The Friends Series Books 1-3 - Monica Murphy

Table of Contents Title Page Books by Monica Murphy About ONE NIGHT About JUST FRIENDS About MORE THAN FRIENDS About FOREVER ONE NIGHT Chapter One – Olivia Chapter Two – Dustin Chapter Three – Tuttle Chapter Four – Emily Chapter Five – Cannon Chapter Six – Amanda Chapter Seven – Olivia Chapter Eight – Dustin Chapter Nine – Tuttle Chapter Ten – Emily Chapter Eleven – Cannon Chapter Twelve – Amanda Chapter Thirteen – Tuttle Chapter Fourteen – Cannon Chapter Fifteen – Emily Chapter Sixteen – Amanda Chapter Seventeen – Dustin Chapter Eighteen – Olivia JUST FRIENDS Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight MORE THAN FRIENDS Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Acknowledgements FOREVER Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Acknowledgements About the Author Copyright Notice

Friends Series One Night Just Friends More Than Friends Forever: A Friends Novel The Rules Series Fair Game In The Dark Slow Play Safe Bet Reverie Series His Reverie (Book #1) Her Destiny (Book #2) One Week Girlfriend Quartet One Week Girlfriend (Book #1) Second Chance Boyfriend (Book #2) Three Broken Promises (Book #3) Drew+Fable Forever (Book #3.5) Four Years Later (Book #4) Five Days Until You (Book #4.5) Billionaire Bachelors Club Crave (Book #1) Torn (Book #2) Savor (Book #3)

Intoxicated (Book #3.5) The Fowler Sisters Owning Violet Stealing Rose Taming Lily The Never Series Never Tear Us Apart Never Let You Go Connect with Monica Website Newsletter Facebook Twitter Email



one night just friends more than friends forever

There’s a party over at Jordan Tuttle’s house tonight and everyone is there. Including… Olivia: Who’s leaving for her dad’s house in Oregon tomorrow. So she plans on having the time of her life tonight with her best friends. Dustin: Who wishes Livvy could see just how much she means to him. Emily: Who’s trying her to best to get with someone. Anyone. Cannon: Who has an encounter with Em he won’t be able to forget. Amanda: Who’s finally ready to go all the way with her boyfriend. Tuttle: Who discovers the girl he’s always secretly liked just might like him back.

It’s the end of summer. Just before I start senior year with my two best friends in the whole world. Dustin and Emily are everything to me. We’ve been inseparable since middle school, and when we’re together, nothing can go wrong. But things aren’t always what they seem. Em’s turned into a drunken mess who parties too much. Dustin and I have hooked up a few times—and now he’s ready to take our relationship to the next level. Yet I’m not sure I want things to change. I’m scared if I take it any further with Dustin, our friendship will be ruined forever. Then there’s Ryan. The new guy. He’s hot. He flirts way too much. And Em has totally set her sights on him. So when my best friend betrays me in the worst possible way, guess who’s there to help me pick up the pieces of my broken heart? Ryan. But he’s so confusing. Annoying. Sweet. Sexy. I want to trust him, yet he makes it so hard. What I really want is for everything to go back to the way it was before. Before I found out that best friends make the worst kind of enemies.

He’s not perfect, but he’s all I want… I’m your average girl at your average high school, trying to figure out my place in life. After catching my now ex-boyfriend messing around with my now ex-best friend, I’ve made some big changes. No more band, no more backstabbing friends and no more boring old life. Now I have new friends, a new job and new interests. But there’s a certain someone who’s interested in me, and I don’t get it. Jordan Tuttle could have anyone he wants. He’s the most popular boy in school. Rich, gorgeous, smart and the star quarterback, he’s perfect. Yet he acts like he wants no one else but…me. So despite my fears and doubt, I let him get close. Probably too close. I discover that he’s not so perfect after all, but it doesn’t matter. I’m falling for him, even though he runs so hot and cold. I know someday he’s going to break my heart. And I’m going to let him.

She’s all I could ever want… I have a reputation around school. Cold. Untouchable. Unfeeling. Only one girl could ever make me want to change and that’s Amanda Winters. Too bad I broke her heart and drove her away. So to get through the rest of my days in high school, I tell myself I need to focus on more important things. Like taking our football team to championships. Get accepted to the college of my choice. And finish my senior year without wanting to run away from my problems. But your problems chase after you no matter where you go. And it’s a lot harder when you fight them alone. The longer I go without Amanda, the more I miss her. Her smile. Her laughter. The things she said. How she looked at me like I was the only person who mattered. The way she made me feel… Why can’t I have everything, including the girl? I’m determined to make things right. And make Amanda mine… Forever.







“Where’s Em?” I ask as I pull the Jeep door shut, then glance over my shoulder. There’s no one in the backseat, though really I always expect my best friend to call shotgun and sit in the passenger seat. She knows I tend to get carsick but she doesn’t really care. My best friend is kind of selfish sometimes, yet I still manage to adore her. Dustin, my other best friend, smiles in my direction before he puts his car into reverse and backs out of my driveway. “She said she’ll meet us there,” he tells me as we pull out onto the road. Huh. We always go to parties together. That’s just how we roll, especially during the summer. This is my last party before I leave for Dad’s house in Oregon and I really want to spend my last few hours in town hanging out with Em and Dustin. “She better,” I mutter, keeping my gaze locked on the window. It’s just past eight-thirty and the sky is twilight blue streaked with varying shades of pink and purple. Normally I wouldn’t notice, but without Em’s constant chatter to distract me, I’m already feeling a little sad. A little lost. “Hey.” Dustin rests his hand on my bare knee, giving it a squeeze. I turn my head to look at him, our gazes meeting. His eyes are a warm, dark brown that I usually find comforting but right now, he seems so serious. I drink in his familiar features, a face I’ve stared at for what feels like forever. He’s actually a pretty good-looking guy and yeah, we might’ve fooled around a time or two in the past. In the not so distant past… And I’m not sure how I feel about it. We’re cruising into different territory and it scares me. It also excites me. “What?” I finally ask, hating how my voice cracks. I clear my throat, try to smile at him and he squeezes my knee again, his hand creeping a little higher up my thigh. I shove his hand off my leg and he shakes his head, laughing. “Don’t act all down and out because your twin isn’t here. She’s going to be at the party, I promise. She knows how important tonight is to you and I’m sure she won’t leave your

side all night,” he reassures, keeping his gaze on the road. He sounds almost…jealous. Em and I drive him crazy half the time and I know sometimes he feels like the third wheel in our friendship. Other times, it’s like Em’s the third wheel when Dustin and I would rather be alone. It’s hard. I don’t like feeling torn between them. And I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. “How is she getting a ride to Tuttle’s house?” Jordan Tuttle is the most popular boy in our class, probably the entire school, though most of the time he’s aloof and kind of an asshole. Everyone knows who Tuttle is. He has the most epic blow out parties since his parents are never home. Plus, he’s rich as hell and his house is amazing. “She got her car back.” I frown, fighting the irritation that threatens to take hold. Em is constantly getting her car taken away by her parents. Her grades for the last quarter were awful so they took it away for the entire summer, supposedly. Looks like that idea fell apart after approximately two weeks. “And you know this how?” I cross my arms in front of my chest, sinking low in my seat. The back of my thighs stick to the soft leather and I grimace, irritated. This is what I get for wearing such short shorts. “She told me.” He shrugs and my gaze snags on his broad shoulders bared by the tank he’s wearing. I’ve never really been a fan of tanks on guys—or so I thought. I can’t help but notice how defined Dustin’s arms are, the skin smooth and already a warm golden brown from the sun. “She wanted it to be a surprise for you, so put on a good show when you see her next, okay?” “Weird surprise, but I’ll roll with it,” I say, hating that I feel a little put out. I know how Em usually operates. She’s spontaneous. Erratic. She’s usually fun. I’m the steady one who needs to plot and plan. Not Em. She’s up for anything, anytime. She needs me to hold her back. I need her to push me forward. It’s the perfect friendship. “You leave tomorrow, right?” Dustin asks after a few minutes of no talking, the only sound filling his Jeep coming from the radio. Some obnoxious song that they can’t stop playing is blaring out of the speakers and I’m ready to suggest we hook up my phone playlist or even Spotify, which is my favorite obsession. “Yeah.” I pluck at a loose thread unraveling from the leg of my jean shorts. They’re so short my pockets show and the hem is completely frayed. “I fly out in the morning.” “Extra early?” “Not till nine.” Though that feels early since I’d been sleeping in since school ended. “Knowing my mom, she’ll make us leave by six-thirty in order to get to the airport on time.” “You can sleep on the plane.”

“Sort of.” Planes are uncomfortable and Dad doesn’t put me in first class so I suffer in the cramped seats sitting next to weirdo strangers who send me sympathetic looks when they figure out I’m traveling alone. It sucks. And my attitude sucks even more, I swear. I need to get over myself. Focus on tonight. Focus on the party, spending time with my friends. I need to soak it all up as much as possible before I leave for the rest of the summer. “I’ll miss you.” Dustin’s voice goes soft and it has the same effect on my heart. He meets my gaze once more and I smile at him, reaching out to touch his knee this time around. “I’ll miss you, too,” I tell him. It’s the truth. Dustin is my best friend, my everything. We’ve been through a lot, we’ve known each other for what feels like forever, and there is no one else I’d rather have by my side but him. And Em, too—the three of us against the world is how we’ve always played it. “You won’t run off with Em all night, will you?” He settles his hand over mine. “I want to spend the last night you’re here together.” “Don’t worry, I’ll be back,” I tease, trying to pull my hand out from his, but he tightens his grip, not letting me escape. “I know you will, but I want to—be with you.” His fingers curl around mine but he never says anything else. I guess he doesn’t have to. Because he sounds serious and I know what he’s implying. Yes, we’ve messed around. Yes, I’ve never stopped it. Yes, I’ve even enjoyed it, though sometimes I feel guilty afterward, which is stupid, right? Or sometimes it just gets…weird between us, because we’re friends and I know he wants more, and I sort of do, too. But maybe I want something different. Truth? I’m scared, afraid I might end up stuck with Dustin forever. I know that sounds mean and awful, and I’m a horrible person for even thinking that way, but I can’t help it. I’m only seventeen, and I know there’s more out there. More to explore, more to see, more people to meet and things to do… And I want to experience all of it. Just not always with Dustin? Yeah, fine. I sound like a total bitch. I do love him. He’s always there for me, no matter what. I need to be there for him. I need to let go of my fears and insecurities and focus on the good stuff. How good Dustin and I are together. Because we really are so good together… He drops my hand and I glance up, watching him as he scowls. The Jeep slows and he hits the blinker, turning left. “Shit, it’s already packed,” Dustin murmurs as he pulls into Tuttle’s long gravel driveway, which is lined with cars. Vehicles fill the field next to his house as well, and

