All In My Head (First Tracks Bo - Kristen James

All In My Head First Tracks Series, Book One First Tracks – When you get to leave your mark on the fresh pow before anyone else!

Kristen James “Refreshing storyline!” “The culmination of this book in the last few chapters was phenomenal. So intense. The chemistry between Avery and Marcus throughout the novel was

also amazing, and I think what really enhanced the awesomeness of it was the paranormal aspect of the book.” Romance Novels 4 the Beach “The meeting of minds and the friendship that grows as they get used to each other and become more involved in each other’s thoughts, is very romantic, counterbalanced by a great deal of humour as Avery manages Marcus’s increasingly overt appreciation of her assets.” Kate Martyn, author, Amazon review

© Kristen James www.writerkristenjames.com www.facebook.com/WriterKristenJames Newsletter Signup!

Also by Kristen James: More Than Memories, Book 1 A Wedding to Remember, Book 2 Embers of Hope, Book 1 More Than a Promise, Book 2 Costa Rica In A Field of Oranges

Point Hope A Cowboy For Christmas

Chapter One Of course I didn’t know it just then, but this little event would make me question my sanity and everything about my life. I came to, alert enough to know I’d passed out, but I couldn’t remember why. The ground started swelling like waves rolling under me. Maybe I was moving? It felt nice, happy even, until pain splintered my head. I heard voices around me and a humming noise like an

engine. I didn’t feel so hot. “Avery, honey, can you hear us? Can you blink or squeeze my hand?” Who was that? And what was with the squeezing? I felt around in my body, trying to move, and actually came out with some kind of monster moan. And, oh my gosh, that made my head hurt. Several people spoke all at once, expecting me to answer, but I couldn’t manage any more. The humming came from a loud engine, I realized, and I was lying flat on my back. I made out a voice saying, We’re taking you to the hospital.

It hit all at once. The snowboarding trip Kristina talked me into, the giant hill that Kristina, Dawn and Jasmine said I could do no problem, catching air when I didn’t mean to—flying—flying—and then crashing. Well, I’m assuming the crashing part. I only remember things turning upside down and the white glare of the snow coming at my face in s-l-o-w motion, then fast, then s-l-o-w … I should have stayed home and worked on my screenplay with a big cup of cocoa, a plate of brie, apple slices

and Wheat Thins … and strawberries, if I still had some. Nash had asked me what I was doing for the weekend. Just think, if I had stayed home we might have talked. I sighed, thinking for a second that we were on the way home, but then someone shined a bright light into my eye. *** “Good morning … uh, Miss Waldorf.” Morning? I squinted, feeling my head

shatter in fifty different directions as the light hit my eyes. I shielded them with my hand for a second to figure out who had spoken to me. The distracted voice belonged to a fifty-or-so doctor in a white coat, salt-and-pepper hair and an oversized nose. He sat next to my bed, glancing between me and a chart in his hands with papers he kept flipping back and forth. “Hi …” My voice came out like everything was okay. Maybe it was. “You took quite the tumble yesterday.” He gave me a kind but quick

smile as he spoke. “So I’m very happy to see you’re awake and alert. I’m Dr. Hartley. Can you tell me your name?” Marcus. “What?” I glanced around but didn’t see anyone else. Dr. Hartley shifted his head to the side, just slightly, and one eyebrow moved. But I knew my name. “Avery Waldorf.” Marcus. My name is Marcus. I jumped, but Dr. Hartley had his head down, writing. “Good, Avery. Do you know what

day it is?” “Saturday … er, it was Saturday when I crashed down the mountain.” I glanced toward the curtains and the way the sun was slanting through. “Is it Sunday?” “Ah, yes. Sunday morning.” He put on his glasses to make notes on his clipboard. “Do you know the date?” “The fif—no, the sixteenth.” I’d lost a day. The doctor wrote on his paper again. Where am I? What? I glanced around and back at

the doctor, who wasn’t responding to that voice. I didn’t answer him, either. It had to be a side effect. It wasn’t like a weird echo in my head or the way things sound when your ears are plugged. The voice sounded like it came from right next to me, but no one was there. Why, oh why did I go snowboarding with them? I could have stayed home and got some work done while the house was quiet. Reaching up, I softly skimmed my hand over my hair and felt the bulge on top of my head. Hello? Yo, doc! Yoohoo!

I wasn’t sure it’d work, but I thought at the voice, He can’t hear you, now be quiet! “All right, then.” Dr. Hartley checked my eyes and reflexes while explaining I was in the Rogue Valley Medical Center in Medford. I didn’t remember much of the ambulance ride. The voice kept breaking in, and the dual conversation made my head spin. It was like the time I babysat five-year-old twins. Never doing that again. “You’re doing great, Avery. Everything looked good in your scan.”

I didn’t remember that either. I tried to smile, and even that sent a whiplash of pain through my head. He stood and checked the bag up on the pole. After making a note on the chart, he smiled at me again. “I’ll send a nurse for your morphine. The pain should clear up shortly. We’ll probably keep you for today, just as a precaution. You’re alert. It’s just a good idea to keep you here.” “Thanks.” I managed to keep a straight face until he walked out the door. Then I made like a squirrel doing a crazy dance across the road, flipping

around to check behind the bed. The room was empty. The movement made my head throb, but at least I knew none of my friends were standing behind the hospital bed, suppressing a laugh at their joke. Where were they? They left me at the hospital? What the hell is this? The voice was definitely in my head. My fall must have caused some damage, so why didn’t something show up in my scan? I felt around for some kind of button to call a nurse.

Hello? I hit my head? What are you talking about? “No, I hit my head trying to freaking snowboard.” I looked around again, even knowing I wouldn’t see anyone there. How could a concussion make me hear voices? When I yanked in a breath, it sounded like I was about to cry. I gripped the blanket—I was not breaking down. HEY! Who are you, and why am I hearing you? “Okay, whoever you are,” I whisperhissed, “calm the hell down.”

I just needed to backtrack, think this through, figure it out. The day before was clear in my head, from driving up to the ski resort, playing around on the flats for a while, and then letting Kristina talk me into going up the hill with her. There wasn’t anything that unusual about it, not anything that should cause something like this. I closed my eyes, trying to relax my body, and breathed in and out. Just in and out. In and out. Still here, babe. And still not sure why I can hear you. Oh no. The doctor hadn’t flinched

when I said my name was Avery, but Avery was actually a male name until about thirty years ago. What if …? I stumbled out of the bed, dragging the IV stand, and fell into the bathroom, hitting the light switch. It flickered on and I stood staring at my reflection, sagging in relief. My breath left in one big huff. Crazy. I’d actually thought maybe I would see a guy’s face. What is this? He went ballistic, screaming in my head. I covered my ears without any

effect. The noise was going to kill me. “Stop!” The one word ricocheted around my head, making the pain worse. Sudden nausea hit me and I bent over the toilet. Then things went black and I had to feel my way to the floor. The voice grew quiet after a minute—maybe he felt this pain and sickening ache all over too. It kept me from moving for a long time. Any movement or noise sliced through my brain and entire body. Finally, shaking still, I splashed cold water on my face, over and over. As he calmed down, I slid down on the floor

again, my hospital gown wet in front, my head pounding, ears ringing, and stomach trying to climb up out of my mouth. Was he still there? “You said your name was Mark?” No, Marcus. “Marcus what?” I waited for a minute but he didn’t answer. “I can hear you but can’t see you, and you don’t know what’s going on? Can you see … me?” I can see what you’re looking at. I see your hands all bunched up on your lap.

“Can you feel this?” I asked as I tapped one hand on my other arm. He didn’t answer right away so I did it several more times. I think so. It’s a bit fuzzy. A noise came from out in the room. Great, what if they’d heard me talking to myself? “Hello?” a female voice called just before she knocked on the bathroom door. I hadn’t gotten it shut. I pulled myself up and peeked around the door to see a young nurse with shoulder length, very straight hair

and a no-nonsense expression. I had a vague notion that my hair had frizzed all over the place like an evil cartoon villain, but it was hard to care when I felt like road kill. The nurse helped me back over to the bed and fiddled with my IV drip. “I heard you have a headache. That’s perfectly normal after smacking your head the way you did. I’m going to up this just a bit, okay?” What is that? “Okay,” I said, not even looking up at the bag.

She smiled, patting my arm in a grandmotherly way, even though she looked about twenty-five. An instant swoosh of happy, sleepy medicine rolled through my limbs. I was more than happy to follow that feeling down into oblivion. THANK YOU GOD. “Okay, Avery, I’ll be by later to check on you.” She grew fuzzy as she walked toward the door. Oh no you don’t. I need answers. Avery? That’s your name? Why am I stuck here? How are you doing this to me?

“Stuck? There’s the door, asshole.” Why are you doing this? I closed my eyes again and gave in to the numbing sleep, just wanting to get away from the weirdness. Avery! Damn it! *** “Avery?” a small voice asked. In a wonderful twist of normal fate, I recognized Kristina’s airy voice. I’d slept it off, whatever that thing had been. There wasn’t any other voice. I wasn’t

in horrible pain. It just felt like a normal headache. I started to open my eyes to look at her but my eyelids stuck. Even my throat felt dried out and wilted shut, so I simply lifted a hand in response. “Avery! Oh, my gosh, I am so sorry about yesterday. Are you awake?” Yes, isn’t that nice. You’re awake. Maybe we could work on this little problem, if you’re not too busy. Oh, god. I groaned and felt Kristina’s hand on mine. If I weren’t so out of it, I’d have grabbed her hand back tight. Hey, think I like sitting around in

the dark, waiting on you? “Ave?” Kristina asked. It actually took using my finger to pull back my eyelids. I blinked several times and tried to clear my throat but nothing happened. Kristina gave me a worried smile. Jasmine, Dawn and the guys must have left, or maybe Kristina went home and came back? A large Styrofoam cup sat on the stand with a plastic lid. I pointed at it. “Are you thirsty? It’s ice water.” She handed me the cup, then saw that it wouldn’t work while I was lying back. I

wasn’t exactly flat, but almost. She set the cup on the bed and pushed the button to raise it. I finally got the straw in my mouth and sucked down the entire cup of ice water. My throat felt somewhat better. “Thanks.” Apparently, you don’t get good sleep in a hospital, and I imagined that was working with my head injury to make me feel like crap. But my friend was here. We shared a look and I almost cried. Kristina sat on the bed, a small smile on her lips even while her brows did a

concerned lift in the middle. She’s one of those lucky people that always looked good, her hair in tight spiral curls, her skin glowing and clear, and her hazelalmost-green eyes always looking like she’s sweet and caring. She’s so sweet in fact that she never complains about her curly hair, knowing we all love it. I like to wrap it around my finger. “I feel so horrible,” she said, her brows pinched. “I should have never talked you into going down that hill.” “It’s okay. I’m good.” How could I be upset with her? She’s been there for

me since we met on our first day on campus. College wouldn’t have been half as fun without her. “Well, there’s …” Don’t! I tried to talk but couldn’t push my voice out. You—Marcus—are you doing that? You can’t tell her I’m here. “I’m okay, really,” I said, unsure if it was me or him talking. Was that possible? Could he do that? Kristina sagged with relief but her eyes got shiny. She was probably up all

night, worried that I’d be mad at her. She always worried about what I thought, which is a nice change from the rest of the world. When she figured out Kyle liked her, she was sick to her stomach for two days because I had gone out with him first. She wouldn’t even talk to him without my blessing, so then of course I gave it to her. How could I hold back from a friend like her? Um, ’cause it was your man? She gingerly smoothed my hair back, looking at the bruise. “Is it bad?” I asked.

“Well, yes,” she answered, laughing, “but it’s mostly hidden by your hair. Thank god you didn’t land on your face.” She sucked in air, almost like she’d make something bad happen with those words. “You scared me.” “Scared myself. At least, if I’d been thinking when I was lying there. I was pretty out of it.” I had a bunch of questions, like what had happened after my accident the day before, but I didn’t want to push it with my throat. Maybe it was sore from being out in the cold? I hoped I wasn’t getting

sick on top of almost cracking my head open. Great. A worry freak. I’ve got questions too. Shut up! I jerked and the giant cup fell over. Kristina grabbed it and set it on the stand. “So, Dawn and Brandon had to get back, and Jasmine went with them. Kyle was going to stay, but I told him to get back so he could go to work. I mean, after I found out you were all right. We were all here until after the scan. We were all freaking out. I mean really

freaking out.” The young nurse came back in to check on me. While she was there, an orderly brought a tray with soup, crackers and steamed veggies. The soup smelled okay—something so bland I wasn’t sure what it was. If only I had my crispy rice crackers from home and some freshly ground pepper. Kristina talked—and so did the crazy voice—while I sipped the soup. I just don’t get it. Why the hell am I stuck in some crazy chick’s head? Then leave!

“Ave?” Kristina’s voice went up an octave. “Yeah?” I couldn’t help shaking my head—ouch—thinking it would clear it. It was like sitting between two friends at a loud football game with both people talking at the same time. “Are you tired? It doesn’t seem like you’re listening.” “Sorry. My mind’s a bit fuzzy. They have me on morphine, and I did knock my head yesterday.” I tried for a weak smile. “Well, I can let you get some rest.

I’ll go make some calls. Kyle said he’d come get us.” She lowered the bed again. “Okay, good. Thanks.” I smiled as she walked out, throwing one last look at me. Cute. She’s more sweet than hot. Nice ass, though. “Oh, no, you don’t go there. You are not checking out my friends, got it? And you’re wrong. Kristina is beautiful, hence every guy we know giving her double takes all day long.” I was talking out loud, wasn’t I? I glanced at the door,

half expecting to see Kristina standing there with wide, shocked eyes. That voice sounded so real—just like Kristina and the nurse. I huffed out a breath, trying to get comfortable, and contemplated telling someone about this. Maybe they could run another scan and figure it out. Fix it. No! “Why not?” Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I … What? I wanted to press him, but he sounded scared.

No, I am not scared. I just don’t know … where I am. I waited, confused, and a little scared about that. Why was he here in my head if he didn’t know why? If he was haunting me, wouldn’t he know about some unfinished business? What the hell! I am perfectly fine, okay? I don’t have any unfinished business, and I am NOT dead. “Then why are you in my head like this? Listen, maybe we should try to figure this out.” I looked around like I’d find someone to look at while speaking.

Finally I looked up toward the ceiling. “Were you really sick or something? Or do you remember being in a car?” I wasn’t in an accident. “Okay, fine. What were you doing before you woke up in my head?” Silence. I waited through a long minute and then Kristina walked in with a paper bag. “Snacks! They had muffins in the cafeteria. I grabbed yogurts too.” She held up different items. At the bag of pretzels, I made a face. “Those are for me, and I promise to eat them away from

your breathing space.” What’s with her? Like the good friend that she was, Kris knew I hated pretzels, even the smell. It amazes me that people can eat them when they taste like camel piss. Not that I actually know what camel piss tastes like, but I’m pretty sure it’s pretzel flavored. “Muffin?” she asked. “There’s cranberry and apple crumb.” “Umm.” My stomach felt off, but I was still hungry after the soup. “Maybe yogurt instead.”

She handed me a Mountain Blueberry yogurt and sat on the bed. We ate and chatted, and then she held my hand when my stomach didn’t like having food after all. I kept it down, though, and then fell asleep at some point. I woke up later, finding the room empty, and my bladder making me get up whether I wanted to or not. I was washing my hands before I realized Marcus hadn’t said a word in a while. The morphine. Doh. I laughed out loud, even though it vibrated my head in a painful way.

When I opened the door, Kyle was there, sitting in a chair so close to Kristina that their knees touched as he leaned in toward her, making their own little private space. It was only the tiniest of memories that I dated Kyle for six months before he and Kristina were an item. That was ancient history, though. Especially to them. I moved enough for them to notice me. Kyle glanced at me for a millisecond before dropping his gaze to the floor. “What’re you laughing about?” Kris

asked me while swatting his hand away from her knee. I walked carefully to the bed with the drip pole, just in case I wasn’t a hundred percent yet, before answering. “I thought I heard some weird noises, but it’s better now, and I realized it was the morphine. I was high for a while or something.” On morphine? I’m not so sure about that, babe. Oh, what do you know? I brushed him off until I realized I’d heard him again. Kyle might have given Kristina a look. I caught the expression on her face

as she tried to convey something to him without me seeing. “Funny, huh?” I asked, settling back and pulling the blanket up to cover the hospital gown. Kris stood up, playing with the zipper on her gray jacket. “I’m going to the nurse’s station to ask when you’re being discharged. This is getting crazy. They keep telling me one thing but nothing happens.” I gave a weak okay as Kyle hopped up and followed her out. He wore loose jeans and an oversized black hoodie

today. Sometimes I wonder what I ever saw in him. He’s not super tall for a guy, maybe 5’7”, with light brown hair and blue eyes. He’s good looking, but when I think about it, he’s kinda plain too. It sounded like the voice huffed an irritated sigh, like I was bothering him by thinking. Hello, it was my brain. I prefer Marcus to “the voice.” Marcus. That’s all I knew about him, his name. It had to be from the concussion, which meant it’d go away. The doctor said I was fine … except they hadn’t released me yet.

I’d be in the car with just Kris and Kyle for the drive home. They’ve been together a year now, and I was pretty sure he’d propose sometime soon. Or maybe I was wrong, and he’d wait until after graduation. But by all accounts, they were on the road to getting engaged, graduating, getting married and starting a life together. Buying a house. Having kids. But whatever. I have work to focus on anyway. Except now I’m hearing voices in my head. Voice. Just one, babe. “Oh, you are still here. I haven’t

scared you off yet?” I’d started in a normal voice but dropped off to a whisper. Nope. So are we getting out of here soon? I can’t take the walls anymore. “Yeah, we’re waiting to get discharged.” I stopped and watched the door for a second. “Then we have a short drive back to Ashland. Where do you live? What year is it for you?” You gotta get off the “you’re a ghost” thing. Christ. I’m not dead. Okay, we’re moving on. You said Ashland? Where’s that?

“Maybe Ashland is too tiny for you to recognize. How about Eugene?” Ahh, no. “Portland?” Portland, Maine? “What? No. Oregon.” We’re in Oregon? “Are you from the East Coast or something?” I don’t know … that doesn’t feel right. Avery, did anything weird happen before or after your accident? “Besides suddenly hearing someone talking in my head? No. I was perfectly

normal, hoping to get home in time to read a while before bed, and then I went flying and landed on my head. Maybe I should ask you that question. Did anything weird happen to you before you woke up in my head?” A pause, a long one. “Well?” I don’t know. “You don’t seem to know much of anything besides your name. How is that going to help us? What’s your last name? Where are you from? Marcus?” Hey, look at that, you finally said

my name. I heard Kyle’s laugh down the hall. They paused outside the door, talking for a minute before coming in. The nurse came by to remove my IV and let me get dressed in my normal clothes. Then, at long last, Dr. Hartley came through and discharged me. Kyle acted like he was more than ready to head back. He and Kristina probably made plans for tonight. He went to get the car while they wheeled me to the front door in a wheelchair, per hospital policy. It was almost dark outside. Maybe

six something? I pulled in a deep breath of fresh air, mostly relieved to be out of there. There wasn’t any reason why I couldn’t come back if this didn’t clear up. Kristina sat up front in Kyle’s low rider racing car, as he called it. It was a suped-up Honda with giant speakers and after-factory upgrades. It was the same stupid car he had driven me around in, bragging about all the expensive parts he put into it. I sat in the back seat with my head lying back on the rest. I let them talk up

front and pretended to doze off. I did so well at pretending I think I actually did fall asleep until Marcus started talking again. It occurred to me that maybe we knew each other somehow, in some vague way that wasn’t connecting right now. So I stopped him to ask, Who are you? What do you like to do? I know I love to snowboard, skateboard, hike, white water kayak, and about anything else I can do outdoors. I’m not sure what I was doing before this … probably shredding some fresh pow. I just know

I’m here, wherever here is, where you can hear me. What’s fresh pow? Fresh powder? Snow. You know the stuff on the mountains. I also know I don’t like being stuck somewhere, not able to do anything. It’s like you plucked me out of my life and wiped my memory. Well, lo siente and all, but I didn’t invite you in, either. It’s not like I went out and kidnapped you. I’m going crazy here, and you’re complaining about being stuck IN MY HEAD. See where

I’m coming from? Maybe we can figure out what’s going on and get rid of you. As they say, make my day.

Chapter Two “Avery? Do you want help getting to your room?” Kristina’s hand rubbed my arm through my sweater. I rubbed my eyes, still not liking how I felt when I woke up. Hopefully that would go away soon. I’d have to read my discharge instructions. For crying out loud … “I think I can manage,” I said, sliding out of the car. “You’re not coming in?”

It’d started sprinkling. “We’re going to catch a movie … unless you want me to stay with you?” She glanced in the car, at Kyle. “Or you could come?” “No, don’t worry about me.” I reached in for my bag while she went to the trunk for the rest of my stuff. She gave me a bag from Taco Bell. “I slept through the drive-through?” I asked, confused, because I’d been talking to Marcus, right? Dude, yeah. “You were out of it. Still feeling

okay?” She looked me over as if her layman’s eyes might see something. “Avery!” Jazz called, bouncing down the front steps, pulling a herd of helium balloons behind her. She’d tied her long, black hair up in a knot in a way my hair refuses to do. “Welcome home!” She landed right next to me, engulfing me. I noticed Dawn coming down the steps too. We all rent together—me, Dawn, Kristina and Jasmine—and go to Southern Oregon University. Everyone started talking, including Marcus, until Kyle stood up by the

driver’s side and cleared his throat. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.” Kris turned and planted a kiss on my cheek as she hugged me. “I’ll check on you later, ’kay?” Once she got in, the car pulled away slowly, almost like an apology because that wasn’t Kyle’s usual driving style. “Hmm.” Jazz raised an eyebrow at the retreating car. She didn’t say more, which we don’t around Dawn. “Thanks for the balloons,” I told Jazz as the three of us walked up to the house. It felt strange that everything looked the

same. Our wide, covered cement porch greeted me like usual. We rented an old white farmhouse on the edge of a small but nice college town. The farms disappeared years ago, and newer houses came, but they were mostly rented by college students on this street. “Want to watch a movie here?” Jazz asked. Dawn went back to cooking something in the kitchen and said she was up for a movie. Not the best time. Kinda stuck in an emergency right now. I started to shake my head but a spark

of pain stopped me. “I really just want to lie down and rest. Thanks, though.” She gave me a sympathetic smile, and I faltered, imagining how great it’d feel to spill this entire mess to her. Just as quickly, I saw how it’d look. As I made my way down the long hallway to my room, in the back of the house with its own tiny bathroom, I fantasized about falling into bed … but I’m a problem solver, and I couldn’t just go to sleep while I had voices in my head. I dropped my things on my cedar hope chest where I store stuff that I don’t use too often,

like snow wear. The balloons had a small weight so I set it on my dresser. Then I hit the power button on my laptop and let it fire up while I changed into my thermal pajamas. The entire day was gone … just like that. With a sigh, I peeked in the fast food bag. Kristina had gotten me a seven layer, which is what I always get from Taco Bell. When we go to the college cafeteria, I always get the ham, bacon and Swiss sandwich. At our fave Mexican place, I get shrimp nachos. Starbucks, a mint mocha. Well, mint in

the winter, and iced Chai in the summer. Kristina knows all of these. She also never puts me down for being boring. Sweet room. How’d you end up with this one? Pull seniority or something? Would Jazz hear me with my door shut? I didn’t think she could, unless she was right outside. My room is at the end of a hall so I decided it was safe enough to whisper. “I pay the most rent so I can have the room with a bathroom.” It was just a room with one big window and a small

bathroom, but I loved my space, and, unlike my roommates, I tried to keep anyone else out as much as possible. Job? Or a rich daddy? I chewed and swallowed the last bite of my seven layer and said, “Mind your own freaking business. I just wanted my own bathroom.” What’s with the notes on the walls? He was looking at my screenplay board. I pointed to one set of papers and explained they were character bios, another section had notes on the plot,

and the third section had some issues I was trying to work out. It was a mess at this point, really, but I didn’t have time for that right now. First I’d take care of this problem, and then put all of my focus back on my work. Work? “Well, I use some of it for school assignments.” Then? “I want to sell it someday. I’m going to make it, like my mom.” Is she famous? “No … she should have been,

though. Mom was a fantastic writer and sold a few novels before she died. She just didn’t get her chance.” And the picture over there—do you paint too? I paused while putting clothes away and looked at the painting of a wet street with a silver and gray cloudy sky. It had water everywhere, on the street and dripping off the building just barely visible from the edge. Watery sunlight shone through the clouds and reflected off everything. “Jazz did that for me. She’s an art

major, and she knows I love how light plays on the clouds and surfaces after a rain.” Yeah, the lighting is awesome. She did a really great job. I’ve always loved silvery clouds and soft sun spots coming through. Even as a kid, I would run outside right after it rained to look at raindrops, wet roads and the clouds. But we needed to get back on task. On top of being a problem solver, I’m a list maker, which kinda goes hand in hand, in my opinion. So I opened a Word

doc and typed: Possible Causes. Under that I listed: Side effect from concussion Side effect from morphine Stress—maybe hitting my head just pushed me over the brink Emergence of some mental disorder That idea stopped me cold … somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered my dad telling me his brother went off the deep end. I’ve never met that brother. My parents died so I

couldn’t ask them. But, at the very least, I could research online. I looked at the list and added: Ghost haunting me A telepathic person playing a joke on me Some other magical explanation, which probably goes back to a mental disorder So either I was having side effects or I was schizophrenic and it was just now presenting. Maybe … maybe I was suffering from temporary schizophrenia

from my concussion. That had to be it. I launched Google and started digging, going into a few medical sites and discussion boards. Some weird stories there. It did occur to me that I hadn’t heard Marcus in a while, but I wasn’t going to point that out to him. Maybe it was wearing off already. Why not celebrate with a cup of cocoa? I’d bought a Nescafe Dolce Gusto so I could make cocoa and coffee in my room, which sounds lazy, I know, but it’s more about keeping it in working order. Dawn puts no value on material

possessions, and that’s cool, but she also doesn’t take care of anything. She’ll use other people’s stuff and leave it dirty. Then there’s Kyle and Brandon, who can be rough on things. More than one thing has walked out of this house, and it’s impossible to track those things down. After my drink, and a few minutes on Facebook, my day actually started to pick up. I’d finished my paper on Friday so I wasn’t behind on any school work. It wasn’t until I walked into the bathroom that I wondered where Marcus had gone. More importantly, could he

see me? It seemed pretty quiet in my head. I hadn’t exactly felt him there before, had I? I wasn’t sure now. Feeling uncertain—okay, embarrassed—I hesitated for a full two minutes before I finally gave in. I’d changed already without worrying about him anyway. A couple of minutes later, I brushed my teeth and decided the problem seemed to have resolved itself. I rinsed and then looked in the mirror. My hair looked a bit ratty. I haven’t cut it once since coming to college two and a half years ago, but I don’t do much with it.

It’s a little wavy and light brown. For the most part, I like my face. I have an even collection of chocolate brown freckles that set off my bright blue eyes. Whenever I think my nose is too pointy, I remind myself at least it’s small. I don’t know. What’s the point of wanting to look different? I turned on the shower to let it warm up. Maybe it would be fun to have something different and exciting in my life, but definitely something other than a voice in my head. That qualified for something other than exciting. And I

didn’t want exciting right now—I wanted complete relaxation. I stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over me. Thankfully the old shower head didn’t spray water hard, but I was still careful getting my head wet. Even with the extra sore area on my scalp, the warmth and shhhing of the water soothed me. I soaped my hair, which felt extra nice after foregoing a shower in the hospital, and poured shower gel into my hand to run over my body. HOLY SHIT!

“AH! Get out get out get out!” I jumped and grabbed at the shower curtain, falling backwards. And of course I slipped right out onto the floor, on my back, holding a piece of the curtain that had ripped off. I stared up blankly, listening to the water run, too shocked to think. To speak. To call for help. Marcus was utterly silent. “Ave? Ave!” Jazz pounded on my bathroom door. Mortified, I tried to sit up. “I’m fine. Sorry. Just a bit slippery. But I’m fine.”

“Sure?” “Sure. Thanks for checking.” I listened as she walked away before I wrestled my way up to my feet, a hand holding my throbbing head. Um, sorry? “If you were real, I’d kill you right now with my bare hands.” Sorry, princess. But if it makes you feel any better, I think you’re pretty freaking hot.

Chapter Three

Marcus Freaking A this sucks. I’d give away a brand new snowboard for a good night’s sleep. I have no idea how this Avery person can sleep in such a tight ball. One thing’s for sure, no man could sleep after that—

after feeling her soapy, wet, hot bod. It was the one and only perk to this shit fest, discounting the blue balls I’d have if I still had my balls. Her phone buzzed again. I’d been dying to check it out, but this time her hand jerked. Yes, yes, YES, I moved her hand! I reached for her pink-with-beadson-it Iphone. Couldn’t hesitate in case I lost control. I opened her texts: Hi there Avery. Just heard. How are you feeling? Need anything? Your friend, Nash. Oh. My. God. Yo, dude, you think

that’s gonna impress anyone? Unless that was the kind of guy she liked. But, that did not jive. This chick had it going on and didn’t look like she should be into some geek. There were a couple texts from the guy. I deleted them. Why not? She’d taken over my life. I could mess with hers. So, yeah, I was being an ass and knew it. Pretty sure I’m not usually like this, but I’m feeling a little entitled right now. I mean, check this shit out. I tried screaming and jumping out of bed but nothing happened. Then I even lost

control of her hand. The phone fell back on the bed. She made a little noise and rolled over. Gonna be a long night. *** I came to in darkness, still HERE. I’d spent the night digging for clues to my life until I passed out. There were flashes of pictures but I had no idea if they came from her life or mine. Avery woke up while I sorted through some scenes: snowflakes in a frenzy, bright sun glinting off the white slopes, and a

tense moment where I held my breath, waiting for numbers to come up on a billboard-size screen. A score for something? I didn’t pay her much attention until she muttered to herself, “Of course it’d be today.” What’s that? “Never mind, Marcus. Just talking to myself.” I could feel her face heating up as she sat down on her bed. Did I want to pry? Did I care? I was taking in her room—the sheets of notes taped to her

walls, the small blue rain pictures— when pain in her lower abdomen caught my attention, a weird sensation I’ve never felt before. By then she was popping a pill. What’s going on? Did you hurt more than just your head? “No … could this get any more embarrassing? I started today, and now I really feel like crap.” Enough info! Damn. She pulled on an old, ratty knit sweater. I started to say something but, just in time, somehow knew it’d

been her mom’s. Hadn’t she said her parents were gone or something? So, are you getting up? She moaned and buried herself in the bed. Avery! I can’t take this lying around. We have to get up and go do something. “I can’t!” she muttered into her pillow. “In case you can’t feel it, my head is pounding, I have cramps, and my stomach won’t settle down. I’m going back to sleep. You’re going away!” If only I could.

Chapter Four Avery I always wake up happy after dreaming about my mom. For a few minutes, I can hear her voice and laugh and see that shrug she always did with a one-sided smile, her perfume. It’s those little things that slip away, things you take for granted on a day-to-day basis until they’re gone. Then, right after the

dream, it’s all crystal clear, like I actually just heard her talk. Her sweater even smelled like her again. Maybe it’s my subconscious, but it usually takes a bit before I remember. Happens every time. Then of course remembering that my mom is gone is even more horrible after those happy, just-waking-up moments with her. She’s gone. Dead. Dead. Dead. I’ll never see her again. I couldn’t tell her about the snowboarding trip or Marcus, because she might have been the sole person on

this planet I could have confided in about this. Today was even worse because on top of my headache, I started and had cramps. This felt worse than when I had the flu for two weeks my first year of college. I rolled over in bed and burrowed down into the covers. Babe? “Hmm?” Hey, sorry to wipe out into your life and all … but I couldn’t help hearing that. Sorry about your mom. “Thanks, I guess.” Maybe he understood because he couldn’t

remember any of the people in his life— assuming he was real and had people to lose. How’d it happen? “Not going to talk about it. That’s the ground rules for living in my head. Certain topics are off limits. Got it?” Sure. Great. Not like I need to hear all your personal issues. Getting up today? I blinked, rolled over and checked the time. I could get up and go to class, but my body felt like it’d fallen down a snowy mountain, which it actually had.

Marcus snorted. I’ve seen much worse. This one dude somehow twisted his leg up under him. I saw the white splinters of his bones sticking out. This other guy smashed into the rim, the halfpipe lip, right on his kneecap. “Well, that sure helped my stomach.” Apparently Marcus spent a lot of time in extreme sports. Groaning, I pulled my pillow over my head, making an executive decision to stay home. I dozed off again, then woke to Kristina feeling my forehead, like she was checking me

for a fever. It was laughable, except it felt like my mom checking on me. She was on my mind a lot today. “Feeling okay, sweetie?” “Better.” This was a total lie, but I didn’t want to be a whiner. She sat down on my computer chair. “You were mumbling about hitting a jump. I can’t believe you’re even thinking about snowboarding after that.” That woke me up. “Really? Huh. I think I’m still staying home today … Is that soup?” I asked at the wonderful smell.

“Chicken noodle.” I scooted up in bed and took the bowl she offered, feeling the warmth and breathing in the aroma. My stomach growled. “Jazz said she’ll share notes with you. And I’ll text that guy—Nash?— about notes. He can ask your other friends, right? That super skinny nerdy guy?” For such a sweet person, Kristina can also be completely clueless at times. “Ettore? Yeah, Nash can ask around about notes.” I spoke between sips. “I

can email the profs too … tomorrow.” We laughed about that as she left. “I’ll talk to you later!” You like Ettore? Marcus tried adding a big flourish to the name. “He’s my friend, yeah,” I whispered with the bowl raised to my lips. “He’s also yacht and airplane rich, but he never advertises that around here.” And Nash? “None of your biz. And I’m staying home to rest and get better.” Think that’ll get rid of me?

“You say that like you wanna stay stuck in my head. So, while I’m thinking about it, let’s start the day by going over our rules.” Yes, ma’am. He did not say that like he meant it at all. “You are NOT going in the bathroom with me. I don’t care where you go, but I need my privacy.” He was quiet, and I got the very clear impression that he was picturing our little shower scene. I forgot the other rules I wanted to go over.

Sighing, I finished the soup, snuggled down into my pillow and willed myself to sleep, hoping to get back to my dreams. I spent the day in bed, fading in and out of a wonderfully lazy half awareness. Jazz came in and brought me juice, crackers, cheese, water and even chocolate pudding. Akkk. Good god, I hate pudding. Kristina stopped by, too, but by then Marcus had gotten bored and wouldn’t stop talking. Kris didn’t stay too long. I probably acted way too distracted. When I was alone again, I asked him,

“Okay, here’s a question, Marcus. Do you have someone special?” Uhh … I don’t think so. “How is it possible for you to know so much about yourself but nothing about your life?” I laced my fingers behind my head and stared up at the ceiling. That way, it was almost like talking to someone lying next to me. I don’t get it either. I can picture hitting a 180, but nothing comes to mind when I try to remember my last name, or where I work. I can’t picture any friends, but I feel like I hang out

with other people all the time. Seems like I would miss them, especially a girlfriend or wife. Think I’m old enough to be married? “Oh, gross.” I really hoped I didn’t have some married guy in my head. I’m not sure why, but that made it worse. “I’m going to sleep now.” *** Avery, wake up. It’s light out. Let’s go for a run. You’re wasting the whole day.

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” I asked into my pillow. “I don’t run, and I really don’t get up this early. How on earth can you tell it’s light outside from inside my head?” Dunno. Maybe you blinked in your sleep? Feels like dawn. And it’s kinda gray here instead of dark. I rolled over and lifted up just enough to peek at my phone on its charging stand … I had three hours till class, because I was going back today. Plenty of time for a run! Get up! Groaning, I pulled my pillow over

my face. Not only was it the butt crack of dawn, but I’d stayed up way too late. Kristina had checked on me the first time I started to drift off to sleep. Then I was trying to get back to sleep but Marcus got restless and started asking all kinds of personal questions. We’d chatted for a few hours, and I guess that wasn’t so bad. Having someone inside my head meant we were skipping small talk and being completely honest and real with each other. I actually hate small talk, gossip and all that stupid stuff people waste their time on. It was, so far, the

only thing Marcus and I had in common. But, I still had a sore head and cramps. Tell you what. If you take me for a run, I’ll stay out of the bathroom. I flew up in bed. “What the freaking hell? Are you aware that, one, you’re not a dog that needs taken for a run, and two, you should stay out of the bathroom out of basic human decency.” So what am I supposed to do while you’re in the shower? I cursed him and slid my feet to the

floor. It didn’t look too rainy outside, but I didn’t have anything to run in. Yeah, look over there. Running shoes. “Those are for the gym.” And running. And there’s shorts on that box thing. Come on. I need it. You do too. I wasn’t sure I was able, so soon after my concussion. I rubbed my head and ran my fingers through my hair, yawning. If you can do this, you can do anything.

“Did you read that off a cereal box?” Can’t you feel that? You’re itching to stretch your legs and get some air in your lungs … don’t you want to feel the wind blowing over you? I pulled in a big, deep breath, mostly to keep myself calm, but as the air rushed into my lungs, I got a hint of what he was talking about. And while it seemed illogical, I started thinking running would help me feel better. Hell yeah! Let’s go baby. Come on. You want it.

“And you swear on your life that you’ll stay out of the bathroom? And you’ll step out when I ask for privacy?” He laughed, a slow, totally male sound, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. “Is it a deal?” It’s a deal. Unless you ask me to join you. Because I could show you a few things. “We are going to shut up, get ready, and go on a SHORT run. Got it? Short. And you’re going to pretend you’ve learned some manners.”

Before changing, I cracked my door open and peeked down the hallway, just to make sure there wasn’t someone listening to my insane conversation. I kept trying to talk to him in my head, but that made me feel even weirder about the whole thing. Ten minutes later, I couldn’t believe I was out in the forty degree, misty air, running down the sidewalk. The rain had made the world shiny and silver, but that didn’t mean I needed to be running through it. My legs burned. My lungs burned. My stomach hurt. Another runner

flew by me like it was nothing. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I wheezed, then realized too late I was passing a man walking his dog. He glanced over but I pushed on, staring straight ahead. Marcus, can you feel the stitch creeping up my side? It gets better. And those are just signs that you really need to get out for cardio more often. “What happened to the smoking hot thing?” My words came between huffs. Was that just to butter me up so you could get me out here?

Let’s be quiet and run. I laughed. Well, I would have if I had the air for it. Quiet. Being quiet. No, I needed to focus on breathing. In. Out. In, in, out. In, in, out. Soon my breathing fell into a rhythm, orchestrated with my feet, instead of the frantic wheezing I’d done the first two blocks. My face felt hot and my lungs still burned, but I kept moving. Then I felt Marcus almost like an energy streaming through me. He remembered hours and hours of running, arms moving, feet flying across the dirt, or snow, or sand. I could remember with

him how it felt to fill his massive lungs, the length of his stride, the power in his limbs. No wonder he felt trapped in my five-foot-four frame. Actually, he’d been nice about not comparing my body to other women or to his previous abilities. He’d been bossy and pushy but he hadn’t managed to crush my ego, but didn’t that play into my theory that he was a figment of my schizophrenic mind? Babe, listen, don’t schizophrenic visions and voices make you do crazy

things? Like run first thing in the morning? No, like kill people and weird shit. We hit an intersection with traffic streaming through. I lurched to a stop and bent over, hands on knees, sucking air. I remained bent over for so long, a lady’s voice asked if I was okay. “Yeah, fine.” I waved her away and tried to follow up with a smile. I stiffly straightened and turned to head back to the house. Marcus groaned, quietly, but I caught it. I know that wasn’t far for you, but I

won’t be able to walk to class if I push it any more. All right. I’ll admit I’m being an ass. Was that the Marcus version of an apology? Reluctantly, I pushed myself back into a jog, at a slower pace than before, and focused on moving my arms to keep my body in motion. Still, I stopped twice on the way back, and then figured out, as I fell onto my front steps, that I had covered about two miles in all. Not a bad start, right? Well, if you’re calling it a start,

implying that we’ll keep at it, then, yes, it’s a good start. The door opened. “Avery? What happened?” Kristina rushed down the steps, swooping in on me, hands feeling my back. “Did you get mugged?” She screamed back at the open door for Dawn while I tried to break in and tell her everything was okay. Dawn stepped out, eyes wide. “I just went running.” I got up quicker than I felt like and stretched, hands on the small of my back. “Right after a concussion?” Kris

asked just as Dawn said, “Who’s the guy?” I rolled my eyes at her and followed them inside. Kristina hurried off—her get-ready routine is epic and she can’t afford any interruptions. Maybe it’s just me, but the prettier a girl is, the more she worries about it, and the more effort she puts into looking nice. It’s like a competition, and the closer to the top you are, the harder you have to fight. I’ve seen her live on vegetables for days to lose a few pounds. And she has a steady, devoted, loving boyfriend!

