,” Holder says.My father pauses, but doesn’t turn around.He slowly reaches to his side and removeshis gun. He places it gently on the steps ofthe porch, then begins to ascend the stairs.“Both of them,” Holder says.My father pauses again before reaching thedoor. He bends down to his ankle and liftshis pant leg, then removes that gun as well.Once both guns are out of his reach, he walksinside, leaving the door open for us. Before Istep inside, Holder spins me around to facehim.

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“I’m staying right here with the door open. Idon’t trust him. Don’t go any further thanthe living room.”I nod and he kisses me quick and hard, thenreleases me. I step into the living room andmy father is sitting on his couch, his handsclasped in front of him. He’s staring down atthe floor. I walk to the seat nearest me andsit on the edge of it, refusing to relax into it.Being in this house and in his presence iscausing my mind to clutter and my chest totighten. I take several slow breaths, attempt-ing to calm my fear.I use the moment of silence between us tofind something in his features that resemblemine. The color of his hair, maybe? He’smuch taller than me and his eyes, when he’sable to look at me, are dark green, unlikemine. Other than the caramel color of hishair, I look nothing like him. I smile at thefact that I look nothing like him.

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My father lifts his eyes to mine and he sighs,shifting uncomfortably. “Before you say any-thing,” he says. “You need to know that Iloved you and I’ve regretted what I did everysecond of my life.”I don’t verbally respond to that statement,but I have to physically refrain myself fromreacting to his bullshit. He could spend therest of his life apologizing and it would neverbe enough to erase even one of the nights mydoorknob turned.“I want to know why you did it,” I say with ashaky voice. I hate that I sound so pathetic-ally weak right now. I sound like the little girlthat used to beg him to stop. I’m not thatlittle girl anymore and I sure as hell don’twant to appear weak in front of him.He leans back in his seat and rubs his handsover his eyes. “I don’t know,” he says, exas-perated. “After your mother died, I starteddrinking heavily again. It wasn’t until a yearlater that I got so drunk one night that I

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woke up the next morning and knew I haddone something terrible. I was hoping it wasjust a horrible dream, but when I went towake you up that morning you were...differ-ent. You weren’t the same happy little girlyou used to be. Overnight, you somehow be-came someone who was terrified of me. Ihated myself. I’m not even sure what I did toyou because I was too drunk to remember.But I knew it was something awful and I amso, so sorry. It never happened again and Idid everything I could to make it up to you. Ibought you presents all the time and gaveyou whatever you wanted. I didn’t want youto remember that night.”I grip my knees in an attempt not to leapacross the living room and strangle him. Thefact that he’s trying to play it off as happen-ing one time makes me hate him even morethan before, if that’s even possible. He’streating it like it was an accident. Like he

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broke a coffee mug or had a fucking fenderbender.“It was night…after night…after night,” I say.I’m having to muster up every ounce of con-trol I can find to not scream at the top of mylungs. “I was scared to go to bed and scaredto wake up and scared to take a bath andscared to speak to you. I wasn’t a little girlafraid of monsters in her closet or under herbed. I was terrified of the monster that wassupposed to love me! You were supposed tobe protecting me from the people like you!”Holder is kneeling at my side now, grippingmy arm as I scream at the man across theroom. My whole body is shaking and I leaninto Holder, needing to feel his calmness. Herubs my arm and kisses my shoulder, lettingme get out the things I need to say withoutonce trying to stop me.My father sinks back into his seat and tearsbegin flowing from his eyes. He doesn’t de-fend himself, because he knows I’m right. He

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has nothing at all to say to me. He just criesinto his hands, feeling sorry that he’s finallybeing confronted, and not at all sorry forwhat he actually did.“Do you have any other children?” I ask,glaring at the eyes so full of shame that theycan’t even make contact with mine. He dropshis head and presses a palm to his forehead,but fails to answer me. “Do you?” I yell. Ineed to know that he hasn’t done this to any-one else. That he’s not still doing it.He shakes his head. “No. I never remarriedafter your mother.” His voice is defeated andfrom the looks of him, so is he.“Am I the only one you did this to?”He keeps his eyes trained to the floor, con-tinuing to avoid my line of questions withlong pauses. “You owe me the truth,” I say,steadily. “Did you do this to anyone else be-fore you did it to me?”I can sense him closing up. The hardness inhis eyes makes it evident that he has no

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intentions of revealing any more truths. Idrop my head into my hands, not knowingwhat to do next. It feels so wrong leaving himto live his life like he is, but I’m also terrifiedof what might happen if I report him. I’mscared of how much my life will change. I’mscared that no one will believe me, since itwas so many years ago. But what terrifies memore than any of that is the fear that I lovehim too much to want to ruin the rest of hislife. Being in his presence not only remindsme of all the horrible things he did to me, italso reminds me of the father he once wasunderneath all of that. Being inside thishouse is causing a hurricane of emotions tobuild within me. I look at the table in the kit-chen and begin to recall good memories ofconversations we had sitting there. I look atthe back door and remember us running out-side to go watch the train pass by in the fieldbehind our house. Everything about my sur-roundings is filling me with conflicting

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memories, and I don’t like loving him just asmuch as I hate him.I wipe tears from my eyes and look back athim. He’s staring silently down at the floorand as much as I try not to, I see glimpses ofmy daddy. I see the man who loved me likehe used to love me…long before I becameterrified of the doorknob turning.

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“Shh,” she says, brushing the hair behind myears. We’re both lying on my bed and she’sbehind me, snuggling me against her chest.I’ve been up sick all night. I don’t like beingsick, but I love the way my mommy takescare of me when I am.I close my eyes and try to fall asleep so I’llfeel better. I’m almost asleep when I hearmy doorknob turn, so I open my eyes. Mydaddy walks in and smiles down at mymommy and me. He stops smiling when hesees me, though, because he can tell I don’tfeel good. My daddy doesn’t like it when Ifeel sick because he loves me and it makeshim sad.

He sits down on his knees next to me andtouches my face with his hand. “How’s mybaby girl feeling?” he says.“I don’t feel good, Daddy,” I whisper. Hefrowns when I say that. I should have justtold him I felt good so he wouldn’t frown.He looks up at my mommy, lying in bed be-hind me, and he smiles at her. He touchesher face just like he touched mine. “How’smy other girl?” he says to her.I can feel her touch his hand when he talksto her. “Tired,” she says. “I’ve been up allnight with her.”He stands up and lifts her hand until shestands up, too. I watch him wrap his armsaround her and hug her, then he kisses heron the cheek. “I’ll take it from here,” he says,running his hand down her hair. “You goget some rest, okay?”My mommy nods and kisses him again,then walks out of the room. My daddy walksaround the bed and he lies in the same spot

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my mommy was laying in. He wraps hisarms around me just like she did, and hestarts singing me his favorite song. He saysit’s his favorite song, because it’s about me.

“I’ve lost a lot in my long life.Yes, I’ve seen pain and I’ve seen strife.But I’ll never give up; I’ll never let go.Because I’ll always have my ray ofhope.”

I smile, even though I don’t feel good. Mydaddy keeps singing to me until I close myeyes and fall asleep…

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It’s the first memory I’ve had before all of thebad stuff took over. My only memory frombefore my mother died. I still don’t remem-ber what she looked like. The memory wasmore of a blur, but I remembered how I felt.I loved them. Both of them.My father looks up at me now, his face com-pletely awash in sorrow. I stand up andHolder tries to take my arm, so I look downat him and shake my head. “It’s okay,” I as-sure him. He nods and reluctantly releasesme, allowing me to walk toward my father.When I reach him, I kneel down on the floorin front of him, looking up into eyes full ofregret. Being this close to him is causing mybody to tense and the anger in my heart to

build, but I know I have to do this if I wanthim to give me the answers I need. He needsto believe I’m sympathizing with him.“I was sick,” I say, calmly. “My mother andI…we were in my bed and you came homefrom work. She had been up with me allnight and she was tired, so you told her to goget some rest.”A tear rolls down my father’s cheek and henods, but barely.“You held me that night like a father is sup-posed to hold his daughter. And you sang tome. I remember you used to sing a song tome about your ray of hope.” I wipe the tearsout of my eyes and keep looking up at him.“Before my mother died…before you had todeal with that heartache …you didn’t alwaysdo those things to me, did you?”He shakes his head and touches my face withhis hand. “No, Hope. I loved you so much. Istill do. I loved you and your mother more

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than life itself, but when she died...the bestparts of me died right along with her.”I fist my hands, recoiling slightly to the feelof his fingertips on my cheek. I pushthrough, though, and somehow keep myselfcalm. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,”I say firmly. And I am sorry for him. I re-member how much he loved my mother, andregardless of how he dealt with his grief, Ican find it in me to wish he never had to ex-perience her loss.“I know you loved her. I remember. Butknowing that doesn’t make it any easier tofind it in my heart to forgive you for whatyou did. I don’t know why whatever is insideof you is so different than what’s inside otherpeople…to the point that you would allowyourself to do what you did to me. But des-pite the things you did to me, I know youlove me. And as hard as it is to admit…I onceloved you, too. I loved all the good parts ofyou.”

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I stand up and take a step back, still lookinginto his eyes. “I know you aren’t all bad. Iknow that. But if you love me like you sayyou do…if you loved my mother at all…thenyou’ll do whatever you can to help me heal.You owe me that much. All I want is for youto be honest so I can leave here with somesemblance of peace. That’s all I’m here for,okay? I just want peace.”He’s sobbing now, nodding his head into hishands. I walk back to the couch and Holderwraps his arm tightly around me, still kneel-ing down next to me. Tremors are stillwracking my body, so I wrap my armsaround myself. Holder can feel what this isdoing to me, so he slides his fingers down myarm until he finds my pinky, then wraps hisaround it. It’s an extremely small gesture,but he couldn’t have done anything moreperfect to fill me with the sense of securitythat I need from him right now.

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My father sighs heavily, then drops hishands. “When I first started drinking…it wasonly once. I did something to my little sis-ter…but it was only one time.” He looks backup at me and his eyes are still full of shame.“It was years before I met your mother.”My heart breaks at his brutal honesty, but itbreaks even more that he somehow thinksit’s okay that it only happened once. I swal-low the lump in my throat and continue myquestions. “What about after me? Have youdone it to anyone else since I was taken?”His eyes dart back to the floor and the guiltin his demeanor is like a punch straight tomy gut. I gasp, holding back the tears. “Who?How many?”He shakes his head slightly. “There was justone more. I stopped drinking a few years agoand haven’t touched anyone since.” He looksback up at me, his eyes desperate and hope-ful. “I swear. There were only three and theywere at the lowest points of my life. When

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I’m sober, I’m able to control my urges.That’s why I don’t drink anymore.”“Who was she?” I ask, wanting him to haveto face the truth for just a few more minutesbefore I walk out of his life forever.He nudges his head to the right. “She lived inthe house next door. They moved when shewas around ten, so I don’t know whathappened to her. It was years ago, Hope. Ihaven’t done it in years and that’s the truth. Iswear.”My heart suddenly weighs a thousandpounds. The grip around my arm is gone andI look up to see Holder falling apart right be-fore my eyes.His face contorts into an unbearable amountof agony and he turns away from me, pullinghis hands through his hair. “Les,” he whis-pers painfully. “Oh God, no.” He presses hishead into the doorframe, tightly gripping theback of his neck with both hands. I immedi-ately stand and walk to him, placing my

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hands on his shoulders, fearing that he’sabout to explode. He begins to shake andhe’s crying, not even making a sound. I don’tknow what to say or what to do. He justkeeps saying “no” over and over, shaking hishead. My heart is breaking for him, but Ihave no clue how to help him right now. Iunderstand what he means by thinkingeverything he says to me is the wrong thing,because there’s absolutely nothing I couldsay to him right now that could help. In-stead, I press my head against him and heturns slightly, cradling me in his arm.The way his chest is heaving, I can feel himtrying to keep his anger at bay. His breathsbegin to come in sharp spurts as he attemptsto calm himself. I grip him tighter, hoping tobe able to keep him from unleashing his an-ger. As much as I want him to…as much as Iwant him to physically retaliate against myfather for what he did to Les and me, I fear

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that in this moment, Holder is full of toomuch hate to find it in himself to stop.He releases his hold and brings his hands upto my shoulders, pushing me away from him.The look in his eyes is so dark; it immedi-ately sends me into defense mode. I stepbetween him and my father, not knowingwhat else I can do to keep him from attack-ing, but it’s as though I’m not even here.When Holder looks at me, he looks straightthrough me. I can hear my father stand upbehind me and I watch as Holder’s eyes fol-low him. I spin around, prepared to tell myfather to get the hell out of the living room,when Holder grips my arms and shoves meout of the way.I trip and fall to the floor, watching in slowmotion as my father reaches behind thecouch and spins around, holding a gun in hishand, pointing it directly at Holder. I can’tspeak. I can’t scream. I can’t move. I can’teven close my eyes. I’m forced to watch.