Dustin steers into the field, parking so far out I already dread the long walk just to reach Tuttle’s front door. We get out of the car and silently head toward the house. There’s a cluster of girls huddled together not too far from where we parked, and while I recognize their faces, I don’t really know their names. I wave and they wave too before they resume talking. “Friends of yours?” Dustin asks. “Not really. I think they’re a bunch of sophomores.” “Juniors now,” he corrects. “Right.” “And we’re seniors.” He grins and I smile in return. “Can’t freaking believe this will be our last year in school.” My smile fades. I can’t believe it either. The great unknown stretches before us and it scares the crap out of me. I don’t know what I want to do, where I want to go, or where I can afford to go. I have decent grades but I’m not an honors student or anything like that. I want to go to college just to get out of here and live on my own, but where exactly would I go? “Stop thinking about the heavy stuff.” Dustin grabs my hand and lifts it to his mouth, dropping a light kiss on my knuckles. “Let’s have fun tonight.” I nod, trying to muster up more enthusiasm so he won’t worry about me. “You’re right,” I tell him, my smile reappearing. “I’m ready to have fun.” He swings our linked hands together as we walk. “Fun as in ‘let’s get wasted’?” I tilt my head back and laugh, staring up at the twinkling stars for a brief moment before I return my gaze to his. “Totally wasted. I need to get lit tonight.” God, I really do. “Your wish is my command,” he says, his voice low and full of promise.

She makes me fucking crazy. Olivia Hudson, my best friend, my first kiss, the first girl who ever touched my dick, the first girl I ever made come, the first and only girl I’ve ever been in love with, doesn’t love me back. Not in the way I want. I try my damnedest to play it cool with her, but that rarely works. I always end up revealing my hand, revealing my feelings when I’m in her presence, and she either acts like she’s completely oblivious or that she doesn’t want to know. And that sucks. So here we are at this stupid party at Tuttle’s house, the night before she leaves for her dad’s for like, six weeks. There are so many people everywhere, the front yard and back, the pool, the hot tub, it’s like I can’t avoid anyone even if I tried. They’re all people I know, most of them I’m friends with or at least know, but shit. I want a moment of quiet. I want privacy. I want Livvy in my arms, my mouth locked with hers and my hands roaming all over her hot body… “Have one of these.” A cold beer is suddenly shoved into my hand. “Looks like you need it.” I smile in relief and crack the can open, the satisfying hiss still sounding when I bring it to my lips and drain half of it in record time. “Thanks,” I say as I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. Jordan Tuttle sends me an unreadable look, nodding toward Livvy, who’s already wandering off. “What’s the deal between you two?” “I have no clue.” I sound disgusted because damn it, I am disgusted. And frustrated. So sexually frustrated I feel like I could blow the next time someone accidentally touches my dick. “Isn’t that Olivia Hudson?” Tuttle asks, his brow lowered in confusion. Give me a break. He knows exactly who she is. We’ve all been going to school together for what feels like forever and our high school isn’t that huge. He only has a select group of friends and he’s fairly standoffish with everyone, including those so-called friends, so I

guess I should consider myself lucky Tuttle talks to me at all. “Yeah, it’s Liv.” I grimace, hating how her name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I can’t be angry with her. It’s a waste of time and emotion. If I had any balls, I’d go to her and tell her how i really feel. But I’m fairly certain she’d freak out, so I keep my mouth shut. “I haven’t talked to that chick since eighth grade.” He frowns. “Maybe even longer. Maybe not since sixth grade.” “She isn’t your type.” Meaning if they don’t easily spread their legs and give him what he wants, then they’re not Tuttle’s type at all. He’s a screw ‘em and leave ’em type of guy. I’ve contemplated more than once about trying to adopt his attitude. Tuttle seems to move through the halls at school like he’s untouchable. The girls know his game, know that he’ll never give them what they really want. And that’s every bit of himself. Where I’m like a jackass ready to give it all up to a girl who’s blind to whatever I’m willing to offer. “I assume you’re hitting that?” Tuttle asks. I laugh, then stop when I realize I sound bitter as hell. “Nah. We’re just friends.” He laughs too, tipping his beer to his lips after he drawls, “Right.” Scowling, I walk away, not in the mood for Tuttle’s shit anymore. But when am I ever? I push my way through the crowd, the music loud, the bass making the floor vibrate. A group of girls say my name, waving at me when I make eye contact and I wave back, offer up a little smirk. They giggle as they turn away, one of them squealing over how tall I am and I’m tempted to go join them. I’m looking to flirt. Looking for that adoration I suddenly feel the need for. I want to let go tonight. Hell, I need to let go. “Baby cakes!” Thin arms wrap around my neck as a slender body presses against mine from behind. I recognize her scent, her voice, the way her nails scratch my neck, just sharp enough to make me worry she might draw blood. “Em.” I turn to face her and she readjusts her hold so she’s gripping my shoulders, smiling up at me seductively. “What are you doing?” “What’s it look like? Let’s dance, D.” She starts to move right there in the middle of the room to the beat of the music, her hips thrusting, her boobs bouncing beneath the stretchy fabric of her top. I don’t think she’s wearing a bra. And I can’t help but stare. Em smiles and tosses back her head, laughing as her hips somehow bump against mine. She knows exactly what she’s doing and she loves it. Honestly? So do I. I shouldn’t, but I do.

“Don’t be so stiff,” she chastises, her lips curled in a dirty smirk. “Though I probably would prefer you stiff…” “Em.” My voice is a warning, but she ignores it. She’s been playing this flirtatious game with me for months. Practically our entire junior year, not that she ever acts this way when Liv’s around. I don’t know what her deal is, but I’ve never mentioned it to Livvy either, because I don’t want them to fight. It’s mostly harmless anyway. Em likes to flirt. It’s just her way. But those two girls can be so jealous of each other. I know they are, though they’d never admit it out loud. They’re supposedly best friends, but sometimes I wonder if they’re more like best enemies… “Oh, stop being such a downer. She’s not around. Not like she wants you anyway.” She shifts closer as the song changes to a slower beat and we start to sway to the music. “You’re not a bad dancer, D.” I hate dancing. I’m not any good at it. “Is that what we’re doing right now? Dancing?” “We could do more if you want,” she whispers, leaning in close. “I’m always willing, unlike someone else we know.” Is it wrong that I’m tempted? I’m not even drunk yet, but I wonder what would happen if I took Em up on her offer. If we could keep it our little secret and mess around behind Livvy’s back. I bet Em would let me do just about anything I wanted to her. Anything. And everything. “We can’t,” I tell her. It’s my usual protest. She’s heard me say those two words more than a few times. “Says who?” Her smile is pure seduction. The way she sinks her teeth into her lower lip, her dark hair falling into her eyes. She blinks up at me, working it. Working me hard. And I’m half falling for it, I swear to God. “Says me.” My voice is firm. I won’t back down. I can’t sneak around behind Livvy’s back with her best friend. It doesn’t matter that Livvy won’t give me what I want—a relationship. I can’t be disloyal to her like that. I’d feel like I was cheating on her if I messed around with Em. Stupid, I know. But I can’t help the way I feel. A sigh escapes her and she tucks her hair behind her ear before she reaches for my face, her fingers drifting across my lips for the briefest moment. A ghost of a touch that makes me go completely still. “We’re going to be alone all summer—just the two of us. She’s leaving us tomorrow and not coming back until school practically starts.” Em hesitates, pouting for a moment. “We’re going to get awfully lonely.” “You think?” Em is hot—most of the time a hot mess, but there’s something attractive about her messiness. She’s not what I would call stable. She likes to party. Get drunk, get high, it doesn’t really matter. She’s a major flirt and I’ve heard rumors that during the last few months of school, she became somewhat of a BJ queen. The rumors I heard claimed she was pretty damn good at it, too.

“I know. And I know something else, too.” “What?” I touch her hip, my fingers sliding just beneath the hem of her shirt. I shouldn’t do this, but her skin is soft. Warm. And she’s letting me touch her, not pulling away, not making a big deal out of it like Livvy would. It’s like she doesn’t even want me to touch her in public. I could probably feel Em up right here in the middle of the living room and she’d let me. “You need to know that I’ll always be here for you, Dustin. We could spend the summer together, just you and I, doing whatever you want, and she’ll never have to know.” She rises up on tiptoe and kisses my jaw, her lingering lips soft against my skin. “Just remember that,” she whispers close to my ear. And then Em’s gone. “Hey!” I whirl around to find Livvy standing in front of me, a frown on her pretty face, hands resting on her hips, looking sexy as hell. “What’s up?” I ask, running a shaky hand through my hair. My entire body feels like it’s been electrocuted after what Em said to me. How she touched me. Did Livvy see? Damn, I hope not. She smiles, her entire face lighting up. “You wanna go hang out by the pool?” “Sure,” I say. She takes my hand, her fingers linking with mine, shocking me. “You want to swim?” “I didn’t wear a swimsuit,” she tells me as she drags me through the living room and into the kitchen. “You don’t need one,” I tease and she giggles, shaking her head. “I’m not going skinny dipping at Tuttle’s house. That’s a setup for disaster.” She’s right. But just about anything we might want to do tonight could end up a setup for a disaster. Like it matters. We’re all gonna do whatever the hell we want anyway.