At least we see eye to eye on women. I laughed as I walked down the hallway, and had to hope it wasn’t too loud. In my room, I checked the time, downed a glass of water as the shower heated up, and then stood underneath it, fighting goosebumps. My body was cooling down and it felt almost like getting sick to my stomach. The feeling spread up into my chest. Crap, what is happening? I gulped air as my chest tightened, my head spun and everything

started going black. Calm down! Bend over. Breathe slowly. You’re hyperventilating. It’s a heart attack from running! No, it’s a panic attack. You’re fine. Just breathe with me … in … slow … out. Slower. He kept talking while I breathed. Finally, I straightened back up and found I could see. “Wait, Marcus, you said you wouldn’t come in here!” It’s not like I can just wait outside while you pass out.

“Can you see me?” I asked the question with my eyes staring straight ahead. I can see what you’re looking at, but I’m not floating here, staring at you while talking to you in my magical voice, that, strangely, only you can hear. But seriously, we need an exercise plan. I wasn’t smooching up to you when I said you’re hot. You are. But you could get into better shape. Don’t you want to see what you can do? Don’t you want to run ten miles or climb a mountain?

“Climb a mountain? Not really my thing.” Don’t you want to run two miles without falling over? “I didn’t fall over, for the record, and you should be proud of me for running at all. And, also for the record, I’m totally skinny.” Skinny, but your endurance is … Listen, I’m not trying to be a jerk. Sorry about the shower. I’ll go work on our exercise plan and you can enjoy your coconut shower gel. Yeah, you go do that.

Five minutes later, I was out, wrapped in a towel and staring at the clothes in my closet when he said we need to think about nutrition. Hmm, breakfast. After a run like that, I probably deserved a big ol’ maple bar. No, no, no! That totally ruins the point of the run. We need protein. I pictured one of those Facebook memes with the Cookie Monster: num, num, num, me want more protein! Marcus chuckled until I pulled down a black skirt and long sleeve brown sweater.

Okay, I told him, now go somewhere else while I change. *** An hour later, I discovered a new twist in my nightmare as I sat in my movie theory class, trying to listen to the professor over Marcus and his asinine commentary. This is worthwhile stuff, I explained, trying to quiet him. I actually needed to hear the discussion. I’d sat by Jasmine and Ettore like usual. She was an art major but took

some writing classes too, along with an oddball acting class. Ettore glanced over and gave me a small smile and lift of his hand. He loved this stuff, and Ettore made it more interesting than the professor. He could even point out the same techniques in modern movies. Kris wasn’t wrong about him being too skinny and maybe a bit odd looking, but it’s almost like he didn’t care. At least, he never acted like it. Matt, as the professor liked to be called, discussed how the light on an actor’s face could reveal him as the

good guy, or reveal a mood, or simply reveal that the character was revealing something in their dialogue. Images flashed on the screen from older movies, scenes where the character gazed somewhere (close to the camera but not directly) as they confessed or implored, the light falling across their face. You seem to like lighting a lot. Do you like photography? Marcus asked that as class ended and everyone got up to leave. I joined the slow-moving mob toward the door and Jasmine fell in

beside me, her super-long black hair swept all over one shoulder. “Ave, you made it back to class.” Ettore turned around, along with a couple of other nosey people. Marcus was in the middle of saying something too, but there were so many conversations that I could hardly concentrate on what Jasmine had said. “Thanks for sharing notes.” “What happened?” Ettore asked, tugging on his shirt collar to pull it away from his neck, which made me notice his Adam’s apple. “I wondered why you

were gone.” The noise level dropped around us as other students listened. “I fell while snowboarding,” I explained. “Got a concussion.” We made it out the door, through the students pushing their way in, and walked down the hallway. The three of us stopped at the intersection, knowing Ettore had to head in the opposite direction. “Wow, bummer.” “I’m fine now,” I said. “And I got a couple of days in bed over it.” Ettore was shuffling through his notebook and handed me a sheet with

class notes. We talked for a minute or two, but he had to hurry to his next class. Jasmine and I started off down the hall together. It’s funny how a week will go by when we don’t see each other at home, but she’s always in class. Kristina spent a lot of time trying to figure Jazz out. She’s just a bit mysterious, is all. Think I’m warming up to her. Sounds like she’s interesting. “That was pretty scary,” she said, somewhat out of the blue but I could follow her train of thought. “I actually don’t feel that bad today,”

I said, simultaneously realizing I wanted to convince myself that I was healthy as ever and doing well. Hello, I went running this morning! “No headache or anything.” “Cool.” Her eyes were scanning the crowd, people watching. It’s something we all tend to do around here. I noticed a passing guy give her the elevator look. “You know,” I said, “A lot of guys check you out. It’s true! What’shis-name can take a number.” His name was actually Drake. I had decided early on I didn’t like him so

much, since he didn’t have time for her. She smiled suddenly and broadly. “He can take someone else’s number because I dumped him. In a text because the bastard doesn’t call or text me. Ah!” “Good for you!” We reached the math building, where she turned off, calling a “See ya at the house” as she went. Babe, guys are checking you out constantly too, but you keep looking away. Marcus sounded … a little reserved as he said that. I considered that briefly

and quickly realized anything down that avenue would be difficult right now. Marcus laughed about that. Yeah, I don’t think I can handle kissing a guy. I don’t think I can handle listening to you … Flirting? Not what I was thinking, no. But along those lines. There was no way I was discussing that with him. I double timed it to the library and back to a quiet nook in the stacks with a big chair by a window. I normally liked being around people and

the buzz of conversation, but it was overwhelming to have one going on inside my head competing with everything else. I leaned on my hand and closed my eyes, hoping to let my mind drift to nothing. Instead it went straight to my current problem, because, really, what else could I think about? This didn’t make any sense or have any easy solutions, and I’d sound like a nut case if I told anyone, even Kris or Jazz. Could I have simply made him up, like a female edition for Fight Club? Well, except that I didn’t think I was

Marcus, and I couldn’t see Marcus … no, that story wasn’t any help at all. The only thing I’m familiar with that’s anywhere close to this is schizophrenia. Delusion. But if I made him up, how would I have come up with some athletic, blunt jock that wanted to go running at dawn? Plus, if I created him, I should be able to picture him. So, Marcus, what do you look like? Dunno. Really? You don’t know what you look like?

I bet I have nice hands that could make you happy. Shut up with the sex talk! Not exactly “sex” talk. Just offering. Anyway, what happened to your parents? How did Marcus know that? Was he digging around in my head? Watching my dreams? It’s none of your business. And what about Kyle? You thought something about dating him before Kristina. How close were you two? And how did he hook up with your

best friend … and with everyone still being friends? Again, none of your business. Seems like we’re at a stalemate. Maybe we should skip out on your classes today and hit the slopes. I heaved a sigh. This was getting to be too much. But, wait, I’m here on campus where I can go talk to a counselor. No, no, no! I glanced around to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “And why not? No offense, Marcus, but this isn’t

working. You wanted out of there, remember? Said you were stuck? And if you’re just a figment of my imagination, or some mental illness, I should talk to someone. Take care of things. I can’t function like this.” No! Avery, no. Do you really want your friends and everyone else hearing that you cracked? They’ll lock you in a psych ward for evaluation. “But what if something’s wrong with me? Maybe I have a brain aneurysm. What if they could figure it out and fix it?”

And where does that put me? “You’re not frickin’ real!” He stormed off. I could actually feel him stomping and slamming things. My face burned—with my own anger, but also hurt. How could I be so confused and emotionally mixed up over a voice in my head?

Chapter Five I stood and slung my bag over my shoulder. It wasn’t a bad thing if he left. That’s what he wanted. He said so repeatedly. And it was for the better. Hello, he was a voice in my head, and it shouldn’t be a good thing if I felt like something was missing without him. Why, did it get too quiet in here? Of course Marcus couldn’t stay away for long. We picked up where we’d left

off as I speed-walked across campus, my head down so I wouldn’t glare at anyone by accident. When I entered the English building and approached my classroom, I looked through the small windows to see if the last class had cleared out. My class was seated already! Mr. Finley stood leaning back on his desk, lecturing. “You made me late!” I spoke out loud before I noticed a guy slouching on the floor, back against the wall. He gave me a stay-away look behind his glasses but I pulled open the door and hurried in,

making sure to slink into a desk without looking at Mr. Finley. I held my breath in the hope it’d keep me from blushing. I hate being late. I hate people who come in ten minutes after class starts, all nonchalant, like they’re gracing the class with their appearance. Keeping my face down, I pulled out my notebook to take notes, then of course I couldn’t concentrate and figure out what he was talking about. It didn’t make much sense at all. “Okay, homework,” Mr. Finley said, turning to the board to write.

But that’s what he always said at the end of class … Oh, shit. I glanced around. These weren’t the people in my class. Marcus! How’s it my fault? Guess you were early. And now I was melting through the floor, literally—well, in a figurative sense, but it felt literal. My skin heated to sun temperature and slid down my face. The blood rushing into my ears kept me from hearing anything as

students stood and left. Oh. My. God. I slid down in my seat, trying to fold in on myself. Ave, it’s okay. It’s not a big deal. Yeah, it’s not your face everyone is staring at either. My face had to be bright red under my freckles. You’re my little Tiger Lily. Would you buzz off! New people came in and sat down, but I wasn’t going to talk to anyone right now. I doodled on my paper, making little lines between the blue lines. Mr. Finley didn’t come over. Maybe he felt

sorry for me. Class started, and I tried to listen as other people read their short stories, but I couldn’t speak up and offer any feedback after what happened. I really couldn’t look up at Mr. Finley. The minutes ticked by painfully. And by painfully, I mean it was just like the time I ate a bottle of my dad’s medicine when I was little and had to get my stomach pumped. Ave … I’m not talking to you! Everyone jumped up to go and I realized class was over. Maybe I should

have stayed home today to recover. Even if I felt okay physically, my mind was elsewhere. I could have researched more online or slept this whole thing off. “Avery?” I looked up at Mr. Finley, right next to me. “Yes?” “Are you feeling okay?” He perched on the edge of the next desk, his hands crossed on his lap. He went for a beatnik look with black rimmed glasses, alternative clothes, and a huge love of nonsensical poetry. Normally I liked talking to him.

“Oh, I’m feeling great. Thanks, Mr. Finley.” Again, trying to minimize my unexplainable condition. “It’s just, I heard you had a fall up on the mountain, and today … you seemed to be somewhere else completely.” The sweet man chose not to mention how I’d run in here and interrupted his class. But, news about me was all over campus? Even the professors heard? I pulled in a breath, feeling my lungs stretch painfully after that morning’s run. The classroom had emptied out because there wasn’t another one after ours. I glanced down

and felt my face turn red. My notebook was open and completely blank; I didn’t take a single note during class. But he can’t tell that, right? For all he knew, maybe I had all kinds of notes on the other side. “I’ll email my notes to you, okay? You can go over anything you missed.” “That’d be great, thanks. Maybe I will go home early.” I stood, sliding my notebook into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. We walked into the hallway together. Nash Phillips was leaning against the

opposite wall, hands in pockets, obviously waiting. For me? My breath caught and I tucked my hair behind my ear, trying to look without being super obvious. Nash is about six foot tall with olive skin, almost black hair and very dark eyes. He was looking at his phone but glanced up and met my gaze. Time stopped for a few seconds. He started to give a subtle smile until he saw Mr. Finley, and his eyes dropped back down to his phone. Mr. Finley hesitated, taking in that

look too, but we kept walking and he continued talking. I waited about five steps before throwing a look back. Nash lifted a hand. I smiled. This thing with Nash has been building so slooowwwwly. I’m on the quiet side with people I don’t know, and he’s super reserved. Kristina called him stuck up, but I think he’s just shy. I’m okay with things going slow—after the thing with Kyle, I wasn’t sure I wanted to date at all. I followed Mr. Finley outside, and as he talked, I happened to actually read

one of the fliers up in the front of the English building … about a crisis hotline for students. This was my third year here, and I’d only used student services a few times to see a nurse. What could it hurt to just call and talk to someone? “See you later.” Mr. Finely waved as he headed the other way. I waved back but didn’t leave right away. Odd that Marcus hadn’t said anything through all of that. In fact, he didn’t jump all over me for pausing and reading the flier several times, or for

writing the number on my hand. He didn’t say anything about anything, but he was eerily silent, icy even. So I asked him, what is your problem? If you’re not a ghost haunting me or a schizophrenic voice in my head, what do you have to worry about? Not why I’m being quiet, babe. He exhaled slowly, like he was ten shades past frustrated. And what’s going to happen if you spill this to someone? It’s anonymous. I’m not going to tell

them who I am. I stepped back inside the English building for a sec, just to see if Nash had hung around. I didn’t see him. I wondered about him waiting outside the classroom. I was the only person left so he must have been waiting for me. After a quick glance around to make sure Nash wasn’t somewhere watching, I checked my phone. He’d gotten my number last week but we hadn’t talked much yet. There was a text. Sorry to miss you. Chat later? I texted back, Sure.

Then, while walking, I checked my phone a few times, feeling those phantom buzzes, but he didn’t text back. So your type is Tom Cruise lookalikes? I puffed out my breath, irritated. There wasn’t anyone right by me, and I realized most people walking by themselves were talking on their cell phones or a Bluetooth. Maybe we all looked crazy. “Kyle looks like Colin Egglesfield … who, come to think of it, does look like a young Tom Cruise. But anyway.

Nash is much taller, with darker hair and dark brown eyes.” I wasn’t going to say so, but I could see what he meant about Nash. Something about his face structure. “Why? Are you short with blond hair and green eyes or something?” Marcus didn’t answer and I felt bad. Actually, I didn’t know if I had a type. My mind wandered, remembering. There had been a guy one time. I was up in Portland with Kris, and we rode the Max train downtown. At one of the stops, I noticed a man with sunny blond hair,

long and wavy, but not exactly messy. Just doing what it wanted. He had a gray knit sweater on with a black T-shirt underneath, and it struck me as something a guy would wear walking on the docks. So, were you attracted based on his looks or because he looked adventurous? “I’d have to say both … and I can’t believe I’m telling you something like that.” I turned at the corner and walked down to the student parking lot to my

classic red Toyota. It was two miles to the house, but I had a backpack full of books. I got in the car and started driving home. Seems only fair if you share that kind of stuff. Here I am caught up in some kind of Sex in the City with guys wanting to crawl all over you while you play Miss Cool. They think you’re deep and mysterious. “Are you saying I’m not?” Well, babe, I’m inside your head. But, yeah, you’re complicated. This was complicated.

The house was empty when I got home, so I locked myself in my room, and called the number I’d written down. Avery, this is a bad idea! “Student crisis hotline … I’m Brian, and I’m here to listen and talk. What’s your name?” “Hi Brian, I’m … Chelsea.” “Hi Chelsea.” He didn’t flinch at the obvious lie. “How’s it going?” “Good, I guess. I mean, not so good all the time. My life was good, but then this thing happened …” I rambled on for a while without conveying any kind of

useful information, and it wasn’t making me feel any better. I had to talk over Marcus part of the time too. I probably sounded like I was strung out on drugs. “So something upsetting happened? Are you physically hurt?” “No.” “So this didn’t involve any kind of … invasion into your space?” I thought I knew what he was getting at, like someone trying to rape me, but right at first, I thought he somehow knew about Marcus in my head. I waited too long, sounding suspicious I’m sure. “No,

it’s nothing like that.” I was about to hang up when Brian started talking. Just general stuff, but a little helpful too, about dealing with stress. “Just talking things out can really help.” “Okay. So this will sound really, really crazy.” My entire body lit on fire. I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t sure I could go through with this, anonymous or not. “There’s no judgment here,” he said kindly. “Well … I’ve been hearing this voice talk to me. It’s the same one all the

time. And it’s not like … not like the movies where he’s trying to get me to do anything. He’s just as frustrated as I am about being stuck here, but he doesn’t know who he is, or where he lives, or how he’ll get back to his life.” I couldn’t stop it. Everything rushed out. “How long has this been going on?” “A few days, I think.” It felt like a year. “How were things going for you before that?” “Good, life was pretty normal.” I had made sure not to mention specifics

like my friends’ names, or that we rented a house, or that we’d been snowboarding. “Any problems with your family? A boyfriend? Or even a friend? Any stress at school?” “No, nothing that big.” Liar. You didn’t want me sharing in the first place! “Did anything happen around when you started hearing this voice? Anything at all?” “Well, I was in an accident and hurt

my head a little.” “It really sounds like you need to see a doctor.” “I did, actually, right when it happened. Everything was fine.” The line was quiet for a minute and I panicked, thinking he was tracing the call. Could they do that? Then, “Maybe you should go back in. Have you told your doctor about this?” “No, it didn’t seem like a physical symptom, and the scan showed everything was fine.” “Did this voice tell you not to tell

anyone about him?” A chill ran up my spine, clear to the base of my head, and gave me goosebumps down my arms. “I’m not sure. I need to get going, but thanks for listening.” I heard him saying my name —my fake name—as I hung up, breathing heavily. What did you do? What if they come looking for us? I checked the hallway again. Empty. “He’s right, Marcus. It’s totally weird that you don’t want me to get help. And this is messing up my life.”

How? “How? I can’t think straight. I’m stressed out. Then there’s Nash.” Marcus laughed bitterly. We can’t go telling people about this, babe. I know it’s frustrating for you, but imagine being in here with nowhere else to go. But I couldn’t go on like this forever! My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t been eating much. I went to the kitchen and dug around, not feeling like eating anything I found so I settled on an avocado. I pushed Kristina’s text

books out of the way to make a spot to sit down, and then I ended up picking up the rest of the clutter, losing myself in the task. Finally I cut the avocado in half, salted and peppered it, and took a bite. Marcus gagged. What are you eating? “It’s just avocado.” I took another bite, wondering if he really tasted everything I did, but he just kept gagging. With a loud sigh, I chucked it in the trash and went to my room, where I fell into bed so frustrated I felt hot tears tickling through my squinted eyelids.

You hide in your bed a lot. His voice was quiet, but there wasn’t a way for him to be so quiet that I couldn’t hear him. I growled into my pillow. There wasn’t a place to hide from him. I woke two hours later to my cell phone buzzing. Three texts. Kristina: Nachos? We’ll bring home. Nash: Hi Avery. How are you? Are you okay? Nash again: Dawn said you fell hard on the slopes. Hope you’re okay.

I told Kristina: Yes, please! To Nash: Thanks, Nash. Feeling okay. Went home early today just to rest. No more snowboarding! Now wait a minute. Haven’t you heard of getting back up? “Haven’t you heard of not doing something twice if it has severe side effects? Such as having some stranger suddenly living in your head?” I just want to see you live a little. “Hmm, how are you an expert on my life now?” I brushed my teeth and splashed cold

water on my face. My stomach growled again as I started to think about nachos. I chugged a glass of water, realizing I needed more fluids today after running, and then stretched on the floor. Maybe two miles wasn’t much, but I wanted to do what I could to soften the blow. Then I fell backwards on my bed— cursed myself as the soft impact reverberated through my head—and allowed myself a whimper and even a few tears over my situation. I didn’t go around crying all the time before this. I couldn’t believe how frustrated and off-

kilter it’d gotten me. What was I going to do? I had to get help for this. I couldn’t let the voice in my head stop me from telling someone. That was crazy, like classic, certifiable crazy. Haven’t we moved past that yet? Nash texted again: What are you doing tonight? Seriously? I breathed in slowly through my nose before telling Marcus, “Isn’t there any way for you to step away for a while?” I guess, but I’m just … kinda gone. Not anywhere.

“Isn’t that like sleeping? What’s so bad about it?” I pictured myself raising my eyebrows at him. Then I texted Nash to say I was staying in and Kristina was bringing nachos home. I hit send, thinking he’d take the hint, and then remembered this was Nash. He probably wouldn’t realize I was inviting him over. Or maybe he does understand those kind of subtle clues, but he’s too shy to ever act on them. Could I handle spending time with Nash with Marcus hanging around? I

heard a few choice words from Marcus, which was the motivation I needed to text Nash: Want to come over? Really? Just to piss me off? I sighed, a long, frustrated and drawn-out sigh. “See, here’s the thing. I was living my life and hanging with my friends, and suddenly you’re here. I guess I understand it’s tough on you, if you’re real and really can’t leave, but I shouldn’t have to change everything about myself. Right? Can’t you see it from my point of view?”

Now he sighed, copying mine exactly. Yeah, yeah. I actually totally understand your side. This isn’t fair. Not for me. Not for you. So here’s my thing … If I try to understand and respect your side, can you stop implying or flat out saying I’m a ghost, or not real, or some schizophrenic manifestation? “How can I not think that?” I asked, throwing my hands up. Deal or no deal. How could it be that simple? “Does

this deal mean that you’ll be quiet tonight and let me have some time with my friends?” Just leave? “Just be quiet, not comment on my friends or Nash, and not pass judgment on Nash or what I’m thinking?” I headed to my room. “I don’t know if I can do the two-conversation game tonight.” Fine. I’ll be quiet. That wasn’t a black-and-white answer … which left me some gray area too. Marcus tried to disagree but I told him to hush, then turned on my laptop to

check email. My email came on my phone too, but I figured I’d need to download something from Mr. Finley. As promised, he had emailed. Hey, Avery? “Yeah?” Can I at least have the story on Kyle? Throw me a bone here. What will it hurt anyway? If I’m just some voice in your head that you made up, there’s no reason not to tell me, right? “I … wait, now who’s saying you’re not real?” Come on, baby, share.

“It’s not as bad as you’re thinking.” Okay, then. That makes it even easier to tell me. It wasn’t something I could talk about, so I let my mind wander back to it, allowing Marcus to see. Kyle and I had a few freshman classes together, and we sat next to each other in the first one because there was a seating chart. We got to know each other a little, and we’d walk to our second class and talk there too. And he held an umbrella over you in the rain? And brought you flowers?

“Um, no. And who’s telling the story here? We just started talking more, even after our second class ended. One day we went to the cafeteria and had lunch together, and it turned into a habit.” There were always people around, but it felt like we were our own little bubble. Kyle would laugh a lot and talk with his hands. I liked how he leaned over the table, getting closer to listen to me. Uh, this is the guy that won’t even look your way now? “Well, hello, he’s with Kristina.” And how did that happen?

The doorbell rang, sending me up out of my computer chair. I hadn’t heard Kristina and Kyle get back yet so I hurried through the house to answer it, knowing it had to be Nash. Saved by the bell. Cliché.

Chapter Six Nash had his back to the door when I opened it, like he was gazing out at the milky, early evening sky. (It hadn’t taken me that long to get to the door, had it?) He swiveled around, hands in his pants pockets, which pushed his gray rain jacket back. Even with the coat and hood, he had damp hair from the rain. The light outside the door cast a downward glow, making him look

mysterious. Almost dangerous. Give me a break. “Hey,” he said, with just enough smile for me to notice. “Come on in.” I flashed him a smile and led him inside, slowly realizing I hadn’t done my makeup or brushed my hair, or even planned what we would do. “Kristina’s still out getting stuff.” I turned around, feeling panicked. Music and snacks. I should have hugged Nash when he walked in, but it felt too late for that now. Following Marcus’ advice, I went

to Dawn’s stereo and plugged in my MP3 player. “Do you like Imagine Dragons?” “Yeah, sure.” The music started as I walked into the kitchen. I had yogurt in the fridge and … I grabbed my bag of Oreos from the shelf and opened them. I picked one up and took a small bite, and sat the package on the counter, sliding it his way. You know, you don’t need makeup. One nice thing about chicks that love snowboarding is they don’t get all

dressed up and paint their faces. Least not on the slopes. It was so hard not reacting to Marcus. “Did you finish that new story yet?” I asked Nash as he took a cookie. I slid onto a stool and he followed suit, so we were facing each other over the cookies. He gave me a sheepish grin, looking down. “Halfway.” Nash described what he had so far, and it sounded more like a complicated description of his made-up planet called Moxy than a story. Suddenly he asked,

“How’s your screenplay coming?” “I have my plot, my characters, a ton of ideas for writing, but I keep getting stuck in the planning stage.” “Maybe you’re a pantser?” he suggested. “Have you tried just writing?” Well, there’s one thing I like about his guy. You should jump in and start, Avery. What could it hurt? Before I answered, I heard Kristina’s laughter outside the door, mixed with Kyle’s voice. Kristina came inside, already talking to me. “Guess what’s out

on Netflix? The last Hunger Games movie! I thought we could do a movie night after nachos.” She bounced with excitement as she slid a large plastic tray onto the counter full of stacked nachos. Kyle came in behind her with another one. Dawn and Brandon were right behind them, like they’d all arrived together. We naturally gathered around the counter and chips. My stomach growled as soon as I smelled the warm chips, melted cheese and beans. I thought about introducing Nash even though everyone had met before, in

brief, but they were already talking. I just nodded along with what Nash said. Kyle and Nash faced each other across the counter, and Kyle’s gaze dropped, sizing Nash up with a glint of superiority in his eyes. Whoa! Getting interesting now! Nash didn’t seem to notice—he was going on about selling a short story to a lit mag. Oh, my god. He was bragging! I almost shook my head in disbelief, just before I caught myself responding to Marcus in front of everyone. I asked Marcus, do you think Kyle still has

feelings for me? Something’s there … he’s territorial. Guys don’t like other men moving in on their past girlfriends. But why do YOU care about that? Kristina was talking—I’d missed the first half of what she said. I picked up a shrimp nacho with sour cream and guacamole, listening. Her eyes darted between Nash and me, trying to read us. She wants you and Nash to be a couple, and friends with them, so everything will be okay. It is okay.

Are you sure about that? I wonder if she ever worries that Kyle still has feelings for you. I couldn’t help but watch her through the lens of Marcus. How did he notice all this stuff? Maybe Kris was a bit insecure about my history with Kyle, and I’d never even considered that for some reason. “Sure you’re feeling better?” Kristina asked suddenly, watching me with concern. At my blank look, she added, “You’ve been kinda quiet since you hurt your head.”

Uhhh … I grinned and said, “I guess facing death makes you thoughtful. I was thinking about retiring and traveling the world.” “Facing death?” Kyle laughed, and his eyes met mine. It sent a jolt through me—we hadn’t looked each other in the eye since … then. “Let’s get this show on the road,” Dawn said as she went into the living room. She hit the lights as Brandon pulled the coffee table closer to the two couches. I made a quick trip to the bathroom, and when I came back, Kyle

was already sitting on one end of the couch, his elbow draped across the arm, both hands on his phone as he tapped out a text. I’d forgotten that. He texted all the time, through movies, dinner, talking, everything except making out. Nash had waited for me, standing by the counter. “Is it still bothering you?” “What?” I pulled out my best blank face—had I been that obvious watching Kyle and Kris? Freaking Marcus. Nash looked more concerned now. “Your head, from the concussion?” “Oh, no, I’m fine.” I didn’t want to

say any more about it so I gestured to the TV. The movie started and Kristina sank into the couch and into Kyle, threading her arm through his and leaning on his shoulder. Her curly hair made a mane behind both of them. He kept texting. Brandon and Dawn beat me to the shorter couch—hard to call the old, shaggy thing a love seat—so I sat next to Kristina and let Nash have the end. When he sat down, it tilted me toward him. There wasn’t much room so we were all close. The others just didn’t

realize Marcus was crammed in with us. Haha, funny. I felt Nash’s arm along the length of mine and glanced at him. This was the closest we’d ever been. He looked at me, his eyes inquisitive. As I looked back to the screen, his fingers slid between mine, sending tingles up my arm. My giddiness was tinged with embarrassment, and I wondered if Nash had noticed I’m behind on the whole dating thing. I spent high school in foster care, and honestly, dating was the last thing I wanted. Too many creepy older

guys seemed to think “foster kid” meant “easy to take advantage of.” Guys in high school were the same way, thinking girls like me wanted a serious boyfriend to replace the family I’d lost, and of course lots of sex. I guess it all gave me an attitude. That sucks, Ave. And explains a lot. I hadn’t meant to share that with Marcus. I tried to refocus on the movie as the front door opened and shut. “Hey, movie night!” Jasmine came into the living room with a half eaten platter of nachos.

“Hi, Jazz, just in time,” Dawn said without looking away from the TV. Jasmine dropped the tray on the coffee table and wiggled to sit on the floor, her back on the couch between me and Kristina. “Catching Fire?” Was it awkward to be the only single person here? Not that I was officially attached to Nash, but I was pressed against him, holding his hand. If this was a week ago, and Marcus wasn’t in my head, I’d be ecstatic. I belonged. I glanced at Nash in one of those moments of, “Hey, did you feel that?”

but of course he didn’t. Sensing me stare, he met my gaze again, I think. It was hard to tell in the soft lighting and colors flashing. I’d actually watched this movie in the theater. Hadn’t everyone? Kristina probably had too, but it was still fun to watch it again. I tried to lose myself in it but Nash’s side moved against me when he breathed. He let go of my hand to lift his arm over me. I slid closer, lying against his side, as his arm came around me. He smelled light and clean, a mix of deodorant and soap, but not any

noticeable cologne. Too bad I couldn’t hear him like I hear Marcus—what would he be thinking right now? I felt like I was talking into a void without Marcus commenting on my thoughts. How backward and weird was that? Dawn and Brandon left about two thirds of the way through, and Jasmine claimed their couch. After the movie ended, we talked and finished the last of the nachos. Mostly I listened, trying to decide if I liked Nash and Kyle talking so easily.

We were standing around the kitchen counter again and Kristina caught my eye, a sly smile on her face. I raised my eyebrows and made a discrete gesture toward Nash, trying to ask her, Should I ask Nash back to my room? She mouthed Yes, duh! He reached above his head, stretching, and looked at his watch. I liked how he wore a watch instead of checking the time on his cell phone. “I better get back home. I still have some studying to do tonight.” My heart sank before I could stop my

feelings. “Sure. I’ll walk you out.” We walked outside together without saying anything. For a few seconds, he just looked up toward the sky, making me think he was as awkward as I was about all of this. When he looked down at me, I could feel all the emotions and thoughts behind his gaze. It made me wonder if we really can see into another person, or if we’re just projecting what we want. “Night,” he said on a breath, leaning toward me. I heard my own intake of breath, too

quick. It sounded worried. “Goodnight, Nash. Thanks for coming over.” As I spoke, I laid my hand on his chest for just a second. It was a light, friendly touch, like when you touch someone’s arm while saying goodbye. Inviting, but not that kind of inviting, just saying maybe more later. Yes, that’s what I meant with it. Maybe there would be more later. We held eye contact for a few more seconds and he turned and left. I waited a respectable moment before shutting the door, and then I promptly sagged against

the wall, planning to regroup. The house was quiet…too quiet. I could feel Marcus as strongly as if he were standing two inches from me, hovering. Brooding. Waiting. As irritated as that made me, it felt better to have him back. Well? Did you want to kiss him? You’re mad I touched him, aren’t you? This knowledge blew my mind … and troubled me. He was upset about my feelings for Nash. “Ave?” Kristina leaned out from the

kitchen. She motioned eagerly for me to come fill her in. Jasmine was gone. Kyle must have gone to Kristina’s bedroom or the bathroom. “Well?” she asked, excited. I shrugged, but I smiled too. “First kiss?” she whispered, scrunching her face, coiled to explode into giggles or something. Maybe Marcus had succeeded in coloring my view, because this seemed a bit over the top. “No … not yet.” “Not yet?”

“I don’t want to rush it.” I picked at a chip crumb on the counter. “I won’t get these early days back.” Ten minutes later, as I walked back to my room, I still couldn’t get that to make sense. Nothing about life was right now. I jumped in the shower under hot water, then stood and let my mind go blank. Was I in here showering because I felt … wrong about almost kissing Nash? Why did I feel conflicted about it at all, when I’d been daydreaming about him all year?

I waited for Marcus to jump into my internal conversation, but he kept his word this time and stayed out of things. After I dragged myself out of the shower, I found a text from Nash. Night sweet girl. I texted back had fun!! followed by a smile face. So corny. But what should I say? That’s when I realized that we hadn’t discussed anything too personal, not outside of what we thought about different classes and professors, what we’d done the night or weekend before,

or a movie. Stuff like that. Tonight would have been perfect for learning more about each other, if he had stuck around after the movie. So tell me about your screenplay. Where’d that come from? I’m curious. What are you writing about? Well … I peeked out the door. For Christ’s sake. If someone hears you, just say you’re talking on the phone. I shut the door and glanced around for my Bluetooth. It was sitting on my

dresser because I didn’t use it that often. I hate talking on the phone where other people can hear me. But instead of putting it in, I stood there a minute staring at it. I’m sorry. I was being an ass again. It’s just that I keep getting so frustrated by these limitations. I do want to hear about the screenplay. I sat on the bed, looking at my notes on the wall. “I keep getting stuck. I started writing a story a couple of years ago about a girl and guy that get stuck on an island together, like in Swiss Family

Robinson. Then I came across a book called On the Island. So I had to get a new idea. I had another adventure story based on a road trip two friends take to South America, but it was hard getting into the different location. So now I have a bunch of semi-finished outlines. One’s about a girl with special powers, trying to get a normal guy to fall for her. But there’s so many paranormal romance books out there already.” Well, maybe you just need to get out and live. Have some excitement. Then you’ll have all kinds of things to

write about. Maybe you should take a trip to South America. “A trip somewhere, someday. Right now it’s time for some needed sleep.” A minute after I snuggled down into my covers, a knock came at the door. Kristina waited on the other side in her pajamas. “Can I come in?” “Sure.” I swung the door open and went back to the bed, sliding over to make room for her. Back when we were roommates in the dorms, we’d stay up for hours talking. Sometimes she crawled into bed with me … and a few

times we fell asleep in the same bed after talking on and off into the wee hours of the night. “Kris …” I desperately wanted to tell her everything. Ave, babe, then what? She was waiting for me to say something so I asked, “Kyle left?” “Yeah … I told him I wanted some girl time.” “Things okay with the two of you?” I asked, concerned. Kyle had been a touchy topic, for obvious reasons. In the early months of their relationship, I

didn’t want to ask too many questions in case I looked jealous. And, of course, those were all the normal questions you’d ask when your best friend has a new boyfriend. She was paranoid about sharing too, so we tiptoed around it, even though she wanted me to ask, and I wanted her to tell me all about it. “Yeah, things are great.” “Really? You can tell me.” She snuggled down into my bed. The light had already been off. Just a few slots of street light shone in through the blinds.

“I’m so confused.” She wiggled some more. “I guess sometimes I feel like an old married couple.” Trouble in paradise? I completely ignored Marcus. I was just too shocked to even deal with him. They weren’t happy? They could take off and do anything they wanted after class. All weekend long. What is wrong with me? I mentally slapped myself and said, “But comfortable can be good too, right? You don’t have to stress about if you should call him, or if he’s coming over, or if he wants to do

something with you. Everybody else wants that.” “Yeah, I thought so. But then Jasmine just comes and goes as she pleases. Did you know she went out to a movie with this guy named Oliver the other day? I only knew because Meeka told me. So when I asked Jasmine about her new guy, she told me about seeing Keith, a twenty-eight-year-old who’s part owner of that deli we used to stop at.” Hmm. “Maybe you have the greener grass syndrome.” She laughed. “When did you get so

philosophical? You’re suddenly full of answers.” “Uh, I don’t know. I mean, I kinda do know how you feel. I was wondering about Jasmine tonight, if she felt weird being single when you have Kyle, Dawn has Brandon, and I was sitting with Nash. She acts like she doesn’t care.” “I don’t think she does. We’re her group, but then she doesn’t need us.” Did that bother us? I wondered why we needed her to need us. Dawn needed a group—she hated doing anything by herself. She joined whatever Kristina

wanted to do, which was what the guys wanted to do. It was hard to step back and see if I just went along with that too, but doesn’t everyone? I’d accidentally steered the conversation away from Kristina and Kyle, and now I was curious as hell about it. They were having problems? Or maybe it was just her because they still acted all lovey-dovey. It did seem a bit odd, in light of this new information, that Kyle had actually spoken to me and made eye contact. Of course, it didn’t matter a bit, because I had Nash now. I’d

never entertain the thought of liking Kyle again, even if Kris and Kyle broke up. “I’m not sure why I’m reconsidering everything either,” I whispered, even though I was pretty sure it was due to Marcus and his ideas. Kristina’s breathing was slow and steady. She’d fallen asleep. Every guy’s dream, lying in bed with two chicks. Really, after all that, and you’re thinking about getting laid? Why not? Nash is.

Chapter Seven

Marcus Ave? Wake up, baby. It’s not that late. Come on. I’d been thinking and felt bad about my comment. I didn’t want to end the night that way. I tried to get Avery’s eyelids to open but couldn’t. Damn …

A rustling noise came and went, like the other girl rolling over. A whisper: “Night, Ave.” The door clicked shut. We were alone, again. I was alone. How was I supposed to sleep? I wanted to hit the weights and go for a run, a good long hard run in the freezing rain. The cold feels great when you’re burning up. All this time to think was killing me. Somehow, I know I’m driven. Busy. On the go. I have something big going on in my life. I just can’t remember it while I’m here.

I felt the way Avery breathed in soft little breaths, her hands rolled under her chin and her body curled up in the bed. She nestled into a ball every time she went to bed. I wanted to fling my arms and legs out and throw off the bedspread. Then get up and do something. I imagined pulling in a deep breath and tried to move her. Nothing. Nada. She was dead out. Lucky. God damn it, this was frustrating as hell. At the least you’d think I’d be able to feel her up. She had one freaking amazing body

AND DIDN’T KNOW IT. You never find a hot chick without the hot chick attitude. Nope. No feeling. No fun together, and we could have some fun with this. No memories. No life. No way out as far as I could see. I needed to get online and find some kind of clue. I needed to find myself. Avery didn’t believe I was a real person, but I wouldn’t be up thinking right now if I weren’t real. Light exploded everywhere. I spun around, blood pumping and a

grin spreading across my face. The light was electric. Changing. I jumped and tried a slide on the color waves—it worked for a while and then I wiped out, laughing. She must have started dreaming. Pictures from her life floated around. Her dad popped up a lot, laughing, joking, swinging her around as a little kid. Looked like he was the life of the party … and yet now she won’t even think about him. Somehow, I knew he was responsible for their deaths— himself and his wife. I just didn’t have

the other puzzle pieces yet. Then, a picture: the highway, green grass and signs flying by … Avery was dreaming about riding in a car. I glanced to my left to see Kyle, the little weasel, smiling and hanging a hand on the steering wheel like he’d watched too much Fast and Furious. Avery laughed. Kyle took her hand and gave her a gooey, pretty-boy smile. Effing A. Don’t fall for it, babe! Then it all hit me. I was here, in her world.