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My father pulls his radio to his mouth, hold-ing the gun firmly in his hand with a lifelessexpression. He presses the button and nevertakes his eyes off of Holder while he speaksinto it. “Officer down at thirty-five twenty-two Oak Street.”My eyes immediately dart to Holder, thenback to my father. The radio drops from hishands and onto the floor in front of me. Ipull myself up, still unable to scream. Myfather’s defeated eyes fall on mine as heslowly turns the gun. “I’m so sorry,Princess.”The sound explodes, filling the entire room.It’s so loud. I squeeze my eyes shut and covermy ears, not sure where the sound is evencoming from. It’s a high-pitched noise, like ascream. It sounds like a girl screaming.It’s me.I’m screaming.I open my eyes and see my father’s lifelessbody just feet in front of me. Holder’s hand

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clamps over my mouth and he lifts me up,pulling me out the front door. He’s not eventrying to carry me. My heels are dragging inthe grass and he’s holding on to my mouthwith one hand and my waist with his otherarm. When we reach the car, he keeps hishand clamped tight, muffling my scream. Myeyes are wide and I’m shaking my head outof denial, expecting the last minute to just goaway if I refuse to believe it.“Stop. I need you to stop screaming. Rightnow.”I nod vigorously, somehow silencing the in-voluntary sound coming from my mouth. I’mtrying to breathe and I can hear the air beingsucked in and out of my nose in quick spurts.My chest is heaving and when I notice theblood splattered across the side of Holder’sface, I try not to scream again.“Do you hear that?” Holder says. “Those aresirens, Sky. They’ll be here in less than aminute. I’m removing my hand and I need

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you to get in the car and be as calm as youcan because we need to get out of here.”I nod again and he removes his hand frommy mouth, then shoves me inside the car. Heruns around to his side and quickly climbsin, then cranks the car and pulls onto theroad. We round the corner just as two policecars turn the corner at the opposite end ofthe road behind us. We drive away and Idrop my head between my knees, attemptingto catch a breath. I don’t even think aboutwhat just happened. I can’t. It didn’t happen.It couldn’t have. I focus on the fact that thisis all a horrible nightmare, and I justbreathe. I breathe just to make sure I’m stillalive, because this sure as hell doesn’t feellike life.

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We both move through the hotel room doorlike zombies. I don’t even remember gettingfrom the car into the hotel. When he reachesthe bed, Holder sits and removes his shoes.I’ve only made it a few feet, paused wherethe entryway meets the room. My hands areat my sides and my head is tilted. I’m staringat the window across the room. The curtainpanels are open, revealing nothing but agloomy view of the brick building just feetaway from the hotel. Just a solid wall of brickwith no visible windows or doors. Just brick.Looking out the window at the brick wall ishow I feel when I view my own life. I try tolook to the future, but I can’t see past thismoment. I have no idea what’s going to

happen, who I’ll live with, what will happento Karen, if I’ll report what just happened. Ican’t even venture a guess. It’s nothing but asolid wall between this moment and thenext, without so much as a clue sprawledacross it in spray paint.For the past seventeen years, my life hasbeen nothing but a brick wall separating thefirst few years from the rest. A solid block,separating my life as Sky from my life asHope. I’ve heard about people somehowblocking out traumatic memories, but I al-ways thought that maybe it was more of achoice. I literally, for the past thirteen years,have not had a single clue as to who I used tobe. I know I was barely five when I was takenfrom that life, but even then I would assumeI would have a few memories. I guess themoment I pulled away with Karen, I some-how made a conscious decision, at thatyoung of an age, to never recall thosememories. Once Karen began telling me

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stories of my “adoption,” it must have beeneasier for my mind to grasp the harmless liesthan to remember my ugly truth.I know I couldn’t explain at the time whatmy father was doing to me, because I wasn’tsure. All I knew was that I hated it. Whenyou aren’t sure what it is you hate or why youeven hate it, it’s hard to hold on to the de-tails...you just hold on to the feelings. I knowI’ve never really been all that curious to delveup information about my past. I’ve neverreally been that curious to find out who myfather was or why he “put me up for adop-tion.” Now I know it’s because somewhere inmy mind, I still harbored hatred and fear forthat man, so it was just easier to erect thebrick wall and never look back.I still do harbor hatred and fear for him, andhe can’t even touch me anymore. I still hatehim, and I’m still scared to death of him andI’m still devastated that he’s dead. I hate himfor instilling awful things in my memory and

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somehow making me grieve for him in themidst of all the awful. I don’t want to grievehis loss. I want to rejoice in it, but it’s justnot in me.My jacket is being removed. I look away fromthe brick wall taunting me from outside thewindow and turn my head around to seeHolder standing behind me. He lays my jack-et across a chair, then takes off my blood-splattered shirt. A raw sadness consumesme, realizing I’m genetically linked to thelifeless blood now covering my clothes andface. Holder walks around to my front andreaches down to the button on my jeans andunbuttons them.He’s in his boxer shorts. I never even noticedhe took off his clothes. My eyes travel up tohis face and he’s got specks of blood on hisright cheek, the one that was exposed to thecowardliness of my father. His eyes areheavy, keeping them focused on my pants ashe slides them down my legs.

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“I need you to step out of them, baby,” hesays softly when he reaches my feet. I grasphis shoulders with my hands and take onefoot out of my jeans, then the other. I keepmy hands on his shoulders and my eyestrained to the blood splattered in his hair. Imechanically reach over and slip my fingersover a strand of his hair, then pull my handup to inspect it. I slide the blood aroundbetween my fingertips, but it’s thick. It’sthicker than blood should be.That’s because it’s not only my father’s bloodthat’s all over us.I begin wiping my fingers across my stom-ach, frantically trying to get it off of me, butI’m just smearing it everywhere. My throatcloses up and I can’t scream. It’s like thedreams I’ve had where something is so terri-fying, I lose any ability to vocalize sound.Holder looks up and I want to scream andyell and cry, but the only thing I can do iswiden my eyes and shake my head and

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continue to wipe my hands across my body.When he sees me panicking, he standsstraight up and lifts me into his arms, thenswiftly carries me to the shower. He sets medown at the opposite end of the showerhead,then steps in with me and turns the water on.He closes the shower curtain once the wateris warm, then he turns to face me and grabsmy wrists that are still attempting to wipethe redness away. He pulls me to him andturns us both to where I’m standing underthe warm stream of water. When the watersplashes me in the eyes, I gasp and suck in ahuge breath of air.He reaches down to the side of the tub andgrabs the bar of soap, tearing off the soakedpaper packaging. He leans out of the showerand pulls back in, holding a washcloth. Mywhole body is shaking now, even though thewater is warm. He rubs soap and water intothe washcloth, then presses it to my cheek.

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“Shh,” he whispers, staring into my panicstricken eyes. “I’m getting it off of you,okay?”He begins gently wiping my face and Isqueeze my eyes shut and nod. I keep myeyes closed because I don’t want to see theblood-tinted washcloth when he pulls it awayfrom my face. I wrap my arms around myselfand remain as still as possible under hishand, aside from the tremors still wrackingmy body. It takes him several minutes ofwiping the blood away from my face andarms and stomach. Once he finishes thattask, he reaches behind my head and re-moves my ponytail holder.“Look at me, Sky.” I open my eyes and heplaces his fingers lightly on my shoulder.“I’m going to take off your bra now, okay? Ineed to wash your hair and I don’t want toget anything on it.”Get anything on it?

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When I realize he’s referring to what’s morethan likely embedded throughout my hair, Ibegin to panic again and pull the straps ofmy bra down, then just pull the bra over myhead.“Get it out,” I say quietly and quickly, leaningmy head back into the water, attempting tosaturate my hair by running my fingersthrough it under the stream. “Just get it offme.” My voice is more panicky now.He grabs my wrists again and pulls themaway from my hair, then wraps them aroundhis waist.“I’ll get it. Hold on to me and try to relax. I’lldo it.”I press my head against his chest and tightenmy hold around him. I can smell the sham-poo as he pours it into his hands and bringsthe liquid to my hair, spreading it aroundwith his fingertips. He scoots us a step closeruntil the water touches my head that ispressed into his shoulder. He massages and

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scrubs my hair, rinsing it repeatedly. I don’teven ask why he keeps rinsing it; I just lethim rinse it as many times as he needs to.Once he’s finished, he turns us around in theshower until he’s under the stream of waterand he runs the shampoo through his ownhair. I release my hold from around his waistand back away from him, not wanting to feellike there’s anything getting on me again. Ilook down at my stomach and hands anddon’t see any traces of my father left on me. Ilook back up at Holder and he’s scrubbinghis face and neck with a fresh washcloth. Istand there, watching him calmly wash awaywhat happened to us no less than an hourago.When he’s finished, he opens his eyes andlooks down at me with regret. “Baby, I needyou to make sure I got it all, okay? I need youto wipe away anything I missed.”He’s talking to me so calmly, like he’s tryingnot to break me. It’s his voice that makes me

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realize that’s exactly what he’s trying toavoid. He’s afraid I’m about to break, orcrack, or flip-out.I’m scared he might be right, so I take thewashcloth out of his hands and force myselfto be strong and inspect him. There’s still asmall area of blood over his right ear, so Ireach the washcloth up and wipe it away. Ipull the washcloth back and look down at thelast speck of blood left on the two of us, thenI run it under the stream of water and watchas it washes away.“It’s all gone,” I whisper. I’m not even sureI’m referring to the blood.Holder takes the washcloth out of my handand tosses it onto the edge of the tub. I lookup at him, and his eyes are redder than be-fore and I can’t tell if he’s crying, because thewater is running down his face in the samepattern that tears would be if they were eventhere. It’s then, when all of the physical

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remnants of my past are washed away, thatI’m reminded of Lesslie.My heart breaks all over again, this time forHolder. A sob breaks out of me and I slap myhand over my mouth, but my shoulders con-tinue to shake. He pulls me to his chest andpresses his lips to my hair.“Holder, I’m so sorry. Oh my God, I’m sosorry.” I’m crying and holding on to him,wishing his hopelessness was as easy to washaway as the blood. He’s holding me sotightly, I can barely breathe. But he needsthis. He needs me to feel his pain right now,just like I need for him to feel mine.I take every single word my father said todayand attempt to cry them out of me. I don’twant to remember his face. I don’t want toremember his voice. I don’t want to remem-ber how much I hate him and I especiallydon’t want to remember how much I lovedhim. There’s nothing like the guilt you feelwhen there’s room in your heart to love evil.

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Holder moves one of his hands to the back ofmy head and presses my face into hisshoulder. His cheek presses against the topof my head and I can hear him crying now.It’s quiet and he’s trying so hard to hold it in.He’s in so much pain because of what myfather did to Lesslie, and I can’t help butplace some of that blame on myself. If I hadbeen around, he never would have touchedLesslie and she never would have suffered. IfI never would have climbed into that carwith Karen, Lesslie might still be alive today.I curl my hands up behind Holder’s armsand grip his shoulders. I lift my cheek andturn my mouth toward his neck, kissing himsoftly. “I’m so sorry. He never would havetouched her if I…”Holder grips my arms and pushes me awayfrom him with such force, my eyes widen andI flinch when he speaks. “Don’t you dare saythat.” He releases his hold and swiftly bringshis hands to my face, gripping me tightly. “I

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don’t ever want you to apologize for a singlething that man did. Do you hear me? It’s notyour fault, Sky. Swear to me you will neverlet a thought like that consume you everagain.” His eyes are desperate and full oftears.I nod. “I swear,” I say weakly.He never looks away, searching my eyes fortruth. His reaction has left my heart pound-ing, shocked at how quick he was to dismissany fault I may have had. I wish he was justas quick to dismiss his own faults, but heisn’t.I can’t take the look in his eyes, so I throwmy arms around his neck and hug him. Hetightens his grip around me and holds mewith pained desperation. The truth aboutLesslie and the reality of what we both justwitnessed hits us both, and we cling to eachother with everything we have. We’re bothallowing everything to escape through thetears we’re crying in each other’s arms. He’s

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finished trying to be strong for me. The lovehe had for Lesslie and the anger he’s feelingover what happened to her are pouring outof him.I know Lesslie would need him to feel herheartache, so I don’t even try to comfort himwith words. We both cry for her now, be-cause she had no one to cry for her then. Ikiss the side of his head, my hands grippinghis neck. Each time my lips touch him, heholds me just a little bit tighter. His lips meetmy skin and soon we’re both attempting tokiss away every ounce of the heartache thatneither one of us deserves. His lips becomeadamant as he kisses my neck harder andfaster, desperately trying to find an escape.He pulls back and looks into my eyes, hisshoulders rising and falling with everybreath he’s attempting to find.In one swift movement, he crashes his lips tomine with an intense urgency, gripping myhair and my back with his trembling hands.