I scan the room from the top of the stairs, mentally counting all the heads I see. There has to be at least fifty people in the living room, maybe closer to seventy-five. Another summer rager at the Tuttle residence, it’s what I’m known for. Throwing epic parties filled with people who want to get close to me. Yet I keep them all at a distance. It makes them crazy. I make them crazy. And I don’t even mean to do it on purpose. It’s just the way I am. “Tuttle!” The screeching voice makes me wince and I brace myself as the drunken brunette stumbles up the steps, her fingers clutching the bannister so tight she’s white knuckling it. “Your house is so awesome!” “Thanks.” My voice is flat, my expression neutral. A ghost of a smile has them freaking out. If I know their name and say it out loud—and I do know this chick’s name, it’s Emily —they think that’s a declaration of true love and I can’t shake them for the rest of the night. Forget that. Love sucks. Girls suck too. Well. Most of them do. There are exceptions. “I mean, I’ve been here before but.” She stops directly in front of me, sounding breathless, blue eyes wide and almost unblinking. It’s kind of freaky, how she’s staring at me. “I’ve never been upstairs.” I raise a brow, remaining silent. “I’ve never seen your room either.” She smiles and reaches out, her fingers drifting across my forearm. I snatch my arm back like her touch scalded me, and she frowns. “Aw, come on, Tuttle. We’ve known each other too long for you to act like this.” “What was your name again?” I tilt my head, examining her, my gaze roaming from the top of her head to the tips of her bright blue painted toes. Emily’s hot, there’s no denying it. But she’s also a complete wreck. She used to be sweet—kind of a goody goody, which I avoided even when I was younger. She hangs out with that girl who’s currently driving Dustin insane. They’re close friends, though it seems they’ve gone in different directions lately, at least from what I can tell.

Not that I really pay attention. But hey, when a girl starts getting a reputation around school that she’ll drop to her knees without much encouragement, word gets around fast, and that’s exactly what happened with this Emily girl. I’ve heard her lips have been wrapped around plenty of dicks the last few months and honestly? I have no plans on letting her lips get anywhere near my dick. “Oh, give me a break. You know my name,” she murmurs, sending me a coy look. She touches me again, her fingers landing on my chest this time, and I let her. She takes this as a positive sign. A smile curls her lips and she grips the fabric of my shirt a little tighter, forcing me to back up a step. I rise above her, but she just follows, grim determination seeming to drive her on. “Where’s your room, Tuttle?” This chick isn’t gaining access to my room. No one does, not really. If I hook up with a girl during a party, it’s in one of the six bathrooms in this mausoleum of a house. Or in the giant screening room with the lights turned down low and the girl kneeling on the ground in front of me while a movie plays on the screen. The volume turned up so loud the ground vibrates and the girl groans while she’s got a mouthful. Where I can lose myself in the fantasy a little bit, forget my troubles, forget the bullshit and just concentrate on the sensation of her lips wrapped tight, her tongue working, her fingers, her moans… I shake my head once. Yeah. Not happening tonight. I’m not in the mood. My last resort hookup spot is outside by the pool, which is usually busy, but there’s always a girl willing to give me a hand job in the hot tub. Sometimes I don’t even ask for it…it just happens. Get a little alcohol in a girl and she’s as bold as hell, trying her best to get her hands on my junk. But I’ve never allowed a girl to touch my junk in my room. That’s my sanctuary. “Let’s go downstairs.” I grab hold of Emily’s arm, ready to guide her back down toward the kitchen. I’m not messing around with this one. I’m fairly certain she’s trouble, and I’m not interested in trouble. Not tonight. Emily goes along with me willingly, though she’s pouting, her dark hair falling in her face. She shakes it back, her eyes flashing as they meet mine and I’m impressed with the amount of black eyeliner she’s piled on around those blue eyes of hers. She kind of looks like a raccoon. I’m sure that’s not the look she’s going for. We pass by her friend—Olivia—and she gapes at us, her shock apparent as we head for the kitchen. “Where are you taking me? To one of the bathrooms?” Emily asks hopefully as she clutches my arm. “Em!” The girl’s friend yells at us and Emily whips her head around, glancing over her shoulder. “Come here!” her friend demands. The look Em shoots me is cool and calculating. “Just ignore her.”

“You’re not going to talk to your friend?” “She’s just jealous I’m with you. She’s always wanted you.” Em waves a hand, dismissing her. Yeah, right. I haven’t crossed her friend’s path since that play we did together in the sixth grade when we were a married couple. Olivia or whatever her name is, is not the kind of girl I go for. Not the kind of girl I have classes with either. Meaning we rarely see each other at school. “She’s lusted over you for years,” Em continues, ignoring her friend as she continues to try to gain her attention. “Kind of like you have?” I ask her. She nudges me with a pointy elbow. “You’re such an arrogant ass!” I say nothing. What’s the point in denying it? “Please tell me you’re taking me to the bathroom.” Em gives my arm a quick shake, hanging on me. I’ve never seen a girl so eager to be taken to the bathroom before. It’s kind of disturbing. “I’ve been dying to hook up with you for months.” “I thought that was your friend’s main goal,” I remind her. Em waves a hand, wobbling on her feet. I grip her arm to steady her. She’s drunker than I thought. “Whatever. My goal. Her goal, it’s all the same. She likes you. I like you. Everyone likes you, Tuttle.” I’ve heard this before. Yes, I can be an arrogant asshole, but it’s true. Girls want me. They’ve always wanted me and I think it’s because I don’t necessarily want them. I’m not interested. Not in the majority of these girls I go to school with. Oh, I mess around with a few of them when necessary or when I’m bored. But most of the time, I ignore them. It drives them bat shit crazy. It’s like that makes them want me even more, when I want nothing to do with them. Well. There is one who’s interested me. But we move in different worlds. We’d never work together. And I don’t think she likes me at all. Which of course, intrigues me even more. “I know what you do with girls in bathrooms at your parties,” Em is saying, giving me a sly smile. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m totally willing. Let’s do this. Come on.” I shake my head. “You’re pushy.” “I thought guys like it when a girl knows what she wants.” Not like this. “Hey, Cannon.” I grab one of the linemen on the football team, stopping him from entering the kitchen. He gives me a look, one that says he’s surprised I’m speaking to him, not that I blame him. I may be the quarterback but we don’t really talk, unless it’s out on the field or in the locker room. “What’s up, Tuttle?” he asks warily, his gaze shooting to Em before it returns to me.

Cannon is a big dude, tall with broad shoulders and a wide chest, a thick neck and a big head, his dark blond hair usually clipped pretty short. He’s threatening as hell out on the field, and he’s a great football player, but I don’t think he’s real smart. And I can barely tolerate them when they’re not smart. “You know Emily, right?” I let go of her arm, giving her a slight shove toward Cannon. “Em,” she corrects, her voice lowering seductively. “I know exactly who you are, Cannon Whitaker.” “Oh, yeah?” He puffs up his chest, though how that’s possible, I’m not sure. The guy is already as intimidating as hell. “Well, I definitely know who you are.” “I’m sure.” She laughs as she moves to stand by Cannon’s side, her arm going through his. “Your muscles are so big.” “You think?” He flexes for her and she pets his biceps, looking properly impressed. Shaking my head, I get the hell out of there before they try to stop me.

I feel anxious. Edgy. Needy. Not that anyone seems to care. It’s like everyone is ignoring me. But I’m on a mission—I’m looking to hook up tonight. There’s no denying it, no denying me, because when I need to be, I’m a persistent bitch. So Dustin shot me down. So what? He’ll be easy to break once Livvy’s gone for the rest of the summer, bored out of her mind at her dad’s house. He’ll be putty in my hands within a few days of her leaving. I can almost guarantee it. That he doesn’t see I’ve been right there in front of him all of these years is frustrating. Dustin treats me like a friend. That’s it. He might get a little flirty, but not much. He’s too busy making eyes at Livvy, who doesn’t seem that into him at all. He’s totally missing out. And then there’s Tuttle. He’s impossible. I mean, I know he messes around with girls. I’ve heard plenty of rumors, though they all say the same thing—he’ll let them suck his dick, but that’s about it. He’s super selective—oh, and he’s also a selfish bastard. That’s what makes him even hotter. He’s so ridiculously gorgeous. And he acts like lord of the manor at his big fancy house with that snotty look on his perfect face. God, I hate him. I also want to get naked with him. At the very least, give him a BJ. But he never gives me a chance. He just literally shoved me onto Cannon Whittaker, who is undeniably hot, I’m not going to lie. But he’s not really my type. He’s just so big and muscly and…big. Yes. I’m repeating myself. But the boy’s bigness warrants repeating. “You like the guns?” Like he’s reading my mind, Cannon lifts his arms into the typical check out my muscles pose, his biceps popping. Making my eyes pop too because wow, he’s nothing but solid muscle. “Guns?” I briefly trail my fingers over his left arm. It’s like touching warm steel. “Yeah. They’re weapons.” He lifts his left arm to kiss his bicep and does the same to the right. It’s a totally cheesy move, and I’m wondering exactly how many girls has this worked on. “Weapons of mass destruction,” he tells me, his voice deadly serious. “Are you for real right now?” I giggle. My head is spinning a little from the shots I did earlier when I first got here. I smoked a joint in the garage before I left my house just to take the edge off, but the weed only made me anxious. Mom and Dad were inside, but I really didn’t care if they saw me or not. My parents are such pushovers. For example, my

grades were crap so they took my car away, but I knew I’d get it back. I always get my way eventually. They caved within a few days after taking the car away. The trick? Drive them bat shit crazy. I was such a nuisance, such a pain in the butt, always whining and stomping around the house and huffing and puffing like it was the end of the world. They absolutely hated how I was acting and finally broke down, giving me back my keys with all these conditions put on me. Whatever. I know how to push their buttons. Just like I know how to push Livvy’s and Dustin’s too. People are so easy to manipulate. I almost feel sorry for them. “You want something to drink?” Cannon flicks his head toward the kitchen and I nod, following him until we end up standing in front of the giant ice chest full of beer sitting on the floor near the fridge. He bends over and grabs a can, giving me a prime view of his muscular backside. I catch a glimpse of his underwear when his shorts fall with the movement. Cannon wears black Calvins. Good to know. He pops the beer open before handing it to me, a sweet smile curling his very sexy lips. I take the icy cold beer gratefully and drain almost half the can, catching Cannon watching me with frank admiration in his gaze. “You don’t hold back, do you?” he asks, sounding dazed. Shaking my head, I lick my lips, his gaze locked on the movement of my tongue. I almost want to laugh. Guys are so easy. So simple. Cannon is no different. “What you see is what you get,” I tell him. His brows shoot up. “And what do I get?” I step closer, resting my hand on his forearm, his skin hot beneath my fingers. “Whatever you want,” I murmur, my lips curving into a little smile when his eyes widen with surprise. “Em! There you are.” Oh. Crap. Bracing myself, I turn to face my very best friend, the girl who knows almost all of my secrets. “Livvy,” I say, my voice weak. “I didn’t know I was lost.” “Well, I just saw you, but you kept on walking.” “I was with Tuttle.” My voice lowers and I flick my head back toward Cannon. She’s going to ruin everything if she doesn’t shut up. “Why aren’t you with Dustin?” Oh man, I sound kind of snotty, but I really don’t care. Livvy frowns. “Why would I be with Dustin?” “I don’t know. Because you two can’t seem to stay away from each other?” I do my best to keep the jealousy out of my voice, but by the way she’s looking at me, I think she’s