Ave! Look at me. I waited but she didn’t blink or turn her head. Avery, can you hear me? This was different. I’d been sneaking looks at her in mirrors and windows, and even in her memories, but it felt strange to be able to stare at her for so long. I reached over the seat to run my hand down her long hair but my hand slipped through. Weird. Pictures flashed quickly, like her memory went on fast forward. Dinner. A movie. Kissing in the theater. Typical

date, right? Yo, Kyle, grow some big boy parts and take her on a hot air balloon or sky diving or at least skiing. More car pictures. More smoochie looks and hand holding. This was exactly how Kyle acted with Kristina. I wanted to punch him even more. Not sure why it bothered me so freaking much. For all I know, I’m a womanizer too. Maybe I have a girlfriend. Maybe I take home a different girl all the time … But it seemed like I’d remember if I had some beautiful girlfriend. An image flashed through the other pictures—a

sweet face, honey blond hair, dimples, laughing blue eyes. I tried to hold it and look closer but it faded quickly. That didn’t seem like my type. Avery was my type. She’d slap me if I told her so, but I felt it a hundred percent. She had a unique face. Haunting eyes. Wild hair. That edgy, sexy look that said independent, fun and not too revealing. We were in the car again but also just floating with pictures going by. I leaned forward. So Ave, I’d love to use your hands

and run them up your body. Except now that I’m right here, I could use my hands. Let’s ditch the dork and have some fun. If we’re just dreaming and all. Nothing. Figured as much, which is why I let myself be so crass. I wouldn’t actually talk to her that way. Just wanted a reaction. Christ. I’m defending myself, to myself. Female behavior 101. Her mind went to a house. She went inside with Kyle where two guys sat on a black leather couch together, watching a giant flat screen TV that cost more than

everything else in the room combined, and probably their crap cars out front too. A few beer cans were sitting on the worn, cheap coffee table. “Want a beer?” the blond guy asked, holding up his can in the air. Didn’t get up or anything. Didn’t greet Avery. Suddenly I knew I treated women well. I was sure of it. Give good stuff into life, get good out. Treat others like you want to be treated. Feel the love. Was I a hippie or something? “I’ll take one,” Kyle said, heading to the fridge. “Avey?”

Avey? What the fuck. I shook my head, wanting to laugh out loud at the guy so he’d hear. “Oh … no, not right now. Thanks.” She slid her hands in her pockets, then pulled them out to fold her arms. She didn’t look comfortable at all, and the two pinheads hadn’t offered her a seat or something else to drink. That was another thing I just realized. I didn’t hang out in crappy places like this, wasting time in front of a TV. Kyle came back and pulled Avery

onto his lap in an oversized chair. It looked like it probably had layers of semen soaked in over the years. They were watching Jackass or something stupid like that, where this guy was jumping on a dirt bike and plowing into things. The three guys laughed and talked around Avery. Even without being in her body, in this dream anyway, I felt the rigid line of her back. She tried to lean back relaxed-like but I could see it. Kyle pushed Avery up, standing with her, and grabbed her hand. “Come on.” She looked relieved for a second but

he walked toward the back of the house. One of the guys threw a look back but neither said anything. Obviously that was why Kyle had brought Avery over. Kyle went straight into a room, shut the door and pulled Avery against him, kissing her. Thank effing God I wasn’t in her head for that. Kyle ran his hands under her shirt. AVERY! Wake the fuck up! She ran her hands up his arms like she liked it. Then, she pushed him back a bit. “Kyle … your friends are right out

there …” “It’s cool. Jacob said we could use the room.” Avery and I looked at the unmade bed at the same time. The light tan sheet looked darker in the middle from builtup sweat and oil stains, and the blanket was on the floor. She shuddered. I swung at Kyle but my fist went right through his head. No! I tried again. Same thing. It’s a dream. We’re all fake here. They should see me, damn it. Avery glanced at the door and back

at Kyle. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and that’s all the encouragement he needed. He went after her again like he was trying to resuscitate her. I turned and walked at the door, thinking I’d go through. I ran into it. What the hell? Avery, get me out of here! I yelled it right in her face, the part that wasn’t getting sucked into Kyle’s mouth anyway. I verped in my mouth and swallowed acid, surprised to feel something so clearly. That hadn’t been happening in her head.

I paced around them, swinging at Kyle until I broke out in a sweat. He unhooked her bra. “Kyle—” “Shh.” He pulled her down on the bed, on her back, then tried to roll on top of her. She twisted so he couldn’t, and he went back to reaching up her shirt. It’s a memory. An effing memory. I couldn’t stop it if it already happened. But I didn’t have to watch either. I paced, looking at the door, trying not to listen to Kyle’s disgusting moans. “Kyle, wait … I want to talk about

it.” “What’s there to talk about?” he asked. “We’re in love and we’ve waited a long time.” “It’s just this place. I don’t like it.” She sounded so small. Scared. How could Kyle not hear that? Was his boner stuck up in his ears? “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. I want you so bad, Avey.” He went for her neck. I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. I wanted to rip him up, break some ribs, pull her out of here. I’d never felt so helpless—it was my

helplessness and hers. Shit. I was feeling her fear … her rapid heartbeat … her stomach coiling in on itself … the sickness pooling in her lower abdomen, a mix of arousal and unease. She wanted this with Kyle, a little, but she was freaked out even more. He whispered in her ear and on her neck for a while. I tried talking to her, tried forcing my way into her body so I could fight him off, but this wasn’t the same. Kyle pulled her shirt up while he slid down, putting his mouth on her

stomach. He pulled her shirt farther up, pushing her bra out of the way— I looked away. I’d been dying for a peek but not like this. I punched his head with both fists, right left, right left, knowing it wouldn’t work. I didn’t care. STOP! I yelled loud enough the entire block should have heard. I knew she didn’t want to do this. He knew it, the bastard. She pushed against him and he grabbed her wrist to pull her hand up over her head.

“Kyle, NO.” The firmness in her voice brought his head up. Suddenly I heard his hoarse breathing, scrapping in and out of his lungs. He ground his hips against her even while she said no. “I don’t want our first time together here. It’s gross. I want to leave. Now.” “Avey, come on.” “NOW! Stop. Let me up.” He yelled a guttural, animal noise as he shoved off the bed hard. Ave recoiled, both in fear and pain. Kyle whipped around and threw his fist into the drywall, burying his hand for a

second. “Dude!” A guy yelled from the other side of the door. “Take it easy on my bed!” Kyle didn’t answer. He turned with his fist in his other hand, glaring at Avery. My stomach fell out of me. The asshole was going to hit her and I couldn’t stop him. I lunged anyway, went through him, screamed. “Whatever.” Kyle snorted and it turned into a cruel laugh. “Whatever.” He threw a hand up in the air, almost

like flipping her off, like she was being a child. The moment replayed until I lost count. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Her heart came through clear to me, like she was inside me. Something died. Shame filled her when she didn’t do anything wrong. Humiliation bloomed. Disappointment, confusion, hurt. Going from innocence to knowing there was a price to keep him.

Was she not good enough without that? Why did he want to rush it, have it there like it didn’t matter at all to him? If he liked her so much, why couldn’t he wait a little while? I hunched down so I could take her hands, only I couldn’t. I’m here. Kyle flung the door open and left. Avery scurried after him and I followed her. He said something to the two guys and grabbed another beer, downing it standing right in front of the open fridge, then burped.

“I’m outta here.” “See ya,” Blondie called. Avery followed Kyle outside to the car. He stopped outside the driver side door and stared at her a long minute. So many words came to mind but I was emptied out. The feelings Kyle should have felt, were hers. He took something special and left dirty things. I felt her think it, as if she realized that later on, but in this dream remembered it. Kyle made a noise and unlocked the car. He didn’t drive off. Avery got in,

her body stiff like a dead rabbit I had to move off a porch once. Was that my memory? I remembered something. But it didn’t matter now. I went with them as they drove in silence. Kyle went to the college and she got out at a stop sign and started walking. Never looked back. Just walked, her head high, her eyes straight ahead, but her arms folded across herself in defense, not strength. Watching her walk away like that hurt almost more than everything else. I had to pull back away from the

pain. I wanted to kill Kyle. First I’d slam him to the ground and stomp a foot on his neck. Call him a piss ant and every other name I could think of. Avery kept walking and we passed the dorms. She just kept walking. Soon I realized this wasn’t a walk to a place. It was just a walk, a path away, and one she’d been on for a while. I heard her gasp—back in her bed. Something seemed to suck me down a drain. I was in her head again, feeling from the inside out. It was different than the dream … two ways of being inside a

person’s spirit. The pillow was wet with tears. Her hands gripped the covers like a person dangling off the edge of a building. Avery? I kept talking, not saying anything important but trying to reach her with my voice. She didn’t wake up enough to talk to me, but her mind flew through the dream, the memory, not trying to keep me out. She wasn’t aware of me right now. It was just her life. I could see two images: her and Kyle intertwined together in a chair, whispering and

touching, and then Kyle on her in the dirty bedroom. She was trying to fit the two realities together, to make sense of them, but she couldn’t make the puzzle pieces fit. They were pieces from two different puzzles. And all I could do was look at the mess.

Chapter Eight Avery A massive 9.2 magnitude headache woke me up. Even the soft morning light felt like a pick ax splitting through my head. I slowly slid out of bed and crawled to the bathroom, eyes clamped shut, where I pulled myself up by the cabinet and felt around for a bottle of pain reliever. I downed three and a full

glass of water and felt my way back to bed. Was this concussion fun, round two? It felt like I’d been sobbing half the night. Are you okay? I’ll make it. That was nice of Marcus. I didn’t dwell on it, though, just pushed my head under my pillow and prayed for sleep to return. The bed spun around, twirling, and I held on, counting to fifty over and over. What on earth brought this on? After several rounds of counting, the pain lessened enough that I just tried

breathing and relaxing. It hit me that if my head was hurting this bad again, maybe it would erase Marcus. That was probably crazy talk, but it did seem fitting for my crazy situation. Not sure it’s gonna work. Worth a try, I told him, half joking. It wasn’t like I hated him for being here … unless he was somehow responsible. Still, I couldn’t convict him without any reason or proof. Do you want to talk about last night? Last night? I remembered the night

before and checked for Kristina, but she’d left already. What else? So I almost kissed Nash. What’s the big deal? It’s my life. Sorry if my little life annoys you. You should never apologize for your life. Or being you. Uh? Rolling over on my back, I moved the pillow to keep it covering my eyes. Never apologize for being me. Was this the same voice talking to me? I came out and just asked him what was up. You had a bad dream.

Oh. I tried to remember but couldn’t. My headache slowly got better. Marcus went off in a corner of my mind, singing songs I might have heard before but didn’t know. Rock songs. He hummed sometimes and then sang the notes instead of the words. Finally, I broke down and asked him what I’d dreamed about. Kyle. Something in his voice scared me, even in that one little word. I rolled over but I couldn’t roll away from him. Does Kristina know about that

night? The air caught in my lungs and I sat up in bed, trying to breathe. You saw all of it? It’s okay, Avery. I couldn’t tell Kristina or anyone else. I was mortified and humiliated, and I had felt so stupid. I pulled my knees up to rest my forehead on them. Noise drifted in from the rest of the house but I felt cut off. Marcus seemed to hover all around me, restless and trying to push through, but to what I couldn’t say. He had to feel even more trapped than I did.

Ave, that was all Kyle. He was wrong. “How would you know?” My voice sounded meaner than I meant. I wanted to help you but I couldn’t. I wanted to throw him across the room and pull you out of there. You couldn’t see me. Couldn’t hear me. I was right there but you didn’t know. I remembered dreaming about that night now, how it replayed over and over. Marcus hadn’t been in the dream, at least not on my end. What happened after that night,

Ave? “Nothing,” I said sadly. But Kyle and Kristina are together. How did that happen? I pushed my pillow under my head now that my headache had gone away. I huffed a breath and told him. “After that night, I didn’t see Kyle for a long time. We just stopped talking. I thought about reporting him, but he didn’t actually hold me down or try to rape me. He was just really mean. He stopped when I said no.” Just barely.

“Yeah, well, legally speaking, I don’t think he broke the law. So I wasn’t sure if I should do anything about it, or if I should be that hurt.” You trusted him, and he treated you like shit. He should have never taken you to that dirty house. You deserve to be treated like a princess, not shown that kind of disrespect. I rolled on my side, taking in those words, thinking about what it’d be like to have a boyfriend like that. So how did Kris get with Kyle? “Kris started asking about me and

Kyle because he wasn’t around,” I whispered. “The term was ending. I thought that was the end of it, but that summer Kristina asked me if I would hate her if she liked him.” They started dating then? You didn’t tell her? “They were already hanging out together, and when I saw them … they were super close and happy.” How can you stand to be around them? “Kris and I are closer than ever. It’s all in the past.”

It’s not the past. It’s right in your face. And I’d bet money she was after him before you ever broke up. “What? How can you say that?” I asked while looking up and glaring. I hated talking to someone I couldn’t see. “Listen, Marcus, that’s ancient history, and I don’t think she was. I think she started liking him when things fizzled out.” One, things didn’t fizzle out. He was an ass. What he did was wrong. And two, Kristina saw her chance after that.

“You’ve seen Kristina since you arrived in my head. Can’t you see how sweet and caring she is? How come you don’t like her?” Just a vibe. Or maybe Kyle started things with her. I rolled my eyes at him and checked the time. I needed to get up. I rushed through a shower, closing my eyes part of the time even though Marcus said he’d give me privacy. Afterwards, I dried my hair with the blow dryer for a few minutes, which only dried it halfway, but I needed to hurry. I put on a pair of jeans

and a blue shirt, then remembered how my mom always said blue made me look sick. But when I changed the shirt, the jeans didn’t look right. I went through three shirts, looked at the clock and started to panic. Um, babe, just pick something. I yanked on a pair a stretchy black pants and a sweater. Whoa. You’re going to wear that? I stopped and looked in the mirror. The sweater was dark green and long, and I’d always thought it looked good on me.

Well, good but not … great. It’s too loose. “I’m not trying to give everyone a hard-on during class.” Good point. Proceed. Laughing at him, I pulled on my high heel brown boots, grabbed my coat and bag and took off, speed-walking through the house to the garage. Hold up. What are you doing with the shoes? I paused mid-step to look down. They looked good. I asked Marcus, you mean my boots?

Whatever they are, they’re not working. You’re going to cripple your feet. We can’t do this. “Welcome to my world, babe,” I said, laughing out loud even if one of my roommates could hear. “Just in case you thought it was easy being a girl, you now have the special privilege to walk a mile in my shoes.” I was still laughing as I started the car and drove to campus. The weather had been bouncing between warm spring and the bite of winter. Today was warm and balmy. The sun smiled down on me, making me feel

like things were going to be okay. I could even believe it for a minute. I parked and put on the Bluetooth before I headed across campus to my building, ducking between other people in a hurry to reach their class too. Wanna skip? “No, not really. I actually want to learn since I’m paying quite a bit of money to be here.” I glanced around, half expecting someone to give me a weird look. Everyone was talking to someone else or their phone. No one seemed to even notice me.

Actually, I almost wanted to skip too, but it was Friday. Just two classes and I had all weekend. Paying? Or borrowing? “Paying, thank you very much. Well, I have three academic scholarships and I’m paying the rest.” How’d you pull that off? And you have the private bathroom at the house. “Drop it.” I tried to push him out of my head as I reached the English building and went inside. I slipped into class amid four or

five conversations. Ettore was telling a funny story about trying to horseback ride—it always amazes me how he can make anything funny, and in a way that you’re not laughing at him. He waved at me mid-sentence, causing the two guys by him to flick me a look. The English department has a few funny students, some that are always talking to everyone, and then a lot of quiet, writerly type people. (Which might be where I fall.) A few students were sitting by themselves quietly, a few others pretending to write, or actually writing, I

suppose. Maybe I’m the only one that can’t ever get anything written. I grabbed my normal desk and finally got to check my phone. I’d been in a rush since climbing out of bed after talking to Marcus all morning. Nash had texted, and just as I saw that, he walked in and sat next to me. “Just saw your text. I almost didn’t get up in time today.” He lifted an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “That’s okay.” We just looked at each other, me thinking, Wow, he is so hot. He could go

emo with his dark looks and black clothes, except he didn’t take it that far. No piercings or tattoos that I knew about … yet … but he had a gaze that could stop you and make you forget what you were thinking. Look at me, not saying a word. Please take note of my good behavior so it’s not wasted. Shhh. The professor strolled in and wrote a topic on the board, and then promptly began talking. Everyone settled in to take notes and participate. Marcus went quiet

—it was a miracle!—and let me focus for a while. Then, mid-class, I realized that instead of paying attention, I was looking down at my notepad, sketching instead of taking notes or even trying to listen. It took a few slow seconds for me to see that I was drawing myself. And I don’t draw. I stared in horror like it was a dead rat. Holeeee hell. Really, I can’t draw at all, and this was pretty good. Really good. I mean, it looked like me, even with expression. I snuck a look at Nash.

Good, he was actually listening to the lecture. Marcus, is that you drawing? Oh … sorry. Bored out of my mind. You’re good. Wow, is that a … what do you call that? Oh, a compliment. I scanned the few people around me, besides Nash, who could see my desk. No one was looking my way. How do you know what I look like when you’re on the inside, looking out? I’ve seen you in the mirror. He got all this from a few glances in

the mirror? Marcus had a fine memory. You have very striking looks. Now can I please get back to my artwork? Worried and yet fascinated, I watched my own hand move the pencil in confident strokes, filling in my lips. When had Marcus been able to study me that much? The only time he saw my face was when I looked in the mirror. Speaking of my face, it got hot—for several reasons. First, I was drawing myself. I’d die if anyone noticed. Second, it blew up some of my theories about Marcus, or what was causing all

this. If I can’t draw, I can’t make up a person who can, right? And third, he was drawing me in a certain mood. I looked … suggestive. Excuse me, Marcus, but when have you seen that look on my face? I have an imagination. A very vivid one at times. Apparently so. I love your eyes but I’m not sure I can do them justice in pencil. Or your freckles. You can’t draw freckles. They just look stupid on paper. Not your face, though. I love your face.

He loved my face? Why couldn’t a real flesh-and-blood guy say that to me? I couldn’t take my eyes off the drawing as he worked in the shadows. It did something to me physically … This is turning you on? Conversations started up around me. Class was over. I slapped the notebook over, realizing only then how angry I should be. Marcus, you can’t do things like that! What if someone saw? Imagine if Nash saw that! It’s not like he’d know some other

guy is drawing pictures of you. I don’t think anyone is going to guess you have another person in your head. Nash was standing next to his desk, slowly pulling his laptop bag over one shoulder and waiting for me. I waved to Ettore, who was slipping out the door. Sometimes we all walk together but today I was dragging my feet. “I gotta run,” Nash said, sounding let down. “Talk to you later?” “Yeah.” I smiled, frustrated that I couldn’t summon anything intelligent to say. Leaving class, I wondered what

he’d think if I actually told him the truth. I can tell you what I’d think if some chick told me she heard voices. I sighed as I left campus. Marcus was right. If I told anyone, it’d set things in motion, and I was trying to get back to normal, not locked up. I reached the corner crossing and turned towards the parking lot. On the other side of the street, tiny cracks ran all through the sidewalk under my feet, something I hadn’t noticed before, at least not like this. I watched them as I passed over, how they crisscrossed,

connecting, separating, all interwoven. Like the things in my life. A soft whistle caught my attention. “Nice ass.” It’d come from some guy walking the other way. It wasn’t a compliment; his voice blasted resentment. Why say anything at all? Why be so mean? I picked up my pace like the smart girl that I am, but then I paused and threw a nasty look over my shoulder. His surly smirk faded into anger. Why did I do that? I turned with my back prickling, walking faster.

“Bitch.” A crack of fear ran up me, but righteous anger filled it. I swiveled around and marched up to him, finger out. “Got a problem, buddy?” I didn’t stop a few feet away—I walked right up into his face, even as he backpedaled. “I didn’t think so. Maybe you should watch your language. And your eyes.” He almost fell backwards on his ass. Ha! Who’s a piece of crap now? I started to turn away when I heard him spit. When I came back at him, it was fist

first. My arm swung up and my knuckles plowed into his face. The impact jarred my arm and knocked his head back. “Fuck! You crazy bitch!” Spit sprayed as he screamed, a hand on one eye while the other gave me the death glare. I didn’t move as he walked away backwards, yelling more obscenities at me. Three or four other people stared but I made a point of not looking at them. I waited until he’d gone around the corner before going to my car, breathing fast through my nose. Marcus, I can’t

believe you just put me in danger like that! What if he fought back? What if … I would have handled him. Don’t you get it? You are NOT here. I am here. You are just talking in my head. I threw the car in reverse and ripped out of the parking space.

Chapter Nine The shaking started once I busted in my front door and slammed it shut. Thankfully no one was sitting in the living room to see me fall apart. That wasn’t me. First the drawing and now that … what was that? I totally charged that guy, ready to fight, and made him back down. He had been scared of me. But it didn’t feel bad.

Because you want to act like that. Was there any truth to that? I wanted to have control of my life. I should have been livid at Marcus for taking control of my mind and even my body at times, but it felt better than how I’d been doing. I felt empowered but confused. My knuckles started to throb. What had I done? What had I been thinking? What if that guy called the police or campus security on me? Babe, you’re going to hyperventilate again. Take it easy. With my eyes pressed shut, I

practiced breathing the way Marcus had shown me. Even without someone watching, I needed to hold it together. I retreated to my room and shut that door too, sadly knowing I couldn’t shut out my problems. My lungs started convulsing again, yanking in quick breaths in rapid succession, acting on their own. Lay down. Without arguing, I lay back on my pillow, eyes shut, focusing on breathing slowly as if it were some world cup competition. Know what I imagine when I’m

stressed? Fresh snow. White and pure. And I get first tracks. Picture we’re shredding the fresh pow. Cutting left. Imagine you’re cruising, just taking in the ride. As he talked, I could actually see the trees flying by, feel the rise and fall of the snow. It was quiet except the sound of the board on the snow, cutting a track into the pristine perfectness. The crispy air—it was energizing, not cold. My body stayed flexible, absorbing the ups, then twisting. Let’s hit some jumps.

Jumps? Okay, fine. Just a fifty, fifty. Here comes some rails. We’re jumping … up … got it! Now the fifty, fifty. He turned the board out and then back straight again as we lifted off the other end of the rail, sailing for five seconds and landing on the snow. I’ll show you a halfpipe ride. He envisioned a halfpipe just like skaters use but this one was icy. We went up and up one side, almost to the top, before sliding down and up the other side. The second time, he kicked

the board up above his head and grabbed the rim with his hand. Whoa! It was cool, and actually not scary, because he knew what he was doing. He made it look so easy. We headed up the other side. We’re switching—it’s for this jump. Check it! Switching meant turning the board around, getting ready as we sailed up. I knew because Marcus did. I could see things the way he saw them, and I even saw what he planned to do with this one. We were both on the board. I

experienced it like I was doing it all, like I was in control. At the top, I turned my head and did something with my shoulders, flipping horizontally in the air. 180, baby! I landed on the downhill smoothly. Whoa! I did it! Wait—the board wobbled on the bottom. Don’t worry. Just some chatter. We can take that out, right? It’s our daydream. Okay, that was a small turn. Let’s hit a 360 on this next one.

We’ll fall! No, you won’t. I got you. My body dipped down as I flew up the side again. Marcus knew exactly what to do. It was instinct. I lifted off and spun around in a full 360 before landing, both Marcus and I whooping. I heard my rapid breathing and blinked, surprised to find my bed under me, my room around me. That felt so real … How did you do that? Just picturing it. Seems like my daydreams are more realistic without a real life. Like blind people hearing

more, ya know? “Don’t you ever fall?” Every boarder wipes out. We just get back up again. Hey—we should hit the slopes sometimes. Shred some gnar. Maybe. Marcus took me through more jumps, and I knew I couldn’t have fabricated all twenty jumps and the technical names. I didn’t draw that picture of me, and I didn’t run up to that guy and tell him off. That was all Marcus. But even though it was Marcus

telling that guy off, I didn’t flinch. I marched right up in that guy’s face. I wasn’t afraid. Not in that moment. Now I felt empowered by it, even while wondering if that was an inappropriate response. And how’s that? “I should have worried about my safety. You know, I’m supposed to be smart, not start things, walk away, yadda, yadda.” Except we found the rebel in you, remember? I sat up, reached down to my

backpack and pulled my notebook out to look at the drawing again. But I couldn’t look at it for very long because I thought about how Marcus saw me. I carefully tore the paper out of my notebook and put it in my dresser drawer, my spot for personal stuff and odds and ends. Then I couldn’t stop myself from pulling out an old photograph of my mom from when she was about twenty. It was in color, but faded, and I’d been worried for several years that her face and expression would fade away as the photograph aged. There had always been

a slight resemblance between us, but I saw it much more clearly in the picture Marcus drew today. If only I could tell my mom about all of this. “I’m not sure which is scarier,” I told Marcus. “That I’m crazy and imagining you, or that you’re real and in my head.” I don’t have any choice in what I believe. Of course I’m real. I can’t just make myself up. “So how do we fix this?” Make me disappear? “Get you back where you belong.”

We both ruminated on that for a while. Then I told him, “Thanks for distracting me.” My pleasure … He sounded sincere instead of flirty for a change. I woulda tore that jerkwad apart for you. “Except we’re in my body, remember?” I’m not sure it matters. Seriously. You could have taken him, with me running the show. That didn’t comfort me. He could

have taken over and run the show. I spent a few minutes trying to picture his life: where he came from, what he did for a living, why he knew how to do the things he did. We didn’t have many clues. A last name or information about his job would help me track him down, if there was a real person out there, past or present. Warm sunlight soaked into the room, making me sleepy. A nap sounded great, but I needed to catch up on homework for this week. I turned to my notes and opened my laptop so I could work. As I

typed, I remembered I still hadn’t texted Nash back. I grabbed my phone, seeing more texts from him, Kristina and Jasmine. I answered while Marcus paced in my head. I want to get out of here for a while. “Out of my head?” I asked him, a bit distracted. What’s around campus? “Ashland is small, but it’s pretty. Lots of little shops and Lithia Park. The park’s huge. You can walk along a creek for a long ways.” I rambled for a while

about the area until Marcus asked about Medford. “It’s bigger. We could go, just goof around. At least I’m less likely to run into classmates who will think I’m acting weird.” No one has thought you were acting weird anyway. I hopped up and got ready, leaving the green sweater on, and feeling excited about getting out too. It was technically by myself, but it’s hard to feel like I’m alone with Marcus here and ever present. I walked into the garage to my

Toyota Corolla. By the way, is that your bike over there? “Yeah, but we’re not pedaling to Medford, because that’d actually be me pedaling.” We should go sometime. Oddly enough, I actually got the urge to go out for a ride and told him, Okay, maybe sometime. For now, I got in the car and backed out. The sky was dotted with giant puffy clouds, like drops of biscuit batter, and they blocked the sun here and there as

they cruised across the blue sky on a high wind. It was another blusterysunny-rainy Oregon spring day. On the ten-minute drive up the freeway, he asked about Nash. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, and I feel funny talking to you about it.” But it kind of involves me, since I’m here and all. “Can’t you go out boarding by yourself, like you did in my head? Pretend you’re doing something?” He didn’t answer, which I think meant yes. I found it funny how he said

“and all” with a lot of stuff, but he pronounced it “an all.” I laughed as another car passed me— an older gentleman was talking away, one hand in the hair gesturing. “I’m talking to invisible people and it’s perfectly normal.” I laughed until something occurred to me. What if this was my new normal? I felt Marcus react with a jolt, but we didn’t talk about it. The first Medford exit came up and I took it. “How about the mall?” Let’s explore instead. Take that

road. I drove around awhile, ending up in an area that wasn’t a McDonald’s and Mc-stores kind of place, and then parked in a lot. There were small local businesses to check out. I wandered through several, just getting lost looking at things. A secondhand store. A pet store. A used and new bookstore. I looked through books until Marcus started pulling his hair—like literally, in a figurative kind of way. I could picture him raking his fingers through his hair and making fists.

What is your problem with books? Or with me looking at them for a while? Just all this standing around. Looking. Hoping for a clue. Oh. Looking for meaning. It was probably frustrating. I bought a couple books, even though I had a long to-read pile at home and more on my Kindle, and then we walked back to the sidewalk and looked down the street. About half a block down, there was a music store. There.

He was really itching to get inside. I hesitated. I waited around during the bookstore. Yeah, yeah, but not very patiently. All right. Instead of a big, open area, the store was in an older building with smaller rooms, the walls filled with instruments and accessories, so I meandered through. Two twenty-something guys were looking at basses, both in T-shirts and baggy shorts that showed their underwear and hung below their knees.

I didn’t do band back in middle school, and I’ve never been much of a music person, meaning I’m not fanatical about any band or anything. But this was interesting, all the different instruments I’ve never thought about. Marcus was looking for something specific. I picked up a guitar and strummed. Holy crap. I froze, my right hand at the top, holding down different strings, my left mid strum. That’s an F sharp. Move your hand up a fret.

What’s a fret? My hand moved anyway, and a song played on the guitar. I played the guitar! I wanted to laugh, hysterically, but I just listened in wonder as Marcus played and sang “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz. I know he was just playing a song, but it felt a little like he was playing it for me. My heart melted, and I hoped Marcus was too lost in his music to notice. Wasn’t it sad? The first guy to draw me and play music for me and he was invisible. Marcus started a song I didn’t

recognize. He hummed instead of singing, then sang some of the notes. I’m working on that one still. Then he played part of an old song called “More Than Words,” making me almost tear up. My dad sang that song to my mom when he twirled her around the kitchen. Marcus sensed my mood, or just wanted to play something different, because mid-song he switched to that happy song by Pharrel Williams. It wasn’t as put together. Marcus laughed. Yeah, I know. Haven’t heard it as

much or figured out all the chords yet. But, wait, you remembered something! That has to help. Maybe … maybe you’re famous. That would make it easy to find you. Don’t I wish. But I doubt it. Someone cleared their throat to my right. “We’re running a sale today.” I turned to a middle-aged short man, balding and wearing glasses. He looked like a high school band teacher, when I’d been expecting some cool rocker dude in a place like this. “That one’s a steal, if you’re

interested. It’s older, and the price is even better because it’s half off today.” I nodded and lifted the little white tag. $300. “Just one fifty today.” He smiled, his hands behind his back as he rocked on the balls of his feet. Buy it! Get it, baby. Come on, Avery. This one thing for me. Not wanting the sales guy to see my face, I stared at the tag and told Marcus, You will owe me big time. Done. “Okay, I’ll take it.”

The salesman flashed a big smile. “Come on up and pay if you’re ready, or browse some more. Music books and picks are up front. Stands, cases, tuners and whammy bars are on special today too.” Whammy bars? Naw, we don’t need any of that for now. Maybe just a few picks. I felt giddy as I went to pay. It had to be Marcus’s emotion, or buyer’s remorse. I had no idea what I was doing, blowing a hundred and fifty on a guitar when I couldn’t play.

Can too! Outside, I told Marcus, “I’m not made of money, you know. I usually think about it and plan out big purchases.” That’s a big purchase for you? “Hello, I’m a college student … and hungry. We’re going to lock this in the trunk and get some lunch.” Sweet. Thank you, Avery. Warmth washed over me, almost stopping me right there on the side walk. But I’m a bit confused … you’re paying for your education. You have money from somewhere.

“I like to be smart with my money … but, I guess it wasn’t that expensive.” At the car, I locked the guitar in the trunk and started off in the other direction, following my nose. Mixed with the normal large town smell was something like grilled steak. The first place we came to was small and rustic. I grabbed a small table by the window, away from two men in business clothes at another table and a group of women eating lunch together. After glancing through the menu, I caught up on texts. So … Nash really wants to get

together tonight. You could tell him you have to catch up on homework. Which you do. You’ve been slacking a lot lately. Whatever, Mr. Let’s-take-off-forthe-day. I ordered fish and chips and a Shirley Temple. Marcus was jonsing for a beer. I was still twenty so legally I couldn’t order him one, even if I wanted to. Did you like that song, the one without words yet? I’ve been working on it a long time. It’s called “Sweet

Night.” Yeah, I did. It was … it had a longing to it. I opened the novel and tried to read a few lines, but my mind was buzzing. He remembered something! “So, Marcus, we know you like snowboarding, running and playing guitar. Oh, and drawing. You can remember a song you’ve been writing... Can’t you remember what inspired it? If it’s about someone?” I noticed a woman across the restaurant watching me. Oops. I’d said

that out loud, but I didn’t think she could hear me … Marcus was quiet, thinking. I didn’t want to interrupt in case something was forming. I read a couple pages; I was dying to get lost in a book again. I hadn’t gotten back to Goldfinch since this whole thing started. Sighing, I opened Google on my phone and searched, “Marcus, guitar player.” I followed several links: a guy’s Facebook page but he was sixteen and didn’t look right at all. Uh … how’s that?

The guy in the picture was too skinny for one thing, and his face looked mean to me for some reason. What do you think? Okay, sorry. No. He laughed and I checked out several other results. It didn’t look like there was some famous Marcus in a band. You know … there’s a few things that have popped up, like a memory, but I don’t know what they mean. Okay, share. So different words and phrases have come to me in a foreign

language. It’s clear in my mind for a second and then gone again before I can really pick it apart. I think some are French and German, maybe even Russian. Russian? Whoa. Well … interesting. What could that mean? That you traveled a lot, maybe for work? Could be. I have seen a lot of airport scenes. And then snow, but that’s a part of snowboarding. Then I’ve been dying for some good micro brew and a Swiss mushroom steak, which doesn’t tell me anything

because that’s so typically male. My food arrived. While eating, I got another text from Nash … and I went ahead and said he could come over that evening to hang out. It was just my luck that he was finally interested when things were so messed up for me. That might be partly why I decided to see him, to feel normal again. Oh, Avery. Normal is boring.

Chapter Ten Halfway home, something in the engine went thump. I listened, wondering if I’d hit something, then black smoked puffed out of the edges of the hood and flew back and over the windshield. I pushed the brake and put on my hazards—but now what? Marcus? A car honked because it had to swerve around me. Jerk! I pulled off onto the shoulder, making the car jostle

over the edge and wind down to a stop. I turned the key off even though it sounded like the engine had died already. Traffic zoomed by while I stared, openmouthed, at the smoke. I asked Marcus, “Do you know anything about cars?” I know to put gas in the gas tank and get the oil changed. Terrific. The smoke caught up into the air and whiffed around, swirling one way and then the other. A semi-truck blared by, making wind push against the car, and more cars zoomed behind that.

The clouds from earlier had cleared out, leaving a pristine blue sky that contrasted against the vibrant green hills. Out in the distance, it looked like a perfect, sunny day, until the black engine smoke got in the way. “What am I going to do?” I picked up my phone, wondering who to call, and scrolled through my contacts. No, not that doosh. “Screw you.” I touched Nash’s name to call him. Avery, dang it. Why him? “Hey, there,” Nash greeted, his voice

sounding happier than usual. I hadn’t realized until that second just how very serious he was all the time. “Hi … are you doing anything right now?” I asked. “I’m sitting beside I-5 with smoke coming out of my engine. I broke down on the way back from Medford.” “Are you past the first Ashland exit?” “Yeah.” “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes, okay? I just have to drive up to the next exit and come down. Just hang

tight.” “Oh. Okay. Thanks.” We hung up, and I ignored the mean thoughts running through Marcus’s head. (My head, actually.) Before, this would have been great. It was an excuse to call Nash and do something outside of class. We’d gotten such a slow start … I wasn’t sure what it was. In high school, you start going out and that’s that. In college, you do about the same thing, but you don’t have to sneak around behind any adults’ backs. I thought dating would be easier.

Should be. “Do you have to ruin everything for me?” I just don’t see why you had to call him. We could have called a tow truck and taken the car into a mechanic in Medford. “Oh. Nice that you tell me that now. I didn’t know what to do. You said you didn’t either. So I’m sitting here kinda scared about being broken down on the freeway, and you didn’t have any ideas —” So call him back and say you don’t

need him. “I do need him!” I hit the steering wheel. “You’re a flipping voice. That’s it! You can’t help me do anything. You can’t touch me. You can’t be here.” Relative silence. Just the traffic whipping by with a zoom, zoom, zoom and burst of wind. Another vehicle honked. What the hell? The car was all the way onto the shoulder. What did they expect me to do? You’d think someone would stop to help. The smoke was clearing. Maybe that was why no one stopped. But that didn’t

matter. Nash was coming. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I’m real enough to draw pictures and play the guitar with your hands. I shook my head and looked out the side window. My hand lifted to my face and rested against my cheek, the way someone would hold your face while looking into your eyes. Feel that? “Yeesss.” Does it feel real? My hand moved against my face and I closed my eyes. It was my hand but I

felt tenderness from Marcus, something I wouldn’t think he could feel for me in the midst of all his frustrating limitations. I saw him in front of me, except that I couldn’t picture him clearly. Just features coming through a dream fog. Warm eyes: light brown, like crystal amber. Wavy blond hair in startling contrast to his light brown eyes. “I see you!” My eyes flew open. It was just the freeway lying out before me and that damn blank sky. The image was gone. “Marcus?”

I felt him around but he didn’t say anything. My hand was still touching my face. Feeling like an idiot, I jerked it away. Bam. I jumped so hard I was surprised I didn’t hit the ceiling. Nash was leaned over outside the passenger door, his knuckles against the window, ready to tap again. I hit the unlock button. At least that worked. He wore a black jacket, dark gray shirt, and black pants, like he should be walking around in rainy Seattle or New York. Not Hippie-and-

Beatnik-ville here in Oregon. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, sitting down but not closing the door. Had he seen? My face flooded with heat. I could clearly picture my freckles standing out in contrast. “Yes, I’m good … it’s the car.” “If you pop the hood, I’ll take a look.” I nodded and pulled the little lever. Nash stepped back out and walked to the front, where I couldn’t see him once he put the hood up. I felt let down, but couldn’t figure

out what I’d been expecting. For him to touch my face like Marcus just did? It was so ridiculous. I felt like crying. “How did you do that?” I whispered to Marcus. Which part? “Why are you playing games? How did you touch me like that?” Dunno. “Did you see yourself?” While I waited on Marcus, Nash dropped the hood and got into the passenger seat. He closed the door this time, damping the traffic noise.

“It looks like a spark plug broke loose. Does your insurance cover towing?” I wasn’t sure and motioned to the glove compartment. “My card’s in there. I can check.” Nash looked the card over before handing it to me. “Doesn’t look like it.” I called and confirmed that I didn’t have any kind of towing coverage, then Nash googled a nearby towing service and called. “Thanks for coming out here,” I told him. “I guess I didn’t need you to.”

That’s what I said! Nash turned in his seat, pinning me with those dark eyes. “I’m glad you called.” He surprised me then by reaching over and covering my hand with his. I moved my hand and his fingers slipped between mine. Can someone get me out of here? It was all I could do to look back into Nash’s eyes like I wasn’t hearing Marcus throw a hissy fit. Hissy my ass. How would you like to be stuck in my head while I got all hot and heavy with some chick? Huh?