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He pushes my back against the shower wallas he slides his hands down behind mythighs. I can feel the despair pouring out ofhim as he lifts me up and wraps my legsaround his waist. He wants his pain to goaway, and he needs me to help him. Just likeI needed him last night.I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling himagainst me, allowing him to consume me fora break from his heartache. I let him, be-cause I need a break just as badly as he doesright now. I want to forget about everythingelse.I don’t want this to be our life tonight.

With his body pressing me into the wallof the shower, he uses his hands to grip thesides of my face, holding me still as ourmouths anxiously search the other for anysemblance of relief from our reality. I’mgrasping his upper back with my arms as hismouth moves frenziedly down my neck.

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“Tell me this is okay,” he says breathlesslyagainst my skin. He lifts his face back tomine, nervously searching my eyes as hespeaks. “Tell me it’s okay to want to be insideyou right now…because after everythingwe’ve been through today, it feels wrong toneed you like I do.”I grip his hair with my hands and pull himcloser, covering his mouth with mine, kissinghim with such conviction that my wordsaren’t even needed. He groans and separatesme from the shower wall, then walks out ofthe bathroom to the bed with me stillwrapped around him. He’s not being gentleat all with the way he rips off the last twoitems of clothing between us and ravishes mymouth with his, but I honestly don’t know ifmy heart could take gentle right now.He’s standing at the edge of the bed leaningover me, his mouth meshed to mine. Hebreaks apart momentarily to put a condomon, then he grabs my waist and pulls me to

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the edge of the bed with him. He lifts my legbehind the knee and brings it up to his side,then slides his hand underneath my arm andgrips my shoulder. The moment his eyes fallback to mine, he pushes himself into mewithout a moment of hesitation. I gasp fromthe sudden force of him, shocked by the in-tense pleasure that takes over the moment-ary flash of pain. I wrap my arms aroundhim and move with him as he grips my legtighter, then covers my mouth with his. Iclose my eyes and let my head sink deeperinto the mattress as we use our love to tem-porarily ease our hatred and despair.His hands move to my waist and he pulls meagainst him, digging his fingers deeper intomy hips with each frantic, rhythmic move-ment against me. I grab hold of his arms andrelax my body, allowing him to guide me inwhatever way can help him right now. Hismouth breaks away and he opens his eyes atthe same time I open mine. His eyes are still

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fresh with tears, so I let go of him and bringmy hands to his face, attempting to sooth hispained features with my touch. He continueslooking at me, but he moves his mouth to theinside of my palm and kisses it, then dropshimself on top of me, stopping suddenly.We’re both panting for air and I can feel himinside of me, still needing me. He keeps hiseyes locked with mine as he slides his armsunderneath my back and pulls me to him,lifting us both up. We never separate as heturns us around and slides himself down tothe floor with his back against the bed, mestraddling his lap. He slowly pulls me in for akiss. A gentle kiss this time.The way he’s holding me against him pro-tectively now, trailing kisses along my lipsand jaw—it’s almost as if he’s a differentHolder than the one I had just thirty secondsago, yet still wholly passionate. One minutehe’s frantic and heated…the next minute he’sgentle and coaxing. I’m beginning to

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appreciate and love the unexpectedness inhim.I can feel him wanting me to take controlnow, but I’m nervous. I’m not sure that Ieven know how. He senses my unease and hemoves his hands to my waist, slowly guidingme, barely moving me on top of him. He’swatching me earnestly, making sure I’m stillhere with him.I am. I’m so completely here with him rightnow I can think of nothing else.He brings one of his hands to my face, stillguiding me with his other hand on my waist.“You know how I feel about you, baby,” hesays. “You know how much I love you. Youknow I would do whatever I could to takeaway your pain, right?”I nod, because I do know. And looking intohis eyes right now, seeing the raw honesty inthem, I know he’s felt this way about me longbefore this moment.

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“I need that from you so fucking bad rightnow, Sky. I need to know you love me likethat.”Everything about him, from his voice to thelook on his face, becomes tortured. I woulddo whatever it took to take that away fromhim. I lace our fingers together and coverboth of our hearts with our hands, workingup the courage to show him how incrediblymuch I love him. I stare him straight in theeyes as I lift up slightly, then slowly lowermyself back down on top of him.He groans heavily, then closes his eyes andleans his head back, letting it fall against themattress behind him.“Open your eyes,” I whisper. “I want you towatch me.”He raises his head, looking at me throughhooded eyes. I continue to slowly take con-trol, wanting nothing more than for him tohear and feel and see just how much hemeans to me. Being in control is a

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completely different sensation, but it’s agood one. The way he’s watching me makesme feel needed like no one’s ever been ableto make me feel. In a way, he makes me feelnecessary. Like my existence alone is neces-sary for his survival.“Don’t look away again,” I say, easing myselfup. When I lower myself back onto him, hishead sways slightly from the intensity of thesensation and a moan escapes my throat, buthe keeps his tortured eyes locked firmly onmine. I’m no longer in need of his guidance,and my body becomes a rhythmic reflectionof his.“The first time you kissed me?” I say. “Thatmoment when your lips touched mine? Youstole a piece of my heart that night.” I con-tinue my rhythm as he watches me fervently.“The first time you told me you lived me be-cause you weren’t ready to tell me you lovedme yet?” I press my hand harder against hischest and move myself in closer to him,

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wanting him to feel every part of me. “Thosewords stole another piece of my heart.”He opens his hand that I have pressed overmy heart until his palm is flat against myskin. I do the same to him. “The night Ifound out I was Hope? I told you I wanted tobe alone in my room. When I woke up andsaw you in my bed I wanted to cry, Holder. Iwanted to cry because I needed you therewith me so bad. I knew in that moment that Iwas in love with you. I was in love with theway you loved me. When you wrapped yourarms around me and held me, I knew that nomatter what happened with my life, you weremy home. You stole the biggest piece of myheart that night.”I lower my mouth to his and kiss him softly.He closes his eyes and begins to ease hishead against the bed again. “Keep themopen,” I whisper, pulling away from his lips.He opens them, regarding me with an in-tensity that penetrates straight to my core. “I

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want you to keep them open…because I needyou to watch me give you the very last pieceof my heart.”He releases a vast breath and it’s almost as ifI can see the pain literally escaping him. Hishands tighten around mine as the look in hiseyes instantly changes from an intense hope-lessness to a fiery need. He begins movingwith me as we hold each other’s gaze. Thetwo of us gradually become one as we silentlyexpress with our bodies and our hands andour eyes what our words are unable toconvey.We remain in a connected cadence until thevery last moment when his eyes grow heavy.He drops his head back, consumed by theshudders that are taking over his release.When his heart rate begins to calm againstmy palm and he’s able to connect with myeyes again, he pulls his hands from mine andgrips the back of my head, kissing me withan unforgiving passion. He leans forward as

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he lowers my back to the floor, trading dom-inance with me, kissing me with abandon.We spend the rest of the night taking turnsexpressing how we feel without uttering asingle word. By the time we finally reach thepoint of exhaustion, wrapped up in each oth-er’s arms, I begin to fall asleep in a wave ofdisbelief. We have just wholly fallen intoeach other, heart and soul. I never thought Iwould ever be able to trust a man enough toshare my heart, much less hand it overcompletely.

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Holder isn’t next to me when I roll over andfeel for him. I sit up on the bed and it’s darkoutside, so I reach over and turn on thelamp. His shoes aren’t where they were whenhe took them off, so I pull on my clothes andmake my way outside to find him.I walk past the courtyard, not spotting himsitting in any of the cabanas. Just as I’mabout to turn around and head back, I seehim lying on the concrete next to the poolwith his hands locked behind his head, look-ing up at the stars. He looks so incrediblypeaceful right now, so I choose to walk backto one of the cabanas and leave himundisturbed.

I curl up into the seat and pull my arms intomy sweater, leaning my head back as I watchhim. There’s a full moon out, so everythingabout him is illuminated in a soft bask oflight, making him appear almost angelic.He’s lost in the sky with a look of serenityacross his face, making me grateful that he’sable to find enough peace within himself toget through today. I know how much Lessliemeant to him and I know what his heart isgoing through today. I know exactly whathe’s feeling, because our pain is shared now.Whatever he goes through, I feel. Whatever Igo through, he feels. It’s what happens whentwo people become one: they no longer onlyshare love. They also share all of the pain,heartache, sorrow, and grief.Despite the calamity that is my life rightnow, there’s a warm sense of comfort sur-rounding me after being with him tonight.No matter what happens, I know for a factthat Holder will see me through every second

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of it, maybe even carrying me through attimes. He’s proven to me that I’ll never feelcompletely hopeless again, so long as he’s inmy life.“Come lay with me,” he says, never taking hiseyes off of the sky above him. I smile andease out of my seat, then walk toward him.When I reach him, he removes his jacket andplaces it over me as I ease down onto thecold concrete and curl up against his chest.He strokes my hair as we both stare up at thesky, silently regarding the stars.Pieces of a memory begin to flash in mymind and I close my eyes, actually wantingto recall it this time. It feels like a happy one,and I’ll take as many of those as I can get. Ihug him tightly and allow myself to fallopenly into the memory.

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“Why don’t you have a TV?” I ask her. I’vebeen with her for lots of days now. She’sreally nice and I like it here, but I misswatching TV. Not as bad as I miss Dean andLesslie, though.“I don’t have a TV because people have be-come dependent on technology and it makesthem lazy,” Karen says. I don’t know whatshe means, but I pretend I do. I really like itat her house and I don’t want to say any-thing that will make her want to take meback home to my daddy yet. I’m not readyto go back.

“Hope, do you remember a few days ago Itold you I had something really importantto talk to you about?”I don’t really remember, but I nod my headand pretend I do. She scoots her chair closerto mine at the table to get closer to me. “Iwant you to pay attention to me, okay? Thisis very important.”I nod my head. I hope she’s not telling meshe’s taking me home now. I’m not ready togo home. I do miss Dean and Lesslie, but Ireally don’t want to go back home with mydaddy.“Do you know what adoption means?” sheasks.I shake my head because I’ve never heard ofthat word.“Adoption is when someone loves a child somuch, that they want them to be their son ordaughter. So they adopt them in order to be-come their mommy or daddy.” She takes myhand and squeezes it. “I love you so much,

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that I’m going to adopt you so you can bemy daughter.”I smile at her, but I really don’t understandwhat she means. “Are you coming to livewith me and my daddy?”She shakes her head. “No, sweetie. Yourdaddy loves you very, very much, but hecan’t take care of you anymore. He needsfor me to take care of you now, because hewants to make sure you’re happy. So now,instead of living with your daddy, you’regoing to live with me and I’ll get to be yourmommy.”It feels like I want to cry, but I don’t knowwhy. I like Karen a lot, but I love my daddy,too. I like her house and I like her cookingand I like my room. I really want to stayhere really bad, but I can’t smile because mytummy hurts. It started hurting when shesaid my daddy couldn’t take care of me any-more. I wonder if I made him mad? I don’task if I made him mad, though. I’m scared if

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she thinks I still want to live with my daddy,that she’ll take me back to live with him. I dolove him, but I’m too scared to go back andlive with him.“Are you excited about me adopting you? Doyou want to live with me?”I do want to live with her but I feel sad be-cause it took us lots of minutes or hours todrive here. That means we’re far away fromDean and Lesslie.“What about my friends? Will I get to seemy friends again?”Karen moves her head to the side and smilesat me, then tucks my hair behind my ear.“Sweetie, you’re going to make a lot of newfriends.”I smile back at her, but my tummy hurts. Idon’t want new friends. I want Dean andLesslie. I miss them. I can feel my eyes burn-ing and I try not to cry. I don’t want her tothink I’m not happy about her adopting me,because I am.