catching on. I’ve never admitted it to either of them, but I’m jealous of their relationship. I know they’re just friends but they also mess around with each other. And then they have the nerve to keep it from me. Like it’s their special little secret. When it comes to the three of us, I’m always on the outside looking in, and what’s worse? They deny they’re doing anything whenever I ask them. He denies it. She denies it. They’re liars. “You act like we’re together. But we are so not,” Livvy says vehemently. The look of faint horror on her face says it all. Does she really not want to be with Dustin? I don’t get why not. He’s a good guy. He’s her supposed best friend, besides me. Dustin is a great basketball player, he’s smart and funny and cute. Fine, hot. He’s hot. She’s stupid. But then again, so is he. “Whatever.” I flick my fingers at her, dismissing the conversation. It’s pointless. We’ll just go round and round. I have better things to do. Like Cannon Whittaker. “Who’s your friend?” Cannon asks, blatantly checking out Liv. Ugh. No way am I going to let him go tonight. He’s my only real prospect. “It’s just Livvy,” I tell him, my voice sweet as sugar as I wind my arm through his. I don’t bother looking at her. Maybe she’ll catch a clue and leave us alone. “Let’s go outside and check out the hot tub.” That’s code for us going into the hot tub so we can feel each other up beneath the bubbling water. People grope each other in Tuttle’s hot tub all the time. It doesn’t matter how many people are in there either. It’s like a free for all, which is sort of gross when you think about it. I seriously hope he dumps a ton of chlorine in there after his parties. Bleach would probably be better. “You need a good soak?” Cannon asks, grinning as we start toward the door that leads to the backyard. “I think we both do,” I say with a smile. “Em! Seriously, are you going to just leave me?” I glance over my shoulder, taking in the incredulous expression on my friend’s face. Livvy’s mouth is hanging open like she can’t believe I’d ditch her for a guy. Doesn’t she know me by now? We’ve grown apart this past year. I can feel it. She has to feel it. Things haven’t been the same between us since the end of last year, and I’m cool with that. But it’s like she doesn’t want to make waves. Well, I’m sick and tired of remaining stagnant. Life isn’t going to just pass me by. I’m gonna grab it by the balls every chance I get.

And if that means grabbing Cannon’s balls tonight, then so be it. I’m up for the challenge. Though truthfully? I’m guessing Cannon won’t be a challenge at all. “Go find Dustin,” I say, my voice loud enough for everyone standing around to hear me. “I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to keep you company tonight.” The hurt look on her face says it all. I’m the total bitch best friend. May as well own it. Without a word she turns on her heel and heads the other way. I watch her go, tempted to run after her but I remain where I stand. Cannon whistles low as he leads me out to the backyard, my arm still curled through his. “You’re cutthroat,” he says, almost admiringly. I shrug, smiling up at him. “Don’t worry about her. She understands.” He smiles in return. “You got a swimsuit on underneath your clothes?” My smile turns coy. “Maybe.” “Might have to strip you naked before you get in that hot tub, huh? Is that what you’re telling me?” he asks, his voice hopeful. In his dreams. I don’t answer him. A little mystery never hurt anyone.

This girl is ready for action and I’m ready to give it. I’ve heard the stories about Emily, especially these last few months. She likes to party. Get her wasted and she falls to her knees in an instant. Though I’m not looking for that—don’t laugh. It’s true. I won’t turn down a blowjob or a hand job or whatever, but what I’ve really been looking for lately is… A connection. Sounds sappy. All my friends would tell me I’ve lost my balls and become a complete pussy, but whatever. What the hell do they know about relationships? Nothing, that’s what. And I’m not necessarily seeking a relationship—I’d probably freak out if I found myself in one—but I am looking for something more than a casual hook up at a party. I want someone I can literally Netflix and chill with. I want someone who’ll come watch me play ball and wear my jersey. Yell my name as loud as she can from the stands when I go running by, and who’ll congratulate me for a spectacular win with a big, fat kiss. Someone I can make out with whenever I want. Yeah. Perfect. I want that. “Cannon.” Em draws my name out, all the n’s slurring together. Girl’s been drinking a lot more than I thought. Probably stoned too. “Watch me.” I do, crossing my arms in front of my chest as she awkwardly strips out of her clothes, revealing that yep, she’s wearing a red bikini. But it’s tiny, the triangle top barely covering her tits, and the bottoms are so small I’m guessing she waxes pretty much everything. “Tricked ya,” she says as she saunters toward me, her hips swaying. A few guys that are nearby cheer her on and she beams, clearly loving the attention. This girl is a wreck. I bet I could rescue her. “How’d you trick me?” I ask when she stops directly in front of me, her hands going to my chest. They funnel beneath my T-shirt, touching my bare skin and I shiver at her aggressive touch. “You hoped I’d have to skinny dip.” She cocks her hip, resting her hand there. “Look at me in my bikini.”

“You could still skinny dip. If you want.” I smile when she laughs, enjoying the sound. I shouldn’t encourage her. She’d probably whip those little scraps of fabric off so fast my head would spin. “Nah. A girl’s gotta have some mystery.” She pushes away from me and heads for the hot tub. My gaze locks on her butt, appreciating the way her cheeks are on display, the sexy sway of her hips. Girl’s got a tight ass, I’ll give her that. “Well, I hate to disappoint you,” I say as I follow after her. “But I’m not wearing swim trunks. Didn’t bring any either.” Em twirls around, her mouth dropping open in shock. “Cannon.” “What?” I ask innocently, enjoying the way her gaze roves over me, like she’s trying to take me all in. And there’s a lot to take in. I’m not a small guy. She’s not a big girl. I’d probably smash her if we did it missionary style. We’d probably work out better if she were on top. Just like that, my head is filled with all sorts of images, the majority of them featuring Em bouncing on top of me with her tits in my face. Damn. I need to calm down before I pop a tent in my pants. “Are you going to skinny dip?” Her brows go up. “Naw. I got underwear on.” “So I’ll get to check you out in your Calvins?” My cheeks go warm. “How’d you know I was wearing Calvin Klein underwear?” I’m freaking embarrassed, which is the stupidest thing ever. I’m trying to impress this girl and act like a sex god, but I’m getting tripped up over the underwear mention. “I saw them when you grabbed me a beer.” She makes a cute little face. “Another beer sounds good right about now.” “No.” I shake my head. “No more beer for you.” I mean it. I don’t like sloppy drunks. And I definitely don’t take advantage of drunk girls. That’s not cool. “Now turn around.” “What? You’re not going to let me watch you strip?” She looks extremely disappointed, which works wonders for my ego. “Nope. A guy’s got to have a little mystery.” I throw her words back in her face and she laughs again. I really like it when she laughs. It lights up her whole face and she doesn’t look so…troubled. Why do I have such a soft spot for the troubled girl? I always have. They’re a weakness of mine. I’m a rescuer. Maybe because my mom has needed to be rescued ever since I was a little kid with her constant bad choices. Made me want to take care of her in any way I could. But I never got the chance. She’d always let some other asshole take care of her—and they rarely did a good job. So I watched over my little sister, making sure she did her

homework, that she was fed, that she went to bed at a decent hour. Though lately she’s avoiding me, barely looking me in the eye when we talk. I think it’s because she’s up to no good. Swear to God, none of the females in my life can stay on the straight and narrow. “I’m waiting,” Em says, her voice high and light and I hurriedly strip, until I’m left in nothing but my boxer briefs. She turns to face me right when I kick off my shorts, her gaze dropping low. I get the weird feeling that she’s totally checking out my package. “Let’s go.” She comes toward me, takes my hand and leads me to the hot tub, which luckily enough is completely empty. The moment we sink into the hot, bubbling water a sigh eases out of me and I lean back, my head on the edge of the tub’s ledge. “Feels good,” I murmur. She snuggles close to my side, her fingers skimming my stomach beneath the water. “Yeah, you do.” We’re in warm, bubbly water, skin on skin, not much between us. This is a moment I should take advantage of. I know she won’t protest. Hell, she wants it. Wants me. She’s made that abundantly clear. “Cannon.” She tilts her head back when I look down at her, her lips parting invitingly. “Kiss me.” I frown. The move, the line, the way she looks, it all feels so practiced. She’s done this before. Multiple times. Usually I wouldn’t give a crap. I’d take her up on her invitation and get down to business. So why am I acting this way now? With this particular girl? I don’t get it. Leaning down, I drop a kiss on her forehead, which earns me a frown for my efforts. “That’s all I get?” she asks, sounding pouty. “You’re drunk.” I touch her cheek. Her skin is soft and smooth and her lids lower over her eyes, like she enjoys my fingers on her skin. “Maybe a little high too.” “So?” She sounds irritated and I kiss her softly on the lips, nothing too pushy or over the top. But let me tell you, I feel that kiss right down to my bones. “I don’t take advantage of drunk girls,” I whisper, hoping she realizes I’m a good guy. Despite my reputation, despite the public persona I put on for everyone to see, I can’t take advantage of this girl. I’ve known her way too long, watched her slowly spiral out of control. I won’t contribute to her downfall. “That’s a shame,” she murmurs, leaning into me so close, her head rests on my shoulder. “I would’ve totally let you take advantage of me tonight.” I say nothing. Just slip my arm around her slender shoulders and keep her close. One of

the guys from the team pauses by the edge of the hot tub, his eyes gleaming as he makes a dirty hand gesture then points at Em. I glare at him until he looks down and walks away. Jerk. I know what they think about her. I know she’s the one who made them think that way, considering she created her own reputation. I should leave her alone. She’s trouble. But I like how she fits next to me. I like the smell of her hair, her soft skin, her smokin’ hot body. And she’s nice. Before everything seemed to fall apart, she was really nice and friendly and fun to hang out with. Maybe we could be something. Or maybe we won’t amount to anything. But I do know one thing. I’m watching out for her tonight. She needs a knight in shining armor. And I’m going to take that role on—whether she likes it or not.