Or maybe we should try that. You like girls? This isn’t Fifty Shades of Pink. “You must have caught up on class work,” Nash said. I think he was fishing for something to say in the silence. It was on the verge of getting awkward but I couldn’t get Marcus to shut up. “Just about,” I lied, because I hadn’t done much of anything. Why lie about it? I thought we were going to fall back into silence when Nash cleared his throat and said, “I’m a bit confused

about if you like me or not.” “I’m sorry if I’ve been sending mixed signals.” Actually, I was sorry that Marcus was complicating this. I hadn’t been mixed up at all, but how could I explain this to Nash? “If you don’t like me, just tell me, okay? If that’s the case, I’d rather know than worry that you’re leading me on.” “I’m not leading you on.” She’s just out of her mind, is all. “So there’s not anything else going on?” Nash asked with a slight shake of his head, fishing like he didn’t believe

me. I wasn’t sure what he meant. Maybe he had a hunch about something, although he didn’t look suspicious or hurt. I wanted to get lost in his dark eyes and forget about Marcus for a minute. Just a minute. Was that asking too much? Tell him you’re working through some stuff. What? Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. So I tried it. “I just have a few things to work through.” Nash laughed, surprising me. I pulled my hand back. “No, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at

you. It’s just, that sounds like something a guy would say.” Nice. Thanks a lot, Marcus. Hey, just trying to help. Really? I glanced behind us, looking for the tow truck. Suddenly Nash raked a hand through his hair, exhaling, then glanced in the little mirror on his sun visor to fix it. “I didn’t mean for that to sound mean. I keep saying the wrong thing. And I’ve been feeling like I read you wrong. You know? We haven’t talked much at all this week, and …”

“You didn’t,” I said, trying to think fast. He must have taken it wrong when I didn’t kiss him the other night. “I’m just dealing with some emotional stuff …” Too bad Marcus hadn’t elaborated on that story. “Like a broken heart?” Those words sounded foreign coming from Nash’s mouth. Maybe that would work, except there hadn’t been anyone since Kyle. Nash glanced out the back window and said, “There’s the tow truck.” He got out. I waited for traffic to

pass so I wouldn’t feel too close to the moving cars, so by the time I walked back to the tow truck driver, Nash was explaining what happened with the engine. It sounded like French to me. French? Peut-être que tu voudrais cinquante nuances de rose en français. I stopped a few steps back from Nash. What was that? I said, maybe you’d like Fifty Shades of Pink in French. “You speak French?” Si je parle français? Mais oui, un

peu. Of course I didn’t understand his answer, but it answered my question. Another clue, and a good one! That, and seeing some of what he looked like, but I wasn’t sure how I could search for a person based on their eye color and hair. Wait. Yes I did. Nash turned toward me. “So he’ll take it from here, and I can take you back to your house.” I was reeling from my discovery but managed a smile. “Sounds great.” Not going to get a quote or

anything? Oh. I introduced myself to the driver —Tony—and asked about his fees. It was less than I thought because we were so close to his shop. Don’t leave the guitar. Seriously? GET IT! Nash was walking back to his car—a practical gray Subaru station wagon that looked like a hand-me-down from his parents. He’d parked far enough back that the tow truck had parked between our cars.

“Wait, Nash, I want to grab my things from the trunk.” I grabbed my bag and the guitar and hurried back to join him. I saw his gaze hit on the instrument. “You play?” he asked when I set it in the backseat. I shut the back door without answering, even though it felt rude. What was I going to say? I got in the front seat and buckled up. “I started learning as a kid, but I haven’t touched a guitar in years. I bought it on a whim, I guess. I might give it a try again.” “I’ve always admired people who

can play music. Singing is a natural talent, but I’m not sure it comes naturally to be able to play a guitar. There’s a lot of learning.” Well, not in this case. We pulled out into traffic, and while I didn’t feel good about thinking it, I was glad it was a short drive back to my house. I needed to sort this out. “So, tonight …” Nash glanced over. Tonight. Yes, tonight. We’d made tentative plans through texting. “Do you want to come over about six?” “Sure.” He flashed a quick smile—

his quick and small smile that didn’t show any teeth, the one I’d taken for flirty all this time. Maybe that was as big as he ever went with it. I wanted to explain that I needed to finish up a few things, but apparently he did too. Neither of us explained why we didn’t just spend the rest of the day together. I got so busy analyzing that— while Marcus mumbled about it—that I was surprised when we pulled up to my house. “Thanks again, Nash.” I turned to him to say sincerely, “I really appreciate

your help.” “Anytime. I mean it.” He started to lean closer to me. As I leaned to meet him, I felt my hand reach back and grab the door handle. The door popped open and Nash froze. I all but felt Marcus dragging me out of the car. “I’ll talk to you soon?” “Sure.” His voice sounded deflated, but he held my gaze for a second and then I climbed out, grabbed the guitar, and walked to the door. After I let myself in, he drove off. I paused by the living room window to watch his car

leaving, touching my lips. I’d completely blown it. Marcus had ruined it for me. I couldn’t do it, Ave. “You’re not! I am. And I want to kiss him. I’ve been dreaming about kissing him the entire school year and you just blew it for me.” “Hey, Ave,” Dawn said from down the hallway. I turned slowly, trying to act natural. Her face didn’t give anything away if she’d heard me. She went into the kitchen. “Hey … homework to do,” I said as

I rushed to my room and locked the door behind me. I couldn’t kiss Nash—I couldn’t even act normal around my friends anymore. We had to do something to change this. After setting the guitar down on the bed, I opened my laptop and googled, “Missing man with blue eyes and blond hair.” Babe, you think it’ll be that easy? “Don’t know,” I told him quietly, just happy he didn’t say anything more about Nash. There were a few news stories but the top link was a Pinterest Board of

missing people. We have a winner! More like thousands of pictures. What the heck is this site? “You haven’t heard of Pinterest? It’s where you pin all your favorite things from online. You know, recipes, flower pics, favorite books—” Girly stuff. Okay, got it. But what’s this? I scrolled down the page and still wasn’t anywhere close to the end of it. There were literally thousands of photographs of missing people. A little girl, maybe four, with huge

brown eyes. An elderly man, grinning so broadly his eyes were squinted shut. A boy’s school picture in a red shirt —maybe fourth grade. A toddler with blond baby curls and play keys in her hand. A teenage girl with long, brown hair and a beautiful smile. There were lots of little girls, school-age girls and women. More faces than I could handle thinking about. All of these people were missing? Marcus backed away in my mind.

Too bad I couldn’t back away and forget this. Tears stung my eyes. I like to people watch and create stories about strangers, and that was kicking in now in a painful way. How many people were waiting for news? My stomach soured as I thought about where these little girls could be. All these missing women. One little girl looked a lot like Kristina. Another woman reminded me of my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Collins. There are so many ugly things in life that I can’t do anything about. I’d learned that cold, hard truth when my parents died.

I wrapped my arms around myself, but it suddenly felt like Marcus was doing it. I closed my eyes and felt a tear roll down each side of my face. Normally I’d be embarrassed—I never cry in front of people, but Marcus was different. And this time, he didn’t even ask why. I let the tears dry before getting back to work. This was a problem I could work on. I could find a solution if I just kept at it. There weren’t too many missing men, especially close to my age. But why did I assume Marcus was close

to my age? His speech, mostly, and all the active things he liked to do. Even if I looked at a wide age range, say eighteen to thirty, there were only three blond men that I spotted as I scrolled through. I kept going, and even tried to focus on the eye color more because hair color can change. “Do you see this picture?” I asked to get his attention. You think I look like that? I sighed. No, I didn’t. But it was the closest match I could find, based on the tiny bit I’d seen in my head. I tried

searching in France for missing men and ran into the same kind of problems. Je veux vous montrer ce qu'est un vrai baiser se sent. I pulled in a breath, shivering. His voice became more lyrical when he spoke French. Do you mean sexy? “So, that’s your little trick for getting chicks.” Maybe. Maybe not. “Stop teasing and tell me what you said.” I said … I want to show you …

what a real kiss feels like. I sucked in my breath, heat pooling somewhere it shouldn’t and spiking up my body. He chuckled softly at my reaction. “Stop! Nash is coming over in a while, and I need to get ready.” Oh, we forgot about Nash, didn’t we? “Listen, we just figured out several things about you. We might know what you look like, and that you speak French, and that you know nothing about working on cars, like Nash does.”

Why don’t you go get ready.

Chapter Eleven I stood in front of my mirror to spray leave-in conditioner in to my hair and brush it, all the time feeling Marcus appraise my appearance. I’d changed into a silver sequin tank top that made me look curvier and black skinny jeans. I loved the look. Marcus did too, and that was the problem. I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face as I sensed his reaction. His very physical reaction.

So who’re you trying to impress here? “Oh, I didn’t know it was an either or thing.” I smirked and waved my brush off-handedly. Christ. If only I had all my parts here so I could— “La-la-la-la!” I was not going to listen to that. “Think you could step out while he’s here? I can’t really spend time with him with you around.” Okay, so I’ll skip out for an evening … if we go for a bike ride tomorrow.

“What if it’s raining?” Freaking A. Then we ride in the rain. It’s romantic. “Romantic my ass,” I said. “And I bought you a guitar, remember? You owe me this. Plus, I went running before that because you wanted to.” The doorbell rang. I hurried to answer it, ignoring the way Marcus all but whirled around and sulked. Weird that I could see his emotions like that. Weirder that I felt bad about it. When I opened the front door, Nash held out a single red rose, and we

grinned at each other for a second. Then his gaze swept down over my outfit. Forget about it. He is NOT getting inside this shirt. Nash seemed as embarrassed as I felt and started stuttering something as I invited him in. Laughing, I stepped back and led the way into the living room. Inside, with better lighting, I saw he wore a green dress shirt under his jacket, with slacks. With his short hair and clean-shaven face, he looked smooth. So he’d gone home and gotten ready for our date.

“Did you eat dinner yet?” he asked. “No, I didn’t … want to go grab something?” I looked in the kitchen for a vase, and of course we didn’t have one. I grabbed a tall kitchen glass and filled it with water for the rose. “Yes. I drove over. I thought we could go out to dinner.” “Sure. Sounds great. Let me grab my coat.” I headed back to my room, blocking Marcus out, while he made fun of everything about Nash. I pushed the door to my room almost shut. “You said you’d step out tonight!” I

whispered barely above a breath while grabbing my coat. “Either back off, or there’s no bike ride for you tomorrow. And remember the guitar I just bought?” He was quiet … and remorseful, I think. I smelled the rose and closed my eyes for a second, enjoying the fragrance and the fact that a man had brought me a flower. My heart fluttered and I tried to pause time for a second, memorizing the sensation. I hadn’t felt like this since Kyle, and for a while I had worried I wouldn’t feel this way again. Yeah,

yeah, I’m young and all. Plenty of fish out there. But, sometimes I think there is such a thing as true love. My mom said that once she met my dad, she never even wanted to look at another man. She loved him while he went downhill … she loved him to the very end, saying she didn’t regret it. I did. With a sigh, I left those thoughts behind in my room. You just have no clue, Ave. You’re hot as shit and guys would line up to bring you flowers if you let them. I would love to bring you roses. I greeted Nash with another smile

and we walked outside to his car, where he opened the door for me. Marcus sighed and backed off while I watched Nash walk around to his side and get in. As he drove down the street, he glanced over and asked, “So you’re feeling fully recovered from that concussion?” “I …” Do you think I’ll disappear as you get better? I laughed, a sudden, hysterical staccato. It smacked of panic to my ears, but I had no idea what Nash thought of

my outburst. “Sorry, I … I don’t know. I’ve been feeling weird since then.” “Did you stop in at the nurse’s station?” “No, it’s not like that.” I stared out the window, face burning, wishing we could have avoided this topic tonight. “I … just had a bad day.” What the hell? Thought we had fun. Remember the crazy guy? Oh, yeah. Nash threw me a look and I realized he was waiting for more.

“This guy said something to me and I gave him a dirty look. He deserved it. He’d said something about my … anyway, he cussed at me after that.” “What? Where was that?” “Between campus and the parking lot down the street. He didn’t look like a student.” “Wow, I’m really sorry to hear that. I can walk you back after class, you know. And you should report that.” “Oh …” I looked out the window, hiding my face. Was I fumbling everything or did it just feel like it?

“What did you do to your hand?” Nash asked. My hands were on my lap, and I looked down, wondering what he meant. The knuckles on my right hand were bruising. “I … well, I hit that guy.” I covered the ugly, purple coloring. It turned my stomach, anyway, and made my hand hurt to look at it. “What?” He looked over three times in a row, trying to watch the traffic and look at me. “So … wait.” He shook his head. “You didn’t report it?” “No.”

“Because you hit him?” “Just because. It just happened. He was dangerous, and rude, and in my face.” That was Marcus coming through loud and clear. You said you’d step out! “But it’s fine. Really.” I just ruined my first official date with Nash. We were quiet for several minutes. Just when I thought about saying he could take me home if he wanted, he told me about the restaurant. I listened, but I also found myself comparing Nash to what I’d seen of Marcus. They seemed opposites of each other. Nash is

so tall and serious … I guess I don’t imagine Marcus like that at all. He seems fit and athletic, and so … free. Maybe because I don’t have a body? Because you’re not afraid of crazy, scary things. This is freaking freaky, but hey, what the hell, right? Guess we gotta roll with it. Nash picked a nice restaurant with candles and antique-style wooden tables. After we were seated, he held his menu in his hands but looked up at me

several times with a subtle smile. Geek lust, huh? You’re not doing a good job of stepping out for the evening. Sorry, talking to myself, babe. I’ll try not to think. Go snowboarding or something. Or sailing! Sail away! “There’s no choice in the matter,” Nash said. “I have to try the lobster ravioli.” “Oh, wow, that sounds delicious,” I said, which was true, plus I hadn’t read the menu. Instead, I gazed at it blankly

while arguing with Marcus. I set it aside now and folded my hands in my lap. It’d been easier to talk to Nash in class … or maybe it was the Marcus thing. Whatever it was, I felt nervous and awkward, and didn’t know what to say. “Thanks for emailing me notes, by the way. Mr. Finley did too, and Ettore. I realized I could just get notes from everyone and stay home all the time.” I stopped and waited for his laugh. “Uhh …” He didn’t get it. “Just kidding!” Now he smiled. In the soft lighting,

Nash’s eyes looked warmer than usual. Maybe it was his green shirt, but his irises looked greenish brown instead of just dark. “Are you thinking about graduation?” I asked, just before I mentally kicked myself. “I mean, I know you are … I guess …” He was majoring in English and Journalism, with thoughts about going into the teaching program afterwards. Before, I’d been hoping he would stay around so I could still see him. “It’s hard to believe I’m just credits

away.” He shook his head. “I’m looking into job possibilities, where I’d want to live. I’ve had ideas all along, of course, but it does feel different to know I’m heading into the actual, tactical steps of doing this thing.” Some people were thinking about graduation, a career, life after college … I kept thinking thoughts to Marcus. “Where have you been looking?” I asked Nash. “Anything in Oregon?” “A few.” Nash kept up a steady conversation as we ordered and then ate dinner. The lobster ravioli was rich but

subtle, with a soft, lingering yumminess in my mouth. I glanced at the wine at another table, wishing for a glass to go with my dinner. Something about the taste called for it. “So tell me something about you that I don’t know,” I said. “I have a twin brother.” He paused at my raised eyebrows. “He’s studying law at California Southern Law School.” “Identical?” “Yes, I know it’s hard to believe there’s someone else out there as good looking as me.”

His sudden joke made me giggle. By the time we left, the awkwardness had ebbed away. He played me his favorite play list on the way back. I leaned over to wrap an arm over his and entwine our fingers. “Want to come in for a bit?” I asked. “Sure.” He got out and hurried around to my side—to open my door, I think—but I stepped out before he reached me. We paused, staring at each other for a couple of seconds too long, and I thought he wanted to say something. Instead he gave me a quick

smile and we walked up the porch steps. Marcus must have stepped all of the way out—he hadn’t said a word about this. Inside, Jasmine was watching TV with her friend Jenny, a small blonde with super-long, curly hair. I heard Kristina and Kyle in her room as we walked by going to my room, maybe talking … I shut the door behind us and felt nervousness trickle back through me. Emotion swept me back to when I was dating Kyle. Wanting to shake all that off, I turned

the radio on softly and lit the two candles on the mantle. There had been a fireplace or something here a long time ago. Now it’s just a ledge for my pictures, candles and a few decorations. Nash flipped the overhead light off, and the candlelight filled the warm. I turned around to find Nash standing close. “You’re different,” he said, “in a very good way. I like how you’re different from other people.” I felt myself smile, a quick lift in my mouth, but I couldn’t find words to answer. He searched my face, his eyes

going back and forth between mine, before he asked, “Are you sure you’re feeling all the way better?” Surprising me, he reached out and ran the back of his fingers down my face. I tried to answer, opening my mouth, then shrugging. His other hand came up to my face, and I closed my eyes as he gently caressed my cheeks, holding me. And suddenly I understood why he’d been asking me that. I reacted like there were two of me. Part of me felt eager and excited. The other part freaked out—it

didn’t feel right being this close to Nash with Marcus here. I thought of the way the ocean crashes against the jetty on the coast, white water raging up, exploding with the full force of the Pacific propelling it. Should I stop him like last time? I didn’t want to. I wanted to be held and kissed and cared for. No! My hands pushed against Nash. I gasped, surprised as him. He started to take a step back, color rising up his neck, most likely from anger.

“Nash, I’m sorry … I get a little freaked out.” Freak would be the right word. I’m a freak and sending mixed signals. “Avery, I …” Marcus surged inside my head, filling it, and I could see what he wanted to do: throw a fist into Nash’s nose. I mentally pushed back, stomped on him, shoved him aside. My brain. My body. My decision! Why are you acting like this? “You’re a big contradiction, Avery,” Nash said. A second passed and I

realized it was a compliment. Maybe he thought I was flirting with the hot and then cold treatment. I stepped closer to Nash and reached for him. His lips touched mine, so soft … I don’t remember it feeling like that with Kyle. He barely moved his mouth. We just stood, mouths pressed together, for a minute. Marcus made gagging noises and started yelling a song. I mentally screamed back, shouting at him to go away. There had to be somewhere he could go. Just when I couldn’t take it

anymore—when I knew I’d have to stop this with Nash—it went silent in my head. Silence is golden. Nash’s hands moved first, one sliding into my hair at the base of my neck, cradling my head, pulling me just a little closer. Then his lips parted, his head tilted, and he really kissed me, touching my tongue. Suddenly I realized I was dangling there like a rag doll, my hands at my side, and I reached up to lay my hands on his shoulders. I stepped closer so our

bodies were touching. Was I shaking? I hoped it just felt like it from the inside. Nash put his other arm around me, holding me, kissing me, filling my senses so I could only feel. A low moan started in his throat. His hand skimmed down my back, following the curve and then stopping on the top of my jeans. Maybe he was teasing me. Or maybe he was afraid of going farther, of lowering his hand down. I found myself wanting him to, wanting him to touch me all over. He pulled back a few inches, then pulled my face against his, breathing

hard against me. Just a second later, he pulled me to the bed, lifting me up and laying me again, then nestling between my legs and kissing me again. The contact—the position—sent hormones shooting through me. It happened so fast I wasn’t sure if I should stop it. This felt even more intimate than standing and kissing, even though we were both still fully clothed. And he wasn’t just kissing me; he was moving against me. AVERY. Marcus was back. His voice filled

my head and his emotions filled the rest of me, swamping me. “Nash.” I had to break my face free to speak. “Nash …” “Hmm?” His mouth went to my neck, bringing wetness and warmth. His tongue ran circles all over my skin. All of it felt so nice, but … “I …” I what? I wanted him to stop? His movement slowed and he rolled to his side, pulling me so we were facing. He kissed my hair and held me close, not speaking. All of it surprised me, that he was such a good kisser and

that he knew what he was doing. He was certainly old enough to know what he was doing … it was just that he was so shy. Even while Marcus fought for control, my body begged for more. Unfortunately, Nash felt my stiffness and stilled. He held me for so long that I thought we weren’t going to talk about it. Then he said, startling me, “Did I freak you out?” My first instinct was to say no, of course not. Or you could be truthful.

“I’m not freaked out,” I told Nash. “But … I don’t know how to explain it.” “It’s okay.” He rubbed my back and pulled me so I was lying on his chest. It felt so nice to nestle into him, listen to his heart beating and feel his arms around me. “It just reminded me of something.” Those words came out of my mouth but I hadn’t planned to say them. What was I talking about? Nash shifted under me, raising his head. “With Kyle,” I added. No, it wasn’t me talking. MARCUS, KNOCK IT OFF!

“What?” “He was pushy. I guess he didn’t feel like waiting for me.” I could not believe Marcus just said that. With my mouth. To Nash. Nash was silent for a minute. What a huge mistake. Then, “Wow … I’m so sorry. I halfway liked him, too. I mean, we’ve been talking. Hanging out.” He stopped, searching my face in the soft lighting. “That’s why? That’s what has been bothering you?” Marcus didn’t answer him but now it

was all out there. So I said, “I freeze up. I’m sorry.” “No, no, don’t be sorry … Avery, I have to ask you, did he rape you?” “No.” God, Marcus had gotten me in a shit hole here. “No, I told him no and he got mad. We didn’t speak to each other after that.” I couldn’t handle the eye contact and nestled up against him, feeling like rockets were exploding inside of me. Nash squeezed me tight and held me like that for a long time. Angry tears threatened, but I mostly held them off.

Just one made it out of the corner of my eye, and I don’t think he noticed. I would kill Marcus over this. Don’t you feel better? You had no right! You were just being a selfish ass, doing that just to stop us—and you didn’t think about the consequences, did you? Nash still has to be around Kyle. “Are you okay?” Nash whispered. “You’re shaking.” “Yeah,” I whispered back, a little squeak that embarrassed me. “Are you? Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He rubbed circles on my back and pressed a kiss into my hair. Closing my eyes, I exhaled, trying to relax. I wanted to scream at Marcus but couldn’t—how do you beat the shit out of someone inside your head? I worked on pushing him out and building a wall. There had to be a way to lock him out. Nash and I lay tangled up together for a long time when he moved. “I better get back to my place.” As he pulled away and stood up, I felt a chill. “I didn’t mean to stay so late. I

mean, I’m glad I did. I’m glad we talked, too.” He pulled on his jacket as I watched from the bed. Then I didn’t want to look too stunned about it, so I got up too. Was he leaving because I shared that— because Marcus shared that? “Thanks for taking me out to dinner,” I said, afraid to ask. We looked at each other in the flickering candle light. One of the candles had burned out and the other was going crazy. He took my hand and kissed it before we walked to the front

door. The TV was on. Kyle and Kristina were curled up together, and she shifted to lean up and grin at me. At the door, Nash turned and leaned down to kiss me on the mouth. He looked into my eyes for a second, then said quietly, “Thank you for telling me.” His gaze went past me, toward Kyle. I watched Nash walk to his car before shutting the door. I don’t like you kissing him. Marcus growled the words, giving me goosebumps on my neck. I don’t like you in my head!

Chapter Twelve

Marcus Hell yes! She was mad as all get out, but we were out running in the dark and sprinkling rain. For the moment, I didn’t care that she wasn’t talking to me. The cold night air whipped over us and through her hair. She hadn’t pulled it

back. Avery had been so mad she yanked on a pair of running shorts, shoes, and took off running. I loved it. So I kept quiet. No way would I ruin this by letting her know how much I enjoyed it. I’d been trying to help. Things weren’t going well with Nash. Now I fixed them. “Yeah, right, Marcus. You don’t want Nash and I together—admit it!” Fine, I don’t want any other guy touching you. Is that what you want to hear? I want to touch you. I want to dance with you and feel my hands all

over you. I want us all tangled up together. I want to hear you whisper my name. My words turned to pictures and sensations. I couldn’t help it. I could see her lying on a pillow, looking up at me, her hair fanned out and damp, her face flushed, her lips red and swollen from wanting me. Avery ran faster. Even in this in-between place, I could feel my entire body tighten. I wanted her. She knew it, too, and maybe she wanted me.

I’ve seen your dreams, babe. I’ve seen you imagining how it’d be with me. You’ve been trying to picture my face, what I’d look like if I could look into your eyes and whisper to you in French. You’ve been picturing a lot more than that. I wasn’t doing either of us any favors. Damn. If we could touch each other … I couldn’t let myself think about it anymore. I wanted her too bad. She ran a good five miles and returned to the house soaking wet, shivering, and numb to reality and the

storm we were both feeling. I felt somewhat under control again. The run had cleared my head. The rest … well, I was learning to live in this state of deprived wanting. She took a hot shower and I tried to back out of her mind. I made it to the far corner, where she seemed to think I’d left, but I could get a sense of what was going on. I needed her in a deep-down, painful way, like I might wither up without her touch. As she washed, I closed my eyes and pretended I was touching her. If she noticed, she didn’t

scream at me this time. By the time she’d pulled on a shirt to sleep in, she was physically and mentally exhausted, her mind spinning in circles. I pushed my way in, and she either didn’t care or couldn’t do anything about it. That made me hesitate, but I needed to get a few things down on paper. Too bad she only had lined paper, but that would have to do for now. I grabbed her notebook and turned to a clean sheet. We’d both been picturing me. More and more images had been slipping through my mind from my life,

and she was getting flashes of me when I talked to her. It might be enough to sketch out a likeness. Using the mental images, I made some rough drawings to look at, then tried to make a composite that was more polished. Then I got off on another idea and sketched out logos … but I wasn’t sure what they went to. I had some shapes and an idea of what the letters were supposed to look like, but not the actual words. These could be just doodles, or maybe I was a graphic artist. Maybe I was involved in a company. Why didn’t

anything feel right? I turned to a clean sheet and let myself go, sketching an image that came as I moved the pencil. It was a girl … the one I’d seen in flashes with blond hair, the sparkling blue eyes. She was a happy person, and someone important to me I think, but I really didn’t feel like she could be my girlfriend. Avery had checked out like she was sleeping and given me control. This was a little weird. Suddenly I realized the possibilities … except she’d been so pissed. She’d really go off the deep end,

wouldn’t she? I reached up and ran her hand though her hair. No reaction. I touched her face and traced a finger along her lips. She really wasn’t here right now. It made sense. She hadn’t commented or reacted when I drew myself or that girl. An itch started somewhere low in my body and worked its way up until I felt ready to crawl out of my skin. I wanted to touch her all over, but it took all the fun out of it if she didn’t respond. Well, it’d take half the fun out of it. I slapped the notebook down and

paced. There wasn’t much room in here. So I gave up on that and did a hundred pushups. Dang. I was going to make her eat more protein. Then, even though I didn’t feel great about it, I pawed through her things. She had some damn hot panties, little pink and red lacy things … which was kinda funny, since she didn’t seem to let guys see them. Not that I wanted any other male seeing her panties, or her in them. Next I looked at the photo of her mom. They looked alike. There were a few other ones with a little Avery and

her parents. Something was wrong or missing in all that, but I hadn’t been able to put all the pieces together yet. I just knew the parents were out of the picture, and she didn’t let herself think about her dad. I looked at the photos for a few more minutes and then went back to drawing in the notebook. *** “Marcus!” Huh? She was waking me up for a

change? “Marcus!” she hissed. Morning to you too, beautiful. Then I remembered she was flaming mad at me. I came around and saw she was holding the notebook up in front of her. “Who is this?” That’s me in one of them. “I got that. What about this one?” You’re not excited that we have a picture of me now? She growled. Wow, jealous! I didn’t stop my chuckle in time, ticking her off

even more. I don’t have any romantic feelings for whoever she is. Then why are you drawing her? Avery, all I can think about is how I want to kiss you. “That’s not an answer. Who is she? What is her name? How do you know her?” I don’t know her name or anything else, just that she must be someone important to me. I realized I didn’t have anything but brotherly feelings for the girl I’d drawn,

which might mean she was literally my sister. Easy answer. I could have shared that with Avery, but I liked that she was jealous. It’d been me this whole time, dealing with all the guys drooling over her. Avery seethed about it but bit her tongue, not wanting to let me see how much she cared. I felt it all anyway. She turned back to the drawing of me, taking in each feature, then holding the paper farther back. Her gaze rested on my mouth. She pictured us stepping closer, our arms embracing, our lips

touching. I expected one of those slow, tender, high-school-movie kisses, but she fantasized something rougher, needier. She fantasized that I pulled her back, raking my fingers into her hair, parting her lips with my kiss— She looked at the clock and cursed. “You made me late, and I have to ride my bike today.” Yeah, well, have fun sitting next to Nash in class today.

Chapter Thirteen Avery I didn’t go to class. After everything, I really didn’t feel like it, and I didn’t want to pedal there with my bag full of books, since my car was still in the shop. Instead I ambled through the house, half thinking I’d run into Kris or Jazz and we could talk. The living room and kitchen were empty, the house quiet.

With a sigh, I stretched out on the couch with my phone. Nash had texted, Are we ok after last night? Don’t want you to feel weird. The truth was I felt weird after Marcus had revealed so much, but I didn’t want to put that on Nash. I texted back saying we were good. I figured he was in class but he texted back anyway, saying he didn’t know how to act around Kyle now. So we got into a long texting conversation, which was even longer with Nash because he doesn’t, on principle, abbreviate in texts. I liked that

before, a lot actually, but now I didn’t want to look stupid, so I had to type everything out. Marcus was trying so hard not to laugh about that part. “Marcus, can I have a few minutes by myself?” Ahhhh … all right. Big sigh as he left. I was getting better at telling when he was out of the picture—out of my brain, to be exact— and it felt like I had the place to myself for the time being. I couldn’t be sure though … how could I be?

I just wanted a few minutes to think about him and Nash, which is so messed up. Here I am, trying to decide between an imaginary voice in my head and a real, live guy who is super smart, reliable, and likes me. Except there was no deciding between because Marcus wasn’t real, at least not in a physical sense where I could touch him. Who knew how real he was in any other sense. The bigger question might have been, who knew what I wanted anymore? I sure as hell didn’t. What if I didn’t want Marcus out of my head?

Something big had changed. And if this was all in my head, I liked the crazy part. Of course I couldn’t admit that. I spent the day texting with Nash while he was in class and then talking on the phone, juggling my conversations with Nash and Marcus, which completely wore me down. Ever since this started, I’ve been wanting to get away from real people more and more, so I could talk to Marcus. Or at least just have one conversation at a time. Not sure if I should get mad over

that or say thanks. Yeah, let me know when you figure it out! But at least I’d talked Nash down. Thanks to Marcus, he’d been upset about Kyle, and for a while I thought he might do something about it. I wasn’t even sure what time it was when I crawled into bed, but I felt myself slipping off to sleep instantly. *** I felt like I was coming out of a

pleasant sleep as I watched my hand sketching on a blank page. I was drawing myself again. He was drawing me, starting with my eyes, somehow capturing a hopeful expression on the flat medium. He worked in my other features: a slight line for my nose, some shading, my lips, my eyebrows … That’s when I noticed it wasn’t really my hand. It was bigger, with long fingers. Manlier. His hand. The very way the hand moved wasn’t mine; it was sure and quick. His hand paused. I watched, holding my breath,

waiting for the rest of my face to fill in. I was mostly there, but something seemed missing. Hmmm. That was Marcus … but his voice came from behind me, not in my head. I wanted to turn but I was lying down and couldn’t. His breath lightly warmed my neck and ear. I thought I heard him chuckle, and then his fingertips touched my shoulder, followed by a quick kiss, and then his hand feathered down my arm and onto my hip. “Marcus?”

He spoke quiet and low in French, saying things I couldn’t understand. His legs curled up against mine so his body touched me all the way down. His mouth touched my back, sending goosebumps down my spine. I arched back toward him before I could stop. A second later, his lips teased a line from my shoulder blade up to my neck. I gasped awake. It was dark. Middle of the night still. I’d been dreaming … dreaming like I was Marcus in a way, but feeling the sensations as myself. Had we been

dreaming together? Okay, not cool. We would have to talk about boundaries. Listen, babe, I can’t help what I dream about, and I’m around this totally hot babe all day long now, and … And? And you’re smart too. You don’t spend all your time trying to impress me or look pretty. I punched the pillow hard and flopped down with a huff. Marcus actually listened and left me alone. My

body felt wired. I wasn’t sure if I liked the odd sensation—actually, it was the fact that I was so wound up now and couldn’t do anything about. You could actually … GO AWAY! I covered my face, even though it was dark, and even though Marcus couldn’t see me. *** First thing when I woke back up, I sat on my computer chair, turned on my

laptop and opened my file on this problem. And yes, Marcus, this is a problem. YOU are a problem. And YOU keep on telling me that. I’ll submit a report. I still had all the possible causes listed, but I wasn’t any closer to a solution, let alone understanding what was going on. Yes, you do. Said it yourself. You couldn’t have drawn that picture, or played my song, or told off that ass on the street, and you didn’t just decide to start running all of sudden.

“So I’m possessed.” I leaned back in the chair, making it squeak. “Great. Freaking great.” Let’s call it improved. He grinned. I could tell. And strangely, I got the slightest impression of his smile. Full lips. White teeth. Then it was gone. “Marcus, are you picturing yourself?” Wha … why? “I thought I almost saw you smile.” Maybe it’s time for that bike ride. Clear your head. Clear my head. Get

some exercise. I groaned. You promised. The real hurt in his voice pushed me into action. I dug out my cycling pants and a fitted cycling jacket. Before leaving, I made a quick trip to the kitchen to fill my water bottle, then walked my bike to the street and took off, feeling the bite of the cold breeze at first, but I knew I’d warm up soon. It wasn’t raining, but there were still giant puffy clouds that blocked the sun at times, so I went from chilly shade to

bright sun and back to shade again. Ashland is small enough that you can pedal out of it in just a few minutes, and then you have lots of space without the cross walks and traffic. “So, Marcus, maybe you could try to picture yourself. Maybe we’re making progress.” Maybe. I’d forgotten how great this felt, pedaling away from my problems. Back in the beginning of college, I rode twenty miles a day, several times a week. Seriously?

“Why’s that so unbelievable? Back then, I had a lot going on, and needed to clear my head.” Was that related to your mom, and why you won’t talk about your dad? “Yeah.” Had I really just answered him about that? My boundaries were fading. I reminded him we were out here to clear our heads and get some air, not dredge up the past. But suddenly, the past was right here again—the long, lonely days when my parents were gone. Living in a new

house with a different family, going to a different school. I shivered, shuddered really, and snapped back to the present and scenery around me. Avery, listen to me. I’m the one person you can talk to that will never tell anyone else. “Until we figure out who you are and where you belong.” Even then. Was there a “then?” Would we ever fix this? I reached the top of a small hill and coasted down, the wind blasting me, reminding me I was still alive. Flying

down the hill loosened something in me, like I could really take flight. And I let Marcus see: How crazy fun my dad was. The dancing and twirling. The off-key songs and smiles. Pancakes every Saturday with my name in syrup. How he scared off the monsters under my bed. How he called me Sweet pea. How he romanced my mom. He was our sun, our center, our everything. He was more fun than anyone I’ve never met. My dad was all adventure, charm and happiness … until he pushed it too far. Dad couldn’t say no

to any fun or challenge or dare, or a drink, or a bet. As I got older, I started to see the dark side of the moon where he crashed and grew angry. But he always bounced right back up. Mom would ask me to give him a day to right himself, and he always did. I was never angry with my dad, not even once. It all changed one rainy night. My mom said dad couldn’t make it home for dinner, but he called while we were eating homemade tacos. He needed a ride. Later I would find out that Dad had

insisted on driving back, even though his blood alcohol was .16, double the legal limit to drive. Avery, I’m so sorry. Now he knew. He knew why I didn’t have my parents and spent high school in foster care. Why I wanted to stay away from those loud, fun types. I should have stayed away from Kyle, but instead I broke my rule and, of course, it ended badly. Marcus started to say something and wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. I was done talking about it, especially

when I realized there were tears tracing back on my cheeks, whisking away in the breeze. I rode another five miles and pulled over for a quick break and a drink from my water bottle. My legs felt shaky because it’d been a while since I rode, but talking and exercising had worn me out in a good way. I’ve done this before, but I think I went mountain biking. I can feel the trail dropping down a hill full of boulders and fallen logs. Lots of giant trees and ferns all over.

“So one more outdoor thing you’ve done. But that still doesn’t tell us about your job, family or life. Wait! Who did you ride with?” Ah … not sure. I can see some other guys but not their faces. “Hmm. Well, this is helping. Just let your mind wander again.” I turned around and headed back to town, enjoying the half awareness that comes while cycling. I keep an eye out for traffic and other dangers, but I’m able to see the big picture of life and think about things. It’s that nice kind of

daydreaming you can do on a trip, when you don’t have to worry about the little details. *** When I got back, I found a message on my phone from the car shop. My car was fixed and ready for pick up! And cost four hundred bucks. Ouch. “Well, I need a running car.” Summer was right around the corner, and I could probably find a part-time job if I needed.

My trust fund had paid for my car, college and some life expenses while still leaving some to help after college. I’d rather have my parents. They would have helped me with all this too, more than money would, but the money did get me by. I stripped out of my clothes, staring at the ceiling like I’d been doing, but I wasn’t so worried about it anymore. I felt him come with me into the shower and didn’t even yell at him. That’s why you didn’t want to talk to me about your money before—you

got an insurance payout after your parents died? “Yeah, I got life insurance money, social security as an orphan, and their savings. The house sold two years later and I got another lump sum. All of it went into my trust fund until I turned eighteen. That’s when I kissed my old life goodbye.” He was quiet for a long minute. “Did I offend you somehow?” No. I was thinking, I guess. Getting lost a bit. I just can’t imagine how hard it was … and going through

high school. “Thanks.” I stepped out of the shower and dried off. As I got dressed again, I said, “The thrill must have worn off.” Thrill? “You don’t go nuts trying to see me naked anymore.” I blushed. It’s bittersweet. I paused in my doorway, puzzled, and unsure if I wanted to ask for an explanation. I heard a car outside and headed down the hallway. The front door shut and Kris saw me.

“Hey, you.” She dropped her bag on the counter, where she usually claimed two thirds of the space. She’d pulled her curly hair back into a loose ponytail, making her look like a cheerleader. “Hey … want to drive me to Medford to get my car?” “Sure.” She picked her bag back up. “I was just going to watch TV anyway.” We jumped in Kyle’s car—they shared it most of the time because she hadn’t bought her own car since coming to SOU. The music came on loud until she turned it down.

“Where were you today?” she asked as we reached the freeway onramp— only a few minutes from our house. It seemed like an innocent question, but it didn’t feel that way. “Just riding my bike. I took ninetynine up a ways.” Kris did a double take. “Are you mad about the ski trip still?” she asked, throwing me for a loop. “No, not at all. Seriously, I wasn’t upset to begin with.” “Really? You haven’t been hanging out with me since then. Like today. You

were gone for hours. You’ve been staying in your room a lot more too. I miss you.” “Oh.” I leaned over to give her a one-armed hug. “I’ve just been … things picked up with Nash.” I totally fumbled that, but she broke into a pretty smile. “Okay, I want details. What’s going on with you? He’s so hard to read.” I laughed because I knew exactly what she meant. “He’s my Mr. Mysterious.” I let myself get into it, giggling and talking about Nash, until I felt Marcus brooding. Listen, dude, it’s

our cover. “So, we have to get lunch while we’re up here,” Kristina said as she took an exit into Medford. “You don’t have to go straight to the mechanic’s, right?” “Lunch it is.” I could hear Marcus complaining, but I wasn’t sure why. Probably Nash. Or maybe because I was spending time with Kris, and away from him, not that I could get completely away from him. Despite that, I had fun with Kris. Life felt normal for two hours. Then, later, after I picked up my own

car, it felt too quiet without Kris or Marcus talking. Everything came crashing down. It’d gotten dark and I felt encased inside my car, cut off from the outside world. “Still upset?” I asked him. Ah, no. Just giving you space. “Really?” I couldn’t feel his emotions as much as usual. As I drove home, I thought about what it would be like to be stuck in someone’s head. We were both quiet then. At home, my thoughts turned to the

guitar, hidden in my closet. Maybe it was Marcus thinking about it. I retrieved it and sat on my computer chair. He must have been dying to play. We went from one song to another with him playing and me listening. “Summer of Sixty-Nine.” “Stairway To Heaven.” (So cliché!) Some Greenday. “Hey There Delilah,” one of my faves. A few that sounded like Bruno Mars. I loved listening to him play and sing. He wound down and his playing sounded like mindless strumming. Someone knocked.

I jumped, then froze. Music played out in the house but I hadn’t heard it over my own. I could pretend I’d been listening to music too, but I knew it didn’t sound the same. “Yeah?” I asked, looking around for somewhere to put the guitar, on the false logic that I could hide it before opening the door. We’ll just fiddle the truth a bit. Say you’ve had it a while. Kristina stuck her head in, glancing around. “Who’s playing?” “Oh, just messing around.” I started

with that one instead of the all-out lie. “That was you?” She looked astounded as she came in and sat down on my bed. “Wow. I didn’t know you could play.” Kris was all done up: hair conditioned into perfect, soft ringlets, her cocoa skin glowing, pretty glittery pink eye shadow, and barely there pink lipstick. She’d pulled off party girl and classy in the same look. “I’m learning, I guess,” I said, because that seemed like the best answer. “I saw this old guitar in a used store last summer and bought it on a

whim.” “You’re pretty good.” She ran her fingers down the strings. “So, Kyle brought over some beer and wine to kick off spring break. We have some people over. Want to come out and join us?” “Uh, heck yeah!” I needed to feel normal, to have her think I was normal. A glance in the mirror stopped me. “Just let me throw on some lipstick so I don’t look all mousey next to you.” “Whatever!” She sauntered out the door. Laughing, I turned back to the mirror

with my mascara wand in my hand. Marcus hovered … I felt him around me as I dusted on a little blush and lipstick. Guess some makeup’s okay. Sometimes. I remembered all his comments about snowboarding chicks and how they didn’t need makeup. It made me laugh now. When I met my own eyes again, I startled. They were the same eyes I’d always seen in the mirror, but I knew Marcus was checking me out, completely fascinated. And fantasizing.