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Karen reaches down and hugs me. “Sweetie,don’t worry. You’ll see your friends againsomeday. But right now we can’t go back, sowe’ll make new friends here, okay?”I nod and she kisses me on top of the headwhile I look down at the bracelet on myhand. I touch the heart on it with my fingersand hope that Lesslie knows where I am. Ihope they know I’m okay, because I don’twant them to worry about me.“There’s one more thing,” she says. “You’regoing to love it.”Karen leans back in her seat and pulls apiece of paper and a pencil to the spot infront of her. “The best part of being adoptedis that you get to pick your very own name.Did you know that?”I shake my head. I didn’t know people got topick their own names.“Before we pick your name, we need toknow what names we can’t use. We can’t usethe name you had before, and we can’t use

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nicknames. Do you have any nicknames?Anything your daddy calls you?”I nod my head, but I don’t say it.“What does he call you?”I look down at my hands and clear mythroat. “Princess,” I say quietly. “But I don’tlike that nickname.”She looks sad when I say that. “Well then,we will never call you Princess again,okay?”I nod. I’m happy she doesn’t like that name,either.“I want you to tell me some things thatmake you happy. Beautiful things andthings you love. Maybe we can pick you aname from those.”I don’t even need her to write them down,because there’s only one thing I feel thatway about. “I love the sky,” I say, thinkingabout what Dean told me to rememberforever.

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“Sky,” she says, smiling. “I love that name. Ithink it’s perfect. Now lets think of one morename, because everyone needs two names.What else do you love?”I close my eyes and try to think ofsomething else, but I can’t. The sky is theonly thing I love that’s beautiful and makesme happy when I think about it. I open myeyes back up and look at her. “What do youlove, Karen?”She smiles and puts her chin in her hand,resting her elbow on the table. “I love lots ofthings. I love pizza the most. Can we callyou Sky Pizza?”I giggle and shake my head. “That’s a sillyname.”“Okay, let me think,” she says. “What aboutteddy bears? Can we call you Teddy BearSky?”I laugh and shake my head again.

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She pulls her chin out of her hand and leanstoward me. “Do you want to know what Ireally love?”“Yeah,” I say.“I love herbs. Herbs are healing plants and Ilove growing them to find ways to helppeople feel better. Someday I want to ownmy own herbal business. Maybe for goodluck, we could pick out the name of an herb.There are hundreds of them and some ofthem are really pretty names.” She standsup and walks to the living room and grabs abook, then brings it back to the table. Sheopens it up and points to one of the pages.“What about thyme?” she says with a wink.I laugh and shake my head.“How about…calendula?”I shake my head again. “I can’t even saythat word.”She crinkles up her nose. “Good point. Iguess you need to be able to say your ownname.” She looks down at the page again

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and reads a few more out loud, but I don’tlike them. She turns the page one more timeand says, “What about Linden? It’s more ofa tree than an herb, but its leaves areshaped like a heart. Do you like hearts?”I nod. “Linden,” I say. “I like that name.”She smiles and closes the book, then leansdown closer to me. “Well then, Linden SkyDavis it is. And just so you know, you nowhave the most beautiful name in the world.Let’s not think about your old names everagain, okay? Promise me from now on we’llonly think about your beautiful new nameand your beautiful new life.”“I promise,” I say. And I do promise. I don’twant to think about my old names or my oldroom or all the things that my daddy did tome when I was his princess. I love my newname. I love my new room where I don’thave to worry if the doorknob is going toturn.

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I reach up and hug her and she hugs meback. It makes me smile, because it feels justlike the way I thought it would feel everytime I wished my mommy was alive to hugme.

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I reach my hand up to my face and wipeaway a tear. I’m not even sure why my tearsare falling right now; the memory wasn’treally a sad one. I think it’s the fact that it’sone of the first moments I ever started tolove Karen. Thinking about how much I loveher makes me hurt because of what she did.It hurts because I feel like I don’t even knowher. I feel like there’s a side to her that I nev-er even knew existed.That’s not what scares me the most, though.What scares me the most is that I’m afraidthe only side of her I do know…doesn’t reallyexist at all.“Can I ask you something?” Holder says,breaking the silence.

I nod against his chest, wiping the last tearfrom my cheek. He wraps both of his armsaround me in an attempt to keep me warmwhen he feels me shiver against his chest. Herubs my shoulder with his hand and kissesmy head.“Do you think you’ll be okay, Sky?”It’s not an uncommon question. It’s a verysimple, straightforward question, yet it’s thehardest question I think I’ve ever had toanswer.I shrug. “I don’t know,” I reply honestly. Iwant to think I’ll be okay, especially knowingHolder will be by my side. But to be honest, Ireally don’t know if I will be.“What scares you?”“Everything,” I reply quickly. “I’m terrified ofmy past. I’m terrified of the memories thatflood my mind every time I close my eyes.I’m terrified of what I saw happen today andhow it’ll affect me the nights that you aren’tthere to divert my thoughts. I’m terrified that

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I don’t have the emotional capacity to dealwith what may happen to Karen. I’m scaredof the thought that I have no idea who sheeven is anymore.” I lift my head off of hischest and look him in the eyes. “But do youknow what scares me the most?”He runs his hand over my hair and keeps hiseyes on mine; wanting me to know that he’slistening. “What?” he asks, his voice full ofgenuine concern.“I’m scared of how disconnected I feel toHope. I know we’re the same person, but Ifeel like what happened to her didn’t reallyhappen to me. I feel like I abandoned her.Like I left her there, crying against thathouse, terrified for all of eternity, while I justgot into that car and rode away. Now I’m twocompletely separate people. I’m this littlegirl, eternally scared to death…but I’m alsothe girl who abandoned her. I feel so guiltyfor putting up this wall between both lives

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and I’m scared neither of those lives or thosegirls will ever feel whole again.”I bury my head in his chest, knowing I’mmore than likely not making any sense. Hekisses the top of my head and I look back upat the sky, wondering if I’ll ever be able tofeel normal again. It was so much easier notknowing the truth.“After my parents divorced,” he says. “Mymother was worried about us, so she put meand Les in therapy. It only lasted for aboutsix months…but I remember always being sohard on myself, thinking I was the reason fortheir divorce. I felt like what I failed to do theday you were taken put a lot of stress onthem. I know now that most of what Iblamed myself for back then was out of mycontrol. But there was something my therap-ist did once that sort of helped me. It feltreally awkward at the time, but every nowand then I catch myself still doing it in cer-tain situations. He had me visualize myself in

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the past, and he would have me talk to theyounger version of myself and say everythingI needed to say.” He pulls my face up so thatI’m looking at him. “I think you should trythat. I know it sounds lame, but really. Itmight help you. I think you need to go backand tell Hope everything you wish you couldhave told her the day you left her.”I rest my chin on his chest. “What do youmean? Like I should visualize myself talkingto her?”“Exactly,” he says. “Just try it. Close youreyes.”I close them. I’m not sure what it is I’m do-ing, but I do it anyway.“Are they closed?”“Yes,” I say, softly. I lay my hand over hisheart and press the side of my head into hischest. “I’m not sure what to do, though.”“Just envision yourself as you are now. Envi-sion yourself driving up to your father’shouse and parking across the street. But

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visualize the house how it was back then,” hesays. “Picture it how it was when you wereHope. Can you remember the house beingwhite?”I squeeze my eyes shut even harder, vaguelyrecalling the white house from somewheredeep within my mind. “Yes.”“Good. Now envision everything about thatday how you remember it in your mind andgo find her. Talk to her. Tell her how strongshe is. Tell her how beautiful and strong sheis. Tell her everything she needs to hear fromyou, Sky. Everything you wish you couldhave told yourself that day.”I clear my mind and go with his suggestion. Ienvision myself as I am now and what wouldbe happening if I actually drove up to thathouse. I would more than likely be wearingmy sundress with my hair pulled back into aponytail since it’s so hot. It’s almost as if Ican feel the sun beating down through thewindshield, warming my skin again.

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I make myself step out of my car. I walkacross the street and reluctantly head towardthe house. My heart immediately speeds upbecause I’m nervous. I’m not sure that I wantto see her, but I do what Holder suggests andI keep walking forward so that I can talk toher. As soon as the side of the house is inview, she’s there. Hope is sitting in the grasswith her arms folded over her knees. She’scrying into them and it completely shattersmy heart.I slowly walk up to her and pause, then tent-atively lower myself to the ground, unable totake my eyes off of this fragile little girl.When I’m situated on the grass directly infront of her, she lifts her head from her fol-ded arms and looks up at me. When shedoes, my soul crumbles because the look inher dark brown eyes is lifeless. There’s nohappiness there at all. I try to smile at herthough, because I don’t want her to see howmuch her pain is hurting me.

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I slowly stretch my hand out to her, but stopa few inches before I reach her. Her sadbrown eyes drop to my fingers and she staresat them. My hands are shaking now and shecan see that. Maybe the fact that she can seethat I’m also scared helps me gain her trust,because she lifts her head even higher, thenunfolds her arms and places her tiny hand inmine.I’m looking down at the hand of my child-hood, holding onto the hand of my present,but all I want to do is hold more than just herhand. I want to grab all of her pain and fear,too, and take it from her.Remembering the things Holder said Ishould tell her, I look down at her and clearmy throat, squeezing her hand tightly inmine.“Hope.” She continues to look at me pa-tiently while I dig deep for the courage tospeak to her…to tell her everything she needs

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to know. “Do you know that you’re one of thebravest little girls I’ve ever met?”She shakes her head and looks down at thegrass. “No, I’m not,” she says quietly, con-vinced in her belief.I reach out and take her other hand in mineand look her directly in the eyes. “Yes, youare. You’re incredibly brave. And you’re go-ing to make it through this because you havea very strong heart. A heart that is capable ofloving so much about life and people in away you never dreamt a heart could love.And you’re beautiful.” I press my hand to herheart. “In here. Your heart is so beautiful andsomeday someone is going to love that heartlike it deserves to be loved.”She pulls one of her hands back and wipesher eyes with it. “How do you know all that?”I lean forward and wrap my arms around hercompletely. She returns my embrace by put-ting her arms around me and letting me holdher. I lean my head down and whisper in her

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ear. “I know, because I’ve been through ex-actly what you’re going through. I know howbad it hurts your heart that your daddy doesthis to you, because he did it to me, too. Iknow how much you hate him for it, but Ialso know how much you love him becausehe’s your daddy. And it’s okay, Hope. It’sokay to love the good parts of him becausehe’s not all bad. It’s also okay to hate thosebad parts of him that make you so sad. It’sokay to feel whatever you need to feel. Justpromise me that you will never, ever feelguilty. Promise me that you will never blameyourself. It’s not your fault. You’re just alittle girl and it’s not your fault that your lifeis so much harder than it should be. And asmuch as you’ll want to forget these thingsever happened to you and as much as you’llwant to forget this part of your life existed, Ineed for you to remember.”I can feel her arms trembling against me nowand she’s quietly crying against my chest.

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Her tears force the release of my own tears.“I want you to remember who you are, des-pite the bad things that are happening toyou. Because those bad things aren’t you.They are just things that happen to you. Youneed to accept that who you are, and thethings that happen to you, are not one andthe same.”I gently lift her head off of my chest and lookinto her brown, tearful eyes. “Promise methat no matter what, you will never beashamed of who you are, no matter how badyou want to be. And this might not makesense to you right now, but I want you topromise me that you will never let the thingsyour daddy does to you define and separateyou from who you are. Promise me that youwill never lose Hope.”She nods her head as I wipe her tears awaywith my thumbs. “I promise,” she says. Shesmiles up at me and for the first time sinceseeing her big brown eyes, there’s a trace of

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life in them. I pull her onto my lap and shewraps her arms around my neck as I hold herand rock her, both of us crying in each oth-er’s arms.“Hope, I promise that from this point for-ward, I will never, ever let you go. I’m goingto hold you and carry you with me in myheart forever. You’ll never have to be aloneagain.”I’m crying into Hope’s hair, but when I openmy eyes I’m crying into Holder’s arms. “Didyou talk to her?” he asks.I nod my head. “Yes.” I’m not even trying tochoke back the tears. “I told her everything.”Holder begins to sit up, so I move up withhim. He turns toward me and takes my facein his hands. “No, Sky. You didn’t tell hereverything…you told you everything. Thosethings happened to you, not to someone else.They happened to Hope. They happened toSky. They happened to the best friend that Iloved all those years ago, and they happened

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to the best friend I love who’s looking back atme right now.” He presses his lips to mineand kisses me, then pulls away. It’s not untilI look back at him that I notice he’s cryingwith me. “Baby, you need to be proud of thefact that you survived everything you wentthrough as a child. Don’t separate yourselffrom that life. Embrace it, because I’m sofucking proud of you. Every smile I see onyour face just blows me away, because Iknow the courage and strength it took whenyou were just a little girl to ensure that partof you remained. And your laugh? My God,Sky. Think about how much courage it tookyou to laugh again after everything thathappened to you. And your heart…” he says,shaking his head disbelievingly. “How yourheart can possibly find a way to love andtrust a man again proves that I’ve fallen inlove with the bravest woman I’ve everknown. I know how much courage it took foryou to allow me in after what your father did

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to you. And I swear I will spend every lastbreath thanking you for allowing yourself tolove me. Thank you so much for loving me,Linden Sky Hope.”He pronounces each of my names slowly, noteven attempting to wipe away my tears be-cause there are too many. I throw my armsaround his neck and let him hold me. All sev-enteen years of me.