I can’t believe it. I’m walking into Jordan Tuttle’s house like I belong here, like I own the freaking place—ahem, palace. His house is a giant mansion, like something out of a movie, but I don’t let myself get distracted by all the beauty surrounding me. Instead, I hold my head high, my gaze searching the room in the hopes I’ll spot Thad before he sees me. I’m so excited I can barely stand it. The living room is jam packed with so many people, the music thumping so loud I can’t hear anything. And the song is awful. I’ve never been a big fan of rap. I’m more the female power type of music lover. Katy Perry. Arianna Grande. Oooh, Sia is a new favorite. Even freaking Lady Gaga. Okay fine, boys would roll their eyes at me if they knew my musical tastes. Well, Thad wouldn’t. But that’s because he’s sort of the perfect boyfriend. I can’t quite call him the perfect boyfriend because first, he’s younger than me by a year. And that lowers my street cred, if I even have any. I probably have zero street cred. Whatever. Second, he’s a band geek. Like me. But that’s okay, right? We’re both in band, so we spend a lot of time together. It was meant to be! That’s what my best friend says. And Tara should know, since she’s in band too. We’ve been best friends since sixth grade, when she and I sat in the clarinet section together. She knows all of my secrets, just like I know hers. Thad plays sax. He flirted with me right after winter break—rather badly—and somehow I picked up on the signals. Tara did too. I think she was jealous. I was the first one of us to have a real boyfriend, and I know she’s had various crushes throughout our high school years, but nothing has come from them. Yet. I still have high hopes for my friend. She’s pretty and smart and fun to hang out with. Sort of moody sometimes, but aren’t we all? She deserves a good guy, a great boyfriend. That way we could all double date together, and that’s my ultimate dream. I tried to convince her to come with me to Jordan Tuttle’s party tonight, but she said she didn’t want to feel like a third wheel. Like we’d ever exclude her. She’s my bestie for life. I’d never wrong her. Ever. Besides, this place is crawling with hot guys. She could’ve had her choice of boys

tonight, not that I’m paying attention to any of them. I’m on the hunt for Thad. Where is he? I’m kind of boggled by the fact that he wanted to meet here tonight. How he scored an invite to this party, I’m not sure, but once the word hits social media, it’s a free for all. Tuttle’s parties are always that way. Not that I’ve ever been to one before, so I don’t have any personal experience. He invited me once. A few months ago, in our honors English class we had together. Someone was asking about another one of his parties and he looked right at me with those piercing blue eyes of his and said, “You should come.” My mind drew a blank because hello, Tuttle said something to me. He has before— many times, really because we tend to have classes together every year. But he’s untouchable, especially to someone like me. So untouchable, I glanced behind me, thinking he was talking to someone else. But no. He was talking to me. “Amanda. That’s your name, right?” he asked pointedly, that intense gaze of his pinning me in place. Reminding me that he’s some sort of god while I’m just…me. A nobody. I nodded, my tongue tied in a Tuttle-induced knot. I swear I heard a few girls verbally swoon when he said my name, because—and we all knew this—he seldom ever said a girl’s name out loud. It was a rare occurrence. Did this make me special? Probably not. “I’ve never seen you at one of my parties,” he continued conversationally, leaning back in his chair, his gaze never leaving mine. He was unnaturally good looking. Like, his face is a work of art—it belongs in a museum, he’s so perfectly formed. Crazy, right? I know, I know, but trust me. He’s that gorgeous. “Why?” “Um…” I shrugged. “I never thought I was invited?” “Well, you definitely are.” His lips tilted upward, subtle but there. A…smile? “I’ve just personally invited you to my party this Friday. I want to see you there.” It was like a royal decree, one that excited me beyond anything had in a long time. But the very next day, Thad asked me out on a date for the first time, and we went to the movies that Friday night instead. I figured Tuttle was just messing with me anyway. Thad’s more my speed. Normal. Cute. Average. With a silly sense of humor and thankfully, not intense whatsoever. “Amanda! Hey!” I turn to see Natalie Whipple standing in front of me, her eyes so wide I thought they were going to bug out of her head. “What are you doing here?” Natalie is in band with us. She plays the flute and she’s terrible at it, but no one’s left behind in our high school band. Like…no one. “Hey, Nat.” I wave, then drop my hand when she continues to stare at me like I’m the weirdest thing she’s ever seen. “Have you

seen Thad around?” “Thad?” She giggles, resting her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. “Um, yeah?” Why is she talking in questions? “Okay. Where is he?” “Upstairs?” Another giggle slips before Nat tries her best to manage a straight face. “In one of the bedrooms?” My heart starts to hammer against my ribs. He’d told me the last time we were together he wanted to take things further. We’d been making out in the backseat of his car, and he’d been sort of all over the place. He’s a decent kisser, though maybe a little sloppy. Too much tongue, I think. And he’s handsy as hell, which in the right situation I think I’d like, but most of the time, it feels like I’m making out with an octopus when I kiss Thad. Oh, that was mean. He’s my boyfriend. I shouldn’t critique his skills. More like I should help him along. I’m totally inexperienced too, so we can teach each other, you know? “Thanks,” I tell Nat before I walk away, headed toward the staircase. Where I happen to see Tuttle standing at the top, gazing down at me with…an unidentifiable emotion gleaming in his eyes. I start up the stairs, gripping the bannister with shaky fingers, unable to tear my gaze away from Tuttle’s. He watches me, his expression blank, like he could care less if it’s me that’s coming toward him, and that’s fine. Really. I should mean nothing to him. He means nothing to me. I’m in search of Thad, not Tuttle. “You finally made it,” he says when I reach the top of the stairs. “Up the stairs?” I ask confusedly. I come to a stop directly in front of him and I swear to God, he radiates heat. I can feel him drawing me in and I’m tempted to take a step backwards. But then I might fall down the stairs and that would really suck. Tuttle cracks the faintest smile. “To my party.” “Oh.” Right. His invitation from long ago. “So hey. Have you seen my boyfriend?” The scowl that suddenly appears on his gorgeous face surprises me. “You have a boyfriend?” Okay. That was mean. Why does he sound so shocked? The jerk. “I do,” I say as I tilt my nose up into the air. Do I look snooty? I hope I do. Tuttle is a total jackass. “He’s average height, skinny. Brown hair, brown eyes. Have you seen him?” Ugh. I made Thad sound so boring, and he’s really not. I’m the worst girlfriend ever. “He’s really cute,” I add before Tuttle can answer me. “He has a nice mouth. Really full lips.” I wince the moment I say the words, and when Tuttle’s eyebrows shoot up, I figure he must think I’m really stupid.

“I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend, Mandy,” he murmurs, the scowl gone, replaced by an almost—hungry look on his face. “So I don’t know what he looks like.” “Of course, you don’t. You never pay attention to anyone at school but yourself,” I mutter. The hurt look on his face surprises me. And angers me too. Irritated more with myself than with Tuttle, I push past him and he smartly steps out of my way. I’m mad. Why do I turn into a bumbling idiot in Jordan Tuttle’s presence? Why would he be so mean about me having a boyfriend? Like that totally shocked him, which is incredibly rude. He’s such a jerk. Such an arrogant, gorgeous, smart, awful jerk. The hall I’m walking down seems to go on forever, reminding me of a hotel. I take in all of those closed doors and decide… Screw it. I start opening them, one by one. One’s a closet, with neatly folded towels and sheets stacked on pristine white shelves. The next door is a giant bathroom that’s occupied by two girls making out, one of them sitting on the counter, her legs wrapped around the other one’s waist. “Sorry!” I yelp before I slam the door shut. Crap. This is probably going to happen again and again. Invading people’s privacy, but dang it, I need to find Thad. I’ve texted him twice since I got here and so far, no reply. Where is he? I open a door. Another one. And then another one—when I hear a breathy gasp. Followed by a groan. That groan sounds awfully familiar. I creep into the room, my footsteps light, my breath lodged in my lungs and my eyes quickly adjusting to the utter darkness. There’s a bed, right in the center of the room, and there are two people on it. I blink them into focus and discover that they’re not covered, the sheets and comforter flung onto the floor in a tangled heap. They’re completely naked. They’re Thad and…Tara? “Get it in me, get it in me,” my best friend chants. Thad’s moon white butt pauses and I hear him say, “It is in you.” “Holy shit!” The words blast out of my mouth and they both pause, their heads swiveling at the same exact moment, their eyes widening when they spot me. I’d consider it almost comical if I weren’t so freaking pissed. “Amanda. I can explain,” Thad starts weakly but yeah. I’m not listening. Not ever again. I run out of the room. And right into Tuttle.