I sucked in a breath, my body on fire, and hurried out of the room to get away from the mirror.

Chapter Fourteen I walked down the hall to find a small party in progress—there were twenty or more people packed into our kitchen and living room area. The curtains were shut, blocking out the remaining daylight, and Kris had strung up little white lights across the top of the living room window. Two lit candles set on the coffee table, pushed against the opposite wall. The only other light was

the small one over the stove in the kitchen. “Nice!” I called to her and got a thumbs-up in return. Kyle stepped beside me and said, “Hey, Ave, I brought white wine. Want a glass?” Hmm, interesting. This was the most he’d spoken directly to me since last spring term. I had to find my voice to say, “Sure. Thanks.” Oh, for a beer … Several of Kyle’s friends were there,

beers in their hands. If I remembered correctly, they weren’t the two at the house on that awful night. Too bad. I’d tear their faces off if they were. Might be a nice time to teach Kyle a lesson too. I felt my blood pumping hard, like Marcus was affecting me physically. I didn’t like it. Two girls I didn’t know were standing together, and one of the guys yelled introductions. Dawn and Brandon were tangled up together on the couch. Kyle handed me a plastic red cup of

wine just as Kristina said over the music, “So I had the best idea ever for spring break. The six of us should go to the coast—Kyle and me, Dawn and Brandon, and you and Nash.” “Thanks, Kyle.” I took a sip, digesting what Kris just said and hoping Kyle would leave. He lingered. “There’s a trip in the works?” “We can rent my aunt’s beach house starting Monday. She was going to use it and changed her mind. There’s three bedrooms and it overlooks the beach! It’ll be awesome. You want to go,

right?” Nash, me … and Marcus? “I … maybe.” Her eyes bugged out. “Maybe? You have to go! It’ll be so awesome.” She grabbed my arm while she hopped up and down. “Please? Puleeesee?” I tried not to look at Kyle but failed. At least I looked away too quickly to read his expression. “It’ll be an early birthday celebration!” she said. Kristina might have just thought that up, but it still meant she remembered my birthday. A

smile fought its way onto my face. “Okay, okay! I’ll probably go. Most likely,” I added at her pouty lip. This couldn’t go on that long, right? Marcus would be gone by then. Something had to give. “You want Nash to come, right?” She slung an arm around Kyle, who seemed to be waiting on my answer too. “Yeah, sure, I do.” I think. Maybe. Can’t wait … NOT. “And you’re okay sharing a room?” she asked, watching my expression. “Wait, what?” I looked between the

two of them, feeling stupid for not realizing that earlier … and feeling a little pressured right now. Both Kris and Kyle watched me process it, and I realized they were the two people that knew I had hang ups with the whole being intimate thing. What if he told her? “There’s just three bedrooms … and the trip would be so perfect to get a little closer.” Kyle finally walked away and I shoved Kris’s arm, but not hard. She gave a sly smile. “Okay, sorry.

It’s just, you’ve been so in love with him, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, even if you share a room. Just be clear with him up front.” She gave a shrug like that was an easy thing to talk about. “Yeah …” “But it would be perfect,” she said, grinning. It was all very romantic in her mind. It was just complicated in my mind. Kyle walked by again, pausing to fill my glass. I almost didn’t notice, so it was lucky that I didn’t tip it as he

poured. Our eyes met for a briefest second when he glanced at my face. I looked away, because I had been staring at him, I guess. He didn’t say anything. Just kept going. Kristina talked the whole time. Had she told Kyle to be nice to me tonight to butter me up for the trip? I remembered what Marcus said about her … and Kyle and me. Was it possible that he wanted me to go for his own personal reasons? Hopefully what I was thinking wasn’t showing through. Could be over thinking it, babe.

Remember how you told me she always wants you to go along with their group things? I nodded to Kristina like I was listening and told Marcus, You’re the one that mentioned all this other stuff. I think you’re trying to let me off the hook so I won’t worry. Why worry? At least, why worry about what they’re thinking? We’ve got a bigger problem. “Where is Nash?” she asked like she’d been talking about him. Good thing I caught the question through my thoughts

and the music. It wasn’t like I’d had time to invite him yet, but I just said, “I think he had something with his friends tonight.” That was lame of me, and I wasn’t sure why I said it. Kris gave me a look so I added, “I’m sure he’ll come on the trip. It’ll be great, right?” Jazz came in the front door then with a couple of friends, holding a grocery bag in each hand. Her friends helped her cover the counter with bowls of tortilla and potato chips, different dips, and more beer.

By now we had thirty people easy, all talking and bumping into each other, with the music pumping. It pulled me in and made me forget how different I’ve felt from everyone else. “Ave!” Kris squealed suddenly like she had another great idea. “You should play your guitar!” I gave Kris a wide-eyed look that I hoped would stop her and said, “We’ve got music already.” “Come on. Play for everyone!” Kristina said, gesturing toward my room like I would happily jump up and run to

get the guitar. “You play guitar?” Kyle looked astonished, which hurt my feelings for some unknown reason. It’d felt the same thing when Kristina said that, but this just drove it in deeper. Of course, they were probably just surprised that I had never shared that fact. It wasn’t like they all thought I was incapable of something like this. It only felt that way. I almost wanted to … but it wouldn’t be me. Oh, you actually need me for something?

He sounded so smug that I decided to drop it right there. No, go get the guitar. Let’s do this. “Come on, Avey,” Kyle said. I felt anger rising in Marcus like molten lava headed for the surface—and found myself walking to my bedroom to get the guitar. As I walked back to the living room, I asked Marcus, Why are you helping me when you hate Kyle? Oh, crap, what if he was setting me up? My throat went dry. Relax. I’ve got this. Trust me, Avery.

Would I even be able to play after two glasses of wine? Kris turned the music off when I came back. The different conversations quieted as I sat on the couch and started to strum. Hopefully I looked calm because my heart was tapping out a staccato beat as I stared down at the guitar. So far, so good. Marcus played “Free Fallin’” by Tom Petty. It sounded like it was an easier song to play—good thinking on Marcus’s part. “Aren’t you going to sing the words?” I heard someone ask off to the

side. I didn’t look at him or answer. And I wasn’t going to sing, either. One song seemed plenty enough. I stood up, surprised that they clapped. “You don’t sing?” Jazz asked as a rap song suddenly blared out. “No … still working on the playing part,” I said, which seemed perfectly logical for a beginning player. Feeling my face turning red from the entire thing, I hurried back to my room to put the guitar away. That was enough of the spotlight for the entire year. I started talking to Marcus to thank him—thinking

at him, I guess—when I realized Kyle was right behind me. “I had no idea you could play. That was cool, Ave.” He had to talk loud over the music, even back here, and managed to do it with a big Hollywood smile. No more Avey? Was that just for Kristina to hear? I stopped outside my bedroom. I did not want him in there. But that made me feel a bit trapped. “Thanks,” I said, keeping it simple. “I’m just going to put this away.” I held it up while nodding toward my room in case he couldn’t hear

me. Good thing the neighboring houses weren’t too close—it also helped that they were rented by fellow students who partied on the weekends. I slinked into my room and hurried back out. Kyle had stepped back but was still lingering in the hallway. He’d been holding a cup before and handed it to me now. “A drink for the musician.” He leaned in to talk, smiling at me … and it felt like the smile he used to give me. “Thanks,” I managed. Was he making amends for before or making a move on

me? Nervous as hell now, I slid past him. It wasn’t like I needed more to drink, but it did give me something to do with my hands as we returned to the party. I took a sip, watching him walk away, and wondered if the wine was making me think all these weird things. No. There’s something different about him tonight. Two couples were dancing—moving close together—so I went over to the counter and snacks, hoping to sop up some of the alcohol flooding my system.

Yeah, I was feeling the wine. I should have paid more attention to how much Kyle poured for me. Or what he added. Shit, I can’t believe I didn’t think about that. Be careful, Ave. Jazz leaned toward me so I met her halfway. “What’s with Kyle tonight?” She gave me a conspirator look. So it wasn’t just Marcus and me that noticed. I glanced across the room at Kyle and instantly regretted it. He looked right back at me. I shook my head at Jazz, and

a second later realized Kris might have seen the whole exchange. I turned my back to Kyle. “Weird. It just figures …” “What? Now that you and Nash are an item, Kyle’s getting flirty?” “Yeah,” I lied. I played with a nacho chip. I’d been thinking something else— now that Marcus was in my head, I was noticing other guys noticing me. But Kyle? “He likes playing games,” she said right next to my ear. I leaned back to give her a questioning look.

“You know what I mean. He flirted with Kristina when you and him were together too. He thinks he’s some kind of king with his harem.” Whoa. So everyone saw him for what he was, except Kristina and me? I risked a look over my shoulder to see him grinning ear to ear with his buddies. Marcus was right; Kyle was totally going for a Tom Cruise look. Turning back to Jazz, I erupted into giggles. She reached to tip my cup her way and looked in. “He didn’t slip you anything, did he?”

Instead of answering, I looked in the cup again and set it on the counter. Jazz grabbed it and dumped it out in the sink. “I’m keeping an eye on you tonight, girl.” She just about shouted the words. A face appeared between us—one of the guys I didn’t know—and he grinned. “Me too … dance with me.” He grabbed my hand before I could answer, or even before I could decide, for that matter. A new song started, the one that asks over and over, “Are you gonna spend the night?”

Mr. Tall and Blond grinned about it as he pulled me to face him, his hands on my hips. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and grinned back at him. Why not have some fun? It’d keep Kyle away. He leaned close to say, “Jasper.” “Avery.” “I know. I’ve been watching you.” I laughed, probably because I’d been drinking. Apparently it’s attractive these days to tell people you stalk them. He might have even put that song on. It was someone’s MP3 player, after all, not the radio. We moved to the music and I let

my mind go blank except for the beat and the feel of him moving with me. I could sense other people moving around us, like we were all a part of something together. Guess this guy doesn’t know about Nash. Oh—that’s why I’d been feeling separated from my friends and my life. Marcus. Stay gone! Let me have fun! Are you drunk? I leaned against Jasper. The room was dark and crowded enough that I didn’t think anyone would notice. Our

bodies pressed together. I was dimly aware that his hands were roaming a bit. Why didn’t I care? Was I a little drunk? The song changed to something faster. Jasper stepped back and said something that I couldn’t hear. I felt a hand on my arm and turned, only to run into Kyle. I literally body bumped right into him and he caught me in his arms. I wasn’t sure if he’d meant to do it at first, but we started moving. “Just one dance!” he yelled, looking over my shoulder. I looked back to see Jasper nod at me, but I didn’t look long

enough to tell if he cared about Kyle grabbing me. Wait—I was dancing with Kyle. I made a quick attempt to look around for Kristina but of course I couldn’t tell where she was with so many people dancing. Things were spinning and waving. Kyle pulled me against him and I rested my head on him, mostly because I wasn’t too stable on my feet. Still, even with my head all foggy, I felt all of him against me. Marcus? Where are you? I heard him talking but his voice

mixed with the music. I felt his frustration but couldn’t figure things out. Kyle was talking in my ear too … “Why do you have to be so hot?” Did I hear that right? I lifted my head and found my mouth about in inch from his. I stepped back, bumping into someone. Jasper. I turned to him, away from Kyle, and yelled, “I need to sit down!” I think he said, “Done dancing?” on the way to the couch, where we all but fell together in the corner spot. I laughed too loudly at that, and it wasn’t even

funny, and finally caught sight of Kristina. She was dancing with Kyle now, so maybe she had noticed all of that. Jasper’s hand on my leg brought me back to my here and now. I rolled my head to look at him. “I kinda have a boyfriend,” I said. Kinda because I wasn’t really sure where Nash and I stood with each other, but it was a commitment of some kind, and I didn’t date around while seeing someone. “You don’t seem to care too much.

Why should I?” His hand slid higher up my thigh. “I do care.” I pushed his hand off my leg. “Dancing’s one thing, but …” He pushed off the couch, I think with a huff even though I couldn’t hear. Strange that Marcus hadn’t been here, throwing my fist around. Seemed like you handled that one on your own. Jasmine flopped on the couch next to me, but just long enough to say, “Dance with me!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me back to my feet. We threw our

hands up in the air, getting into it. Jasper had someone new already, I noticed, so I didn’t break his heart. Kristina joined us, screaming, “Ladies rule!” We danced hard till someone turned down the music a while later. People were either leaving or sneaking off. Luckily everyone knows the one hard rule of our house is people stay out of my room. Jazz, Kris and I fell onto a couch, laughing, and then talking while the party wound down the rest of the way. I had no

idea what time it was when Jazz yawned. “Yeah, I better get to bed before I fall asleep here,” I said, trying to get up. Jazz moved too and I heard Kris say she’d get me. Kristina slung my arm over her shoulders and we started back toward my room. I called goodnight back to Jazz, trying to give her a look of thanks for watching out for me that night. Halfway down the hall, Kris started laughing. “You shoulda invited Nash over tonight … he could hold you while

you’re sick.” “I am not going to be sick!” We reached my bed and both of us fell over. It took some rolling and wiggling but we ended up lying side by side, looking up at the ceiling in the near darkness, laughing. “Thanks for telling Kyle to be nice to me,” I said, which sobered me up in about a second. Why had I said that? Now she’d really wonder about things, if she saw us dancing. She mumbled something without lifting her head, sounding a bit drunk, but also like she

wanted to avoid the topic. It was almost funny how quickly my buzz was going away. “Back when I was dating Kyle, did you like him?” I asked. It was utterly silent for a minute before I realized she was starting to cry. “You did?” I rolled to face her, surprised even after suspecting it. “Did you steal Kyle?” “I’m so sorry, Ave. I did. I did but I didn’t mean to. It just happened. He was so nice to me.” She stopped abruptly. A minute later, she said, “You have been

mad at me all this time?” Told you, didn’t I? How could I answer her? I hadn’t expected to get it out of her so easily. Then again, it’d almost been entrapment, the way I asked when she was messed up. Maybe I didn’t need to ask in the first place, but my asking would make it hard for her to say anything about the way I’d acted tonight. The way Kyle acted, you mean. He was hitting on you, babe. “Who told you?” she asked, an edge to her voice.

Marcus. Ha. Should I try explaining? I wanted to tell her about Marcus, I think, but not like this or right now. “I’m not exactly sure when or how, but I think I just saw it, in retrospect.” “Ave?” She was waiting for me to get mad. I was too. Maybe it was the alcohol, but I didn’t care at the moment. “Yeah?” “You don’t hate me?” “No.” I should hate Kyle for being such a womanizing prick-head, but I should have warned her about him too. You could still warn her. Tell her

about tonight. I can’t do that, Marcus. I can’t hurt her like that. That’s hurting her? Telling the truth? I opened my mouth but didn’t say anything. Then I lay there silent for several minutes, feeling like I stood at the end of a diving board. Our breathing synchronized, both fast and nervous. “Kristina?” It sounded like Kyle calling her. She slid out of bed and whispered goodnight, the way she’d done so many

times before, but I wondered if we’d ever do this again. *** I woke up feeling … hung over. I burrowed down into the covers and hid under my pillow, but something told me things wouldn’t get better on their own. Marcus? Not feeling so good … Not much of a drinker, are you? “I’m not old enough to be much of a drinker! Now tell me how to fix this.” What makes you think I know how

to fix a hangover? Christ. Okay. Water, Ibuprofen, and toast. I struggled out of bed and toward the bathroom. “Does Tylenol cut it?” I looked at my medicine supply, thinking it shouldn’t matter which medicine I used. Ibuprofen if you have it. I dug a little deeper into my medicine and found a bottle. I also had Ritz crackers in my room and opted for that over going to the kitchen and making toast. I grabbed a glass of water and nibbled crackers while sitting in the computer chair. Normally I loved my

Ritz with hot chocolate, but not today. I crawled back into bed. Thankfully the house was fairly quiet. Just a low murmur here and there, the TV flicking on and turning down, the toilet flushing. The subtle sounds lured me back to sleep. *** Feeling better? For a moment I thought only about how smooth and nice his voice sounded, and then I realized I felt pretty good.

“Yes, thanks.” Nash is tearing your phone up … “You don’t sound like you want me to jump up and answer him,” I said. Marcus didn’t answer, and I reached for my phone. Nash wanted to know if I was free that night. Hoping I’d feel better by then, I texted back that we could hang out. “Marcus, are you mad about last night?” Should I be? What are your rules on this one? I laughed despite everything, then

pulled myself out of bed. I took a shower and went out to the living room to help clean up. Actually, no one had started yet, so I picked up trash, put the cans in a bag to recycle, and washed counters. I was cutting up the plastic beer can holders when Marcus laughed. What are you doing? “I don’t want them to get stuck on a turtle or something.” Seriously? “Yes, seriously, it happens. These wash out into the ocean and get stuck on animals.”

Huh. We were still talking when Kristina walked out in a tank top and pajama pants, yawning. Her hair was puffed up pretty high today, but still in tiny ringlets. “Word! That was crazy last night!” She went to the coffee pot and started a pot. “Don’t think I’m running out to Starbucks right now.” We slipped onto the stools and watched the coffee start to drip. “So … um, you know that guy Jasper?” I asked. She had to think for a second. “Yeah.

Don’t worry about it, Ave. No one’s going to tell Nash. It’s not like you took him to your room or anything … right?” “Uh, you helped me to bed, remember?” She tilted her head. “Maybe, vaguely.” She found that funny. I laughed, relieved. If she didn’t remember that, maybe she didn’t remember our heart-to-heart about Kyle. So you’re going to let her off the hook? What do you want, I asked him, for me to jump all over her? She’s not

saying anything about me dancing with Kyle last night. Marcus about threw up.

Chapter Fifteen

Marcus So I was a good boy. I was quiet while Avery cut up the plastic beer holders, took out the trash, and even freaking hung Kyle’s sweater on the coat rack. She took a shower and talked to Nash on the phone while I practiced

calm breathing in the corner of her mind. I tried not to listen, but it was hard not to notice how Nash sounded a little too curious about her night. I got the impression he’d heard about her dancing with other guys. Maybe he knew about Kyle. That had to confuse him after Avery shared the truth about Kyle. Well, I shared. For her own good. She left for the store without saying anything about it to me. Not like she needed to discuss things with me. Her life and all. She could flirt with anyone she wanted to. She could dance with

anyone she wanted to. I didn’t have any say in what she did, and I didn’t have any right to get angry or even care. I didn’t care in fact. I didn’t give a rat’s ass what she did with her life. Hell, if she wanted to date Nash and screw different guys at drunken parties, she had my blessing! Fuck! Screw it. I couldn’t do it. But how the hell was I going to do anything about it? I’ll tell you how. I wouldn’t let her mess around like this anymore. Who

cared if she was confused. What about me? We’d reached the little Safeway and recycled beer cans before I noticed where we were. She walked into the grocery store feeling a bit sluggish from the night before, not worrying about me. We passed a teenage girl and I whistled. The girl jerked her head back, did a double take, and hurried out. What the hell was that? Just a little flirting. You know something about that. What’s up with you?

Dunno. Guess I wanna have a little fun too, since we don’t seem to have any standards and all. She huffed out a breath and stopped in front of the bananas. Marcus, do I need to leave the store? Or are you going to let me shop? Not sure I care either way. Not like I can eat in here. But check out the ass on that chick over there. She surprised me by looking, and then asking, So that’s your type? No, it wasn’t. I tried not to tell Avery that, even as a nice coating of guilt

washed over me. I didn’t answer and she went back to shopping, but she tried to avoid aisles with people in them. Then, when she was intent on choosing a box of crackers—because it’s a life-or-death decision for her—a hot girl about Avery’s age walked by. Taller, more blond than Avery, and a boob job that said she was trying to impress. (Ya really don’t need that much.) I turned Avery’s head and made her say, “Bonjour belle.” The chick looked back for a second, her gaze swept up Avery, and she turned

around with a curious smile on her bright red and perfectly lined lips. Ohhh —didn’t see that coming! “Hello,” the woman said. Avery had no idea how to handle this. I burst out laughing, making it even harder for her to think. The woman wasn’t sure what to make of Avery’s wax figure impression and slowly turned around. She looked back twice before turning the corner, though. I tried to tap down my laughing. Ave, babe, you could have some fun with that one! College is the perfect

time for experimenting, right? I got the icy treatment for the rest of the shopping trip, except for the long look Avery gave the beer case. Bet you miss beer, don’t you? And snowboarding? And playing your guitar? Yeah, you can kiss all that goodbye. You know about kissing life goodbye, don’t you, Avery? I sneered the words, unable to stop. You think you can be cold all the time so you won’t end up like your dad. You think you can avoid that kind

of pain again if you steer clear of any guy who actually enjoys life and wants to have fun. She stopped by a shelf, reaching for something, but I don’t think she even saw what it was. Then she started humming. What the hell? She hummed along with the stupid song playing in the store and went on with her shopping, ignoring me. It was the first time she was able to do that. When we came up to the register, she picked the longest line, and the only one with a male cashier. He was close to

sixty with little glasses and a smile, and he checked us out like we’d stepped back in time and gone to a mom and pop store on the corner. That didn’t help Avery’s mood. Outside, she threw herself into the driver’s seat, and barely got the door shut before hissing, “You are acting like a two-year-old!” Two-year-olds probably don’t get as horny as I do. I just couldn’t quit! She stopped with her hand on the key, and asked, “Is this about last night?”

Bingo, I thought, but kept it to myself. It didn’t feel good to realize how transparent I was acting. “Marcus?” We watched a guy in a suit walk by with his face down over his phone. A young blond mom went the other way, bouncing a cute baby in front of her, talking with a giant smile. I didn’t want to say anything. I like it when she talks out loud to me, like I’m a real person in her world. I’d accepted the frustratingas-hell fact that her world was my only world.

“Marcus?” I sighed. Maybe it’s about last night. “Why didn’t you just say so?” And say what? I wished I could pound on something. Or hit some 360s. Or take Avery back to her bedroom and rip her clothes off. No, that’s not how I’d do it at all. What should I say, Ave? I hate listening to other guys flirt with you. I hate it even more when they touch you. I think I might plow my fist into Nash’s face. Or Kyle’s. Or the dickwad

from last night. I can’t handle this. She groaned and tipped her head backwards, closed her eyes and rubbed her face. “And what do I do about it?” Stop dating. I threw it out there in anger. She didn’t respond. We sat and listened to the muffled sounds of life outside of the car. Seemed like we both liked to talk in the car. The way it cocooned us away from the world made us feel more normal. I want to make you something. She opened her eyes.

Go back in and get me a few things? I want to make you dinner. It was something I could do, something that would be for her and not just me wanting to snowboard or play music. I felt her struggle over it, but her hand reached for the door handle. “You’ll behave?” she asked, a warning in her voice. Yes, ma’am. I was busy trying to remember my ingredients. An hour later, we were back at the house, standing on the back porch while

Avery tried to light the barbeque. “I don’t think this thing has been used in a while,” she said with an irritated growl. She tried to brush the corrosion off the gas burners down in the bottom. We’d seasoned and wrapped salmon in the tin foil. It was set on the side of the grill, waiting. She got the burners to light and put the fish on, then turned down the gas like I said. Back inside, I walked her through cutting up avocados, tomatoes and cilantro for the salsa, then adding a little lime. Next she cut up the cabbage and wrapped the tortillas up to warm up

on the grill. “So can you really cook?” she asked. “Or is this your one dish to impress chicks?” I thought about it, trying to remember anything else I could make. Cold cereal came to mind first. Not a good sign. Wait … I knew how to bake, grill and fry chicken. Chicken Marcella. Stuffed Chicken. Avery laughed. “I’m seeing a theme here.” She opened a bottle of orange pop and took a long swallow. No, I can grill a mean steak too.

Backyard barbeques. Cold drinks. A few clouds going by. Chilly spring air on our skin. Seems like your friends should be here, ya know? “Yeah. It’s just gotten so complicated to be around them.” Well, this dinner will fix you up. She smiled, getting up from the wicker chair to go inside and get the other ingredients. When the fish was done, she put together her taco and sat on the back porch to eat. “These are amazing!”

The fish and tangy salsa blended together into perfection, the way I knew it would. Out on the horizon, the sky grew hazy and purple as twilight came on. I would treat you so much better than Nash ever does. I’d take you to a candlelit seafood dinner on a balcony, with flowers, music, an orange sunset, and the best food you’d ever eaten. I’d dance with you someplace classy. I want to take you places. “Places?” Foreign places with tropical palm

trees and white sand beaches. Then somewhere with snowcapped mountains and little hut villages. Then out to sea. Europe. All over the world. Ave shook her head slowly. “I don’t think you’ve lived a normal life.” There’s so much more out there, Avery. We should go see it. If only we’d met some normal way. “I know,” she whispered. “Life seems to tease me that way, always showing me what I could have.” Images of her parents flew through her mind—her dad’s wide smile and her

mom’s oh-honey look. Then I saw Kyle and Nash, in different frames, different times. Even Kristina came to mind. Ave, baby, life isn’t about losing everything. “It isn’t? You can say that from where you are?”

Chapter Sixteen Avery The next morning I woke up paranoid and deleted my Word file on “The Problem,” just to ensure that no one could find it, if someone actually snooped on my laptop. It was Sunday, late morning already, and I didn’t have anything on my to-do list for the day, which left me feeling anchorless and

floating. Dim light filtered in through the sheer white curtain. It was a drizzly, wet day outside. I leaned back on my headboard, wearing a long gray T-shirt that I liked to sleep in, the laptop in front of me. Then, since I didn’t feel Marcus lingering around, I googled “women in snowboarding.” I’d been trying to figure out what kind of woman Marcus would date in his real life. Whoa. I found more info than I’d expected—lots of photos too. He said things about liking the natural look, and I guess I could see

why. The photos were girls and women who looked naturally beautiful: strong, healthy, long hair, big smiles with nice teeth. Maybe I was buying into a stereotype … but I still weighed myself against it and wondered if I made the cut. They looked way more confident than I could remember feeling. I stared blankly at my laptop screen. It wasn’t like I thought I could actually work on anything, but thinking about doing something was supposed to help. It didn’t. I closed the laptop and set it on the floor.

Kris knocked—she was driving up to Medford to shop with Dawn. Why don’t you go? The very last thing I wanted to do was listen to Dawn prattle on. “No, thanks,” I called since she hadn’t opened the door. “Sorry. I want to catch up on sleep.” “Okay, see you later!” Their voices and laughter faded until the front door slammed shut. When I was a kid, a hummingbird flew in through our open front door and tried to escape out a window. We tried

to help by shooing it back out the door, but it kept going to the window, throwing itself against the glass until it finally just slid down and lay on the windowsill. My mom let me carefully pick it up and take it outside. The tiny bird was fluorescent green and hot pink and so beautiful. It was like a mini work of art, lying in the palm of my hand. As soon as I was out in the sunshine, it immediately flew away. But now I know exactly what that little bird felt like when it gave up and lay down.

So … what are you saying? You’re accepting this reality? I jumped—I hadn’t expected him to intrude on my personal moment. “Do you have a better idea, Marcus? You don’t want me to tell anyone, and I can’t find anything that helps. Except … a concussion started all of this … what if?” No! Babe, that’s crazy. And there’s no reason to even think it’ll fix things. “Why not? This doesn’t make any logical sense.” PROMISE ME you won’t do

anything to yourself. I sighed in response and slid down under the covers. *** Avery? I rolled over so I could stare at the wall under my window. The light had changed, slanting in differently, as if it was much later in the day. Six, actually. Huh. I’d slept most of the day away. Sweet pea? Tiger Lily? Come on, life isn’t that bad. I’m sorry about the

store. Okay? I’ll be quiet from now on when you’re out doing things and talking to people. This was so unfair for Marcus. I rolled over again and looked at the guitar across the room. We could play. My phone buzzed as I thought about it. See, you can go out with Nash. It’s still the weekend, right? Go live a little. “Marcus …” Go look at your texts. I mean it. You need to do something. This lying around and moping is worse than—

“Ha! Yeah, right.” I sat up. Marcus wanted me to hang out with Nash? Hanging out isn’t so bad. It’s the making out that makes me want to puke all over him. But you can just tell him you have a cold sore and Herpes outbreak, so all you can do is talk. Not going to happen! I grabbed my phone and stopped short of turning on the screen. “If you make me say anything like that to Nash—or anyone else, for that matter—I will NEVER play the guitar again, or take you running,

snowboarding, anything. Got it?” He sighed. You’re no fun. “Yeah, well, I guess I’ll go have fun with Nash then.” Only when I started to call Nash did I realize Marcus had cheered me up. I almost ended the call but Nash picked up. “Hey, Avery. How’s it going?” “Oh, good,” I said, when it hadn’t been. “What are you up to? Are you free tonight?” “Sure. What do you want to do?”

Actually see Marcus. I cut off my sigh to say, “Want to go to a movie?” That sounded simple enough. Marcus stepped to the forefront of my mind with an image of him and me on a blanket in the park, under the leafy Maples, as he gazed down on my face. Nash hadn’t answered and I panicked. Had I said something about that image out loud? “Sure, okay.” There was hesitation in his voice. “I’ll be over in about half an hour. Does that work?” I glanced at the clock. That would

give us fifteen minutes to drive to the theater to catch a seven o’clock movie. “That’s perfect.” I said goodbye and got off the phone, a funny feeling settling in my gut. He knew something—either about the party, or Kyle, or Jasper or the trip Kristina was planning. I sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over with my elbows on my knees, to get over the drowsy feeling the nap had given me. So I haven’t figured it out yet. What do you like about Nash? “Um, wasn’t that you that encouraged me to call him and go out?”

Okay, fair enough. I’m not trying to get you to stay home and all, but I’m curious. He’s the opposite of what you dream about. “I dream about guys?” Maybe you should go get ready. He had a point. I was still in my long pajama shirt and hadn’t taken a shower. I threw my hair up and hopped through a quickie shower. Marcus never answered my question and actually stayed out of the shower. Apparently he followed the rules when it suited him. I changed into a fitted black V-neck

shirt and skinny jeans with my favorite long boots, then I put on mascara and makeup for a change and smoothed my hair with the flat iron. Kristina would flip if she knew I could get ready so fast. Pausing, I stared in the mirror. Not sure if I was just looking at myself or making sure Marcus looked. It felt like a staring contest after a minute, and then the doorbell rang. Marcus must have meant it about staying back and giving me space. Strange. I opened the front door and Nash and

I both broke into a big smile. He had dressed up in a dark shirt and slacks. Completely naturally, I stepped into his embrace, our mouths meeting in one of those perfect fifty-fifty kisses: it wasn’t him leaning in or me reaching. We both wanted it. Isn’t that sweet? Marcus’s voice came through as a soft whisper. He was trying to hide himself away and stay out of the picture. It was a nice gesture, in theory. I still heard him whining about my heels. Nash pulled back. “We should get

going if you wanted to go to the next movie.” “Sounds good. Did you check the listings?” Outside, he opened my car door for me. As we left, a beat of silence passed and he asked, “You didn’t check the listings?” Hmm, I should have thought of that. I pulled out my phone and we talked about the options before picking Divergent. It had just come out so the showing could be full already, but I didn’t care too

much about what we saw. “How’s your weekend going?” he asked while driving. I looked out the side window for a beat, considering how much to tell him. “Pretty good. I stuck around the house mostly. Kristina had friends over and they left a big mess, like usual. But I got the house mostly to myself yesterday.” “Yeah?” He acted distracted and it made me think either he’d heard rumors or I was over thinking things out of guilt. Maybe he’d heard about the coast trip. There

was no telling what info got out to everyone with the way Kyle and Brandon liked to talk. It was getting hot in the car and I turned the fan up. I decided to take the long way around all of this. “Do you have plans for spring break yet?” I asked as casually as I could, then watched his reaction. Just frigging ask him! Crap. Marcus was here, watching all of this. Nash looked over with raised eyebrows, looking curious and optimistic. “Not really. I mean, I have

things I could do, but … did you want to go somewhere?” He knew about the trip somehow. That made it easier and harder to tell him. “Kristina is renting a house on the coast for the next few days. She’s taking Kyle and Dawn’s taking Brandon. They invited me and thought I could invite you.” The phrasing came to me as I spoke. It was their idea. I was just going along with it. Nash didn’t answer— maybe he was thinking it through, so I rushed on. “I know it’s short notice. So it’s fine if you have plans already.” That

gave him an easy out. “Oh. Cool.” He scratched the back of his head. His voice sounded like he was on the verge of saying more. I waited. Then, “So … after what happened between you and Kyle, you can hang around him? I don’t get it.” “Well, Kris is my best friend. And maybe he’s changed.” Really, I didn’t have a good explanation for it, except that I was willing to put up with a lot. Nash tapped on the steering wheel. Maybe he wanted me to say I wanted him there. But for some reason, I didn’t

want to sound so eager about it. And … oh, god, he probably thought I was saying I wanted to be together, like I was ready for that. I could visualize Marcus slap his hands over his face. Just say, “Hey, I’m going to the coast. It’d be cool if you came. So you wanna?” And leave it at that! “I mean, it’d be great if you can come.” I hesitated and decided to get everything out there. “There’s only so many rooms … and I know we’re not, like, together together. So I don’t want to put pressure on you. That’s not what

this is about at all. I just thought we could go together and hang out.” “Oh …” I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or just thinking it through. Why couldn’t he get excited just once? Because he’s Nash. And he probably thought you were togethertogether, as you put it. “It’s not that expensive, either, since we’re all chipping in. Just thirty-six bucks a night. A little over a hundred for the whole trip.” We’d reached Medford. I hoped he answered before we went to

the movie. “Yeah, it sounds great.” He gave a small smile, what I was officially dubbing the Nash Smile. So had he said yes, or had that been a polite work around? “So I can tell Kris we’re going?” I asked, feeling stupid but needing to clarify. “Sure. It’ll be fun,” he said. I filled him in on the rest of the details as he parked at the theater. As we walked toward the theater, I asked him if he’d been to Bandon much, where we’d

be staying. He hadn’t, and started telling a story about a trip there, but Marcus started asking about the Oregon coast. I nodded at Nash while trying to think at Marcus, Can’t answer you right now! Inside, Nash ordered a giant popcorn for us to share and a large Coke. I usually skip the popcorn and get a pretzel, but I wasn’t feeling like making a fuss over it. Didn’t you tell me pretzels taste like camel piss? Since you’ve tasted that and all?

Only little pretzels. Now shhh! When we were sitting and watching the previews, Nash wrapped his arm around my shoulder and leaned close to press a kiss into my temple. “I missed you.” I leaned into him, debating what to say for too long and the moment passed. Did he mean this last week, even though we’d been talking on campus? Or did he mean these last two weeks when I’d been acting weird? But I still wasn’t sure anyone had noticed—the only really weird thing was when they found out I

could play the guitar, and even that wasn’t that odd. Maybe all of this was in my head. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, willfully feeling Nash against me. Here and now. Then I felt Marcus lurking. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to for me to feel suddenly split and confused. Still, I didn’t move away from Nash. I needed to feel someone next to me, holding me, caring about me. Why did it have to be so complicated? I didn’t ask for this or do anything to deserve it. (Did I?)

It turns out I didn’t have to move or say anything for Nash to pick up on the change. Maybe he could sense Marcus too? No, that was completely crazy. And I was only two-thirds crazy. Or maybe three-quarters. We sat close together for the movie, and when it ended, left holding hands but not saying anything. Since the beginning of this school year, I’d been daydreaming about being with Nash, and in my fantasy, everything was easy. We clicked, like I did with Kyle. We could laugh and talk and share all kinds of things.

Instead we were being quiet, the way people are before breaking up. At the house, he parked and asked in a quiet, flat voice, “Do you want to go for a walk?” “Sure,” I said, trying for an optimistic tone, like I wasn’t picking up on the tension at all. I got out and waited for him, and then we walked down the street side by side. Until that moment, I had thought the evening went well enough that we could keep going, pretending. Now my heart rate picked up and my stomach tightened. Oddly, I was

relieved to feel emotion over a possible breakup. That meant I cared. Wanting to break the silence, or start this dreaded talk, I asked, “So, is something on your mind?” “I’m just wondering what’s going on in your head.” If only he knew! “I … kinda have been too,” I said, my voice apologetic. He let that sit in the air for a few minutes before he sighed and said, “It’s just we’re talking about going to the coast together tomorrow, and I haven’t

been sure about how you feel about me.” Talking about? Not planning on? “Nash …” I wanted to reach over and take his hand, but didn’t. I stuck my hands in my coat pockets to keep them warm. We’d known each other for a while now, and I liked to think we could trust each other. Maybe I could trust him. Don’t, Avery. Just don’t. It didn’t go well with the crisis hotline, remember? “Do you like someone else?” Nash asked. “I know you said it’s been over for a long time between you and Kyle,

but it’s hard not to wonder. I just want honesty.” “Kyle?” Hopefully my expression looked incredulous and not the surprise I felt—I’d been thinking someone else meant Marcus. “That was forever ago.” He watched the sidewalk right in front of us as we walked. “Is there someone else?” “No.” I softened my voice and turned to him to say, “No. There isn’t some other guy.” Marcus didn’t say anything to that but I silently apologized anyway.

Nash and I stood looking at each other under the streetlight, and he looked reluctant to accept my explanation. For a second, I thought he was going to say something, and then realized he was waiting on me. “I’ve just felt … as if … ever since my accident, I’ve had this feeling there’s someone else in my head. I’ve been all mixed up.” His eyebrows shot up. The streetlights shined down, throwing shadows on his face, but I could feel the shock. Disbelief. He didn’t step back but

I bet he wanted to. His reaction was actually very subtle in comparison to Marcus having a meltdown in my head. I had to push him away and focus on Nash so I could hear his response. “Um, what do you mean exactly? Like you feel like someone else?” he asked. I didn’t like the way he was studying me. “I don’t know exactly. Maybe.” I shrugged and then laughed. “I guess I’ve been feeling confused about things … but I like you, Nash. A lot.” I tried to

read his eyes but couldn’t, not in the harsh downward slant of light on his face. Then, he stepped closer and reached for both of my hands and leaned down so his forehead rested on mine. Feeling close to tears, I closed my eyes, chewing the inside of my cheeks. Why, why, why. Things would have been perfect if I didn’t get that concussion. Nash moved to kiss my mouth, just a short, sweet kiss, and then pulled me against him and wrapped his arms tightly around me. There was an edge to his embrace, a neediness that I wouldn’t

have expected from him. I hugged him back, hanging on, feeling like we were holding each other up. What if … what if things were complicated inside his head too? Maybe he had some of his own issues. “I’ve liked you a long time,” he whispered. I tried to answer back, “Me too,” but my throat closed up. He might have understood me. I nuzzled my face into his chest, wanting to get lost and forget everything else. We stood there for so long I think I heard someone walk by.

“I thought maybe you were stringing me along,” he said, “so it confused me more when you asked about going to the coast with you.” I shook my head against his chest. “I’m a little mixed up, but …” I never say the right thing. I started over with, “I hope I haven’t messed things up with you.” “No.” He stroked my hair. I shivered and he pulled back. “Let’s get you inside.” He took my hand and we walked back to the house. Maybe we had gotten back to some kind of normal.