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The sun is so bright; it’s beaming throughthe blanket I’ve pulled over my eyes. It’s notthe sun that woke me up, though. It was thesound of Holder’s voice.“Look, you have no idea what she’s beenthrough the past two days,” Holder says.He’s trying to speak softly, either in an at-tempt not to wake me, or in an attempt forme not to hear his conversation. I don’t hearanyone speak in return, so he must be on thephone. Who the hell is he talking to, though?“I understand your need to defend her. Be-lieve me, I do. But you both need to knowthat she’s not walking inside that housealone.”

There’s a long pause before he sighs heavilyinto the phone. “I need to make sure she eatssomething, so give us some time. Yes, Ipromise. I’m waking her up as soon as I hangup. We’ll leave within the hour.”He doesn’t say goodbye, but I hear the phonedrop onto the table. Within seconds, the beddips and he’s sliding an arm around me.“Wake up, babe,” he says into my ear.I don’t move. “I am awake,” I say from un-derneath the covers. I feel his head press intomy shoulder.“So you heard that?” he asks, his voice low.“Who was it?”He shifts on the bed and pulls the covers offof my head. “Jack. He claims Karen con-fessed everything to him last night. He’s wor-ried about her. He needs you to talk to her.”My heart stops mid-beat. “She confessed?” Iask warily, sitting up in the bed.He nods. “We didn’t go into details, but heseems to know what’s going on. I did tell him

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about your father, though…only becauseKaren wanted to know if you saw him. WhenI woke up today it was on the news. Theyruled it a suicide, based on the fact that hecalled it in himself. They aren’t even openingit for investigation.” He holds my hand andcaresses it with his thumb. “Sky, Jack soundsdesperate for you to come back. I think he’sright…we need to go back and finish this.You won’t be alone. I’ll be there and Jack willbe there. And from the sound of it, Karen iscooperating. I know it’s hard but we don’thave a choice.”He’s talking to me like I need to be con-vinced, when really I’m ready. I need to seeher face-to-face in order to get the last of myquestions answered. I throw the covers off ofme completely and scoot off the bed, thenstand up and stretch. “I need to brush myteeth and change first. Then we can go.” Iwalk to the bathroom and don’t turn around,

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but I can feel the pride rolling off of him.He’s proud of me.

Holder hands me his cell phone once we’reon the road. “Here. Breckin and Six are bothworried about you. Karen got their numbersout of your cell phone and has been callingthem all weekend, trying to find you.”“Did you talk to either of them?”He nods. “I spoke with Breckin this morning,right before Jack called. I told him you andyour mother got into a fight and you justwanted to get away for a few days. He’s finewith that explanation.”“What about Six?”He glances at me and gives me a half smile.“Six you might need to contact. I’ve beentalking to her through email. I tried to ap-pease her with the same story I told Breckin,but she wasn’t buying it. She said you and

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Karen don’t fight and I need to tell her thetruth before she flies back to Texas and kicksmy ass.”I wince, knowing Six must be worried sickabout me. I haven’t texted her in days, so Idecide to put off calling Breckin and shootSix an email, instead.“How do you email someone?” I ask. Holderlaughs and takes his phone, pressing a fewbuttons. He hands it back to me and pointsto the screen.“Just type what you need to say in there,then hand it back to me and I’ll send it.”I type out a short email, telling her that Ifound out a few things about my past and Ineeded to get away for a few days. I assureher that I’ll call her to explain everything inthe next few days, but I’m really not sure thatI’ll actually tell her the truth. At this point,I’m not sure I want anyone to know aboutmy situation. Not until I have all theanswers.

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Holder sends the email, then takes my handand laces his fingers through mine. I focusmy gaze out the window and stare up at thesky.“You hungry?” he asks, after driving in com-plete silence for over an hour. I shake myhead. I’m too nervous to eat anything, know-ing I’m about to face Karen. I’m too nervousto even hold a normal conversation. I’m toonervous to do anything but stare out the win-dow and wonder where I’ll be when I wakeup tomorrow.“You need to eat, babe. You’ve barely eatenanything in three days and with your tend-ency to pass out, I don’t think food would bea bad idea right now.”He won’t give up until I eat, so I just relent.“Fine,” I mumble.He ends up choosing a roadside MexicanRestaurant after I fail to make a choice as towhere to eat. I order something off the lunch

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menu, just to appease him. I more than likelywon’t be able to eat anything.“You want to play Dinner Quest?” he says,dipping a tortilla chip into his salsa.I shrug. I really don’t want to face what I’ll bedoing in five hours, so maybe this will helpget my mind off of things. “I guess. On onecondition, though. I don’t want to talk aboutanything that has anything to do with thefirst few years of my life, the last three daysor the next twenty-four hours.”He smiles, seemingly relieved. Maybe hedoesn’t want to think about any of it, either.“Ladies first,” he says.“Then put down that chip,” I say, eyeing thefood he’s about to put in his mouth.His eyes drop to the chip and he frowns play-fully. “Make it a quick question then, becauseI’m starving.”I take advantage of my turn by downing adrink of my soda, then taking a bite of the

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chip that I just took out of his hands. “Whydo you love running so much?” I ask.“I’m not sure,” he says, sinking back into hisseat. “I started running when I was thirteen.It started out as a way to get away from Lesand her annoying friends. Sometimes Iwould just need out of the house. The squeal-ing and cackling of thirteen-year-old girlscan be extremely painful. I liked the silencethat came with running. If you haven’t no-ticed, I’m sort of a thinker, so it helps me toclear my head.”I laugh. “I’ve noticed,” I say. “Have you al-ways been like that?”He grins and shakes his head. “That’s twoquestions. My turn.” He takes the chip out ofmy hand that I was about to eat and he popsit into his mouth, then takes a drink of hissoda. “Why didn’t you ever show up for tracktryouts?”

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I cock my eyebrow and laugh. “That’s an oddquestion to ask now. That was two monthsago.”He shakes his head and points a chip at me.“No judging when it comes to my choice inquestions.”“Fine,” I laugh. “I don’t know, really. Schooljust wasn’t what I thought it would be. Ididn’t expect the other girls to be so mean.None of them even spoke to me unless it wasto inform me of what a slut I was. Breckinwas the only person in that whole school whomade any effort.”“That’s not true,” Holder says. “You’re for-getting about Shayla.”I laugh. “You mean Shayna?”“Whatever,” he says, shaking his head. “Yourgo.” He quickly shoves another chip in hismouth and grins at me.“Why did your parents divorce?”He gives me a tight-lipped smile and drumshis fingers lightly on the table, then shrugs

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his shoulders. “I guess it was time for themto,” he says, indifferently.“It was time?” I ask, confused by his vagueanswer. “Is there an expiration date on mar-riages nowadays?”He shrugs. “For some people, yes.”I’m interested in his thought process now.I’m hoping he doesn’t move on to his turnnow that my question has been asked, be-cause I really want to know his views on this.Not that I’m planning on getting marriedanytime soon. But he is the guy I’m in lovewith, so it wouldn’t hurt to know his stanceso I’m not as shocked years down the road.“Why do you think their marriage had a timelimit?” I ask.“All marriages have a time limit if you enterthem for the wrong reasons. Marriagedoesn’t get easier…it only gets harder. If youmarry someone hoping it will improvethings, you might as well set your timer thesecond you say, ‘I do.’”

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“What wrong reasons did they have to getmarried?”“Me and Les,” he says emphatically. “Theyknew each other less than a month when mymother got pregnant. My dad married her,thinking it was the right thing to do, whenmaybe the right thing to do was to neverknock her up in the first place.”“Accidents happen,” I say.“I know. Which is why they’re nowdivorced.”I shake my head, sad that he’s so casualabout his parent’s lack of love for each other.I guess it’s been eight years, though. The ten-year-old Holder may not have been so casualabout the divorce as it was actually occur-ring. “But you don’t think divorce is inevit-able for every marriage?”He folds his arms across the table and leansforward, narrowing his eyes. “Sky, if you’rewondering if I have commitment issues, theanswer is no. Someday in the far, far, far

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away future…like post-college future…when Ipropose to you…which I will be doing oneday because you aren’t getting rid of me…Iwon’t be marrying you with the hope that ourmarriage will work out. When you becomemine, it’ll be a forever thing. I’ve told you be-fore that the only thing that matters to mewith you are the forevers, and I mean that.”I smile at him, somehow a little bit more inlove with him than I was thirty seconds ago.“Wow. You didn’t need much time to thinkthose words out.”He shakes his head. “That’s because I’vebeen thinking about forever with you sincethe second I saw you in the grocery store.”Our food couldn’t have arrived at a moreperfect time, because I have no idea how torespond to that. I pick up my fork to take abite but he reaches across the table andsnatches it out of my hand.“No cheating,” he says. “We’re not finishedand I’m about to get really personal with my

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question.” He takes a bite of his food andchews it slowly as I wait for him to ask mehis “really personal” question. After he takesa drink, he takes another bite of food andgrins at me, purposefully dragging out histurn so he can eat.“Ask me a damn question,” I say with feignedirritation.He laughs and wipes his mouth with his nap-kin, then leans forward. “Are you on birthcontrol?” he asks in a hushed voice.His question makes me laugh; because itreally isn’t all that personal when you’re ask-ing the girl you’re having sex with. “No, I’mnot,” I admit. “I never really had a reason tobe on it before you came barging into mylife.”“Well, I want you on it,” he says decisively.“Make an appointment this week.”I balk at his rudeness. “You could ask me alittle more politely, you know.”

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He arches an eyebrow as he takes a sip of hisdrink, then places it calmly back down on thetable in front of him. “My bad.” He smilesand flashes his dimples at me. “Let me reph-rase my words, then,” he says, lowering hisvoice to a husky whisper. “I plan on makinglove to you, Sky. A lot. Pretty much anychance we get, because I rather enjoyed youthis weekend, despite the circumstances sur-rounding it all. So in order for me to contin-ue to make love to you, I would very muchappreciate it if you would make alternativecontraceptive arrangements so that we don’tfind ourselves in a pregnancy-induced mar-riage with an expiration date on it. Do youthink you could do that for me? So that wecan continue to have lots and lots and lots ofsex?”I keep my eyes locked on his as I slide myempty glass to the waitress who is now star-ing at Holder with her jaw wide open. I keepa straight face when I reply.

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“That’s much better,” I say. “And yes. I be-lieve I can arrange that.”He nods once, then slides his glass next tomine, glancing up at the waitress. She finallysnaps out of her trance and quickly refills ourglasses, then walks away. As soon as she’sgone, I glare at Holder and shake my head.“You’re evil, Dean Holder,” I laugh.“What?” he says innocently.“It should be illegal for the words ‘make love’and ‘sex’ to flow past your lips when in thepresence of any female besides the one whoactually gets to experience you. I don’t thinkyou realize what you do to women.”He shakes his head and attempts to brush offmy comment.“I’m serious, Holder. Without trying to ex-plode your ego, you should know that you’reincredibly appealing to pretty much any fe-male with a pulse. I mean, think about it. Ican’t even count the number of guys I’ve metin my life, yet somehow you’re the only one

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I’ve ever been attracted to? Explain thatone.”He laughs. “That’s an easy one, babe.”“How so?”“Because,” he says, looking at me pointedly.“You already loved me before you saw me inthe grocery store that day. Just because youblocked the memory of me out of your minddoesn’t mean you blocked the memory of meout of your heart.” He brings a forkful of foodto his mouth, but pauses before he takes abite. “Maybe you’re right, though. It couldhave just been the fact that you wanted tolick my dimples,” he says, shoving the forkfulinto his mouth.“It was definitely the dimples,” I say, smiling.I can’t count the number of times he’s mademe smile in the half hour that we’ve beenhere, and I’ve somehow eaten half of thefood on my plate. His presence alone workswonders for a wounded soul.