This night isn’t going as I expected. Em for some weird reason is mad at me. She totally ditched me for that overly muscled football player Cannon Whittaker and I really don’t get why. She knows it’s my last night in town before I leave tomorrow. I thought she wanted to spend time with me. I thought she wanted to hang out with Dustin and I and get drunk and do stupid stuff. But for some reason, she was really awful to me earlier and what she said hurt my feelings. Now all I want is to go home. I can’t find Dustin so I can tell him that, and I’m frustrated. Where could he have gone? What is he doing? I’ve searched as much of the house as I can—which is saying a lot because Tuttle’s house is massive—and Dustin is nowhere to be found. It’s like no one cares I’m leaving tomorrow. But why should they? They’re all going to carry on and have a great summer together. I’m the one who’s going to miss out on all the fun. Pity party for one, happening right now. I head back through the kitchen, ready to go outside one last time when I spot him. Standing in the corner next to the giant subzero freezer, his shoulder propped against it, smiling down into the face of one overly animated, way too cute girl. Stupid Brianne Brown. She’s been after Dustin for what feels like forever but he usually doesn’t give her the time of day. So why is he looking at her like that? And why do I suddenly feel like I can barely breathe? It’s called jealousy, you dork. Taking a deep breath, I tug on the hem of my shirt, smooth a hand over my hair and then start toward them. Dustin glances up, his gaze meeting mine and the sweet smile that curves his lips makes my heart flutter madly. There. That’s the look I want to see. His gaze is on me and not Brianne. She knows it too, glancing over her shoulder to send me a withering stare, hardly registering that it’s

me. We’ve never really gotten along and I’m guessing a lot of that has to do with Dustin and how much she wants him. Whatever. He’s my best friend. She can’t sink her claws in him. I won’t let her. “Livvy,” Dustin says when I stop directly beside him. “Where’ve you been?” “I was wondering the same thing about you.” I lean into him, bumping my hip against his and his smile grows. Brianne scowls. “Excuse me, but you’re interrupting our conversation.” Oh. My. God. She is such a bitch. I smile sweetly and loop my arm through Dustin’s. “I’m sorry. Please go ahead with your fascinating conversation.” Dustin is completely clueless. He shoots Brianne a kind smile. “Yeah, Bri. Finish your story.” “I’ll tell you about it some other time.” Her smile is brittle. She won’t even look in my direction. “I’ll talk to you later, Dustin.” “Yeah, bye.” He tightens his arm around mine, turning to face me the minute she’s gone. “What was up with that?” Oh. Maybe he’s not so clueless after all. I decide to go for clueless instead. “What do you mean?” “Why did I get such hostile vibes between you two?” He smirks. Like he doesn’t know why. Ha. “Um, because she’s hot for you and hates me.” He laughs. “She is not.” “Yeah. She so is.” One dark brow lifts. “So? What’s the big deal?” I don’t want to look like a jealous shrew but… “She’s trying to move in on you.” “And you have a problem with that?” He sends me a pointed look and remains silent. So do I. For way too long. Reality check. It’s hard for me to admit exactly how I feel about Dustin when I’m not one hundred percent sure. He’s been my friend for so long, and I don’t want to damage our friendship by falling into a relationship. That’s serious. I don’t know if I’m ready. And sometimes I think he wants serious more than anything. It’s kind of scary. I decide to keep it light. “I can share you,” I tease. “But I don’t think Brianne likes me very much.” “You’d share me?” Dustin sounds incredulous.

My cheeks go hot. “You know what I mean. I’m your friend. She wants…more.” “You’re not just my friend, Livvy.” His voice drops lower and I swear I feel it reverberate throughout my body. “You’re my best friend. My closest friend. No one knows me better than you.” “Right.” I nod, hating how shaky I feel at the thought of him with someone else. With Brianne. “If I start dating Brianne, she’ll have to get used to you in my life. We’re a package deal, you and me. And Em,” he says, his tone deathly serious. My mouth drops open and I quickly snap it shut. He’s really considering going out with Brianne? Gross. She would never get used to me in his life. She’d shut Em and I out and never think twice about it. “You wouldn’t care if I went out with Brianne, right Livvy?” His voice is soft, and when I lift my gaze to his, he’s watching me closely. And standing extra close too. When did that happen? And how did my hand end up in his? “If you want to date Brianne, I guess that would be fine. I can’t tell you what to do.” The bitterness is so obvious in my tone. I hope he doesn’t notice. “I had no idea you liked her like that, Dustin.” “Like what?” he asks innocently. “Like…you know.” I shrug, feeling stupid. “You want to go out with her.” “She’s cute. And persistent.” It’s his turn to shrug. “I’m flattered that she seems to want me so bad.” “Don’t let it go to your head.” I reach out to lightly smack his chest but he grabs hold of my wrist, stopping me. His fingers curl tight, his thumb brushing the inside of my wrist, making me shiver. “I’m just messing with you,” he says, his rumbly voice so low, I have to lean in closer to hear him. His thumb still strokes my skin and I want to ask him to stop. Beg him to keep touching me. How can he touch me like that if he likes Brianne? “I don’t want to go out with her.” Oh. Wait. He doesn’t? See, this is what drives me crazy about Dustin. We send each other mixed signals all the time. I don’t know why we do that but…we do. It’s like we play head games with each other. We flirt, we fight, I treat him like my brother, I yell at him, make fun of him, he yells at me, makes fun of me… And then we end up hugging and sometimes kissing and on those very rare occasions, we end up touching each other and it feels so good, I never want it to stop. Until it’s over and I feel guilty and weird over what we’ve done, and I almost want to wish those moments away. Almost. “You don’t?” I croak, clearing my throat. “I mean, she’s nice, don’t get me wrong.” She is so not nice, but whatever. “But I don’t

want her to be my girlfriend or anything like that.” “How do you know? You’ve never had a girlfriend before,” I remind him, which is totally weird because Dustin is a catch. He’s smart, he’s cute, he’s a star basketball player and everyone likes him. “I have a pretty good idea who I’d want my girlfriend to be like.” My heart sinks into my stomach and does a weird loop thing. I want to hear what he has to say, but then again…I don’t. Officially taking it to the next level with Dustin freaks me out. And excites me too. Just a little. “Come on.” He tugs on my hand and starts walking, dragging me along with him. “Let’s go find somewhere more private.” “More private?” My heart is full on racing now. His fingers are tight around mine and he’s walking so fast, I practically have to run to keep up with him. His legs are extra long and mine are super short. “Yeah.” He glances over his shoulder, his gaze smoldering. “I want to be alone with you.” Oh. Crap. Okaaaaay. I don’t protest and wonder if it’s all the beer I’ve consumed. Though I don’t feel that drunk. In fact, I’m fairly sober and yet I’m doing this. Going off with Dustin to somewhere “more private”. And we know what we’ll end up doing once we find that private spot. No need to spell it out, right? We run up the stairs, passing Jordan Tuttle himself who’s talking with a girl I’ve known forever, though we’ve never been that close. Amanda Winters is disentangling herself from his grip and then she’s running down the stairs, her sobs loud enough that I can hear them. My heart immediately aches for her. She sounds so sad. “What’s up, bro?” Dustin asks, noticing the scowl on Tuttle’s face, no doubt. “Everything okay?” “I think she just caught her boyfriend screwing her best friend.” Tuttle’s gaze is locked on the stairwell. “I should go after her. Make sure she’s okay.” Before we can answer, he’s gone, calling Amanda’s name. Ah, another night of drama at a Tuttle party. “Come on.” Dustin’s fingers tighten around mine as he drags me down the extra long hall and into an empty bedroom. He shuts and locks the door behind us and before I can say anything, he has me pressed against the door, his hands at my waist, his mouth locked with mine.

Dustin is an excellent kisser. It’s like our lips fit perfectly and he knows exactly what I like. His mouth is warm and soft and damp and when his tongue tangles with mine, I almost want to pass out, it feels so good. Like who needs drugs when you have a boy who can kiss you senseless? Not me. I’ll stick with Dustin’s lips, thanks. Minutes pass and we’re still kissing, my back pressed against the door and Dustin’s body smashed against mine. “Livvy.” He whispers my name close to my ear, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my shirt and touching bare skin. I want it. I don’t. I want it so much, yet I don’t. Not with Dustin. Maybe with Dustin? Oh God, I don’t know what to do… Using all of my strength, I push him until he’s stumbling backwards, his expression one of pure shock. I step away from the door, putting much needed distance between us as I try to catch my breath. Calm my racing heart. Make my head stop spinning. “Why’d you stop me?” He sounds hurt. Great. “We, um, shouldn’t really do this. Should we?” I sound confused but guess what? I am confused. Is it smart to mess around with him tonight only to turn around and leave tomorrow? I’ll be gone for almost six weeks. Alone at my dad’s house in Oregon, while Dustin is here with our friends, having fun and maybe…eventually…he’ll find someone new. And that would break my heart. I frown, hating how knotted my stomach becomes at the thought of Dustin with someone else. He wouldn’t do that to me, would he? I don’t think so, but it’s not like we’re in a committed relationship. After all, we’re just friends.