Maybe he would forget what I said. Marcus had been right, it didn’t help anything. As we approached the house, I wondered if he’d just naturally come inside, or if I would need to invite him. I wanted his arms around me again, but I was afraid of talking more. I was afraid of how much he might need me. But I also wanted that. Desperately! But my life had gotten so strangely complicated that I would just hurt him, and me. We slowed down and reached the bottom steps. He leaned in and kissed

my lips. “I’m going to take off.” “Kay … Nash, thanks for listening and understanding.” “My pleasure. See you tomorrow.” He ran his knuckles down my cheek and held my gaze with his dark eyes. Then he watched me go up the steps and inside the front door. I peeked through the small window and saw him get in his car and drive off. Well, Marcus, you got your wish. I hardly kissed him, and now he thinks I’m a freak.

Chapter Seventeen When Nash said he’d be by at twelve fifteen to pick me up, he meant exactly eleven fifteen. He pulled up and honked, which wasn’t exactly Nash-like, but I realized he was worried about time. Apparently he didn’t like being late, even if we weren’t on a strict schedule. Kristina and Dawn had gone to Kyle’s house earlier, and Brandon was meeting them there so the four of them

could carpool. Kris and Dawn had left behind sweet, peaceful quietness when they evacuated, leaving me to pack one bag without having to give my opinion on which outfits they should take. Normally, I’ll admit I get into that kind of thing, but it was hell with Marcus cracking jokes all along the way. Anyway, I was more than happy to drive over with just Nash so I wouldn’t have to juggle as many conversations. To be completely honest, I was surprised that he didn’t call and cancel that morning. We didn’t part on the best of

terms last night for two people going on a three-night trip to the coast. Bright sunlight met me when I went outside to Nash’s station wagon. It was newer than mine and he wanted to drive. “Just one bag?” This was how he greeted me. “Am I breaking some girly rule?” I asked, laughing, right before I wondered how many bags he’d brought. I threw my bag into the backseat and jumped in. Before I could lean over to kiss him, he pulled away from the curb. “I still need to get gas.”

I glanced at the backseat again because I’d noticed his things there. It was a laptop case. His other bag, or bags, were in the very back. “I should have brought something to write with,” I said. I’d been thinking about walking on the beach and getting away from anything related to my life. “Yeah, I have a couple story ideas.” He pulled into the gas station then so he didn’t elaborate. We filled the gas tank and stocked up on snacks for the drive over. We were at the cash register when I noticed he had a

bag of pretzels. Yuck. “Don’t those make crumbs?” he asked, nodding toward my raspberry filled white doughnuts. “I’ll save those for after we get there.” Geesh. I almost agreed with Marcus, and wondered (for a second) if I’d make a mistake by going on this trip with Nash. But when we walked outside, Nash carried the bag and threw a big smile at me, the biggest smile I’d seen on his handsome face.

How is he handsome when he hardly ever smiles? Thanks for ruining the moment, Marcus. You’re very welcome. I could totally see him grinning about it. I suppressed a laugh as Nash and I got into the car, and suddenly a cloud seemed to lift from around me. I could do this. I could enjoy this trip with both of them talking to me. Nash turned his MP3 player on through the sound system, we broke open the snacks, and talked

while driving north. “So you know Ettore, right?” he asked. “What’s his story? I heard his family has a lot of money.” “We’re friends…and he does have money, but one time he told me he doesn’t like how people treat him when they find out his family has money.” I suddenly missed Ettore. He had a bigger world view than my other friends. Most college students were caught up in gossip, making as many friends as possible, partying, and future career stuff. Ettore talked about travel, what

life was like in different parts of the US and around the world, and odd things like the differences in clothing styles in different cities. I tried explaining that to Nash. After a while, I noticed he’d grown quiet. Maybe he doesn’t like hearing about other guys. Good point. I changed the subject. We reached the turnoff and started West. It’d been a while since I’d been to the beach. As crazy as it sounded to my own ears, I had a sense that getting there would make things okay again.

Okay meaning no Marcus in your life? Sorry… A few minutes later, Nash reached across and took my hand. My heart flittered but Marcus flinched. I can’t handle this. You’ll have to. Deal with it. Marcus started singing—more like yelling—and stomping around in my brain. Nash continued talking but I couldn’t hear him. In a panic, I turned toward the window like I was coughing into my elbow.

STOP! Marcus, we have to do this. I can’t handle him touching you. Please stop. You owe me. You have to let me have one normal happy weekend. Please. “Avery?” I jerked around. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I had a tickle in my throat.” He glanced down at our hands before concentrating on the road again. I had a death grip on his hand. Holy crap. I tried to relax and get the heat out of my face. “I sent off that story I told you

about,” Nash said, tapping the steering wheel with his fingers. I had to keep my eyes on the road because the route to the coast is curvy. “The alien frog idea or male aliens coming to earth?” I asked. He liked to write sci fi, fantasy and some dark, weird stuff. You’d expect that looking at him, I think. Marcus did his typical snort, then quickly apologized. Sorry, sometimes I forget you can hear me thinking. “The one with an all male race of

aliens coming here. I called it Intergalatical Dating Dilemma.” “Oh, cool, the aliens came here but their race only has men, right?” “Yeah, their women all died. So there’s a third world war breaking out here when they arrive…” He got worked up talking about it. Marcus tried to be quiet for a change but still made a few comments. I had to tell him, the whole men-only aliens had been my idea. And Nash ran with it? You don’t mind?

I wouldn’t have written it anyway. So I don’t think I care too much. And I have to admire him for getting stories written and out the door. Nash glanced over and said, “Have you gotten back to working on your screenplay?” I hadn’t done much of anything since Marcus popped into my head. “I think I need a stronger idea.” “What’s the purpose of the story?” he asked. That was it. I wasn’t sure. I tried explaining and realized I sounded lost.

“I want to write something meaningful, something that shows people it’s okay.” Nash glanced over again but didn’t say anything. That’s really cool, Ave. Nash still didn’t answer so I asked, “Is that stupid?” “No, not at all.” But maybe it had sounded like I was putting his science fiction down. “I think I’m more of a realistic writer, drama instead of fantasy.” “That works. People need it.” A few minutes passed with us just

watching the maple trees fly by. They’d leafed out recently with soft, baby leaves. I love the freshness of spring. Lush greenery lined the road all around us, from the ferns and moss to small bushes. “So, I’ve been wondering…” Nash waited for me to look his way. “You haven’t talked about your family or parents at all, even when I did, and Kristina said something about your parents being gone.” Oh boy. “Oh? When was that?”

He lifted a shoulder like it was nothing. “She just said something to Kyle that I overheard. He was asking her something that I didn’t catch.” Kyle was asking about me? Marcus commented on that while Nash glanced at me twice in a row. “They died,” I said, knowing I couldn’t get around it this time. So you’re going to tell him? “I was in eighth grade and they were killed in a car accident.” “I’m so sorry,” Nash said with genuine concern. But somehow I felt he

had known that. Had Kristina told Kyle? She didn’t know much about what happened, only that they died and I didn’t like to talk about it. Maybe she googled it and found more details online, if she was that curious. “You didn’t have any siblings?” he asked. “No, it was just us.” Until it wasn’t anymore. Then it was just me. He was itching to ask more so I added, “I put it behind me, especially when I came to college. It was a chance to start over and not be the poor kid who lost her

parents.” “Still hurts though,” he said quietly and squeezed my hand. I’d wanted to drop the conversation right there, until he said that. He had sounded happy when he talked about his family, so why did he sound like he understood? I normally let people be— don’t push them so they won’t push me —but I couldn’t stop myself this time. “Have you lost someone too?” I asked. Marcus didn’t like where this conversation was going, and he

particularly didn’t like me sharing with Nash. “Not family.” He hesitated for a long minute. “I was with someone for two years. Cheyenne.” I felt funny hearing that while holding his hand. We rounded another curve and my stomach turned sour. He wasn’t dating anything this year. I was sure of it. So I asked, “Was that a while ago?” “Last year. We got together our senior year of high school and came to college together. Things fell apart after Christmas vacation…I think she met

someone else.” Whoa. That explained why he was paranoid about me, that and my unexplainable behavior. “That’s pretty serious,” I said, wishing I had something more poetic to say about it. “Sounds like it was tough to go through.” In a weird way, it didn’t surprise me that he’d had a serious relationship. Nash is intense. If it weren’t for Marcus, we would have jumped into a serious relationship and spent more time together. I had been holding back—for good reasons, but a

big reason I couldn’t share with Nash. Maybe he wanted me to be jealous. I felt guilty for analyzing him like that. It couldn’t be that. He just wanted me to know him better so I could understand him. I wanted to ask more, and he was waiting for that, but I saw a sign for a park coming up. “I think I need some fresh air,” I said, pointing. “My stomach doesn’t always like the curves.” “Okay, hang on.” Nash pulled into the parking lot fast and parked, making the car lurch.

I opened my door and paused to say, “Thank you for telling me that.” He held my gaze for a few seconds before I got out of the car. So tell me again why you shared with him and not me? Because I care about him. *** The brown shingle house was huge, and stood tall and stark right next to the sand, overlooking a smooth beach of salt and pepper sand that stretched out in

both directions as far as we could see. Inside, the floors were polished, gleaming cedar that cast yellow, warm light everywhere, and the walls were a creamy hint-of-orange-sherbet sand color. Nash and I were the last ones there because we stopped at the park and then for lunch, and Kristina was waiting on us so we could all sit in the hot tub together “We almost missed the sunset!” she screamed, racing down to her room to change. The front door had taken us into

the second story, with the kitchen, living room, and huge deck outside. The bedrooms were all downstairs. Nash took our bags into our room while I stole another look at the Pacific Ocean. The sun was just now starting to set. It wasn’t that late. But that was Kristina for you. It’d been quiet in my head… Marcus hadn’t spoken to me in over four hours. That was hardly any time at all, at least in the context of my other relationships, but it felt like forever when it came to Marcus. I’d hurt him.

I’m sorry. Marcus? “I’ll go change,” Nash said behind me. “Okay.” I didn’t turn around. The sky changed shades, growing brighter. Marcus hadn’t answered me…funny, wasn’t it? I’d been telling him to take a hike over and over, and now that he finally did, I instantly missed him. Marcus? What do you want to hear? That I care about you too? But it’s impossible and frustrating and tearing me apart?

Something like that. I want to know you feel all of this too. I let out my breath, so relieved it almost made me cry. We watched the sunset until Nash walked up behind me. Before I could turn around, he gathered my hair together and ran his hands down it, one after the other. I closed my eyes, fighting traitorous tears. “Ave, Nash, you guys coming?” Dawn’s voice whizzed by as she ran out the door. “I’ll just be a sec,” I said to Nash, since Dawn was gone, before going

downstairs to my room. I still had tingles on my scalp and down my back from his touch. Changing didn’t take long, but I took one look at the single bed and had to have it out with Marcus. What am I going to do while you get all hot and heavy with him? My breath and heart rate stumbled into a sprint. Oh, hell no. You gotta figure something out. You are not getting down and dirty with him. Hear me? Not while I’m in your head!

“You’re telling me what to do now?” I slammed the door on my way out, for effect, and ran up the stairs. So you’re going to sleep with him simply because I told you not to? I stopped short of going out the sliding glass door. I shut my eyes in a panic, but just for a second, and then I told Marcus, you don’t know me very well. That made him pause. Oh… Right. You’re not going to sleep with him until you’re ready. I admire you for that, Ave. And I get

why you’re scared of letting someone in. Did he? It looked windy outside. The sky burned orange and red over the shimmering water. Darker blues played in the ocean, spreading, as night approached. Everyone else had beat me there, and now they waited in the hot tub, silhouetted by all that glorious color. Kyle and Kris were cuddled on one side, Brandon and Dawn on the other, and Nash sat, back to me, on the edge in the middle with his legs in, watching the

sunset. It looked like a big hot tub but I wondered if it were big enough for all of… the drama. I can do this, remember? I slid the door open and stepped out, getting instant goosebumps in the brisk wind. “Ave!” Kristina squealed, holding her beer up high as Kyle squirted her with water. “Get in here so the guys can pick on you instead.” “Cold, cold, cold!” I scuttled across the back deck in my big blue towel, then threw it across the handrail with the other towels. I wore the black bikini I’d

bought at the end of last season (half off!) and watched Nash appraise me head to toe and back up again, a gleam coming into his eyes. I felt a flush of pleasure at his reaction, but as I stepped into bubbly hot water and slid down to escape the wind, I noticed Kyle checking me out. He was taking a drink of his beer while looking at me sideways. “I grabbed one for you,” Nash said, handing me a bottle. I thanked him and took a tiny sip before setting it on the edge. I’d never made a big deal about not liking beer.

“Oh, I meant to grab some wine on the way over too,” Kyle said. “Guess we can later.” “Or we can.” Nash wrapped an arm around me and pulled me onto his lap. I leaned back on him, fitting my body to his, wondering how we fit together as a couple. Images and feelings flittered through my head of lying in my bed, kissing Nash. I rested my head against his, looking out at the waves washing up the beach. The hot water relaxed me and heated me back up. It was the first time I could remember watching the beach in

March and not being cold from the wind. Then I realized I was leaning against Nash’s erection. Shit, really? Can the others see? Don’t you wish. Actually the jets and my body are hiding it. I started to chance a look at Nash but couldn’t bring myself to do it. So high school of me. Sometimes I hated how I didn’t want to venture into… that kind of stuff. Just need the right man. “Can you believe the view?” Dawn said. “It doesn’t get any better than this.

You’re so lucky you grew up here, Ave.” “I never get tired of it.” I sighed and settled into Nash. I’ve done this before. Sat in a hot tub? That wasn’t a very big clue. No, sitting here with friends like this. Friends? An image took over my mind of Marcus in a hot tub with a girl on his lap. It didn’t feel like his memory, though. Just my jealous reaction. Jealous? Who’s sitting on some guy’s lap as we speak? A guy with a

boner? “Okay,” Kristina broke into my thoughts. “Where do we want to go for dinner?” I turned around to join the conversation and caught Kyle watching me in the fading daylight. “Somewhere we can all drink,” Dawn said, pushing out her bottom lip in a pout. “Ohhh! I forgot we have a few youngins with us.” Kyle flicked a small wave of water toward Dawn. She and I shared a rare look and rolled our eyes.

Yeah, we were younger by a year. Granted, there was a pretty big milestone between twenty and twentyone, but I was a week away. When’s your birthday? April first. No fooling. They were still discussing dinner ideas so I threw in, “There’s always take out.” An idea was forming—maybe if I drank enough, I’d be too wasted to mess around with Nash. Or fake it. Please fake it. I felt sick with you last time you drank too much.

Dawn took a big slug of her beer. “There’s that Chinese place on the way into town.” “Sounds like a plan.” Kyle grinned —at me, it seemed. Hey Ave? You know you’re thinking like a girl with the whole get drunk thing, right? Kyle was talking to me too. I looked right at him and still couldn’t make out what he said over Marcus. The sun had slipped away, and sky was almost black now so I could hardly see his face. “Oh, leave her alone!” Kristina

slapped his arm. He pushed her back playfully, but hard enough that she slid over and landed halfway on me. I squealed, splashing back at both of them. Brandon got in the water fight. Kris and I started whapping our hands in front of us, cat fight style, laughing our heads off. We both lurched around, trying to get a better aim at the other. Somehow I ended up on Kyle’s lap. His hands came up around my waist. So wrong. Ave, babe, whatever you do, DON’T get drunk tonight.

But we’re all friends…it wasn’t that weird, was it? I fell back against Kyle’s chest so Kris and Dawn had room to sit down again. Nash had a murderous look on his face until he realized I was watching him. Or maybe the darkness just made it look like that. I couldn’t tell now. There wasn’t any way to slink of Kyle’s lap without looking like it bothered me so I stayed, even though I was overly aware of how he felt under me. His hands were still on my hips. Apparently I’m the only guy who

doesn’t get to feel you up. A gust of wind blasted my face and shoulders, making me shiver, so I slid down deeper into the water. It probably didn’t look good… I kept my eyes on Dawn as she talked, sounding a little on the far side of tipsy. Brandon stood up and leaned over the edge, reaching for something on the deck. Small lights flicked on above us, surrounding the hot tub. In the new light, I caught an evil grin between Kris and Dawn just before they both slapped Brandon hard on the ass.

He flipped up so fast he threw a beer bottle over us. “Damn it!” I laughed so hard I almost slid under the water. Kyle’s hands came around me harder, moving up my body. Then one of his hands moved to cup my breast. I pushed off the bottom of the hot tub, trying to move out of his reach, but it made me slid up his body. “Well, hello there,” he said right into my ear. Fucking asshole! “Dude, wrong girl,” Nash said, actually reaching over to take my arm

and pull me his way. I laughed like maybe I’d been drinking too, hoping to play it off. Kyle laughed, too. “Just joking around.” “I thought we had wine coolers.” Brandon stood up in the middle of everyone, triumphantly holding two wine coolers up toward the sky. “And what do I get for it? Abuse.” He shook his head, sitting down, and Kyle reached for one. “Um, think those are for the ladies!” Kris reached too. “Um, yeah, I was going to open them

for you two. Brandon, you grabbing one more?” Dawn did not need another drink, but we were here to have fun. At least Kris and Dawn were—they could drink to their heart’s content and not worry about going too far with their guy. Remember that later! It won’t work to say you’re too drunk for sex. That’s the exact—Never mind. Just don’t to do it that way. I agreed with Marcus but the wine cooler went down a little too easy. We finally settled back and relaxed, looking

up at the stars and snuggling with the right guys. I snuck a look at Kris. She had one arm up with her hand curled around Kyle’s head, as she leaned back on him to smile up at the sky. If she thought anything about Kyle and me, she knew how to act. Nash was another matter. Under me, he felt stiff, and he hadn’t opened another beer. “Holy shit!” Brandon popped up straight and pointed. I sat up and looked, expecting to see a group of naked girls running down the beach. It was the moon, giant and yellow, rising up from

the sea. “It’s huge!” Kristina breathed. “Why thank you,” Kyle quipped, followed by a slapping noise. I ignored him and stared in wonder. “Let’s make a wish,” Dawn said. Brandon laughed at her but I wanted to make a wish too. Should I wish for Marcus to disappear? Things to work out with Nash? Things to settle down with Kyle? For Marcus to be real? I wish I could meet you face to face. Kiss you on the mouth and hold you all night.

Me, too.

Chapter Eighteen We soaked in the hot tub until we felt sick. Brandon and Dawn bailed first. I kept looking up at the sky full of stars, feeling like they could see what I was thinking while Nash held me on his lap. Marcus and I were both picturing this scene with him in it. I no longer questioned life with him talking in my head—it was my normal now, my exciting secret.

“Ready to make a run for it?” Nash asked by my ear, startling me because I’d gotten so engrossed in my fantasy. “Ready, set, go!” I hopped out and grabbed for my towel to wrap up before I hurried inside. Nash and I raced to our room, and I picked up my clothes and walked into the bathroom to change. As I pulled off my wet bikini and hung it up in the shower, I heard Nash moving in the room, changing into dry clothes. I wrapped up in a plush towel, then laid a hand on the door, feeling so mixed up

and split in two. I can tell you what the males in this group are thinking about. That doesn’t take a kindergarten degree! I laughed so suddenly I snorted. “Avery?” Nash said from the room. “I was thinking about out in the hot tub. That was pretty funny when Brandon threw that beer.” I started to change and realized that hadn’t been the nicest thing to say. Nash had looked prickly out in the hot tub, and that was without seeing Kyle grab me. I opened the door, planning to talk to him about it, but he

was gone. Not the best idea anyway. Just my opinion. What are you going to say? He needs to man up if he wants to keep you. What is it with you men? With a sigh, I went upstairs to find Nash. He was squatted in front of the gas fire place in the living room, watching it burn. “Check this out.” We sat on the couch together and I pulled my feet up. He was warm, inviting me to sink into him. I closed my eyes as his fingers entwined in mine.

This is what Marcus wanted with me. I tried to wrap my brain around that, and picture what it’d be like to be around someone like him. Did he really just jump into things? Do what he wanted in life? Go for it, every single time? Don’t you want to be with someone like that? My dad was like that. I know, Ave. And it scares you. He made a mistake and it cost him dearly. That doesn’t mean things will always end like that after you take a chance.

Sometimes it’s worth the risk anyway. I don’t think like that. Yes, you do. You’re just scared shitless of it at the same time. We all are. “Avery?” Nash whispered. “Are you awake?” I mumbled into his chest, not wanting to admit to anything. “I think they’re back.” That didn’t make sense until the front door opened, filling the house with voices and the enticing scent of hot Chinese.

“Ave?” He gave me a gentle shake this time. I sat up and rubbed my face. “I didn’t even know anyone left.” I looked at Nash and noticed a five o’clock shadow. He must have been shaving before our dates. It bothered me like a moving itch in the middle of my back, staying just out of reach. I got up and helped Kristina unpack the boxes, but my mind stayed on those whiskers. Don’t like a beard? That wasn’t it. In fact, I imagined Marcus with several days’ worth of

growth. Long hair. Him and I had both seen that much of him. It looked good on him. He looked good. It wasn’t Nash’s five o’clock shadow. It was how I felt about him. Kyle and Brandon filled their plates, pausing to shovel big bites into their mouths. Kris and I shared a look, smiling. Hers was probably even genuine. “Nash, you’re missing out, man,” Brandon said around a mouthful of food. “And we’re not saving any!” Nash came over and stood across

from me. From the way he looked at me, there must have been something telling in my expression. This weekend was going downhill fast. Awe, come on. We have the beach outside. The waves. Moonlight. And my friends and Nash to deal with. We ate around the counter, sitting on stools, drinking more beer and wine coolers. I sipped mine, trying to pace myself, while the others tried to get plastered. Except Nash. He poured a glass of water, evaporating my hopes

that he might drink enough to fall into bed and go to sleep. What is wrong with me? “You don’t want a beer?” I asked him, lightheartedly I thought, but he just shook his head. Dawn looked in a little white bag and said, “Looks like we’re sharing fortunes. There’s only three cookies.” “That’s perfect.” Kristina reached over for one and cracked it open. “You will know much luck this year.” She shrugged. Dawn grabbed one, throwing a grin

at Brandon before cracking the cookie open. “We will get married and have lots of babies and stay in love forever.” Kristina covered her smile, sneaking a sideways look at Brandon and then me. Her face turned pink like she was embarrassed for Dawn. When I glanced over, Brandon was red too, but I’m not sure I’d chalk it up to embarrassment. He took the fortune from her and read, “You will enjoy many travels.” Kinda the opposite of what she said. I had a mouth full of food and

planned to swallow it before getting a fortune. Nash beat me to it. He broke the cookie, read the fortune silently before turning to me to read, “You will find favor with a friend.” “Ohhh!” Kristina and Dawn did a little dance as Nash leaned over and kissed my cheek. I played shy and looked down, overly aware of the cold way Kyle watched. Marcus would probably have the same look on his face, if I could see him. You have to see me to know I’d like to knock Nash’s teeth out?

Wow, prickly. Nash ate half the cookie and handed me half. The normally sweet cookie felt stale on my tongue. Then we picked up, throwing the garbage away and stuffing the remaining food into the fridge. Everyone ended up around the fireplace in the living room. I cracked the window to let the ocean’s roar filter in. “We’ll have to do this out on the beach tomorrow night,” Kyle said with a nod toward the flames, then his gaze slid over to meet mine. I wanted to look away but didn’t for a second too long. I

wouldn’t mind a fire on the beach either. It sounded romantic, even with my NashMarcus-Kyle dilemma. Honey, I think the problem is you can’t stand Kyle and don’t like Nash. And you’re stuck inside my head where I can’t touch you. “See you guys in the morning,” Brandon said, taking both of Dawn’s hands to pull her up before they walked toward the stairs together, hands already groping. I waved and felt a sinking feeling. I flicked a look at Nash, who was

watching me. “Ready to go to bed?” he asked. No. “Okay.” We got up and headed downstairs, and I made a point of not looking at Kyle. It was my one victory for the night. Now I didn’t have to know if he was watching me with envious eyes, or actually looking at his girlfriend for a change, or glaring at Nash. I didn’t have to worry about him. I had to worry about Nash. You need to talk to him if you don’t like him, Ave.

We weren’t even all the way into the room when Nash pulled me against him and kissed me. His lips were soft, and I kissed him back for a minute. Once the door clicked shut, I pulled back a little. “I’m going to hop in the shower,” I said. “I don’t like sleeping with chlorine skin.” “Okay.” He gave me a playful swat as I turned away. In the bathroom, I pulled my hair up, striped and jumped into the shower stream before it’d heated up. Wonder if a cold shower would

turn this off. No. I didn’t think anything would calm the acute, physical ache growing inside me for Marcus. Even Nash’s touch made it worse because I kept thinking about Marcus. I felt dirty about it but and couldn’t stop. I want to stand here with you, hold you against me. I needed to get my mind off this. What if I got so turned on I couldn’t resist Nash? That sobered Marcus quick. I stood in the shower until the water cooled off again.

I pulled on a shirt and pajama shorts, cracked the door and stepped out quietly. Nash’s shoring stopped me before I saw he was under the covers, sprawled out on his back. How on earth had he fallen asleep so fast? So fast? Well, for starters, you take showers like a girl. And then he’s a guy. I didn’t feel like getting into bed with him. What had started as a creeper thought built into a mountain. I didn’t like him that way anymore. After a long, bone tired sigh, I pulled on a sweatshirt,

socks and my running shoes. Like how you’re thinking. I slipped out through the downstairs sliding door and walked out onto the beach. The moon hadn’t set yet but it was way over on the other side of the sky. Still, it cast silver light everywhere, glinting off the waves and giving the sand a soft, inviting look. The wind had died away, leaving the musical sound of the ocean to serenade me as I ran. The beach was mine. The world was mine. When are you going to tell him? Oh, shit. How can I do that to him on

this trip? I invited him just yesterday and acted like I was into him. I picked up my pace, flying down the wet sand, racing the moon’s reflection on the water. It sucks but you have to be honest. “Who are you, Marcus? Why can’t we figure out where you actually are?” The wind carried my words off down the beach. I just kept running. That wouldn’t fix this problem right now. Yes, it actually would. If we found you, then I could tell him about all of

this. I could I could explain things to him, and he’d believe me. He won’t believe me if I tell him. No, he’d be mad as hell that you had another guy on the side. I laughed, as best I could while running, which made me stumble. I just kept going, laughing and stumbling, running like a crazy drunk person down the beach. *** “How did all this sand get in here…

Avery? Were you out on the beach this morning?” I rolled over and found Nash learning almost over me. I rubbed my face to find sand scratching my skin. He was right. It was in my hair, on my skin and dusted all over the sheet. “Wow, sorry. I went for a walk and didn’t think to shower afterwards.” Nash slid off the bed, pausing for a microsecond to give me a look before he grabbed his shirt off the nightstand. He pulled it on quickly and went in the bathroom.

Looked a little mad there. Was he? I sorted through the signals and realized with a sudden clarity that I tend to over analyze things. Marcus saw it for what it was: a dirty look. Nash was mad that I’d taken such a long shower last night then made that comment. He sees the writing on the wall. Best to talk to him. Do you have to be so straightforward? Do I have two huevos? Okay, okay, I get it. Nash probably

wants a straight answer too. The shower turned on. So much for talking to him now. I went upstairs to the half bath by the front door. When I came out, I found Kris and Dawn in the kitchen, ready for the day. “Did you guys get up at six or something?” I asked. Then I spotted the almost full coffee pot and added, “Not that I’m complaining.” Dawn stood in front of the open fridge, sighing. “I want to go out for breakfast. Screw the guys.” Kris looked my way. “They went

running...” Eye roll here. “about two hours ago.” Running? I pictured them walking down the beach, talking smack and checking out girls, although there usually weren’t any bikini clad hotties running on the Oregon coast. I reached around Dawn for the milk. We sipped coffee and watched the waves, waiting on Nash to come upstairs. Well, they were waiting and I was procrastinating. I glanced at Kris and pictured the hurt I’d inflict when we talked.

Might as well get one talk over with, and Nash had to be done by now. I rinsed up cup, regretting the coffee now souring in my stomach, and went downstairs. The curtains were slightly parted, allowing only a splinter of light to shine across the room. The rest of the space looked dark in comparison. Nash had already left, apparently out into the beach. I sat on the bed for a minute, homesick. My room had become my sanctuary—it was mine, not a room in someone else’s house but my own space.

I had it just the way I liked it. And right now, I wanted to curl up on my bed and put off all these talks until tomorrow. But it wasn’t going to work that way, so I put on my big girl panties— figuratively—and took a shower. I was out and dressed when I thanked Marcus for giving me space to think. Quiet but not gone. Silently spying, you mean? I got a laugh over that. Marcus called it silently admiring. If only Nash could be a little more lighthearted like Marcus. “Ave?” Dawn yelled to me from

partway down the stairs. I opened the door, my hair still a mess, to find her standing there. “Everyone’s here. We’re getting breakfast. And I’m starving!” “Kay… coming.” I glanced in the mirror and gave myself a look of horror, then pulled my mostly wet hair back into a pony tail and called it good. If Nash was giving me the cold shoulder anyway, it didn’t seem to matter. You shouldn’t have to dress up for him to like you. I pushed some extra hop into my step as I came up the stairs. Kyle, Kris,

Brandon, and Dawn looked natural, like they were all joking around together. Nash stood a couple of steps back, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders curled forward, watching them. His gaze swung over to me, looking much warmer toward me. Maybe even hopeful. I smiled. Maybe we could just make it until we went home tomorrow. Avery… You just want him out the picture. Effing A! You did too, a few seconds ago.

*** Early that evening, I was standing by the window, watching the ocean from the warmth of the house. We’d played on the beach all afternoon, and even after eating out for dinner, I still felt chilled. Nash and I hadn’t talked about what was going on with us, but he must have come around and forgiven me for the cold shoulder the night before. Because you cuddled up with him all day. Marcus sounded bitter and jealous,

and I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t help him either. Yes, the hell you can. Just ditch him. I heard a noise, then Nash came up behind me and slipped his arms around my waist, pulling me back against his solid stomach. His arms and warmth surrounded me and I gave in, leaning my head back against the crook of his neck. “Brandon and Dawn are out in the hot tub, so I’m running you a bath,” he whispered against my neck, and then he left his lips there, burning into me. Heat

fell through my body and pooled. He pulled me around to face him, and the look in his eyes stopped me for a second. I thought I recovered but he took me by the chin and gently lifted my face. “Don’t be afraid.” He had seen that? I met his gaze again and he kissed me. He took my hand and led me up the stairs to the master bathroom. We step inside together and I pulled in a quick breath. He’d lit small yellow candles and set them along the bath’s rim. The tub was halfway full, with bubbles

building magical mountain ranges all over the water, and lavender steam filling the room. He shut the door with on hand, pulling me close at the same time to kiss me more, urgently. He lowered his head and his teeth grazed my neck, making me gasp. When he undid the top bottom of my shirt, I understood…and felt so completely naïve. The bath wasn’t just for me. This isn’t going to happen. I’ll take his freaking head off his body, Ave. Send him away.

My hands pushed Nash back. No! Marcus, no. Anger flashed in Nash’s eyes. I knew I couldn’t fight Marcus and win. And I couldn’t handle that look. I stepped back and turned away, desperate to make this okay. There just wasn’t any way. “Avery, I don’t understand.” He waited with his hands on his hips, and I didn’t miss the bulge in his pants that was quickly shrinking. I stared back at him, feeling like a four year old. “I’m really shy, and…” The bubbles were threatening to overflow the tub so I

turned off the water. Nash didn’t move, and I couldn’t tell if he looked anger, hurt or just suspicious. Was that it? He didn’t believe me. I wouldn’t either. The bathroom was way too quiet without the water running. Nash wilted —his shoulders slumped just enough for me to notice. He nodded and threw a look at the bath and said, “Enjoy your bath.” After he’d walked down the hallway, I locked the door, mostly because I felt exposed. Vulnerable. I heard my breathing before realizing I was going to

cry. It’s for the best. “How can you say that?” I whispered. “You don’t give a damn about my life. It’s all about you now.” I can’t help it, Ave. I can’t step back while… while you do that with him. I can’t. I’m too in love with you. In love with me? Where did that leave me? Is that all you have to say? “I want you,” I whispered, “and I can’t do anything about it. I’m falling for you too, in all these different ways.”

And where did that leave us? We were in this together—totally together but so far apart. Ahh, babe. It’d be the right thing to do to let the water out, but I wasn’t ready to face Nash. I undressed and slipped into the water; he’d gotten the temperature just right. Leaning back, I closed my eyes and let the water’s warmth seep into me, breathing slow, picturing rolling, green hills and puffy white clouds. Marcus pictured me naked in the bubbles. I could see his thoughts and feel

the way he reacted, how badly he wanted to run his hands up my body, feel my curves, drive me past my breaking point. I saw him too: his wild, crazy hair, the glow in his eyes as he looked at me, his full lips ready to kiss my mouth. I longed to have him there, holding my face in his hands the way he did in the car when it broke down, looking into my eyes with anticipation before he kissed me. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine, to find out how he kissed. Would it be slow and teasing? Driving me crazy?

Making me ask for more? Would he eventually give in, unable to hold back, even as I gripped his hair? I could see how he’d lean over me, kissing me, as steam rose off the water. How I’d run my hands up his back and feel his muscles. I wanted his body pressed into me in the water, his arms around me too, pulling me up against him. I wanted us gripped in passion like it was about to shatter us apart, on the edge of dying from desire. Our faces pressed together, his neck in the dip between my shoulder

and head, my legs wrapped around him, binding us together while water splashed everywhere. That sent me falling, gasping—a different heat flooded through me, from the inside out. Sweat broke out on my forehead. I sat up to gulp air, dizzy. Marcus didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. I felt him all around me.

Chapter Nineteen

Marcus Avery dozed off in the bath as it cooled, pulling me with her. I just held onto her, half aware and halfway giving into the numbing endorphin release. She woke us both with a shiver, then tried to pretend I wasn’t there. And of course her

shyness made me grin like a fool. I’d have given anything to pause time right there. Forget about whatever could happen down the road. Who I was. Where I belonged. I belonged right here. She woke up and reluctantly let the cooling water out and started to dress. Ave, I’ve never felt so close to anyone like this before. She paused while pulling her shirt over her head. I know, sounds crazy. How could I know that? I don’t know it, I feel it.

I felt her smile. “Me too. I’ve never talked to anyone else the way I can talk to you, or share things like we do, especially not a guy.” She went downstairs, but a voice stopped her at the top before she walked into view of the living room. “How serious is it? You sound horrible.” Kyle stood by the window, on his phone. “Mom, I can come home if you need help….yeah, but we can come to the coast anytime. I don’t want you to be alone…but I can…Why are you so stubborn? I like taking care of you.”

Wow. Kyle had a soft spot. And maybe we’d get rid of him. Good riddance, asswad! Ave didn’t seem to hear me. I wanted to crack another joke but I felt drained, so I just watched along with her. “Alright, Mom, but if you get worse or change your mind, just call me. And don’t feel bad about it. I mean it.” There was a longer pause and he said, “Love you too, Mom. Take care. Call me tomorrow, kay?” He slipped his phone in his pocket and stood staring out the window at the ocean down below. The

wind was blowing outside but the chaos didn’t penetrate the glass. It was still as stone in here. Kyle sighed and turned around, then stopped short when he spotted Ave. She jumped. “Sorry! I was just going to walk through but I didn’t want to interrupt.” “It’s okay.” He walked her way —swaggered her way and turned on his fake teeth-too-white smile. “I guess you heard that, though.” “Sorry your mom is sick,” she said. “It wouldn’t be a big deal if you needed

to go see her.” Avery seemed to be thinking he’d leave to take care of her, despite what he’d said. It’d give her a chance to talk to Kristina. “Thanks.” He sighed dramatically. “But I don’t need to. She’ll be okay.” Avery’s mind had changed directions to Kristina. She had to tell Kris the truth about him, even if it strained their relationship for a while. Then she’d talk to Nash and come clean. “Avey?” I watched Kyle change as he looked at Avery—his body and expression

turned seductive. It was so obvious I started laughing. I tried turning her body but it didn’t work. She’d froze. I felt her heart rate quicken. Kyle reached to her face, stepping so close he was breathing on her, as he leaned into her. She didn’t want him that close. She didn’t want him kissing her, and it was plain as day he planned to. Ave! I concentrated everything I had, trying to send it into her. All of my energy flooded her body. His mouth

almost touched hers, but her arms came up and shoved him backwards. Kyle flew back, shocked as hell. “Kyle?” A girl’s voice. Kristina. Ave turned her head. Kristina stood in the doorway, one hand on the wall, the other over her mouth, tears pooled in her eyes. Ave looked between Kris and Kyle, gasping, too emotional to say anything. She turned away from them but didn’t go for the door like I expected. Vague but disturbing memories floated up: I was the one who convinced Avery that Kristina stole Kyle.

She stared at the door while I tried to break through to her. She thought something but her voice wasn’t clear. Her voice faded, like a train pulling away from the station. “Ave?” I ran toward her, reaching out. It didn’t help. “Avery!” I could feel myself falling the opposite way, losing ground while she sped away from me. What was going on? The room faded, going black, taking everything with it.

Chapter Twenty Avery The wind moaned against the house, and I realized there was a door for me to escape through. I just needed to move. Why couldn’t I move? Something felt physically wrong. “Krissy,” Kyle started. I heard the apologetic smile in his voice. “Krissy, it was just a joke. Come on, baby.”

Kristina didn’t say anything. I could feel Kris looking between Kyle and me. He probably had that stupid smile on his face. Maybe he believed it’d even work. I gasped, air filling my lungs and burning, like I’d been holding my breath too long. My head spun so wildly I had to close my eyes and lean against a couch arm. Kris finally spoke, and I pushed through the fog, trying to understand her words. “How could you?” A beat of silence. Then, an octave higher: “What were you

thinking?” “It was just a joke. I’ll admit, it was stupid. And I can’t say who started it. We were just laughing, and then she…” He trailed off and I pictured him gesturing my way, implying blame. The awful dizziness drained and I felt myself coming around. I turned just enough to face them without looking at them. “That wasn’t a joke. You’re always playing both sides, Kyle.” Now that I found my voice and feet, I moved through the doorway. The wind caught my hair and blew it around while I

looked for somewhere to go. There was just the beach so I walked a short distance and collapsed down in the sand, crossing my legs and hunching over. Little raindrops hit me all over. Marcus, why did you let me do that? Nothing. He was really mad. I wiped at my nose and realized I was crying. Great. Why didn’t I just step back and say no? Why didn’t I slap him as soon as he walked over? Why did I freeze up like that when I needed to stand up for myself? I could hear Kristina screaming

inside. She thought Kyle kissed me. Or I kissed him. At any rate, she thought there was a kiss involved, and I didn’t speak up for some asinine reason. Nash would catch wind of all this soon. Any moment now. The screaming paused, then restarted in multiple voices. I jumped up and ran back to the doorway. Inside, Kristina swung something back and forth like she was trying to hit Kyle—but Kyle flipped over with Nash on top of him. They both had a fist pulled back, ready. I rushed in, yelling, “Stop!”

Kyle fell backwards, smack into a wall. Nash dove for him. Kyle rolled to the right but Nash caught him, and they rolled and struggled again, sliding across the floor. Kris and I both tried to stop it, but we couldn’t even get close. It was too dangerous. “What the hell?” Brandon ran in behind us, pushing Kris and me aside with one hand on each of us. “What’re they fighting about?” Kris gave him an icy death look which he hardly noticed. Somehow he got in the middle of them and pushed

them apart while they yelled at each other. Brandon threw Dawn a look. “A little help here!” “What could I do?” She’d backed up toward the door to stay out of the commotion. Nash, his face dark red, pushed against Brandon, trying to get at Kyle, yelling obscenities. His veins popped out in a disgusting way. I didn’t look over but I could tell Dawn and was looking at me and then Kristina, trying to figure it out. The more Brandon yelled at them to quiet down, the more Nash

screamed at Kyle. I had thought Kyle was a jerk before… He stepped back, smirking at Nash and holding his palms up as if to say, “So what?” Dawn’s hand on my shoulder pulled me back. This was on me—I had to do something, and quick. I took a step just as two quick bangs sounded behind me. “Bandon Police!” *** Nash didn’t say a single word to me

the entire drive back to Ashland. I stared straight ahead at the rain or out the side window and counted in my head. I reached fifty or a hundred countless times and started over because I couldn’t keep track, but I had to focus on something that would block out my thoughts. Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two… This was the old Nash—quiet, reserved and not sharing his thoughts. Where had that other Nash come from? The emotional one that turned red, his veins popping out of his forehead, screaming at Kyle.