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We’re a block from Karen’s house when I askhim to pull over. The anticipation during thedrive over here was torture enough, but actu-ally arriving is absolutely terrifying. I haveno idea what to say to her or how I’m sup-posed to react when I walk through the frontdoor.Holder pulls over to the side of the road andputs the car in park. He looks over at mewith concern in his eyes. “You need a chapterbreak?” he asks.I nod, inhaling a deep breath. He reachesacross the seat and grabs my hand. “What isit that scares you the most about seeing her?”I shift in my seat to face him. “I’m scaredthat no matter what she says to me today, I’ll

never be able to forgive her. I know that mylife turned out better with her than it wouldhave if I had stayed with my father, but shehad no way of knowing that when she stoleme from him. The fact that I know what she’scapable of makes it impossible for me to for-give her. If I couldn’t forgive my father forwhat he did to me…then I feel like Ishouldn’t forgive her, either.”He brushes his thumb across the top of myhand. “Maybe you’ll never forgive her forwhat she did, but you can appreciate the lifeshe gave you after she did it. She’s been agood mom to you, Sky. Remember that whenyou talk to her today, okay?”I expel a nervous breath. “That’s the part Ican’t get over,” I say. “The fact that she hasbeen a good mom and I love her for it. I loveher so much and I’m scared to death thatafter today, I won’t have her anymore.”Holder pulls me to him and hugs me. “I’mscared for you too, baby,” he says, unwilling

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to pretend everything will be okay when itcan’t. It’s the fear of the unknown that we’reboth wrapped up in. Neither of us has anyidea which path my life will take after I walkthrough that front door, and if it’s a pathwe’ll even be able to take together.I pull apart from him and place my hands onmy knees, working up courage to get thisover with. “I’m ready,” I say. He nods, thenpulls his car back onto the road and roundsthe corner, coming to a stop in my driveway.Seeing my home causes my hands to trembleeven more than they were before. Holderopens the driver’s side door when Jack walksoutside and he turns to face me.“Stay here,” he says. “I want to talk to Jackfirst.” Holder gets out of the car and shutsthe door behind him. I stay put like he askedme to because I’m honestly in no hurry to getout of this car. I watch as Holder and Jackspeak for several minutes. The fact that Jackis here, still supporting her, makes me

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wonder if Karen actually told him the truthabout what she did. I doubt he would be hereif he knew the truth.Holder walks back to the car, this time to thepassenger door where I’m seated. He opensthe door and kneels down next to me. Hebrushes his hand across my cheek andstrokes my face with the back of his finger-tips. “Are you ready?” he asks.I feel my head nodding, but I don’t feel incontrol of the movement. I see my feet step-ping out of the car and my hand reaching in-to Holder’s, but I don’t know how I’m mov-ing when I’m consciously trying to keep my-self seated in the car. I’m not ready to go in,but I’m walking away from the car inHolder’s arms toward the house, anyway.When I reach Jack, he reaches out to hugme. As soon as his familiar arms wraparound me, I catch back up to myself andtake a deep breath.

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“Thank you for coming back,” he says. “Sheneeds this chance to explain everything.Promise me you’ll give that to her.”I pull away from him and look him in theeyes. “Do you know what she did, Jack? Didshe tell you?”He nods painfully. “I know and I know it’shard for you. But you need to let her tell youher side or she’ll never be able to let go of herguilt.”He turns toward the house and keeps hisarm around my shoulders. Holder takes myhand and they both walk me to the frontdoor like I’m a fragile child.I’m not a fragile child.I pause on the steps and turn to face them. “Ineed to talk to her alone.”I know I thought I wanted Holder with me,but I need to be strong for myself. I love theway he protects me, but this is the hardestthing I’ve ever had to do and I want to beable to say I did it myself. If I can face this on

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my own, I know I’ll have the courage to faceanything.Neither of them objects, which fills me withappreciation for them, knowing they bothhave faith in me. Holder squeezes my handand urges me forward with confidence in hiseyes. “I’ll be right here,” he says.I take a deep breath, then open the frontdoor.I step into the living room and Karen stopspacing the floor and spins around, taking inthe sight of me. As soon as we make eye con-tact, she loses control and rushes toward me.I don’t know what look I expected to see onher face when I walked through this door,but it certainly wasn’t a look of relief.“You’re okay,” she says, throwing her armsaround my neck. She presses her hand to theback of my head and pulls me against her asshe cries. “I’m so sorry, Sky. I’m so, so sorryyou found out before I could tell you.” She’strying hard to speak, but the sobs have taken

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over full-force. Seeing her in this much paintears at my heart. Knowing she’s been lyingto me doesn’t immediately refute the thir-teen years I’ve loved her, so seeing her inpain only causes me pain in return.She takes my face in her hands and looks mein the eyes. “I swear to you I was going to tellyou everything the moment you turnedeighteen. I hate that you had to find it all outon your own. I did everything I could to pre-vent that from happening.”I grab her hands and remove them from myface, then step around her. “I have no ideahow to respond to anything you’re sayingright now, Mom.” I spin around and look herin the eyes. “I have so many questions butI’m too scared to ask them. If you answerthem, how do I know you’ll be telling me thetruth? How do I know you won’t lie to melike you’ve been lying to me for last thirteenyears?”

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Karen walks to the kitchen and picks up anapkin to wipes her eyes. She inhales a fewshaky breaths, attempting to regain controlof herself. “Come sit with me, sweetie,” shesays, walking past me toward the couch. I re-main standing while I watch her take a seaton the edge of the cushion. She glances up atme, her entire face awash with heartache.“Please,” she says. “I know you don’t trustme and you have every right not to trust mefor what I did. But if you can find it in yourheart to recognize the fact that I love youmore than life itself, you’ll give me thischance to explain.”Her eyes speak nothing but truth. For that, Iwalk to the couch and take a seat across fromher. She takes a deep breath, then exhales,controlling herself long enough to begin withher explanation.“In order for me to explain the truth aboutwhat happened with you…I first need to ex-plain the truth about what happened to me.”

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She pauses for a few minutes, attempting notto break down again. I can see in her eyesthat whatever she’s about to say is almostunbearable for her. I want to go to her andhug her, but I can’t. As much as I love her, Ijust can’t console her.“I had a wonderful mom, Sky. You wouldhave loved her so much. Her name wasDawn and she loved my brother and me witheverything she had. My brother, John, wasten years older than me, so we never had toexperience the sibling rivalry growing up. Myfather passed away when I was nine, so Johnwas like the father figure in my life ratherthan a sibling. He was my protector. He wassuch a good brother and she was such a goodmother. Unfortunately, when I turned thir-teen, the fact that John was like a father tome became his reality the day my motherdied.“John was only twenty-three and was freshout of college at the time. I didn’t have any

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other family willing to take me in, so he didwhat he had to do. At first, things were okay.I missed my mother more than I should haveand, to be honest, John was having a hardtime dealing with everything laid out in frontof him. He had just started his new job, freshout of college, and things were tough for him.For both of us. By the time I turned fourteen,the stressors of his new job were really get-ting to him at this point. He began drinkingand I began rebelling, staying out later than Ishould have on several occasions.“One night when I came home, he was soangry with me. Our argument soon turnedinto a physical fight and he hit me severaltimes. He had never physically hurt me be-fore and it terrified me. I ran to my room andhe came in several minutes later to apolo-gize. His behavior the previous few monthsas a result of his alcohol abuse already hadme scared of him. Now coupled with the fact

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that it had caused him to physically hurtme…I was terrified of him.”Karen shifts in her seat and reaches down tosip from a glass of water. I watch her hand asshe brings the glass to her mouth and herfingers are trembling.“He tried to apologize but I refused to listen.My stubbornness pissed him off even more,so he pushed me back on the bed and startedscreaming at me. He went on and on, tellingme that I had ruined his life. He said Ineeded to be thanking him for everything hewas doing for me…that I owed him for hav-ing to work so hard to take care of me.”Karen clears her throat and new tears formin her eyes as she struggles to continue withthe painful truth of her past. She brings hereyes to meet mine and I can tell that thewords on the tip of her tongue are almost toohard for her to release.“Sky…” she says, achingly. “My brotherraped me that night. Not only did he do it

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that night, but it continued almost everynight after that for two solid years.”I bring my hands to my mouth and gasp. Theblood rushes from my head, but it feels asthough it rushes from the rest of my body aswell. I feel completely empty hearing herwords, because I’m terrified to hear what Ithink she’s about to tell me. The look in hereyes is even emptier than how I’m feelingright now. Rather than wait for her to tellme, I just come out and ask her.“Mom…is John…he was my father wasn’the?”She quickly nods her head as tears drop fromher eyes. “Yes, baby. He was. I’m so sorry.”My whole body jerks with the sob that breaksfree and Karen’s arms are around me as soonas the first tears escape my eyes. I throw myarms around her and grasp her shirt. “I’m sosorry he did that to you,” I cry. Karen sitsnext to me on the couch and we hold eachother while we cry over the things that were

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done to us at the hands of a man we bothloved with all of our heart.“There’s more,” she says. “I want to tell youeverything, okay?”I nod as she pulls herself away from me andtakes my hands in hers.“When I turned sixteen, I told a friend ofmine what he was doing to me. She told hermother who then reported it. By that time,John had been in the police force for threeyears and was making a name for himself.When he was questioned about the report,he claimed I was making it up because hewouldn’t allow me to see my boyfriend. Hewas eventually cleared and the case was dis-missed, but I knew I could never go back tolive with him. I lived with a few friends untilI graduated high school two years later. Inever spoke to him again.“Six years had passed before I saw himagain. I was twenty-one and in college bythat time. I was at a grocery store and was on

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the next aisle when I heard his voice. I froze,unable to breathe as I listened to his conver-sation. I would have been able to recognizehis voice anywhere. There’s something abouta voice that terrifies you that you’ll never beable to forget, no matter what.“But that day, it wasn’t his voice that had meparalyzed…it was yours. I heard him talkingto a little girl and I was immediately takenback to all those nights he hurt me. I was sickto my stomach, knowing what he was cap-able of. I followed at a distance, watching thetwo of you interact. He walked a few feetaway from the shopping cart at one pointand I caught your eye. You looked at me for along time and you were the most beautifullittle girl I’d ever seen. But you were also themost broken little girl I’d ever seen. I knewthe second I looked into your eyes that hewas doing to you exactly what he had done tome. I could see the hopelessness and fear inyour eyes when you looked back at me.

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“I spent the next several days attempting tofind out everything I could about you andyour relationship to him. I learned aboutwhat happened to your mother, and that hewas raising you alone. I finally got the cour-age to phone in an anonymous report, hop-ing he would finally get what he deserved. Ilearned a week later that after interviewingyou, the case was immediately dismissed byChild Protective Services. I’m not sure if thefact that he was the high up in law enforce-ment had anything to do with the dismissal,but I’m almost positive it did. Regardless,that was twice that he had gotten away withit. I couldn’t bear the thought of allowing youto stay with him, knowing what was happen-ing to you. I’m sure there were other ways Icould have handled it, but I was young andscared to death for you. I didn’t know whatelse to do because the law had already failedus both.