“You don’t want…” My voice drifts and I clamp my lips shut. So Olivia is asking me if we should “really do this”. Is she for real? I thought she wanted it. When I kissed her just a minute ago, she’d seemed eager. Excited. She tasted good too. She always does. I could kiss her for hours. Hell, there was that one time when I did kiss her for hours, and I never wanted it to stop. Yeah, I know. I’m a complete and total sap for Livvy. And trust me, sometimes it sucks. “I don’t know.” She shrugs, looks away. She’s standing in front of me, but keeping enough distance so I can’t reach out and touch her. Did she plan that? Probably. “Don’t know what?” I’m pushing her, and I know she hates that sort of thing. So do I. We make a great—if sometimes annoying—team. “I don’t know what I want, okay!” She throws her arms up in the air, as if she’s completely exasperated. And maybe she is. I know I am. I’m tired of going round and round with her. Does she like me like that? Does she want more? Or maybe she doesn’t after all? Why do I keep pushing the issue and let her do this to me? If I wanted, I could have Brianne Brown with a snap of my fingers. Sounds arrogant as hell but I’m just being honest. She even said it straight to my face earlier, and I didn’t know what to say. I just smiled and laughed and acted like she was flirting. But I could tell. She was serious. There’s also Emily, who flirts like she means it because she does. She totally means it. I bet if I asked her to give me a blow job, she’d do it. No questions asked. She’d fall to her knees, give me one of those knowing Em smiles, and then go to work. My dick twitches in my shorts at the thought. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” Livvy continues when I don’t say anything. “I’ll be gone for six weeks, and you’ll be here. Hanging out with Em and your other friends. And I’ll be alone, stuck at my dad’s and bored out of my mind. If we were to get—I don’t know —involved, or whatever, before I left, what kind of start to our relationship would that be? While you’re here and I’m in Oregon? Hundreds of miles separating us during the summer would totally suck.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust me?” I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm the anger that’s simmering deep within me. I’ve been nothing but loyal to her for years. Does she really believe the minute she’s gone, I’ll chase after someone else? If we were committed to each other, I’d never do that to her. She has to know this. “No, of course not.” She takes a step toward me. Then another one, until she’s directly in front of me, and her hands are resting lightly on my chest. I can feel her touch burn through my shirt, into my skin and I want to grab hold of her. Kiss her all over again. Make her forget all of this crap she’s telling me. “I don’t want us to start anything—yet. The timing isn’t right.” I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, never tearing my gaze from hers. She looks so sincere, yet a little sad. Like maybe she really does want to start something with me, something real. But yeah, the timing isn’t right. And it’s not like she’ll be gone forever. She’s coming back in a few weeks. The time will go by fast and then she’ll come back. Maybe then, we can be really together. “I’ll miss you while you’re gone.” I touch the side of her face, slide my fingers into her hair. “I’ll miss you too,” she whispers, her eyes falling shut when I run my fingers through her hair. She always likes it when I do that. “Hmm, that’s nice.” That little hum she makes does something to me. Makes my stomach knot and my skin grow hot. I pull her into me and she doesn’t resist. I wrap my arms around her and she slips her arms around my neck, her hands in my hair this time and her touch feels so damn good, I’m going on pure instinct. I close my eyes, touch my mouth to hers and she parts her lips, inviting me in. The kiss goes deep and hot in a second, hands everywhere, a low groan sounding, a whimper following. I slip my hand underneath her shirt, touch her bra and I feel her shiver, her skin dotted with goose bumps. She breathes my name on a sigh and I shift my hands, tightening them on her waist so I can back us both up, until we’re right next to the bed. Carefully I guide her down and she falls back on the mattress, her eyes still closed, her lips parted and dark red hair spread all across the pillow. I watch her, trying to catch my breath, calm myself down. I don’t want to rush this or push her too hard. But I can also barely keep myself from touching her. So I give into my urges, slipping my fingers beneath her shirt, skim them across the flat plain of her stomach. She’s shivering, a little gasp escaping her when I trace the edge of her bra and when I glance up at her face, I see that she’s watching me. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted slightly and when she sneaks her tongue out to lick them, I want to groan in agony. She drives me insane and she has no idea. “I thought…” Her voice drifts and she visibly swallows. “I thought we weren’t going to take this any further tonight.” “We won’t,” I whisper, rubbing my thumb along the soft skin just below her belly

button, right above the snap of her shorts. “Nothing that we’ve already done, right.” Liv says nothing and I take that as a positive sign. I undo the button on her shorts, tug down the zipper. Pull her shorts down her long legs, until they’re tangled around her ankles and she’s kicking them onto the floor. She’s wearing black cotton panties and I’m suddenly overcome with the urge to tear them off. But I remain in check. She’d probably freak out if I did something like that. So I do my best to stay in control. I touch her just right, in all the places she likes, and the places I like too. She touches me with tentative fingers, always hesitant, a little unsure. I always want more, but I never push. I kiss her until my mouth is sore and our breaths are coming so fast, it sounds like we just ran the biggest race of our lives. My heart is racing and I feel like I’m going to explode, yet I’m gentle with her. Patient. Always patient.

Afterward, we go downstairs, splitting up when I hit the kitchen and she heads outside to the backyard. I’m sure she’s looking for Em, as usual. I’m looking for beer. Or any type of alcohol I can get, because I’ve lost my buzz and I really need one right now. I get her off every single time, and sometimes I get off too, but not tonight. And I really wanted to, considering she’s leaving tomorrow. But once it was over for her and she became aware of her surroundings, she got nervous when she heard voices just out in the hall. I reassured her nothing bad was going to happen, but she became paranoid and dressed quickly, like we were about to get caught. Leaving me lying on the bed with my shorts around my ankles and a hard on straining against my underwear. Yeah. Freaking sucked. The kitchen is crowded with people and I find a mostly empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. I grab it and drink straight from the bottle, relishing the burn as the liquor slides down my throat and settles in my belly. I drain the last of it and set the bottle back on the counter, turning to find Em standing in front of me, that always knowing smirk on her face. “Hey.” I wipe at the corner of my mouth with my thumb, catching the last of the whiskey. “Livvy is looking for you.” “Why?” She arches a brow, resting her hands on her hips. She’s…wet, I’d guess from the pool or the hot tub, but she’s got her clothes on. Yet I can see water drops lingering on her skin and her hair is soaked, slicked back from her head and smudges of mascara beneath her eyes. “I don’t know.” I shrug, wishing I had more booze. I’m grabbing a beer as soon as I can get away from Em. “Maybe because she’s leaving tomorrow and wants to spend time with you?”

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll miss her.” There’s not even a single note of sincerity in her voice. Damn, this girl has become cold these last few months. “So. What are you up to?” The moment she asks the question, Livvy appears, standing right beside her. “Em! There you are.” “Here I am.” Em holds her hands out and wiggles her fingers, the mocking tone not hard to miss. “What’s going on, girlfriend?” “Nothing much. Tonight has been…interesting.” Livvy giggles, hooking her arm through mine. Her cheeks are pink and her smile is wide. She’s pretty much glowing, and I can only assume I’m the one who put that look on her face. And corny as it sounds, that makes my chest swell up with pride. They gossip for a few minutes before Livvy excuses herself, saying she has to use the restroom. The second she’s gone Em’s stepping closer to me. So close, her boobs brush against my chest and my boner threatens to make its reappearance. Great. “So what happened? You make her come and she leaves you in agony?” Both of her brows are up with that question. Pretty much. Not that I want to admit that to Em. “We’re fine.” “Uh huh.” She smirks. “Whatever you say. Just know I’m all about guaranteed satisfaction.” Is that supposed to make me feel better? Turn me on? I don’t like that she’s messing around with all these guys and don’t really get why she keeps doing it. I saw her with Cannon Whittaker earlier. That dude loves to party. I’d bet money she left him satisfied. Shaking my head, I glare at her. “Lay off, Em,” I tell her gruffly. Em frowns. “Aw, what? I can’t talk about that kind of thing with you because Livvy will get mad? Are you guys really together now? Does that mean we can’t play around anymore?” I frown. We’ve never “played around” before. And I don’t like her making it sound like we have. “No, we’re not together, but we want to be.” “So why aren’t you?” “Because she’s leaving.” Em started to laugh. “She’s so dumb. I’d have you under lock and key if I was her.” Before I can say anything in Liv’s defense, Em turns and walks away, getting swallowed up by the crowd. I swear I hear her call out Cannon’s name and I glance around, wishing Livvy was standing by me. I could take her hand. Kiss her fingers. Reassure myself that what we have is real and it’s going to get even better once she returns home. It will. I know it.

I chase after Amanda through the house, but she’s damn fast. She’s also been crying and seeing her like that when she ran out of one of the upstairs bedrooms, her face crumpled, the pain in her eyes, the tears streaming down her cheeks, it threw me for a fucking loop. Throwing me for a loop even more? I can’t find her. Everyone calls my name as I move through the crowds of people. They’re waving and smiling and desperate for my attention as they try and stop me. They all have something to say and I nod, extracting myself from their grip, their seeking gazes, their too bright smiles. I don’t care what they have to say. All I can think about is Amanda. Where is she? What the hell did that asshole do to her anyway? I have no idea who this so-called boyfriend of hers is, but if I somehow find him, I’m probably going to beat the crap out of him for making her cry. “Tuttle!” I turn to find Lauren Mancini coming for me, her blonde ponytail bobbing like it does when she’s on the sidelines leading the cheers. She is the most popular girl in our class. Perfect on the outside, an epic mess on the inside. At least, that’s how she was that brief, shining moment when we were sort of a couple the beginning of our freshman year. Our relationship lasted about two weeks, if that. “Hey.” I offer her a chin nod. “What’s up?” Her eyes sparkling, she approaches slowly, followed by her friends, every single one of them cheerleaders, like her. They all look the same, right down to the color of their hair, I swear. It’s hard to tell who’s who. “Thought I’d say hi,” she chirps. “Haven’t been to one of your parties in a long time.” That’s because she’d been dating some dude a year older than us who never wanted her out of his sight. Possessive and controlling, they finally broke up right before graduation because he didn’t want to be tied down before he left for college on a baseball scholarship. It’s disturbing I know these particular details, but somehow, I do. “Well, hi.” I briefly flick my gaze away from hers, ready to make my escape. “Gotta make my rounds. So see ya.” Lauren pouts. Whoever told her that was cute, lied. “Don’t leave. We haven’t talked in

forever, Jordan. Come on. Fill me in. What’s going on with you?” My entire body tenses at her calling me by my first name. Does she really think I’m going to spill my guts while her friends surround her in the middle of a party? Please. “We have nothing to talk about,” I say tightly, noticing the flicker of hurt in her eyes. “I’ll see you later.” I leave before she can say anything else. It’s like I can feel her eyes boring holes into my back but I don’t care. I’m in hot pursuit of a certain weeping brunette. And I finally spot her in the kitchen. “Chug, chug, chug,” a group of people surrounding the kitchen island are chanting. One guy is holding a beer bong for the girl sprawled out across the island, her head tilted back as the beer spills into her open mouth. The girl is Amanda. Stunned, I’m frozen in place as I watch her polish off the beer with ease. She sits up, pushing her hair away from her face and beaming at the crowd as they applaud and cheer. Her scooped-neck shirt has fallen low, exposing the turquoise strap of her bra and the guy holding the beer bong leers at her chest, taking a step closer. This prompts me into action. “Okay, show’s over,” I yell as I approach the island. “Everyone move on. Nothing to see here.” A few of them grumble but for the most part they all shuffle out. Bong Boy lingers but I send him a look and he’s out. Leaving me alone with a buzzed Amanda still sitting on my kitchen island. “Hey, you.” She points at me, tilting her head to the side. This throws her off balance and she presses her other hand on the granite to keep her steady. “You own this house.” “Technically, my parents own this house.” I glance down. Her shorts are incredibly short, giving me a view of long, smooth legs. My fingers itch to touch her bare thigh. Her knee. But I restrain myself. Barely. Lifting my head, I meet her gaze once more. “You all right?” She squints at me, her finger still waving in the air. “Uh. Not really. That’s why I needed a drink. A few drinks. To help me forget, you know?” “Forget what?” I have no business asking. Knowing. She shouldn’t tell me anything. “Everything.” She smiles, her gaze hazy, her body swaying. “Oh!” She somehow pitches over and I hold out my arms, Amanda spilling into them. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees, I clutch her to me, pressing my face close to her hair so I can take a sniff. Yeah. Like I’m some sort of freaky pervert who gets off on the smell of girls’ hair. But Amanda’s hair smells pretty damn good. “You rescued me again.” She loops her arms around my neck, her fingers brushing against my nape. “You have a habit of doing that.”