One, two, three… I didn’t even get to talk to Kris. She ran into her room. Seven, eight… ten… One, two, three… Where was Marcus? I needed some sage advice, some smart way to talk myself out of this. I wanted to say something to Nash, some kind of explanation, but he’d been so mad back in Bandon. I can’t believe he still drove me home. Or that I got in the car with him. I didn’t want to stay there with them, though. Nash pulled up to the front of my

house and put the car in park. I waited a second to see if he’d turn the engine off, a signal that maybe he wanted to talk, but he didn’t. What was the use in explaining? In saying Kyle didn’t even kiss me? Maybe this was the easy way out. I stepped out and opened the back passenger door to get my bag, and made a split second decision that I couldn’t leave things like this. “I’m sorry.” He finally turned to look at me—that five o’clock shadow had grown into the

start of a beard, making him look like a different person. Darker. Actually scary instead of just intense. Oddly, he didn’t give me a death glare. “Did this have anything to do with… that voice in your head?” My mouth fell open—I had a response in there somewhere—but it shocked me. That’s what he had been thinking about? “Yeah, sort of,” I said, lamely, almost not caring about how it sounded. “I mean, it did and didn’t. He can’t stand Kyle—”

His eyes were boring into me, unblinking. “How’s the voice feel about me?” I’m sure I gave him a wide-eyed oh fuck look. “Yeah. Well… Avery, you need help. If you really hear a voice, and you’re not making it up, that’s serious.” His tone didn’t have even a hint of question in it, and he didn’t wait for any kind of answer. Nash turned forward again and put his hand on the gearstick. I closed the car door softly and walked up to the porch. For the first

time, he drove off without watching me go inside. Good thing, too. I couldn’t get my key in the lock. My hand shook and I couldn’t see through my goddamn tears, so I sank down into a pathetic slump on the porch. Hello? Marcus? Don’t you want to scream and yell at me too? When had I last heard him? Not during the drive…or when Nash was screaming at Kyle…or when I talked to Kyle? I think it was then. But nothing now? I said his name and tried thinking a few things that’d make

him angry. He wasn’t there. He was gone. I was all alone. Of course I’d lose him now, when I lost Kristina and Dawn. He had never wanted to be stuck here—hadn’t he said so over and over? Yeah, maybe we shared a few special moments, but I’d trapped him in my head somehow and stolen him out of his life. He must have remembered who he was or a way back to himself. Marcus figured out a way to leave me and ran as fast as he could.

Chapter Twenty-One “What the hell?” I heard Jazz just before her arms slid around me. “Ave, honey, what are you doing on the floor? What happened?” Her hair fell in front of my face before I turned into her arms. “He found a way to leave and he did. Just like that,” I moaned into her shirt, probably getting snot all over her. “Without a goodbye.” “Nash?”

“Marcus.” “Whoa…okay. Come inside and tell me everything.” She pulled me up and inside and kicked the door shut. We made our way to the couch, where we sat side by side, her arm around me as I poured out the entire story about Marcus. Well, the story without any shower or bath scenes. Finding him in my head, falling for him when I should have been happy with Nash. “Falling for this voice?” she asked, not exactly judging, but straining for a neutral tone. “Without seeing him?”

“I did see him, in my mind and on paper.” I ran back to my bedroom and grabbed the drawings. A couple went flying so I flopped across the bed to reach one. Jazz came in behind me. I twisted around, sitting up, and held them out to her. After a minute of flipping through the sheets, she said, “Wow, Ave, these are fantastic.” “They’re not mine. I didn’t draw those. He did. He used my hand, but I’ve never been able to draw a decent stick figure. Remember when we drew

characters for our skit last year?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, I do. I’ll agree your creative talent is all in your writing!” She looked at the papers, at me, and then sat down to flip through the pages again, looking more closely at the drawings of me, Marcus, that unnamed girl. Jazz’s gaze popped up for a second, asking a silent question. “Don’t know. Could be anyone, but he didn’t think it was a romantic relationship. A friend, maybe?” She was going through the stack again, throwing glances my way

occasionally, processing not just the pictures but the entire situation. I hadn’t planned to tell her, but it was out now. Hopefully it wasn’t a huge mistake. I couldn’t blame her if she tried to get help for me. “It was Marcus playing the guitar, too. I’ve never even picked one up before I met him.” “How…” “And he spoke French,” I said, pressing on. “I haven’t studied French. I couldn’t make that up in my head.” Please believe me. Without Marcus to

talk to, I might really lose it. “Okay, hang on. I gotta go to the bathroom.” She walked out quickly, going to the hallway bathroom, not mine. I strained to hear if she called anyone, but I didn’t hear her voice if she did. Maybe she texted. I think I saw something online that you can text 911 now. Or she could be texting Dawn or some other friend. She came back and sat down on my bed. “But the voice is gone now? Marcus is gone?” “Yeah, he’s gone.” I needed her, so I

basically needed to trust her with all this. I needed to just keep talking. Keep breathing. I could stay in shock. That sounded so much better than really thinking about… if he was gone. Really gone. Then I remembered the god awful trip. I’d been so flipped out over Marcus I’d actually forgotten about that for a few minutes. I blew my nose into a tissue and said, “But wait. There’s more. If all that wasn’t crazy enough, Kyle tried to kiss me and Kris walked in.” “Are you freaking serious? I knew it.

I knew he was after you, and just because you started dating someone new. He couldn’t handle it.” She realized she was going on and shook her head. “So, I’m a little confused. Kris saw Kyle try to kiss you, and then you ended up here all hysterical?” “She’s mad at me. And him, I hope. So Nash drove me home—without talking—and then that’s when I realized I couldn’t hear Marcus anymore.” I paused as I started shaking. I stopped short of asking her if she thought I was crazy.

“What am I going to do?” I wiped my nose with the tissue and ran my hand over my eyes in a way that would have embarrassed me before I completely humiliated myself and lost Kristina and Nash. Only then did I check her expression. She didn’t look ready to bolt and call the police. “I’m not gonna sugarcoat this,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “We’ll have to figure something out…” I felt a second of gratitude that she said we, but then I tried to finish her

sentence. “About my mental condition….or with Kris?” “I’m not sure how she’s taking this. I mean, you and her sailed over things when she went out with Kyle. You were the one that could have been mad and you were gracious instead. She’s… she’s not like you.” “She’s so sweet,” I said out of habit, and then added, “Oh, yeah, she admitted to stealing Kyle, before we went to Bandon.” “Exactly.” She rolled her eyes while sighing. “I just don’t know. Maybe you

two can avoid each other until things calm down, and maybe things will work out here.” Here? The house. Why hadn’t I thought to worry about that yet? Oh, because my life was falling apart. “Well, I can move out if it gets too ugly.” I listened to a car drive by, holding my breath until I knew it wasn’t Kristina coming home. Jazz looked out my window, preoccupied. “Ave, it wouldn’t work here if you moved out.” She looked at me. “I mean, that’d be fine for you, but we’d have to

find another room mate, and it’s almost summer.” Yeah, that wouldn’t work out too nice for Jazz, Dawn and Kristina. “You said something about that,” I said just as the memory surfaced. Jazz had been the one that came to talk to me, asking if I was sure about this arrangement. I paid almost twice the rent of everyone else, but I got the garage and the room with a bathroom. “Well, it’s not like Kristina can kick me out.” Our eyes met. Oh—I could kick Kristina out. Maybe. Not that I would.

But we were thinking about the smaller problem. I rubbed my face, eyes closed, when it all hit: I had wanted Marcus out of my head before. Now I shook my head, laughing out loud through my stuffy nose. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. The house was quiet enough for me to hear it. She checked the screen and looked at me, and I knew it was Kristina. “I’ll talk to her, okay? Try to smooth things out a little.” She answered the phone as she walked out into the hallway. I didn’t want to listen so I

closed my door. I hadn’t noticed when I left, but it was messy: clothes on the floor, shoes lying around, a bra left to dry hanging from my dresser drawer knob. I’d turned into a guy. After shutting the door, I pulled my top dresser drawer open, planning to take out the picture of my mom. But there were all kinds of papers that I didn’t remember putting there. I pulled them out and sucked in a breath. They were more drawings. Marcus had drawn a picture of me with my mom. Not me as a little girl. But me now.

I fell down on my knees with all the papers. They slipped into an array around me, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking around at them, even as I wiped the tears off my face. There were different drawings of my mom and I together, Marcus and I together, and more of just me. One was nude. Leave it to Marcus. Marcus had been busy, when I was asleep? When could he have done these? Silent sobs shook me. I wanted so badly to look but couldn’t. I couldn’t even breathe for a minute, and then I fell into

bed and curled up, pulling a pillow over my head. *** “Ave?” It sounded like Jazz had been knocking a while. I called out sounding like a dying frog, but she heard and came in. It was dark and, thankfully, she left the light off, so just the hallway light shone in. Had I left those drawings all over the place? I watched her shape sit in my computer chair.

“The plot sickens.” I pulled the pillow under my head to listen. “Hmm?” “Kris is ballistic, and not just because of what happened. I guess she asked Kyle if they could get a place together and he said no.” “What? Why in hell would she want to live with him? Doesn’t she get it?” “She’s ignored his bad traits from the beginning.” Jazz paused, but it sounded like she was on the verge of saying more. “You know, I should have told you this sooner…”

“What?” I sat up in bed. “We knew something was going on when you and Kyle broke up. You were upset and wouldn’t say anything to her or me. I saw you come home to the room one night, and… I told her something was really wrong. I should have done something. I’ve regretted that ever since, especially since he’s around with her all the time.” Now I was doubly thankful for the darkness. “Oh.” I wasn’t sure what more to say on that subject, so I moved on. “She’s mad at me about all of this, and

not him?” “I know, it doesn’t make sense. I’m guessing she’s really mad at him but doesn’t want to lose him. Listen, do you want to go get dinner?” She stood up. “You need to eat. And get out of here. At least, it helps me after a breakup to keep moving.” A breakup? As well meaning as Jazz was, I couldn’t classify losing Marcus as merely a breakup. Part of me was missing. Maybe she meant Nash. “No thanks. I just need to veg out

tonight,” I said. She didn’t want to leave me alone but I wouldn’t budge. Then, just as she stepped out of my door, I yelled, “Wait! They’re not coming back here soon, are they?” “Don’t think so. Kris and Kyle are fighting, but they were at the beach house still.” *** I waited until three a.m. to get up. Everything felt oddly loud without Marcus, like a vast silence surrounded

me, and every tiny noise made me jump. Feeling like I needed to do something—anything—about Kristina, I texted her. Kyle tried to kiss me. I pushed him away. End of story. I’m sorry about all of it. It worried me: if she could overlook this, what else would she let him get away with? I paced three steps back and forth, holding my phone, but Kris didn’t reply. It was the middle of the night, after all. There’s a quietness and stillness at

this time of night that always made me look at my life. It’s why I don’t like being up now. I didn’t want to float along in life’s current anymore. I’d made my own decisions, choosing a college and starting out on my own, but it didn’t feel like I’d made the life I wanted. The road ahead of me was dark and hidden, and I wasn’t ready to think about it yet. I lit a candle and pulled out Marcus’s guitar. Sitting on the bed, I tried strumming, hoping his song would flow through my fingers. It didn’t sound anything like it. I remembered some

chords and could make it sound somewhat music-like, but it wasn’t Marcus playing. Strange that I had retained some of his talent, but this was just a weak reflection of what he could do. I hope the boldness I’d felt with him with me wasn’t fading away too. My heart aching, I slid the guitar under the bed and picked up his drawings again, flipping between the pictures of us. Turned out, Marcus was too good to be true—hot and smart, funny and charming, athletic and

thoughtful. He was also all male. He didn’t apologize for who he was. But I got to see so many sides of him, how he could be a stupid, horny guy and then a caring person, all in the same hour. Now these drawings were the only things I had left of him. “Marcus? Where are you?” I curled up in bed, and that was pretty much where I stayed for the rest of spring break. Jazz ran interference, calling Kris and talking to me. Some things I discussed with Jazz, but other things I couldn’t tell her just yet. I knew,

deep down, I would leave. I wanted to run as far and as fast as I could from my life. It didn’t make sense. I had my friends and school before Marcus showed up. Why couldn’t I just go back to that? But I needed newness. I wanted the life I had pictured Marcus living: traveling, exploring, learning. Living. *** Kris never texted back. I heard Kristina come home that Sunday. Other cars had stopped, but I was sure I heard

Kyle’s, and then just a hint of Kristina’s voice. A hushed conversation ensured between Jazz and Kristina, and I think Dawn too. Would Jazz tell them about Marcus? I mostly trusted her not to, except that I might tell if I were in her shoes. Wouldn’t I? If I had a friend in serious trouble—like hearing voices—I’d get help. I was asking a lot of her not to tell anyone, and it made me sick. Last year, we were all such a tight knit group, besties forever, girls rule! Kris, Dawn, Jazz—they were my world.

In high school, it was all about hiding under the radar. Not getting noticed. Keeping a low profile in whatever house I lived in. Everyone acted like they wanted to help me, the poor girl without any parents, but really they were either morbidly curious or looking for something for themselves. I left all that behind to go to college. It was like winning the lottery and getting to start a new life. I arrived in Ashland a different person, ready to feel like I was a part of something. Now…now it was all gone. I should

care. I should run out to talk to Kris and tell her Kyle was coming onto me. I should tell her how he treated me back when we were dating. Deep down, we were still best friends, and I owed it to her. She needed me, even if she didn’t want to talk to me. She needed to know what kind of person Kyle was. I climbed out of bed, feeling like I’d been mummified, and went to my door. As I opened it, I caught sight of Kris walking quickly out of her room and toward the front door, a stuffed bag slung over her shoulder, her curly hair fluffed

instead of forming tiny ringlets. She was more stressed than I’d realized. “Kris!” I walked down the hall, expecting her to wait. She stepped outside and slammed the front door.

Chapter Twenty-Two I hid from everyone for the next week, skipped all of my classes and locked myself in my room if anyone else was home. When I didn’t think anyone would notice, I went out to run, usually in the pouring rain. I tried everything that could possible bring Marcus back: running, a twenty-five mile long bike ride, drinking a beer… I stopped short of picking up a guy. I thought about it. I

wanted to try it. It seemed like that would make him mad enough that he’d jump back in my head and do something about it. But I just couldn’t do it. There was one other thing I hadn’t tried. It was the next thing on the list. The next Monday morning, Jazz tried to talk me into going to class, but I told her I just couldn’t muster up the energy. “Ave, you can’t just give up,” Jazz said, looking sick with worry as she stood halfway in my doorway. “You can’t live in bed.” “I actually have some things I want

to do instead.” I sat up like I had a plan. Actually, I did. Just not one I could tell her about. “Promise?” “Promise.” Jazz sighed. “Ave, it hurts now, but your life is more than just some guy. Yeah, I know, not just some guy, but still, a guy.” I swung my feet to the floor. “You’re right… I just needed some time to say goodbye.” “Okay.” She held my gaze for a second before leaving. I felt horrible for

bringing her down with me, and I even knew how pathetic it looked to be this torn up over a relationship. By all accounts, it’d been a relationship with an imaginary man. Still. I’d been lying there thinking in the middle of the night again, and felt like Marcus was there, telling me to get up. I’d whispered his name, expecting him to answer…and when he didn’t, I wasn’t sure if I’d just been imagining things or realizing what he’d tell me if he saw me like this. Even if it wasn’t him prodding

me to get up, he would do that. I had to do something. Wasn’t I a problem solver? I used to think I could figure my way through anything, and that was when life was just about surviving and getting through. That’s not what I wanted to focus on anymore. The other thing was, I couldn’t move on until I knew Marcus was okay. What if he hadn’t gotten back to his life? What if he was stuck in some kind of in between or something? There had to be a different ending than just losing him in an instant.

After Jazz left, I got in my car, expecting to hear Marcus. It was our special place where I’d felt free to talk to him out loud. Nothing happened. I was starting to wonder if I had made the entire thing up. Maybe it had really messed me up when I lost my parents. The stress could have been building all this time, and then the concussion broke everything loose. It wasn’t a totally illogical theory, especially when compared to what I actually believed. I drove down the freeway and out to Mount Ashland, waiting for Marcus to

pop up and tell me I was crazy for even thinking about this. It’d rained most of spring break, which was snow in the upper passes. The ski resort had opened again. It was cloudy and misty now, which suited my mood just fine. At the resort, I rented equipment and headed out, not noticing much except that other people were laughing and talking together. Everything there would have made me think of Marcus if I let it, but I kept on track. I was on a mission. I wanted to replicate the day of my accident. Nothing else had worked; it

was the only other thing I could think of. I went at it with a vengeance, flying down too fast and a taking a jump. It wasn’t that big, but as soon as I lifted off I knew Marcus wasn’t here to help me. I landed hard on my side. A few times I sorta landed a simple jump, hitting the snow wrong but not completely stopping. While I went up and down the hill, the sun came out and went away again, bringing snow. I needed to try something bigger. I saw it coming. It was the same jump I’d crashed on during that trip. I

had way more speed this time going into it. I soared even higher, way too high to ever land this. I wiped out big time, rolling and sliding to a stop. But I didn’t hit my head. How had I even managed that the first time? I uncurled and laid out flat, breathing hard up at the dark gray sky. My breath made little clouds in the tiny snowflakes fluttering down. This wasn’t working any better than playing the guitar, so I was hot, sweaty and frustrated. And still alone. “Hey, you okay?” a voice called out,

coming closer. I rolled my head to watch a man skid to a stop close by, but not close enough to spray snow on me. He eased over to me, crouching down. His snow glasses covered the top half of his face. His nose dominated the other half: one of those Roman noses with a big bump. “Hello?” “I’m okay.” I didn’t move though. “You sure? That was one noice wipe out.” He pulled up his visor and scanned up and down my body. “Nothing bent funny?” It hadn’t been that bad.

“I’m fine. I just needed to catch my breath.” I blinked a snowflake out of my lashes. “You’re getting it.” “Huh?” It sure didn’t look like it. “I’ve been watching you. Gotta say, you’re dedicated. But you’re getting it.” He’d been watching me? For how long? I wanted to glance around but couldn’t while flat on my back. He hopped out of his board and bent over me, holding out a hand. He had a friendly, open look about him. I took his hand and let me haul me up.

“Wow, you’re a light little thing.” I laughed, imagining Marcus popping in my head to say the guy was flirting. My laugh hurt. “I’m Cricket.” “Cricket? I’m Avery…and apparently needing a cooler name.” He laughed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and nodded back up the hill. “I’ll walk you up. Make sure you’re okay.” “Thanks.” I felt a little stiff as I began to walk, probably from biffing it all day long. We walked ten paces while

I went over everything I did—why didn’t it work? “I have a question for you,” I asked. “Shoot.” We lumbered a few more steps up the mountain. “Do you happen to know a snowboarder named Marcus?” “The Marcus?” He shook his head in admiration. “Dude. I wish. You do mean Marcus Fields, right? Did you know him?” Did you know him. I stopped so abruptly I fell forward and caught myself with one hand. Cricket

stopped, his face pinched into a squint to look at me. “Gold medal in Sochi. Top competitor. You didn’t mean that Marcus?” Gold medal. Traveling the world. Competing. Marcus had been right. He was driven. “Yeah, actually. That Marcus. You do know him?” “Well, know of him.” He looked down. “Man, it’s sad. Such a loss. Real shitty after what he did for our sport.” Cricket looked up at my face. “Oh… Sure you’re okay?”

Such a loss. The lodge was right ahead of us. “Yes, I’m good. Thanks so much for your help!” I tried jogging up the snow, which had to look great from behind, and gunned it back to the rentals to return my gear. Maybe Marcus had been a ghost? Didn’t that mean I could get him back? Did I want to do that to him, if I could? Marcus Fields. I branded his name into my brain, chanting it until I got back to the car. I just two bars of service. Hopefully enough to search online.

Marcus Fields. It took my trembling hand forever to tap it out. “Marcus Fields Took a Downturn Tuesday Evening” read the headline. “Field’s family is unsure of survival.” Tuesday? That was almost a week ago. I slumped back in the seat, confused. So he had been alive somewhere else while living in my head. What did this mean? I sat staring out the window at steel colored clouds for a good hour but couldn’t make myself start the car or even move. What if he was gone for

good? Hey, Babe? Who’s gone? I jumped. Shook my head. I’d been waiting and listening so hard that I couldn’t tell if that had been real. I waited several long, quiet seconds before whispering, “Marcus?” Yeah? It feels like you’ve been sitting here forever. What are you moping around for? “You’re really here?” What’s the matter? Did Nash dump you? “What the hell! You’re pulling an

attitude at me? You up and left me and you’re throwing a hissy fit about Nash?” I felt him pull back, stung. Why are you so mad? “Because you just left me.” But… I am confused. I left? Relief washed through me, feeling warm and hazy, like a buzz. He hadn’t left me on purpose. “I thought you were dead,” I said as evenly as I could. “It’s been six days.” Dude… wow. Where did I go? And you’re not mad I’m back? Because that’s what you wanted all along.

Not all along, I realized. At the beginning. He’d wanted the same thing back then. Not anymore. You know that. I told you I’m in love with you. We were practically together back there in that bath. Energy crashed into me. I couldn’t sit still. So I jumped out of the car and walked in the parking lot, to the next car over about fifty feet away and back. I paced it a couple times, wanting to run around and scream, but trying to control myself.

Is this anger? What’s going on? Talk to me. Finally I sat back in the car but left the door open, needing the cold air. “There’s an article that says you… ” I stopped, pulled in a shaky breath, and shook with a sob. I curled up into the driver’s seat, wanting to stop the tears and awful noise but I couldn’t. Marcus waited as long as he could stand it. What article? “Your name is Marcus Fields,” I whispered. “And you’re a professional snowboarder.”

Images avalanched down on us, pouring through my head, taking both Marcus and me on a journey through practices and trail runs and competitions. I landed in his head, experiencing his life. We were on the board, going into the halfpipe. 180. Bam! Sliding down the halfpipe to the other side. 360. Bam! Marcus took the whole course, hitting jumps on both sides before shooting out the other end and out into flat snow, then he flew down the flats,

remembering his life. What’s the date? “April… fifth.” I’d lost track of the actual date, to tell the truth. “Why?” First, we missed your birthday. Dude. Gonna have to fix that. And second, whohoo, the season isn’t over! His spirits soared to new heights. At least I hadn’t seen him like that. Avery, we can have it allllll! He pictured a long jump—no turns or flips, just sailing through the crisp, mountain air. My heart about exploded. I just

couldn’t let go and feel all of that yet. “First things first.” I picked my phone up from the passenger seat and went back to the search results, scrolling down so we could see articles from a month ago: “Marcus Field Wins Gold in HalfPipe, Bronze in New Sport Slope style” “New Half Pipe Champion!” “Giant Upset as Golden Boy Marcus Fields Blows Away The Competition” “Just Weeks After Winning The Gold in Men’s Half Pipe, Marcus Fields In Serious Crash”

His mind jumped to light speed, connecting clues, filling in blanks and remembering. I saw some of his memories flash one after another. Open that last article. I wanted to know the truth but I didn’t want to at the same time. “Fields is making news once again. First he won the gold medal in men’s halfpipe snowboarding, but just three weeks later was injured in a head on collision, sending him into a coma. The days turned into weeks and friends and

family were left to wonder if this was the end of not only his career, but Marcus as they knew him.” I couldn’t read any more. Marcus was sober too. We could check for newer articles to see what happened since then, but… “You’re back, Marcus. You can’t be dead.” But I’m in a coma. “Hold up. You’re real. This wasn’t all some hallucination. Oh. My. God. Marcus, you’re real. I’m not crazy! I’M

NOT CRAZY!” I threw my arms up, hitting the car ceiling on accident. My phone landed in the crack between the seat and console. But, HELLO, I’m in a coma somewhere. “Which means we can fix this.” I drummed the steering wheel with both hands. “I’m a problem solver. I always figure out a way. Remember what you told me—if we can do this, we can do anything. Remember?” Ave, then let me read! He was pacing in my head, winding

up with explosive energy, and I could feel his confusion and total tornado of emotions as he scanned the search results. Marcus was out there somewhere with a body. Alive. Real. Touchable. Heart racing like a hummingbird, I googled his name again and hit Images. Hey, hold up, I need to read those other links. “In a min.” I wanted to see him. You’re seen me, Ave. “Not seen seen. And, hello, you’ve seen me naked.”

Uh, not exactly. “Uh, well, you’ve seen more of me than anyone else ever has. In the shower and bath counts as naked, even if you weren’t there to use your hands the way you described.” I didn’t think those words out before speaking, and we both started picturing things we shouldn’t right now. “I want a photograph,” I told him. I loved seeing him in my mind but I wanted to see if that matched up with reality. It did.

Marcus was real and mindblowingly good looking. The search page filled with mid-air shots of him suited up and on a board, or jumping a bike, or flying over a course on skis, but the first photo was a professional head shot, from the waist up. First impression: hot guy in a leather bomber jacket, about my age or a year older I’d guess. Oh, god. I hated that shoot. I like doing them out on the slopes. Action shots. “Shut up and let me admire.” Warm,

auburn brown hair, long and a little wavy, curling a little around his ears. His brown eyes gazed steadily at the camera, one eyebrow slightly higher, with a knowing look on his face. What did he know? It was almost flirtatious. Nice full lips. Narrow nose. He had the slightest of stubble on his square jaw. I went back to a regular search, wanting to learn everything I could. He competed at Sochi in the halfpipe, winning the gold. The next articles were about his accident. It sounded serious but his family had kept the details

general. Could he have been disfigured? If I could see him again, would I care? No. I would know if… “One step at a time. We don’t know anything. We just have to figure out the next step.” If I could see him again. See him for the first time. See him at all. I had to wipe sweat off my forehead. I was more shook up over this than finding him in my head in the first place. I leaned back and closed my eyes… This changed everything. Then, snapping back to attention, I

kept searching, trying to figure out more details. He lived in Colorado but traveled all over the world to compete. “Hey, you have a Facebook page,” I said, clicking the link, the electrical excitement buzzing through me so fast my entire body was shaking. I got so excited I scrolled down the page too quickly. It stopped on a photo of a blond girl in a winter coat, knit hat and snow goggles resting on her head. “Who’s that?” Oh…uh, Ellery Hollingsworth, the first female to land a 1080 on a quarterpipe. She’s doing big things.

And? We’re just friends. Most serious snowboarders meet one way or another. Don’t know her that well. But, scroll up… There’s recent posts! The top one said, “Once again, thank you all so much for your support. It means the world to us. It’s been a long night, and I’m crying as I write this because I see so much love poured out here. You’re keeping me going. XX Jen.” Who the hell was Jen?

Chapter Twenty-Three Jen—that’s my sister! That’s who I drew. Remember the drawing of that girl? I remembered even more vividly how jealous and snarky I’d felt. And remember how I told you I just wanted to hold you and kiss you? Yes, I did. I closed my eyes again and felt a tear roll down one cheek. I had to ask, “You’re not mad that you’re back

here?” What do you mean? “You were mad as hell when you first woke up here. You must have gone back there to your body for a while. That’s the only explanation…” I lost steam as something came together. One of the articles said he took a turn for the worse on Tuesday. I hadn’t thought about when everything happened in Bandon, that it’d been Tuesday. That’s when he disappeared. What does that mean? “We’re wasting time.” I’d been

sitting in my car in a parking lot for who knew how long. I started the engine and backed up before the car warmed up. “You don’t remember anything about the last week?” Not a thing. Damn it. I had to figure out where he was—would that be revealed to the public in some of those articles? I wasn’t sure about that kind of thing. I wanted to get home and on my laptop to dig into the articles further. Avery, pull over. “Why?”

He didn’t explain but he’d sounded urgent. I pulled off on the side of the road. He used my hand to reach for my phone and started punching a number in. We’re calling Jen. She’ll tell you where I am. “What?” I tried to hang up but he wouldn’t let me. A female voice answered. “Hello?” I froze for a second, under all the love and relief Marcus felt at hearing her voice. “Jen.” A pause. “Yes?”

Now what? Marcus jumped in, guiding me. “My name is Avery Waldorf. I’m Marcus’s friend.” “Oh. I don’t think I remember anyone named Avery.” She paused and waited, and when I didn’t say anything, she added, “What’s up?” “You sound like him when you say that,” I said. “It’s just, there was a lot of stuff he told me, that he wanted to say to you. I’d really like to meet you.” “Well, it’s not the best time…” “But we might be out of time.” Those weren’t my words. I grimaced, hoping

that didn’t kill the conversation. “He never got to tell you he was sorry for losing your baby with yellow hair.” I had no idea those words were coming out of my mouth until I said them. Instantly I saw a worn out doll, marker on its face and ratty yellow hair. Jen quietly pulled in a long breath, like she’d been too emotional for too long and couldn’t handle anymore— according to what Marcus thought. I told her, “He took it to Alex’s house as a joke but he lost it.” A minute passed—a full minute; I

saw it change twice on the dashboard clock. “Why are you telling me this now?” “There’s just a lot of things I need to tell you. And I need to see Marcus.” I could hear all the emotion in my voice. Normally I hate that. I like keeping my distance from other people, but right now I needed it to convince her. “Who are you again?” She didn’t sound as skeptical—more curious now. “It’s a little complicated.” I wasn’t sure if it was me or Marcus saying that one. “And there’s a picture he drew of

you. I want to give it to you.” Christ almighty. You’re talking like I’m dead. “Okay… where are you again?” “Ashland, Oregon.” *** An hour later, when I bust through the front door and ran to my room, Jazz came out of her room and followed. “Avery, what’s going on?” “I’m going to Portland.” I grabbed pants and shirts off of the floor and

dresser and stuffed them in a bag. “Marcus is at Providence, in neurocritical care. It’s for patients in a coma.” She stopped in my doorway. “Wha….?” “I found him. He’s back, and we know where his body is.” I grabbed more things. “I should go with you.” Her voice didn’t sound quite right. I turned around, trying to read her face, and found it pinched. I tossed in personal items from the bathroom.

“He’s in Portland? That’s odd…. He could have been in Montana or Canada or New York or something. Why Portland?” I stopped and zip up my bag. “It’s weird and lucky, I guess. His car accident was in Portland, the same day and time I fell on the slopes. He had a publicity event up there and this international ping pong event.” I looked around, wondering if I was forgetting anything, and grabbed Marcus’s drawings and the guitar from under my bed.

Did she think it was too convenient to be true? Like I was hallucinating? No, I talked to his sister on the phone. “I should go with you, Avery,” Jazz said again, sternly. I paused to look at her, but I couldn’t think it all through and answer her in time. “Ave?” “I think I should go alone. I don’t want to pull you out of class and work, and I probably need the time to think.” “What are you planning to do there?” “I’ll make a plan on the drive up.” ***

But of course I didn’t make a plan on the five hour drive up. I watched the sun set in a wispy, cloudy sky and listened to Marcus tell me about his life: how he fell in love with snowboarding when he was six. About growing up with Jen and how she watched out for him cause he was her little bro. About his mom and dad—two quirky, funny hippies still in love after forty years together. He painted a childhood that sounded a little like mine before I lost my parents, where family mattered. They took road trips.

Camped out all over Colorado and beyond. And there was always skiing and snowboarding. They believed in him when, at the young age of eight, he declared he’d compete in the Olympics in snowboarding someday. It hadn’t even been an Olympic sport then. I knew him before this. How can you not know someone who was living in your head? But now I saw him in his life. So much made sense now. I fantasized about seeing him and watching him open his eyes, and everything would be okay. Everything

would be perfect. I stopped at two rest stops but didn’t bother with food or anything else. At the rest stop outside Portland, I thought to look in the bathroom mirror, but it was one of those dull, not good for anything kinds. I wiped water on my face and tried to tame my hair, but that was all the time I would spare. You’re beautiful no matter what. That phrase stuck with me, no matter what. It made me uneasy, and it took the rest of the drive to put a finger on why. I already knew this changed everything,

but did I really understand? Did I have any clue what would happen? I arrived at the hospital way past visiting hours, and probably too late to call his sister, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t mind. Of course she won’t. “She doesn’t know you’re in here, remember?” I said, out loud because I was still in the car. “But I want to see you tonight.” Then call her. I’d saved her number earlier so it took a few taps on my phone to call her

again. It rang five times and her voicemail came on. I started to hang up. No! Leave a message. Please. I sighed, closing for eyes for a second to blurt out a quick, “Hey, this is Avery Waldorf. I’m in Portland. Can you call me?” Why didn’t she answer? Had she decided I was a lunatic after all? We gotta keep trying. I slid my phone in my jacket pocket and got out of the car. Maybe she was here, or maybe she wasn’t, but I wanted to see Marcus. I went in through the

emergency entrance because it was the closest. My first instinct was to hunch over and try to slip by. Stand up. Act like you walk through here every day. I tried his advice. When an orderly passed me, I gave him a nod. He nodded back like it was normal. I continued on, striding through hallway after hallway like I knew exactly where I was going. It worked to get me past nurses and doctors for a while, but it didn’t help me find him. Meanwhile Marcus about crawled

out of my scull. It felt like an angry bee stuck in a jar. I finally gave in and asked a cleaning lady where a coma patient might be. “Oh, sorry miss, visiting hours over.” She shook her head and continued on. “But I’ll need to find him tomorrow!” I called out to her back. She turned around and her face softened. “Try Floor Two, over in the last wing.” After she pushed her cart down the hall and turned the corner, I turned and

headed that way. I got caught up with Marcus and his energy, so I didn’t see the male nurse in the hallway until he called out and startled me. “We’re closed for the night,” he said, studying me in a way I didn’t like. He was mentally taking notes. “Oh, I know. I just forgot my bag.” I took a step and gestured, not even sure it was a direction that would help. “I’ll walk you.” His eyes changed— my reaction gave me away. I shrugged and said, “I really want to see my friend tonight.”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “Sorry, but there’s two carded doors that way, and you just can’t get through tonight.” Even with the softness in his expression, it was also clear he wasn’t budging. He couldn’t, really, without breaking rules. I wasn’t sure what to do… I nodded and mumbled thanks to him as I walked back out. That’s that? I can’t get in to see myself? I tried to calm him down on the walk back outside and to the car. It sucked, but

I couldn’t explain this situation to someone in the hospital unless I wanted to be a patient myself. I let myself into my car and laid back in the driver’s seat. It’d started to sprinkle and that turned into a downpour. We sat and watched the streetlights play in the raindrops running down the glass. Babe… what are you doing? “Waiting for tomorrow.” *** Somehow I knew it was a dream.

Marcus stepped close, gazing into my eyes, with his fingertips cradling my face, like he was afraid to touch me. Or maybe he couldn’t believe it was real, either. But it could be, babe. He smiled, his lips turning up at the corners while that look of awe remained. It could be real. It would be, very soon. I reached for him too, running my hands up his chest to his shoulders. His neck felt warm to my touch. In fact, I felt

his heartbeat, growing faster under my fingertips. His warmth reached out to me as I moved closer, wrapping my arms around his neck. We both half smiled, a little nervous, just before he grazed his lips across mine in a butterfly touch. Then I leaned up, meaning to press my lips against his… A buzzing stopped me. I blinked rapidly, remembering I’d slept in the car. Remembering that Jen could be calling. So I grabbed up my phone and answered without reading the screen. My vision was still blurry anyway.

“Ave?” It was Jazz. “Oh, hey. I’m okay. I’m up here at the hospital…waiting to see him.” “He’s really there?” Why wouldn’t he be? I didn’t understand her question at all. So I said, “I’m just waiting to hear from his sister.” Another call beeped as I spoke. “That’s probably her.” I got off the phone with Jazz and saw, with relief, that it was Jen. “Hello?” “Hi, Avery?” I didn’t speak quickly enough, and then we both started talking. After some

nervous chatter, she said, “I’m arriving at the hospital. I can meet you in the lobby.” “That’d be great. Thank you!” I wanted to get off the phone before she changed her mind. Of course she could change her mind anyway, but this would make it harder. I hurried back to the hospital to look for a bathroom, wondering what I looked like. I didn’t want to scare Jen. I also needed to make a plan with Marcus, as in, what would I tell Jen? The truth?

“Ya know, Marcus, I respect your truth-is-always-best approach to life, but it won’t convince her to trust me or let me see you. I need a good story. How did we meet? Where did we meet?” As he worked on that, I spotted a pretty blonde standing by herself, looking the other way. She turned her head toward me. We both knew the other, even though she hadn’t seen a picture of me yet—unless she looked me up on Facebook. I hadn’t thought about it until now, but she had a resemblance to Marcus. It wasn’t obvious, but

something more in her eyes and expression. I walked over and held out my hand. We shook and I held onto her hand for an extra few seconds. “How are you holding up?” “Okay, I think.” She lifted one shoulder. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell.” She’s guarded. What else could we have expected? I gestured to the chairs. “Want to sit down for a minute? If you have a minute, that is.” “All right … maybe you could tell

me how you know Marcus again? My brain’s a bit frazzled from all of this.” I felt cold panic rising up my stomach, but Marcus took over. “I met Marcus at the Portland shoot three years ago. I’m a writer. I did some scripts for another group shooting there. Anyway, we’ve been friends ever since.” Jen looked skeptical. She hid it well, but Marcus knew how to read her. “I just want to see him,” I said. “He’s helped me through some tough times.” My voice caught. I teared up, right in front of her, breaking my biggest

rule. Even with my emotions spilling out, I still knew she could think I was just some girl with a crush. “He told me, ‘If you can do this, you can do anything.’ And that really did give me the motivation I needed.” “Okay, listen.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced around. “I didn’t tell my parents about this. We’ve been keeping most people out. You know, so many people wanted to come, and a lot of them weren’t that close to him. So I can take you in for a few minutes. Mom and Dad are coming by in

a while.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. On cue, I stood up. “I can’t thank you enough.” She led the way, walking like she’d gone through this maze in this order over and over. To me, the walk through the hospital felt like a pilgrimage. I needed to get there and discover, but I didn’t want to cross that threshold. Scared of what we’ll find? Me too. I’m scared of that and everything it means. One, two, three, four—

Babe? Trying not to think. I didn’t want to worry that he’d look different … I blocked the thought, hoping Marcus wouldn’t pick up on it. Jen might have sensed my mood. She glanced at me with a reassuring smile. “Here we are,” she said. The door opened into the dark room. Not pitch black, but a dim kind of dark. Stuffy. Closed in. A Death room. Jen went inside and I heard her talking to Marcus. Him and I had the same reaction: Over here!

She came back to me and said, “I’ll be just outside the door, okay?” I nodded and went in, letting my eyes adjust. The blinds were closed tightly so the only light coming in was stealing in around the edges, and it didn’t illuminate things correctly. Shades of industrial tan filled the room, distorted. My eyes went to the machines around the bed, a chart on the wall, and all the things that screamed patient, not person. Shell, not Marcus. But I wanted so badly to see him, to really see him.

I was avoiding the bed, not allowing myself or Marcus to look. I couldn’t handle it yet. But he needed to see himself so I walked to the end of the bed, gaze resting at the wall at eye level, until I thought I was ready. Open the blinds first. Without looking at the person in the bed, I went to the window and pulled the string far enough that a block of light came in through the bottom. Bright yellow light flooded the room. As I turned back around, I saw his body twitch under the covers.

Did you see that? I saw the movement but didn’t look at his face yet. Instead I looked around the room again, remembering how I was lying in a hospital bed when I first heard Marcus speak. Funny how normally this would be a place of healing. A place where people have babies. But here, now, this felt like a threat. The room felt too small for someone like Marcus. Babe, I’ve been living in your head all this time. This was different … I felt cut off from him, or more cut off from his life.