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“A few days later I had made up my mind. Ifno one else was going to help you get awayfrom him…then I was. The day when I pulledup to your house I’ll never forget that brokenlittle girl crying into her arms, sitting alonein the grass. When I called your name andyou came to me, then climbed into the carwith me…we drove away and I never lookedback.”Karen squeezes my hands between hers andlooks at me hard. “Sky, I swear with all of myheart that all I ever wanted to do was protectyou from him. I did everything I could tokeep him from finding you. To keep youfrom finding him. We never spoke about himagain and I did my best to help you movepast what happened to you so you could havea normal life. I knew that I couldn’t get awaywith hiding you forever. I knew there wouldcome a day that I would have to face what Idid…but none of that mattered to me. Noneof that matters to me still. I just wanted you

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safe until you were old enough, so that youwould never be sent back to him.“The day before I took you, I went to yourhouse and no one was there. I went insidebecause I wanted to find some things thatmight comfort you once you were safe withme. Something like a favorite blanket or ateddy bear. Once I was actually inside yourbedroom, I realized that anything in thathouse couldn’t possibly bring you comfort. Ifyou were anything like me, everything thathad a connection to him reminded you ofwhat he had done to you. So I didn’t takeanything, because I didn’t want you to re-member what he had done to you.”She stands up and quietly walks out of theroom, then returns moments later with asmall wooden box. She places it into myhands. “I couldn’t leave without these. Iknew that when the day came for me to tellyou the truth, that you would want to know

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all about your mother, too. I couldn’t findmuch, but what I did find I kept for you.”Tears fill my eyes as I run my fingers overthe wooden box that holds the only memor-ies of a woman I never thought I would havea chance to remember. I don’t open it. Ican’t. I need to open it alone.Karen tucks my hair behind my ear and Ilook back up at her. “I know what I did waswrong, but I don’t regret it. If I had to do itagain just to know you would be safe, Iwouldn’t think twice about it. I also knowthat you probably hate me for lying to you.I’m okay with that, Sky, because I love youenough for the both of us. Never feel guiltyfor how you feel about what I’ve done to you.I’ve had this conversation and this momentplanned out for thirteen years, so I’m pre-pared for whatever you decide to do andwhatever decision you make. I want you todo what’s best for you. I’ll call the policeright now if that’s what you want me to do.

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I’ll be more than willing to tell themeverything I just told you if it would help youfind peace. If you need me to wait until youractual eighteenth birthday so you can contin-ue to live in this house until then, I will. I’llturn myself in the second you’re legally al-lowed to take care of yourself, and I’ll neverquestion your request. But whatever youchoose, Sky. Whatever you decide to do,don’t worry about me. Knowing you’re safenow is everything I could ever ask for.Whatever comes next for me is worth everysecond of the thirteen years I’ve had withyou.”I look back down at the box and continue tocry, not having a clue as to what to do. I don’tknow what’s right or what’s wrong or if rightis wrong in this situation. I know that I can’tanswer her right now. I feel like witheverything she’s just told me, all that Ithought I knew about justice and fairnesshas just slapped me in the face.

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I look back up at her and shake my head. “Idon’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t know what Iwant to happen.” I don’t know what I want,but I know what I need. I need a chapterbreak.I stand up and she remains seated, watchingme as I walk to the door. I can’t look her inthe eyes as I open the front door. “I need tothink for a while,” I say quietly, making myway outside. As soon as the front door closesbehind me, Holder’s arms wrap around me. Icradle the wooden box in one hand and wrapmy other arm around his neck, burying myhead into his shoulder. I cry into his shirt,not knowing how to begin processingeverything I’ve just learned. “The sky,” I say.“I need to look at the sky.”He doesn’t ask any questions. He knows ex-actly what I’m referring to, so he grabs myhand and leads me to the car. Jack slips backinside the house as Holder and I pull out ofthe driveway.

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Holder never asks me what Karen said whileI was inside the house with her. He knowsthat I’ll tell him when I can, but right now inthis moment, I don’t think I can. Not until Iknow what I want to do.He pulls the car over when we get to the air-port, but pulls up significantly further thanwhere we normally park. When we walkdown to the fence, I’m surprised to see anunlocked gate. Holder lifts the latch andswings it open, motioning for me to walkthrough.“There’s a gate?” I ask, confused. “Why dowe always climb the fence?”

He shoots me a sly grin. “You were in a dressthe two times we’ve been here. Where’s thefun in walking through a gate?”Somehow, and I don’t know how, I find it inme to laugh. I walk through the gate and hecloses it behind me, but remains on the otherside of it. I pause and reach my hand out tohim. “I want you to come with me,” I say.“Are you sure? I figured you’d want to thinkalone tonight.”I shake my head. “I like being next to you outhere. It wouldn’t feel right if I was alone.”He opens the gate and takes my hand in his.We walk down to the runway and claim ourusual spots under the stars. I lay the woodenbox next to me, still not sure that I have thecourage to open it. I’m not really sure of any-thing right now. I lay still for over half anhour, silently thinking about my life…aboutKaren’s life…about Lesslie’s life…and I feellike the decision I’m having to make needs tobe one for all three of us.

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“Karen is my aunt,” I say aloud. “My biolo-gical aunt.” I don’t know if I’m saying it outloud for Holder’s benefit or if I just want tosay it out loud for myself.Holder wraps his pinky around mine andturns his head to look at me. “Your dad’s sis-ter?” he asks, hesitantly. I nod and he closeshis eyes, understanding what that means forKaren’s past. “That’s why she took you,” hesays, knowingly. He says it like it makescomplete sense. “She knew what he was do-ing to you.”I confirm his statement with a nod. “Shewants me to decide, Holder. She wants me tochoose what happens next. The problem is, Idon’t know what choice is the right one.”He takes my entire hand in his now, inter-twining our fingers. “That’s because none ofthem are the right choice,” he says. “Some-times you have to choose between a bunch ofwrong choices and no right ones. You just

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have to choose which wrong choice feels theleast wrong.”Making Karen pay for something she did outof complete selflessness is without a doubtthe worst wrong choice. I know it in myheart, but it’s still a struggle to accept thatwhat she did is something that should haveno consequences. I know she didn’t know itat the time, but the fact that Karen took meaway from my father only led to whathappened to Lesslie. It’s hard to ignore thatKaren taking me indirectly led to whathappened to my best friend—to the only oth-er girl in Holder’s life that he feels he letdown.“I need to ask you something,” I say to him.He silently waits for me to speak, so I sit upon the concrete and look down at him. “Idon’t want you to interrupt me, okay? Justlet me get this out.”He touches my hand and nods, so I continue.“I know that Karen did what she did because

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she was only trying to save me. The decisionshe made was made out of love…not hate.But I’m scared that if I don’t say anything…ifwe keep it to ourselves…that it will affectyou. Because I know that what my father didto Les was only done because I wasn’t there,taking her place. And I know there was noway Karen could have foreseen what hewould do. I know she tried to do the rightthing by reporting him before she became sodesperate. But what happens to us? To youand me, when we try to go back to howthings were before? I’m scared you’ll hateKaren forever…or that you’ll eventually beginto resent me for whatever choice I make to-night. And I’m not saying I don’t want you tofeel whatever it is you need to feel. If youneed to hate Karen for what happened toLes, I understand. I guess I just need toknow that whatever I choose…I need toknow…”

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I attempt to find the most eloquent way tosay it, but I can’t. Sometimes the mostsimplistic questions are the hardest to ask. Isqueeze his hand and look him in the eyes.“Holder…will you be okay?”His expression is unreadable as he watchesme. He laces his fingers through mine andturns his attention back to the sky above us.“All this time,” he says, quietly. “For the pastyear I’ve done nothing but hate and resentLes for what she did. I hated her because weled the exact same life. We had the exactsame parents who went through the exactsame divorce. We had the exact same bestfriend who was ripped from our lives. Weshared the exact same grief over whathappened to you, Sky. We moved to the sametown in the same house with the same momand the same school. The things thathappened in her life were the exact samethings that happened in mine. But she al-ways took it so much harder. Sometimes at

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night I would hear her crying. I would alwaysgo lay with her and hold her, but there wereso many times I just wanted to scream at herfor being so much weaker than me.“Then that night…when I found out what shedid…I hated her. I hated her for giving up soeasily. I hated that she thought her life wasso much harder than mine, when they werethe exact same.”He sits up and turns to face me, taking bothof my hands in his. “I know the truth now. Iknow that her life was a million times harderthan mine. And the fact that she still smiledand laughed every single day, but I never hada single clue what kind of shit she had beenthrough…I finally see how brave she reallywas. And it wasn’t her fault that she didn’tknow how to deal with it all. I wish that shewould have asked for help or told someonewhat happened, but everyone deals withthese things differently, especially when youthink you’re all alone. You were able to block

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it out and that’s how you coped. I think shetried to do that, but she was a lot older whenit happened to her so it made it impossible.Instead of blocking it out and never thinkingabout it again, I know she did the exact op-posite. I know that it consumed every part ofher life until she just couldn’t take itanymore.“And you can’t say that Karen’s choice hadany direct link to what your father did to Les.If Karen had never taken you away from him,he more than likely would have still donethose things to Les whether you were thereor not. It’s who he was. It’s what he did. So ifyou’re asking me if I blame Karen, the an-swer is no. The only thing I wish Karenwould have done differently…is I wish shecould have taken Les, too.”He wraps his arms around me and brings hismouth to my ear. “Whatever you decide,baby. Whatever you feel will make your heart

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heal faster…that’s what I want for you. That’swhat Les wants for you, too.”I hug him back and bury my head against hisshoulder. “Thank you, Holder.”

He holds me silently while I think aboutthe decision that isn’t even much of a de-cision anymore. After a while, I pull awayfrom him and lift the box into my lap. I runmy fingers across the top of it and hesitatebefore touching the latch. I press on it andslowly lift the lid as I close my eyes, hesitantto see what’s inside of it. I take a deep breathonce the lid is lifted, then I open my eyes andpeer down into the eyes of my mother. I pickthe picture up between my trembling fingers,looking at a woman who could be no one elsebut the person who created me. From mymouth to my eyes to my cheekbones, I’m her.Every part of me is her.I set the picture down and pick up the onebeneath it. This one causes even more emo-tions to resurface, because it’s a picture of

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both of us. I can’t be older than two and I’msitting in her lap with my arms wrappedaround her neck. She’s kissing me on thecheek and I’m staring at the camera with asmile bigger than life. Tears fall onto the pic-ture in my hands, so I wipe them off andplace the pictures in Holder’s hands. I needfor him to see what I so desperately had to goback to my father’s house for.There’s one more item in the box. I pick it upand lace the necklace through my fingers. It’sa silver locket in the shape of a star. I snap itopen and look at the picture of myself as aninfant. Inscribed inside the locket on the sideopposite the photo it says, “My ray of Hope.”I unclasp the necklace and bring it to theback of my neck. Holder reaches up andtakes both clasps while I pull my hair up. Hefastens it and I let my hair down, then hekisses the side of my head.“She’s beautiful. Just like her daughter.” Hehands the pictures back to me and kisses me

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gently. He looks down at my locket andopens it, then stares at it for several mo-ments, smiling. He snaps it shut and looksback into my eyes. “Are you ready?”I place the pictures back inside the box andshut the lid, then look back up at him confid-ently and nod. “I am.”

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Holder walks inside with me this time. Karenand Jack are on the couch and he has hisarm around her, holding her hand. She looksup at me when I walk through the door andJack stands up, preparing to give us privacyonce again. “It’s okay,” I say to him. “Youdon’t have to leave. This won’t take long.”My words concern him, but he doesn’t sayanything in response. He walks a few feetaway from Karen so that I can sit next to heron the couch. I place the box on the table infront of her, then take my seat. I turn towardher, knowing that she has no idea what herfuture holds for her. Despite the fact that shehas no idea what choice I’ve made and what’sgoing to happen to her, she still smiles at me

reassuringly. She wants me to know thatshe’s okay with whatever I chose.I take her hands in mine and I look her dir-ectly in the eyes. I want her to feel and be-lieve what I’m about to say to her, because Idon’t want there to be anything but truthbetween us.“Mom,” I say, regarding her with as muchconfidence as I can. “When you took mefrom my father, you knew the potential con-sequences of your decision, but you did itanyway. You risked your entire life just tosave mine, and I could never ask for you tosuffer because of that choice. Giving up yourlife for me is more than I could ever ask ofyou. I’m not about to judge you for what youdid. The only appropriate thing for me to doat this point…is to thank you. So, thank you.Thank you so much for saving my life.”Her tears are now falling even harder thanmy own. We wrap our arms around each oth-er and we cry. We cry mother to daughter.

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We cry aunt to niece. We cry victim to victim.We cry survivor to survivor.

I can’t begin to imagine the life that Karenhas led the past thirteen years. Every choiceshe made was for my benefit alone. She hadassumed once I turned eighteen, that shewould confess what she did and would turnherself in to face the consequences. Knowingthat she loves me enough that she would bewilling to give her whole life up for me al-most makes me feel unworthy, now that Iknow that two people in this world love mein that way. It’s almost too much to accept.It turns out that Karen really does want totake the next step with Jack, but she washesitant because she knew she would breakhis heart once he found out the truth. Whatshe wasn’t expecting is that Jack loves herunconditionally…the same way she loves me.