I’m here. It’s okay. “Is it? Look at you, lying there. I could touch you but you’re there and here.” LOOK AT ME. Finally, I traced the line of the corner down and then the edge of the bed over, and then I looked at Marcus: Marcus in physical form but not the person talking in my head. His hair was shaved where it showed outside of a covering. His face … odd shades of orange and yellow bruising still marred his cheekbones and eyes, and up onto his forehead where

stitches stretched from one temple up into his hairline. A tube went into his mouth. One arm was in a cast. I pulled in my breath and felt Marcus react almost the same. We stared at him in silence for a long minute, reorientating. Cheer up. We found my body. We can fix this, as you like to say. Avery, my fixer girl. My tiger-lily. I laughed and felt the tension ease for a second, then glanced at the door and wondered if Jen was listening. Of course she was. She didn’t know me from Jane

Doe out on the street, and she let me in here with her brother. But was she watching? I felt weak as I pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. Sitting felt like giving up. Somehow I’d expected him to wake up when I came in. You know, because his spirit was with me, so I thought I’d be bringing them together and fixing things. I didn’t understand how I felt so alone, sitting here next to him, with his voice right here talking to me. His good hand lay on top of the blanket and I

wanted to take it, but all I could manage was to slide my hand over close enough to feel the heat emitting from him. You’re afraid to touch me? “Because it’s not really you. I can’t explain it.” Try it. Of course! I slid my hand over and took his, holding my breath. We were touching. Finally. My eyes stung and I closed them, stopping the tears. Or trying to. I held his hand tighter. “Marcus?” I waited a few more breaths before looking at him. He didn’t

open his eyes. He didn’t squeeze my hand back. Kiss me. “What?” I chanced another look toward the door. It appeared to be mostly shut, and I really didn’t think she could peek through the cracks and see me. Hey, I’m not a chick but I know about Snow White. “Do you mean Sleeping Beauty?” I spoke out loud, but in a whisper. It felt so strange to direct my voice to a person when talking to him. Honestly, I didn’t

know the difference between Snow White and Sleeping Beauty … it seemed like both fell asleep and needed a kiss from their Prince Charming. Well, forget Disney. Just kiss me. It’s worth a try, right? “When you’re so romantic about it.” I whispered this even more quietly. Then, I leaned over, looking at his pale face, knowing it should be tan. The tube going into his mouth made me even more nervous about the whole thing. But I very lightly—and quickly—touched my lips to his.

I sat back and waited. He breathed out. Breathed in. Or, the machine might have been breathing for him. Why didn’t it work? I broke out in a sweat and checked the door. Still mostly shut. I tried to take a breath but my lungs hiccupped, my body wanting to cry. “Marcus, I’m sorry,” I said, choking on the words. Not your fault, sweetie. A note of desperation came through in his voice, something I hadn’t heard from him before, and it tore at me. What

would we do now? We had broke through the ribbon at the finish line only to find it was the start of another race. Gently, I leaned over and kissed his hand, then pressed my cheek into his palm. Okay, this had to be the moment he’d wake up, like in the movies. But he didn’t. It’ll happen. I’ll wake up sometime. Maybe it just doesn’t work like that. Okay? I shook my head against his hand. Babe? It’ll be okay. Nothing can stop Marcus Fields.

“I need you.” Jen came in quietly, but I felt her and wiped at my face. When I turned to her, she was looking critically at the window. “You opened the curtains.” “He can’t take the darkness like that.” I wasn’t sure if it’d been Marcus speaking, but it’d felt like me. Me being that bold. “He’d be dying to get outside. Shred some gnar.” She laughed, visibly breaking out of her shell. She uncrossed her arms and sat down. “I know, he’d hate this more than anything. In a way, I’m almost

thankful he’s asleep. Just imagine if he were awake and stuck in bed.” I sucked in my breath, glancing at him. I didn’t ask the question, but she started telling me about his injuries. She needs someone to listen. She needs to talk. I let go of Marcus’s hand and scooted my chair next to hers. We had talked for at least half an hour when an older woman leaned her head in the door. Jen faced me so she didn’t see and kept talking. The woman looked like Marcus in the eyes. She looked between

her daughter’s back and me before giving a weak smile and leaving. Jen stopped abruptly and then asked, “What if I let him down?” “How? You didn’t, Jen. It looks like you’re stopping your life to be here with him.” She shook her head, looking away to wipe her nose on a tissue. “Marcus wouldn’t want to live like this,” Jen said. “He’d rather be dead. My parents are talking about removing support.” “Support?” As in … she couldn’t

mean that. She glanced at his face but dropped her gaze quickly. “Life support.” No! Jen startled. I’d yelled it with Marcus. “You can’t do that,” I said. “He wants to live.” “We can’t know that, Avery. There’s no telling how long he’ll linger in this condition before going further downhill. We almost lost him Tuesday. He’s not responding in any way. Marcus isn’t here—”

“YES, he is.” “His living will … it said he wouldn’t want to live like this.” “But …” “My parents are pretty sure about it. They’re hoping … I mean, we all are. We’re holding on a few more days, but they don’t want to put him through this.” I heard myself breathing hard. A weird cold heat spread through me. You have to stop them, Ave.

Chapter Twenty-Four I can fix this somehow. I can. I can find a way. I wasn’t giving up. This was too important. How could they not see that? It was his life. You can’t just decide that for another person. Avery! “What?” I turned and paced back the other way in a small, dark hallway. I’d found my way here and started pacing in

a five-foot space. They’re not deciding for me. I wrote a living will about three years ago … “Why would you do that?” So I wouldn’t end up like a vegetable. How could I ever have predicted I’d end up in your head? How could anyone have ever predicted this? And what was I going to do about it? How was I going to sneak him out of the hospital alive? I’d kill him if I tried, if that machine was all that was keeping him here. I turned, took two

steps, turned again. I paced faster and faster. Marcus was quiet. Resigned. “No, no! You are not giving up on me.” On you? Avery, you had a full, good life before I crashed it. You can have a happy life without me. “But I don’t want to.” I slapped the wall before turning. “That’s not fair to you. I am not giving up on us. But more importantly, on YOU. I want you to have a full life.” I have. I’ve traveled to over twenty countries, learned French, won a gold

medal in the Olympics. I’ve been doing what I loved for most of my life, Ave. And I fell in love. With you—you, who I woulda never met in my normal life. I fell in love in a way I never imagined was possible. I slid to a stop and rested my forehead against the cold, metal door. I’d found my way to a stairwell or something. I didn’t know where I was … in so many ways. But I had to keep moving. I made it through foster care for four years because I just kept moving. I didn’t stop and throw any pity parties.

Pushing off the door, I opened it and headed back into the main part of the hospital and made my way to Marcus’s room. Ave, you might have to let me go. Not without a fight. But why was he giving up like this? I heard voices as I reached his door. They stopped when I knocked. Jen came to the door, pulling it open slowly, looking for me. I took a deep breath. “Can I talk to your parents?” I asked, loud enough for them to hear too. Jen glanced back, and they must have

motioned me in because she stepped back and waved her hand back toward the room. Marcus wanted to run to them. I took that first step, wanting to embrace them, but held myself back. They wouldn’t understand. I nodded to each of them. “Tom … Elaina … I’m Avery. It’s nice to finally meet you.” I added that part to play along with the story we’d given them. Elaina smiled, softly, a bit forced. Tom frowned, his eyes glaring through his thick glasses.

He’s just like that. It’s his thinking face. “You’ve known Marcus for a few years?” Elaina asked. “Yes. We’ve been pretty close. Jen told me … she said you don’t think Marcus would want to live like this.” Before, it’d been hard to look at Marcus lying so still in the bed. Now it was hard to keep my eyes off him, and I saw him as his parents did. Helpless. Lifeless. Not like their Marcus at all. They didn’t think he was in there anymore. Well, he wasn’t. But he was alive. I thought about

what I could say to win them over, but I didn’t think I had time for any of that. “You can’t just let him die. He wants to live. He has so much more ahead of him.” I listened to myself, kind of an outof-body experience, and I had to ignore the feeling that I was lying. I wasn’t— we didn’t know. And they didn’t know he was right here, wanting to talk to them, wanting to live, wanting to have some kind of future. His mom and dad looked at each other. It wasn’t just a passing glance, but a slow look, filled with love and

knowledge and messages I couldn’t read. They knew each other inside and out, and they knew Marcus, as well as any parent can know their child. They’d been there every step of the way, supporting his dream. They were doing what they thought was best for him, what they thought he wanted. It was what he wanted—before. Not now. I discovered something in that second, why Marcus came to me. Why he landed in my brain. He needed me to save him. None of this made sense unless he woke up and had a future. This

was fate. “Miss,” Tom said on a sigh, looking at my feet. “I don’t think you’ve considered what Marcus would want. He told us what he would want in this situation. Did you know that? You’re only thinking about you and how you feel.” “Tom.” Elaina said it under her breath. Jen crossed one arm over herself and wiped her cheek with her other hand. I wondered if she agreed with them. “Marcus would want to live!”

“The old Marcus,” Jen said softly. I wanted to tell them. Had to. I just didn’t know how to convince them. Just as I opened my mouth, my feet moved. Marcus was in control. I turned toward the door and rushed out with Jen on my heels. “Avery!” I ran down the hall to the windows and stopped, leaning against the frame and looking out. “Avery, I’m sorry. They’ve been thinking about this for a few weeks now, especially when he started to slip away.

They were holding on, hoping, waiting … you don’t know what that’s like.” I didn’t turn and look at her. I couldn’t—I wasn’t sure if I could talk or if Marcus’s emotions were too strong for me. I started speaking, unsure of what I would say. “Remember that little robin that fell out of the nest, and how you took care of it?” She came up beside me. “How do you know about that?” “It had a broken wing and we couldn’t get it back up there anyway.

You nursed that bird and kept it alive. Mom said it was a miracle it didn’t die. I should have told you this a long time ago, but it wasn’t some random miracle. It was you. Your belief. Your love. You gave that bird a life.” Jen was close enough for me to see her face crumple. She stared at me, on the verge of control, gasping for breath. “How? How the hell do you know that?” I struggled against Marcus. He tried to reach for Jen but I held my body still. That’s why I got us out of that room. I knew my parents wouldn’t

accept it, and you were about to tell them everything. Then why did he reveal himself to Jen? I hugged myself, trying not to cry too. “Avery, are you saying we don’t believe in Marcus? Because we do. That’s all we’ve ever done. We were there for everything, and helped him at every step and new challenge. You have no right to say that.” I wiped at my eyes, grinding my teeth. After looking away to get a grip on myself, I said in a hoarse voice, “I’m not

saying that. It came out wrong. All of you did believe in me—Marcus. That’s what got him to the top.” She was looking down the hallway, and I glanced to see Tom waiting for her. I nodded his way and started walking away from them both. I shoved my hands in my pants pockets, kept my head down, and plowed my way down the halls, away from it all. “Marcus, what if they’re right? And I’m being selfish?” I asked under my breath, but I had to talk to him. For real. Out loud. I didn’t care what anyone else

thought. You couldn’t be selfish, babe. It’s not in your DNA. “What if I want you around for me, living in my head? Is that fair to you?” He laughed, sadly. Is it fair to you—having some guy sharing your life? That’s the big question. “I don’t care about fair. I want you, any way I can have you. It was hell living without you in my head. I just want you in my life. I am completely selfish.”

Then I am too, because I want to stay with you, in your head. The weight of it hit me then, what we were discussing. “Really? If you can only live in my head for the rest of my life, do the things I do, eat the food I eat, live my life.” I want to live, Avery. Of course I do. I want to live with you … I don’t want to take over your life or ruin it. That’s not me. I came around a corner and spotted a nurse’s station. A doctor wrote something and slid his pen into his

pocket before turning my way. I slowed, waiting, and turned to walk beside him. “Excuse me, doctor?” He gave me a friendly enough smile, more of a business-like courtesy as he went to his next patient. “Yes?” “Can I ask you a quick question? A general one? If someone’s in a coma, and his family pulls life support, what happens?” He stopped and looked me up and down. “Are you asking about Marcus Fields?” I couldn’t tell if he had heard about

me. Either way, I was some nut case to him. “Yes.” “Well, the expected outcome is … that he’ll cease breathing once oxygen is removed. I’m sorry.” He didn’t turn away for a second, giving me hope. “And his family can just decide that?” A look of pity came and went from his eyes. He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Yes, it’s their legal right. He made his wishes known for such an event like this. I know it’s hard, and you obviously care about him, but we have

to respect the patient’s wishes.” He gave me a pat and walked away. Everyone else thought I was going against Marcus’s wishes, that I was the bad guy. “Miss?” I looked up to find the doctor several feet away, still watching me. “I told you the expected outcome. I shouldn’t tell you this … but sometimes the patient continues to breathe. It doesn’t mean he’ll come around or improve if that happens. It usually prolongs the, well, outcome. I thought I should tell you that,

just in case. Just so you don’t get your hopes up. But … anything is possible, I suppose. He’s a young man. I’d like to think he has a chance too.” “Thank you.” I stood still and watched him leave … and I might have stood there for a long time after that; I wasn’t sure. Ave? Can you get me out of this building for a while? How? Did he think I could cart his sleeping body out of here? No, us. You. Me. Let’s go up to the

roof. Oh. I shook my head at myself, wanting to laugh but unable to, and headed to an elevator. It took some doing to find a way to the roof. When I finally walked outside, I was surprised to find it was midday. The clouds were just a thin, pearlescent sheen that reminded me of the inside of seashells. They stretched across the entire sky, rippling here, fizzing there, making pretty patterns. A breeze played with my hair, sending it behind me and then around my face. I looked at the city around us, and the hills

and mountains, and white sky, then I closed my eyes and felt the air move on my skin. I wished it was Marcus caressing me. I’m here. But … “But what?” This is all we get, I guess. I sank and lay down on the concrete to stare up at the sky, wanting to argue with him but knowing better. What were my options? I could spill everything to his parents, but he already knew that would make things worse. I could try to

convince Jen. No. It would hurt them more, and I knew why. I’d tell them the truth but then they still wouldn’t be able to talk to Marcus or hear him like me. They wouldn’t really believe. They would just hope without proof. And he’d still be in a coma. I’d prolong the inevitable, like that doctor said. I’d cause them much more pain and they’d still lose him over a longer, worse process. I was being selfish. I wanted Marcus. I’m selfish too then. I want you, Avery.

*** I lay on the roof for hours, watching the day change, talking to Marcus, until my phone buzzed. “Hi, Jen.” “Avery, are you still at the hospital?” “The roof.” “Oh … can I talk to you?” “Yeah.” “In person. I’ll come up.” “You know the way?” “Yeah. I’ve been here a while.”

I didn’t move until she found me, and then she sat down as I sat up. We were quiet as the breeze tickled over us. “Your friend Jazz called the hospital, Avery.” Her words took a second to sink it. Then they hit hard. Anger flared, but died quickly. It didn’t matter anymore. Jazz had come through and did the right thing. “She told you everything?” I asked. “What I heard, from my mom, is that you’ve been hearing voices since hitting your head about a month ago.”

“Did she tell you about all the drawings Marcus did? She’s seen my attempts at art before, and she’s an art major. She knows I couldn’t fake what he did. And what about the way I could suddenly play the guitar? And snowboard?” She watched me with those permanent tears beading on her lower eyelids. “I really do know him, Jen. I might only know him in my head, but I didn’t make him up. I can tell you all about him. About your cardboard doll house

that he helped you build and paint. About the little green toboggan that you rode down the hill and crashed, and knocked out your loose tooth.” I looked at her, and in one look knew she believed me. “I’m so sorry, Avery, but my parents aren’t changing their minds. Especially now. They think you made all of this up.” She looked down, shaking her head. “Even if they could believe you, and I don’t think they ever can, it might not change a thing. He’s trapped in there.” Not trapped. Marcus …

I reached for Jen’s hand, unable to stop a torrent of love and loss spiking through me. A bittersweet discovery obtained through pain. “They’re going to … it’s been in motion for a few days. Well, a couple of weeks now. But the final legal stuff …” She choked up. “What are you saying?” “Tomorrow morning.” “No, no, no!” Why did it break me in two when I’d known she would say that? Why hadn’t Marcus said anything? It’s okay, babe.

Marcus pushed through to say, “We have at least until then?” Jen looked up like she had literally heard his voice. “Are you going to stop them?” she asked, searching my eyes, hope and dread both on her face. “No, I’m not going to try to change their minds. But please make sure they don’t do it early. Make sure Avery and I have one more night.”

Chapter Twenty-Five After Jen left, I stayed on the roof for a few more minutes, standing by the edge to look out over the city, my mind blank and so full I couldn’t think straight. The weight of everything came down slowly, my new reality revealing itself inch by inch. Wasn’t there anything I could do or say to his parents? Not after they heard from Jazz.

“She didn’t know … not really. She didn’t understand.” My anger sparked and died over and over, like a tiny fire trying to take hold. I was angry. At her. At Tom and Elaina. At Jen, even. But I also wasn’t angry. Tom, Eleena and Jen were hurting. They loved Marcus. And Jazz loved me. She’d done what any sane person should have. I sent her a quick text that said, You did the right thing. I’m not mad at you. The daylight was soft now. Whispery. I breathed slowly, thinking about the air rushing in and out of my

lungs. Wondering what I would do now. How would I go on? What kind of question was that? How could I think like that? “Marcus—” Babe, please. Don’t. We have tonight. We have a sunset and a sunrise. I blinked at the sun, hazy in the overcast sky. “Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?” I asked, even though the question felt like a fiery hot blade cutting through me. What do you want, Avery?

I couldn’t have what I wanted. The gust of wind caught my hair, twisting it around. I didn’t bother brushing it back, not when I could feel every little sensation: the tickle of the breeze in my hair, the scent of the wet spring air, the sun trying to warm the building top, cars honking below. “This is about you. Where do you want to go?” I asked each word firmly. Can we go to the beach? “The beach again?” A beach trip for us. If we leave right now, maybe we can catch the

sunset over the ocean. I turned and ran to the stairs and all the way down, flipping past people, and out to my car. Those ten minutes felt like horribly wasted time. I couldn’t go fast enough. I was breathless as I ripped out of the parking space, through traffic, irritating red lights, and found my way out of the city. I’d gassed up the day before and still had most of my tank. I headed west on Highway 26. I knew it’d take us to the coast, maybe up in Washington. I wasn’t sure and didn’t care. Unfortunately, it was the midday

rush hour and it took a maddening long trek through Beverton, Cedar Hills, Hillsboro and other suburbs. The sun was setting around five thirty, maybe six, if I’d been paying attention. At this rate, I thought we’d end up watching the sunset while stuck in traffic but finally we passed the exits and found clear highway. Sorry I missed your birthday. We should stop for cake. “I don’t want cake, Marcus. I want you. Time with you. This sunset with you, over the beach.”

I would think only about this evening and this night. I could live in these hours for now; I could make them last forever. You did everything you could for me, Avery. Thank you. I was just some jerk taking over your thoughts, but you showed me so much. “I can’t drive if you make me cry.” But I was already crying. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” No! No. Don’t be sorry. What could you be sorry for? “It’s not fair.” Life’s not fair. We know that. You

knew that when you lost your parents. But you also got time with them, and they were wonderful. You have wonderful friends. Promise me you won’t let this wreck your life. I didn’t want to agree to that. I wanted to leave everything in the mess that it was—with Kristina, with my classes, my house. I just wanted to run. The sun slanted into the car and I pulled down the visor. It helped, but I still had to squint, and the windshield was covered in splattered bugs, making it worse. But at least there wasn’t too

much traffic. We would make the sunset. Avery … “I promise.” Promise you’ll go after your dreams. Decide who you want to be. Go live. Go all in. Put all your chips in and go for it. That’s what I want you to promise me. A horn startled me. I’d been drifting on the road. Seeing a turnout, I pulled off, rolled to a stop and laid my forehead on the steering wheel. “I can’t picture anything past tomorrow. I don’t know how to promise

you anything like that.” Of course you do. You had big dreams before. Remember? You’re going to make it. You’re going to write meaningful things that help people. You have a tomorrow, babe. Promise! “Okay, I promise.” Let’s get going. Just one thing at a time. I pulled in a long breath as I put the car back into drive. We shared the quietness, just feeling each other, while I drove. Maybe I was wrong about Kristina.

I might have caused you more pain and problems by saying anything. “Well, she admitted she stole him,” I said. “But I don’t care about that.” She’ll come around. At some point, she’ll see his true colors. She’ll be ready to talk. He was right. If this didn’t convince her about Kyle’s character, something else would. She couldn’t stay blind forever. That didn’t mean she’d forgive me, but then again, it might. ***

We pulled into a parking lot on the beach at five thirty-eight. Wait! “What?” Look in the mirror. Couldn’t we do that later? Surely we’d get a chance to come back to the car for that. The sun was slipping behind a cloud. There were only minutes left before it sank beyond the water. Please, look for me. “Okay, all right.” I sighed, faking irritation and leaned over to look in the

rearview mirror at myself. Holding still wasn’t easy, especially as he took in my eyes and face. We stared, eye to eye, until a family ran to the one other car in the lot. “Let’s go watch the sunset.” Grab the guitar! “Yes, sir.” The sun glowed through the clouds, sending out beams of bright yellow love our way as I hurried down to the sand, passing the guitar from hand to hand to pull on my blue windbreaker. We passed the tall grass for a full, clear view of

sand, ocean and glorious backlit clouds. The ocean sang out and its scent carried thick on the air. I pulled in as much air as I could, pretending that I could make all of this part of me. It’s breathtaking. “And it’s just us today.” Wiping the tears off my face, I pictured my hands wiping away all other distractions and worries. We sat down in the sand and burrowed back to make a seat. I pulled up my knees and wrapped my arms around them. You know, I’ve been meaning to

tell you … I teased you about the high heel boots, but damn, you looked hot in them. “You could see that?” He laughed. I checked you out in every shiny surface I could find. Windows at the college. Store windows. Car doors. Mirrors. Everywhere. You’re so beautiful. Now I laughed. Ave, babe, if you believe anything I’ve told you, believe that. You’re a Tiger Lily. Unique. Special. Own it

from now on. “I’ll try,” I whispered. There is no try! Do. “Okay, Master Yoda.” Bright light flooded over me as the sun peered out from behind the cloud on its downward trek. Gold shimmered across the blue ocean. Listen … I’m not sure how to say this the right way, but I’m sorry I messed up your relationship with Nash. I saw the way he looked at you, and I couldn’t handle it. I wanted you. I gave a sad laugh. “Forget about

Nash.” That’s what I’m trying to tell you, babe. You don’t have to forget about him. Once I’m out of the picture— “Marcus, I don’t want to go there.” But we have to. At least I need to say a few things. I shivered, a shudder rather, from thinking about what lay ahead. “Okay.” It’s just, I don’t want to think about you being alone, not if you want someone in your life. Sounds crazy right this sec, I know, but bear with me. Like I said, I saw the way Nash

looked at you, and I think you could fix things with him. That brought a long sigh. I shook my head and said, “I don’t want to leave things the way they are, but I don’t feel the same about him.” So maybe not Nash. I’ll admit I’m glad to hear that. I didn’t want to say anything mean, but I don’t think he’s the man for you. There’s someone out there that loves adventure and wants to go explore what life has to offer. “Someone like you.” Even as I said the words, I saw images flashing through

my mind—images from Marcus—of me skiing, standing on the front of a white sailboat wearing a black bikini, walking through a crowd on a cobblestone street, rowing a canoe on a green river, kayaking on blue ocean waves … the scenes came faster and faster, showing me all the activities to do out there and places I could go. I’ve done so much in my life. I want to know you’ll go out and do all the things you’ve held back from. “I will.” And I would: that’s where I would go after this. I wouldn’t return to

college until I’d gone out and done more with my life. Thank you for letting me be with you, Avery. “No, don’t talk like that—” Babe, I have to. “Then, thank you for being with me and showing me so much.” Tears came to my eyes again but I sighed them away. Not now. Tomorrow I would cry. I reached for the guitar, or rather Marcus did, and he started to play, strumming his song at first and some favorites I’d heard him play before.

The sun slipped away, pulling the color and warmth with it, and leaving the cloudy sky a golden, milky shade that was quickly fading to violet, then purple, then blue. The blue darkened and stars lit up, and I shivered. Want to go back to the car? “No. I want to feel the cold.” You need to eat something too. You’ve been running yourself ragged, Ave. You gotta take care of yourself. “I will. Later. I promise. I have time for that tomorrow.” My voice cracked. How could I think about eating or

sleeping or going on? I’d promised myself I wouldn’t tonight. Instead I’d imagine Marcus here with me, his arm across my shoulder, his body heat keeping me warm. Light caught my eye, over on the horizon. A glowing white sliver of moon crept up, sending a gentle beam across the ocean toward us. “Tell me something naughty in French.” Je t'aime. “That’s …” I hardly knew a lick of French but that was something I’d come

across. Unless I was wrong. No, you’re right. I love you, Avery. “I love you.” For so many reasons. And so many ways. Beyond words and anything explainable, I felt a wholeness and rightness about him, and about me because of him. We watched the quarter moon rise, lighting the waves and beach in silver light. When it was high in the sky, I lay down pulling sand up against me, and listened to the waves and night sounds all around me. “Remember when I saw you in the

car, the first time?” I asked, a half whisper caught up in the breeze above me. Of course. “I could feel you. See you.” I closed my eyes and searched around for him … he was looking at me, reaching for me, his fingers barely touching my face. Just a light touch that almost tickled. We remembered talking in the car together, and when I took a bath and he was there. His heat did keep me warm. When the sky started to lighten in the early morning, I held on tighter.

What if … What if his parents ended life support, but I could hang onto him? Keep him here with me? Marcus heard my thoughts. We thought about it together. Wasn’t it as logical as any other part of this? Why couldn’t it work? “Would you want that life?” I asked out loud. He didn’t answer in words but I felt him hang onto me tighter, surrounding me. Falling … I fell and fell, into him. I closed my eyes, living in the feeling of

him, letting myself be nothing but a thought, like him.

Chapter Twenty-Six My phone woke me up. No. Daylight pressed down on me. The wind, harsher now, blew sand into my eyes. How had I fallen asleep? I sat up, rubbing my face and grabbing around in the sand for my phone. Marcus? I looked around me, behind me, everywhere, like I’d see him here. “Marcus? Marcus!”

Silence in my head. I’d fallen asleep. I let him slip away. Marcus. My phone went silent. Several seconds ticked by. My stomach tightened into a ball and I bent over, expecting to throw up. The phone buzzed again. I could hardly see through my tears but it looked like it said Jen. “Hello?” “Avery, Marcus started breathing on his own! He’s alive! He opened his eyes!”

I stood up fast and fell over. On my back again, I asked, “He’s awake?” “No … not awake right now. Not yet. But he opened his eyes. He looked right at me. I saw my brother, not some vegetable. It wasn’t a blank look. I’m sure he recognized me.” “Do you think …?” “He has to wake up now. He has to.” She kept talking and my mind wouldn’t follow everything, not until I heard, “… then he can tell Dad about you. They can’t keep you away—” “Wait, slow down. Give me a sec.”

If he wasn’t in my head, he had to be back in his body. And he was breathing. “Actually, I gotta go. I’m coming back.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Marcus I felt like a mummy, dried out, stiff, sore … I tried moving, and when I couldn’t, started to freak out. My eyes wouldn’t open. I kept trying, making them smart and water. Finally. Finally, I got them open.

Blue light flooded in, then shapes. There was a soft overhead light and then sunlight coming from the corner—a shaded window. Things around me in a room. There were blankets over me … it was a hospital room. What the hell? Machines beeped. Voices drifted in as people walked by outside, but I couldn’t see the door leading to the hallway. A curtain blocked the way. Someone sat next to the bed. She had wild, long hair in a pretty honey color. It was wavy, curly at the end. She turned toward me a little so she could wipe a

tear running down her face. An angular face. Like a runway model, beautiful in an unusual way, covered in light freckles. Captivating. I stared at her beauty for several minutes before I wondered who she was and why she was crying by my bed. She wasn’t dressed like a nurse. The wild look of her hair made me think she was a snowboarder. I could so see her out on the slopes with a beanie to keep that hair back. Or even surfer. Yeah, it was like beach hair. I’d been hanging in Hawaii a lot the last couple

of years, during the off season. But, I didn’t know her. She wouldn’t look at my face. Instead she looked down at my hand and moved hers closer. “Where are you?” she whispered. “Marcus, I need to talk to you. Say something.” Did my hands work? Was I paralyzed? There was only one way to find out so I moved my hand against hers. The woman jumped and her eyes flew up to my face. Gasping, she

covered her mouth with both hands and new tears sprang to her eyes. “Marcus!” She reached to grab my face with both of her hands. “Where am I?” My voice barely made it out, too scratchy to sound like me. “The hospital. It’s okay now. It’s okay.” She smoothed my hair back and started to lean over. She knew me. I think. “Who are you?” She froze, confused and hurt. Then a look of terror filled her eyes and she

jumped back. Her skin went white behind her freckles. “No. No!” “No, what? Can you tell me what’s going on?” It hurt to talk. A rustle at the curtain caught my attention. Jen stood there, her mouth open for a second before she squealed and ran to the bed. “You’re awake! Oh my god! You’re awake! Ave, call a nurse. Get my parents!” She kissed all over my face until I couldn’t breathe. “Jen! Jen, stop. You’re killing me.” She broke into laughter so loud and sharp it hurt my ears. I glanced at the

other woman as she backed away. I wanted to reach a hand out and stop her, to take that wounded look off her face, but I didn’t know what to say to her. She bent slightly at the waist as if she were literally sick. Jen glanced back at her to ask, “Did he say anything else?” She opened her mouth, shut it, then shook her head. “I …” Jen turned back to me, looking troubled. Something was wrong but I couldn’t process all of this. “I’ll call a nurse,” Jen said as she

pushed the button. “I think Mom and Dad are on their way here. I’m calling them too.” Her smile came back then. I looked past her, then regretted it. The look in that girl’s eyes. It was like I killed her. Jen moved between us, slowly walking toward the door, and mouthed to me, “I’ll be right outside. Just a sec— Mom?” She hurried out then, talking rapidly as she walked down the hall. Her voice faded away too quickly for me to catch any of the conversation. “Who are you?” I asked, quietly. It was coming together now. Jen was

talking to my parents about her. “I’m Avery. You don’t remember talking to me?” “I don’t remember you at all. Why are you here?” My voice sounded colder than I meant. She was hurting. I could see that. But there had been a couple fanatical girls posting on my Facebook page and trying to contact me. Somehow this one had made it all the way here and convinced my family she knew me. “You don’t remember waking up in my head?” Her voice shook. Christ. She was nuts. And alone with

me. I glanced at the door, hoping to see Jen watching or a nurse creeping in. No one. The woman wrapped her arms across herself instead of wiping the tears running down her face. “Don’t you remember the high heel boots? The shower? Drawing me?” I wanted to scream, “You’re a stalker!” But I didn’t want to anger her while I was so weak. I felt like I could hardly move. Two nurses hurried in, talking. I caught that a doctor was on the way. Jen

rushed back in and came over to grab my hand. I felt something on my cheek and then realized I was crying. The strange woman—Avery— stepped around a nurse. “Don’t you remember running on the beach with the full moon? How everything looked silver?” I didn’t know what to tell her, but my expression must have said it all. She crumbled, wilting in on herself. Jen looked between her and me, and her face went white. Everything started happening.

Questions. Prods. The doctor. I realized that woman left. The words came too fast and I couldn’t keep it all straight, but then Mom and Dad stepped in behind the doctor. “Let me hold my baby!” My mom was wailing already. I didn’t care. They both engulfed me. Jen too. They were acting like I’d almost died. “Okay, okay. Let me breathe.” I ran my hands down my face and looked at them. I still had no idea why I was here. The last thing I remember … it was all a blur. I do remember leaving Sochi. My

flight home. We landed safely, I’m sure of it. “What happened to me?” I reached to touch my head. “It wasn’t a dream, was it? All of it?” “What do you mean?” My dad rested his hand on top of mine. We’d never been a touchy-feely family, before this. I hadn’t seen him cry before either. “The Olympics. I remember the halfpipe … my medal.” “Yes, you won gold!” My mom grabbed my other arm with both hands. She glanced at Dad quickly while trying

to hide it from me. “What happened? I was fine … and now I’m here.” “You were in a car accident three weeks later. Your seatbelt saved your life but you got a concussion.” “Dad, it wasn’t just a concussion,” Jen said. “You had a traumatic brain injury.” Mom and Dad both started talking. “Wait,” I said, a hand up. I needed quiet for a minute. A concussion. Something about that … I remembered talking to someone about a concussion.

I hit my head? What are you talking about? No, I hit my head trying to freaking snowboard. That voice—her voice. My parents and Jen watched me and all shared a look. Then Jen whispered, “It’ll be okay, Marc.” “No, no, it’s not that.” I grasped at the fleeting pictures … her words … it didn’t make any sense, but it seemed like I remembered snowboarding with her, helping her, like I was right there beside her. Even closer than that, though. We got fresh tracks. It was bright and sunny.

Suddenly I was looking up at some dude. Nash. I knew him. He was … he was going to kiss Avery and I could see and feel and … I was there. In her head. We played guitar together with her hands. Drew pictures. We were in the bath together, surrounded by bubbles. “He’s remembering something,” Jen said, laughing. “That girl. Avery. I remember her. Where is she?” “Oh, no,” Mom said on a breath. Jen spoke at the same time so I didn’t understand her, but Mom and Dad turned

to her. “I can call her,” she repeated, grabbing her phone. A few very long beats later, she handed me the phone. It was still ringing. Then it clicked on and Ave’s voice came on, hysterical. “Jen? I didn’t imagine all that. I didn’t. I didn’t! I couldn’t have. How did I know all that?” “Slow down, babe. It’s me. Really me this time.” “Marcus?” “Ave, I love you. Come home to me.”

Epilogue (Preview –In My Dreams) I look like a maniac and I don’t care. I ran down the hospital hallway, dodging people without apologizing, tears running down my face and a guitar bouncing against my back. My hair was having a fantastically frizzy day due to the weather, or maybe my crazy life, and I felt it whipping around behind me. I

tore around a corner, my shoes sliding before grabbing on. I had to get to him right now. He remembers me. It’s okay. Everything’s okay now. If Marcus remembered me, then I wasn’t schizophrenic and making all this up. He had been in my head, sharing my life, listening to every thought. People would believe me now. He could tell his parents, his sister, my friends—everyone who thought I’d lost it. It didn’t make any sense, but it was

true. It was true! The room numbers were climbing and I skidded to a stop, sliding past the door. Grabbing the door jamb, I pulled myself back and threw myself through the doorway. “Marcus!” Four people stared at me, stopping me in my tracks. This wasn’t the rush-inand-kiss him I’d imagined. His parents stood by the door and Jen stood next to the bed where Marcus laid. Tom and Elaina still looked skeptical. They’d tossed me out as a crazy stalker before,

and now they glanced at each other, not sure what to think. Tom narrowed his eyes through his super thick lenses. They were still worried I’d hurt their son. His sister Jen started to smile at me but the tension in the room stopped her cold too. I finally looked at Marcus. He had his bed raised like he was waiting for me. “Avery. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I—” He broke off and a smile flashed across his face. “You brought my guitar.” “Yeah… how many times have you yelled at me to grab it?” I tried for a

laugh at my lame joke and set it on a hospital chair. What could I say to him in front of his family? Nervous, I stepped past his parents and rushed to the bed, avoiding their gazes. “We’ll wait outside for a bit,” Jen said, her voice cautious. And then, thankfully, she herded her parents out of the room. They were quiet until they stepped out, and then their voices mingled together and faded. At least they weren’t standing right outside the door. “Marcus,” I whispered, my voice breaking as fresh tears filled my eyes. I

took a step closer to the bed but something held me back. Did he still like me, now that he could see me face to face? Maybe I wouldn’t live up to the fantasy. Maybe he just needed me before, but not anymore, not when he had his life and body back. I glanced down at myself because I couldn’t even remember what I was wearing. What did he think? I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t hear him. “Ave?” That prodded me into motion and I walked to the edge of the bed. He

reached out to me. I took his hand, feeling his warmth in a new way. He turned his hand to entwine our fingers, then looked down, confused. I watched his expression and our hands, wondering if he felt weak after being in the coma. “Marcus.” It felt so good to say his name and see him here with me like this. I’d seen him in my mind’s eye, and in pictures online, and even here sleeping in this bed, but this was different. His warm hazel eyes searched mine, mirroring my emotions, I think. Amazement. Surprise that we made it

here. Fear. “It was all real?” he asked, still staring at me, and lifting his other hand to caress my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, taking a big, shaky breath. “It had to be. There’s no other explanation.” “Come here.” I leaned down and slid my arms around him. We came together slowly, like we were both unsure of this new reality. What was he thinking? But once I felt him this close and smelled his scent

under the hospital smells, my breath quickened until I started crying and clinging to him. His fingers sank into my hair and he kissed my head, saying my name. When I lifted my face, he smiled. Oh, my god, is he handsome. And real. And right here. We paused, looking at each other, grins coming at last. Then his face went serious, something new in his eyes. He touched my chin and we stretched toward each other, our lips meeting softly. A shock wave rolled down my body.

His lips, so full, so soft…so wanting. His breath smelled of mint. I smiled as his lips moved on mine. I’d somehow gotten halfway up on the bed to kiss him back, my hands gently exploring him. His hands shook against my head—from desire or his injuries? How fragile was he? Would this hurt him? A noise rose up his throat. Energy zinged through my veins. With my eyes closed, my body felt like it was floating. He hung onto me tight, his tongue

suddenly teasing my lips, before he pulled me further back with him. At the contact, my body came to life, surprising me. We’d been so close but unable to touch before, not really touch. I pulled back, opening my eyes and finding his staring back, warm and dancing. “Avery.” My lips tingled. All of me tingled. I heard my ragged breathing and laughed. “Marcus.” Suddenly, he pulled me forward, pressing another kiss onto my mouth. Then he pulled me back and looked at

me, staring, taking me in, detail by detail. “Damn, you are beautiful,” he whispered. “And you look even better from this perspective… I love you, Avery.” I started to reply and couldn’t find my voice. His eyes grew shiny. I pulled in a quick breath, still so amazed in be in this moment. “I love you.” Our smiles grew together until we started laughing. “Everything’s different now,” I said,

my voice breaking. “Better.” His smile faded. “Right?” “Right.” I looked back toward the door. What would his family think? What would we tell them? His hand came up to my face. “Ave, we’ll figure it out.” I lay my head on his chest, breathing in his scent. I could feel him, smell him, kiss him! “We’ll figure everything out.” His voice came softly as his fingers threaded through my hair. “I love you and we’re together. That’s what matters now.”

Closing my eyes, I decided to worry about everything else later. He was right. Only this mattered now. We were together, really together. The End ~~~ Pre-order the sequel, In My Dreams, releasing April 29th, 2016. Thank you for reading! Reviews are a huge help to other readers and authors, and I hope

you’ll take a moment to leave an honest review for All In Your Head. Just click here to visit the book’s page. Newsletter Signup

Acknowledgements Many thanks to the teachers of the weeklong Breakout Novel Intensive Workshop: Lorin Oberweger for directing and organizing the workshop along with manuscript feedback, Donald Maass for the invaluable classes and insightful help on this book, Roman White, Brenda Windberg, and Jason Sitzes. Each instructor saw something different that I could improve, strengthen or add. The entire group of instructors and writers were so encouraging! I’d also like to thank Gabriele Ewerts for beta reading.

And of course, with every project, I’m grateful for the support of my family. Thanks to Ashley for reading my stories and being so excited about them.

About The Author

Kristen James lives in Oregon, USA, and enjoys hiking, mountain biking, street cycling, camping, traveling, reading, and spending time with her family. She’s also a bestselling author of love stories, mostly set in the Pacific Northwest. Kristen discovered her love of writing in the fourth grade when her

class wrote short stories, and she’s been writing ever since. http://www.writerkristenjames.com Newsletter Signup! Hear about contests, freebies and new releases first.

Also by Kristen James: More Than Memories, Book 1 A Wedding to Remember, Book 2 Embers of Hope, Book 1 More Than a Promise, Book 2 Stranger in my Bed Costa Rica In A Field of Oranges Point Hope A Cowboy For Christmas

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