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Hearing her confess her past and the choicesshe had to make only made him more certainabout his love for her. I’m guessing that histhings will be completely moved in by nextweekend.Karen spends the evening patiently answer-ing all of my questions. My main questionwas that I didn’t understand how I couldhave a legal name and the documents to backit up. Karen laughed at that question and ex-plained that, with enough money and theright connections, I was conveniently “adop-ted” from out of the country and obtainedmy citizenship when I was seven. I don’teven ask her for the details, because I’mscared to know.Another question I needed the answer to wasthe most obvious one…could we get a TVnow. Turns out she doesn’t despise techno-logy nearly as much as she had to let on overthe years. I have a feeling we’ll be doing

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some shopping in the electronics departmenttomorrow.Holder and I explained to Karen how hecame to find out who I was. At first, shecouldn’t understand how we could have hadsuch a strong connection at that young of anage…strong enough for him to rememberme. But after seeing us interact for a whilelonger, I think she’s convinced that our con-nection is real now. Unfortunately, I can alsosee the concern in her eyes every time heleans in to kiss me or puts his hand on myleg. She is, after all, my mother.After several hours pass and we’ve allreached the most peaceful point we can pos-sibly reach after the weekend we’ve had, wecall it a night. Holder and Jack tell us bothgoodbye and Holder assures Karen that he’llnever again send me another ego-deflatingtext. He winks at me over her shoulder whenhe says it, though.

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Karen hugs me more than I’ve ever beenhugged in a single day. After her final hug forthe night, I go to my room and crawl into mybed. I pull the covers up over me and lock myhands together behind my head, looking upat the stars on my ceiling. I contemplatedtearing them down, thinking they would onlyserve to bring about more negative memor-ies. I didn’t remove them, though. I’m leav-ing them because now when I look at them,they remind me of Hope. They remind me ofme, and everything I’ve had to overcome toget to this point in my life. And while I couldsit here and feel sorry for myself, wonderingwhy all of this happened to me…I’m not go-ing to do it. I’m not going to wish for a per-fect life. The things that knock you down inlife are tests, forcing you to make a choicebetween giving in and remaining on theground or wiping the dirt off and standing upeven taller than you did before you wereknocked down. I’m choosing to stand up

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taller. I’ll probably get knocked down a fewmore times before this life is through withme, but I can guarantee you I’ll never stay onthe ground.There’s a light tap on my bedroom windowright before it rises up. I smile and scoot overto my side of the bed, waiting for him to joinme.“I don’t get a greeting at the window to-night?” he says in a hushed voice, loweringthe window behind him. He walks to his sideof my bed and lifts the covers, then scoots inbeside me.“You’re freezing,” I say, snuggling into hisarms. “Did you walk here?”He shakes his head and squeezes me, thenkisses my forehead. “No, I ran here.” Heslides one of his hands down to my butt. “It’sbeen over a week since either of us has exer-cised. Your ass is starting to get really huge.”

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I laugh and hit him on the arm. “Try to re-member, the insults are only funny in textform.”“Speaking of…does this mean you get yourphone back?”I shrug. “I don’t really want that phone back.I’m hoping my whipped boyfriend will getme an iPhone for Christmas.”He laughs and rolls on top of me, meshinghis ice-cold lips with mine. The contrastingtemperatures of our mouths are enough tomake him groan. He kisses me until his en-tire body is well above room temperatureagain. “You know what?” He pulls up on hiselbows and peers down at me with his ador-able, dimpled grin.“What?”“We’ve never had sex in your bed.”I roll him onto his back. “And it will remainthat way as long my mother is down thehall.” He laughs and grabs me by the waistand pulls me on top of him. I lay my head on

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his chest and he wraps his arms tightlyaround me.“Sky?”“Holder?” I mimic.“I want you to know something,” he says.“And I’m not saying this as your boyfriend oreven as your friend. I’m saying this becauseit needs to be said by someone.” He stopsstroking my arm and he stills his hand on thecenter of my back. “I’m so proud of you.”I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow hiswords, sending them straight to my heart.He moves his lips to my hair and kisses mefor either the first time or the twentieth timeor the millionth time, but who’s counting?I hug him tighter and exhale. “Thank you.” Ilift my head up and rest my chin on hischest, looking up at him while he smiles backat me. “And it’s not what you just said thatI’m thanking you for, Holder. I need tothank you for everything. Thank you for giv-ing me the courage to always ask the

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questions, even when I don’t want the an-swers. Thank you for loving me like you do.Thank you for showing me that we don’t al-ways have to be strong to be there for eachother—that it’s okay to be weak, so long aswe’re there. And thank you for finally findingme after all these years.” I trail my fingersacross his chest until they reach his arm. Irun them across each letter of his tattoo,then lean forward and press my lips to it andkiss it. “But mostly, thank you for losing meall those years ago…because my life wouldn’tbe the same if you would have never walkedaway.”My body rises and falls against his huge in-take of breath. He cups my face in his handsand he attempts to smile, but it doesn’t reachhis pain filled eyes. “Out of all the times Iimagined what it would be like if I ever foundyou…I never thought it would end with youthanking me for losing you.”

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“End?” I ask, disliking the term he chose. Ilift up and kiss him briefly on the lips andpull back. “I hope this isn’t our end.”“Hell no, this isn’t our end,” he says. Hetucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear andkeeps his hand there. “And I wish I could saywe were about to live happily ever after, but Ican’t. We both still have so much to workthrough. With everything that’s happenedbetween you, me, your mother, your dad andwhat I know happened to Les…there will bedays that I don’t think we’ll know how to sur-vive. But we will. We will, because we haveeach other. So, I’m not worried about us,baby. I’m not worried about us at all.”I kiss him on his dimple and smile. “I’m notworried about us either. And for the record, Idon’t believe in happily ever afters.”He laughs. “Good, because you’re not reallygetting one. All you’re getting is me.”“That’s all I need,” I say. “Well…I need thelamp. And the ashtray. And the remote

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control. And the paddleball game. And you,Dean Holder. But that’s all I need.”

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“What’s he doing out there?” I ask Lesslie,looking out the living room window atDean. He’s on his back in their driveway,looking up at the sky.“He’s stargazing,” she says. “He does it allthe time.”I turn around and look at her. “What’sstargazing?”She shrugs her shoulders. “I dunno. That’sjust what he calls it when he stares at thesky for a long time.”I look out the window again and watch himfor a little longer. I don’t know what star-gazing is, but it sounds like something Iwould like. I love the stars. I know my mom

loved them, too, because she put them allover my room. “I want to do it,” I say. “Canwe go do it, too?” I look back at her but she’staking off her shoes.“I don’t want to go. You can go and I’ll helpmy mom get our popcorn and movie ready.”I like the days I get to have sleepovers withLesslie. I like any days I don’t have to be athome. I slide off the couch and walk to thefront door to slip my shoes on, then walkoutside and go lay next to Dean in the drive-way. He doesn’t even look at me when I sitdown next to him. He just keeps looking upat the sky, so I do the same thing.The stars are really bright tonight. I’ve nev-er looked up at them like this before. They’reso much prettier than the stars on my ceil-ing. “Wow. It’s so beautiful.”“I know, Hope,” he says. “I know.”It’s quiet for a long time. I don’t know if wewatch the stars for lots of minutes or hours,but we keep watching them and we don’t

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talk. Dean doesn’t really talk a whole bunch.He’s a lot quieter than Lesslie.“Hope? Will you promise me something?”I turn my head and look at him, but he’s stilllooking up at the stars. I’ve never promisedanyone anything before except my daddy. Ihad to promise him I wouldn’t tell anyonehow he makes me thank him and I haven’tbroken his promise, even though sometimesI wish I could. If I ever did break mydaddy’s promise, I would tell Dean becauseI know he would never tell anyone.“Yes,” I say to him.He turns his head and looks at me, but hiseyes look sad. “You know sometimes whenyour daddy makes you cry?”I nod my head and try not to cry just think-ing about it. I don’t know how Dean knowsthat my daddy is always the reason why I’mcrying, but he does.“Will you promise me that when he makesyou sad, you’ll think about the sky?”

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I don’t know why he wants me to promisehim that but I nod anyway. “But why?”“Because.” He turns his face back up to thestars. “The sky is always beautiful. Evenwhen it’s dark or rainy or cloudy, it’s stillbeautiful to look at. It’s my favorite thingbecause I know if I ever get lost or lonely orscared, I just have to look up and it’ll bethere no matter what...and I know it’ll al-ways be beautiful. It’s what you can thinkabout when your daddy is making you sad,so you don’t have to think about him.”I smile, even though what we’re talkingabout is making me sad. I just keep lookingup at the sky like Dean is, thinking aboutwhat he said. It makes my heart feel happyto have somewhere to go now when I don’twant to be where I am. Now when I’mscared, I’ll just think about the sky andmaybe it’ll help me smile, because I knowit’ll always be beautiful no matter what.“I promise,” I whisper.

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“Good,” he says. He reaches his hand out onthe concrete between us and wraps hispinky around mine.

The End

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When I wrote my first two novels, I didn’tuse beta readers or bloggers. (By ignorance,not choice.) I didn’t even know what an ARCwas.Oh, how I wish I would have.Thank you to ALL bloggers who work sohard to share your love for reading. You aredefinitely the lifeline for authors, and wethank you for everything you do.

A very special thank you to Maryse, Tam-mara Webber, Jenny and Gitte with Totally-bookedblog.com, Tina Reber, Tracey Garvis-Graves, Abbi Glines, Karly Blakemore-Mowle, Autumn with Autumnreview.com,Madison with Madisonsays.com, MollyHarper with Toughcriticbookreviews.com,Rebecca Donovan, Sarah Ross, Lisa Kane,Gloria Green, Cheri Lambert, Trisha Rai,

Katy Perez, Stephanie Cohen and Tonya Kil-lian for taking the time to give me such de-tailed, incredibly helpful feedback. I know Iannoyed the living hell out of most of you forthe entire month of December, so thank youfor putting up with my many, many, many“updated” files.And ERMAGHERD! I can’t thank youenough, Sarah Augustus Hansen. Not onlyfor making me the most beautiful cover ever,but for granting my requests for millions ofchanges, only to end up going with your ori-ginal suggestion. Your patience with meknows no bounds. For that, I’m declaringHolder yours. Okay.For my husband who insists he be listed inthe acknowledgments of this book for sug-gesting that one word which helped me fin-ish that one sentence in that one paragraphin that one scene. Without that word (it wasfloodgates, people) I don’t think this bookwould have been completed. <<< He

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requested I say that. But in a way he’s right.Without the one word he suggested, the bookmore than likely would have moved alongjust fine. But without his support, enthusi-asm and encouragement, I could have neverwritten a single word at all.For my family (namely Lin, because sheneeds me more than anyone else.) I don’treally remember what everyone looks likeand I’m having a hard time recalling most ofyour names, but now that this book is com-plete I vow to answer your phone calls, re-spond to your texts, look you in the eyeswhen you speak to me (rather than gazing offinto the land of fiction), come to bed beforefour in the morning and never, ever check anemail while I’m on the phone with you again.Until I start writing my next book, anyway.And for the three best children in the wholewide world. I miss the living hell out of y’all.And yes, boys. Mommy just cussed. Again.

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Writer. Mother. Ninja. Wife. Avett Fanatic.Hardcore Realist.

For information on Colleen and her booksvisit:

http://colleenhoover.com/

Colleen is the author of two New York Timesbestsellers.

SLAMMED

POINT OF RETREAT

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Falling in love can feel like poetry. Or it canfeel like a slam to the heart.Colleen Hoover’s romantic, emotion-packeddebut novel unforgettably captures all themagic and confusion of first love, as twoyoung people forge an unlikely bond beforediscovering that fate has other plans forthem.Following the unexpected death of herfather, eighteen-year-old Layken becomesthe rock for both her mother and youngerbrother. She appears resilient and tenacious,but inside, she's losing hope. Then she meetsher new neighbor Will, a handsome twenty-one-year-old whose mere presence leavesher flustered and whose passion for poetryslams thrills her.Not long after a heart-stopping first dateduring which each recognizes somethingprofound and familiar in the other, they areslammed to the core when a shocking

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discovery brings their new relationship to asudden halt. Daily interactions become im-possibly painful as they struggle to find abalance between the feelings that pull themtogether and the forces that tear them apart.Only through the poetry they share are theyable to speak the truth that is in their heartsand imagine a future where love is cause forcelebration, not regret.

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If you or someone you know needs assist-ance/information regarding sexual abuse,please contact www.rainn.org or call1-800-656-HOPE

For your local suicide hotline number, pleasevisit www.suicidehotlines.com, ht-

tp://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.com orcall 800-273-TALK

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