“You needed to be rescued.” I heft her up in my arms, holding her even closer as I start to move down the short hall just off the kitchen. “Where are you taking me?” She slides her fingers into my hair and my entire body goes tight. Just from her touching my hair. “Upstairs.” There’s a stairwell at the end of the hall hardly anyone knows about. She stiffens in my arms, her eyes wide as they meet mine. “I don’t want to go back up there.” “Why not?” She weighs nothing. She’s all legs and long dark hair, I swear. I sneak a couple of fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, touching bare skin, but it’s like she doesn’t notice. Which is good because basically I’m copping a feel. “Um well, they could still be upstairs. Doing whatever they were…doing.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust and it’s the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. “They’re not.” “You don’t know that for sure,” she points out. “I do. Trust me, they’re not up there.” I really don’t know, but I don’t want her to back out and try to get away from me. I just want to take her somewhere we can be alone. So I can watch over her and make sure she doesn’t make a fool of herself or hurt herself or— I grimace. What the hell is wrong with me? I feel like I’m turning into a rescuer like Cannon. “Fine,” she says, sounding reluctant. She won’t even look at me, though she keeps tickling my neck and it’s slowly driving me insane. I don’t get it, the way I feel every time I’m around her. She makes me nervous. She makes me—hell, I may as well just admit it. She makes me horny. Like I want to tear her clothes off and run my hands all over her body and kiss her until she’s a moaning, writhing mess. Yeah. That’s not normal. Not for me. But there’s something about Amanda. There always has been, for years even, and most of the time, I’ve fought it. Dismissed her from my mind. I’m pretty good at that. Dismissing people. Pretending they don’t exist. Tonight, I don’t want to dismiss her. So instead, I take her up to my room. The second I kick the door open she’s struggling against my hold, trying to get away from me. “You are so not bringing me to your room.” I clamp my arms tighter around her wiggling body and nudge the door closed behind me. “Calm down.” “Seriously, Tuttle. I refuse to become another one of your conquests.” She’s at least stopped moving, but she’s also glaring at me with narrowed eyes, her mouth drawn into a

tight line. “Who said you were going to be one of my conquests?” I raise a brow and that one sentence effectively shuts her up. Kind of an asshole thing to say, but I need her to be calm, not trying to leap out of my arms. She says nothing as I approach the bed and carefully set her down so she’s sitting on the edge of the mattress. I take a step back, studying her. She looks around the room, her mouth slowly falling open, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. The room is huge. Every room in this stupid house is massive. My parents don’t understand subtlety or restraint. The more money they make, the bigger everything has to be. Which I get. And can even appreciate. But not right now. Amanda doesn’t appear impressed. More like appalled. Maybe even disgusted. “I could probably fit my entire house in this room,” she finally says, her voice soft. “I doubt that,” I say with a scoff. She lifts her head, her gaze meeting mine. “No, I’m serious. Do you get lost in this house or what?” I chuckle. “When we first moved in here, yeah. I did get lost.” The wary expression is gone, replaced by amusement. “You’re just saying that.” “It’s true. I was nine.” “I remember you when we were nine.” I was a punk ass bully when we were nine. Straight through to middle school I acted like an idiot. I finally straightened out in between seventh and eighth grade. Grew nine inches over the summer, discovered girls and learned quick they don’t like it when you’re mean to them. Well, meanness, they didn’t like. But indifference? That seemed to intrigue them even more. “I remember you too,” I tell her. She laughs, the sound going straight to my gut, making it twist. “I was such a dork.” “Yeah, you were.” The laughter dies but I still see the amusement glittering in her eyes. “You weren’t supposed to agree!” “Why not? It’s the truth. And I was a jerk.” “You were a jerk,” she says vehemently. I shrug. “I know.” We stare at each other, not saying anything. There’s no need to fill the space with words. I feel like our eyes, our bodies, our everything are quietly communicating.

“You aren’t a jerk anymore,” she admits quietly. “You’re wrong.” I hesitate when I see the shock in her gaze. “I’m still a jerk.” The silence now feels like it’s strangling me. I’m about to turn away, leave her alone in my room so I can go outside and get some fresh air when she finally speaks. “You might be a jerk to other girls, but you never really are to me.”

I finally make my escape from the hot tub, the boys, Cannon, the entire party, by finding a small bathroom. Slamming the door, I lean against it, closing my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly, hating how shaky I sound. I mentally tell myself to get it together, yet everything that just happened flashes through my mind, making me tremble even harder. But really, it was no big deal, right? I shouldn’t let the moment bother me. So what if I was in a hot tub with a bunch of big, burly football players. So what if they were all leering at me, their gazes locked on my chest, their tongues practically hanging out of their mouths. Thank goodness for Cannon Whittaker rushing to my defense. He slipped his arm around my shoulders, his big hand gripping me firmly but not scary tight. Glaring at all of the guys, his expression was freaking scary as he gave them the stare down. “Leave her alone,” he said, his voice so deep, so incredibly menacing, they all practically leapt out of the hot tub to make their escape as soon as possible. I’ve never seen such big guys move so fast, not even when they’re playing on the football field. As I sat there trembling, relishing the full weight of Cannon’s arm resting on my shoulders, I told myself it was no big deal. I sort of asked for their rude behavior, right? I’m the one with the skank reputation at school. A reputation I mostly earned, because I wanted their attention. I wanted to be known as a girl guys liked. I didn’t care how I went about it. At least someone was paying attention to me. But then Cannon turned to look at me, his gaze soft and full of concern, all the anger gone from his face. “Sorry about those assholes. They didn’t mean anything by it.” Yeah. They so did, but I didn’t bother arguing with him. “Are you all right?” The tenderness in his voice, in his gaze, how sincere he sounded…it all got to be too much. So I’d panicked and bailed. Slipped from underneath his heavy arm, climbed out of the hot tub, snagged a towel from a nearby chair and ran away from him. He called my name as I ran away but I ignored him. What could I say? Absolutely nothing.

I hid in the corner of the backyard and hurriedly slipped my clothes on, waiting for the moment I could get past Cannon and go back inside the house. And that’s how I ended up in the tiny bathroom, a trembling, confused mess. Turning, I faced the mirror, blinking at my reflection. My mascara was smeared beneath my eyes and my clothes stuck to my damp body. I looked awful. Awful. Grabbing a tissue from the box on the counter, I wiped the smudged makeup from my face, then washed my hands. Ran my damp fingers through my hair, pushing it back from my face. Someone knocked on the door but I ignored them, turning the water on full blast so I couldn’t hear the music, the knocking, the yelling. I was having a full-blown panic attack in a tiny bathroom at Tuttle’s house on a Friday night. My life couldn’t get much worse. The pounding on the door got louder and I gripped the edge of the marble counter, yelling through clenched teeth, “Give me a minute!” I could tell it was a guy on the other side of the door. He was just some douche wanting to get his girl in here or do drugs. I needed to get out of here. Go home and pull the covers over my head. Try my best to forget this night was even happening. But then I remembered why it was happening. Who I was there for. Livvy. My best friend, my girl was leaving me tomorrow and she’d be gone for the rest of the summer. I don’t know what I’ll do without her. I can hang around with Dustin but it’s not the same. There’s an easiness I have with Livvy I don’t experience with anyone else. Standing up straight, I push away from the counter and go to the door, turning the lock and throwing open the door to find… Cannon standing there, his eyes a little wild as he blinked down at me. “Why’d you run off?” I’m so startled he’s in front of me I just stare at him for a moment before I reply, “Why do you care?” I clamp my lips shut after the words leave me, feeling embarrassed. Ashamed. He’s being nice and I’m crapping all over him. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” he murmurs just before he starts to turn away from me. “Wait.” I grab hold of his arm, my fingers barely reaching around his thick forearm. “I’m sorry.” He glances down at my hand on his arm before lifting his gaze to mine once more. His eyes are…beautiful. A mixture of blues that I find myself becoming a little lost in. “Those guys freak you out?” His voice is gentle, like he’s afraid I might startle easy. I nod, not saying a word, yet still holding on to him. “Did I freak you out?” He looks worried that he might’ve and I almost want to laugh at the absurdity. Instead, I shake my head, still silent.

“Good.” The relief in his voice, on his face is obvious. “I’m sorry they were such jerks.” “It’s not your fault.” It’s mine. I want to say those last two words, but I don’t. Admitting faults is not easy for anyone, especially me. He glances to his right, then his left, before he’s shoving his way into the bathroom, quickly shutting the door behind him. I back up until I hit the counter and I watch him warily as he turns the lock into place, keeping his back to me. “What are you doing?” I ask. Cannon starts toward me and I realize quick I can’t escape. The bathroom is tiny and he’s directly in front of me in seconds, his big hands going to my waist and lifting. I gasp when he sets me on the edge of the counter, my knees spreading when he steps in between them. “You confuse me,” he admits, his voice low, his gaze searching my face. I dip my head, not wanting him to spot my secrets. “I shouldn’t. It’s pretty obvious what I am.” “And what are you?” A joke. A slut. Dumb. Useless. All of those things. None of those things. “I’m not going to do anything with you tonight,” I say as I lift my head, my gaze meeting his once more. He cocks a brow. “I didn’t think you would.” “Then why are we locked up in this tiny bathroom together?” His hands still haven’t left my waist, and they start to move, down over my hips, along the outside of my thighs, and then back up again. He’s touching me in all the good places, and yes, it feels really good, but his touch also feels… Comforting. “Because I think you need to get away from all this.” He goes silent and I know what he’s talking about. The party. The people. The music and the food and the booze and the hot tub and all of it. “And you’re my hero, running in to assist me at a moment’s notice?” I rest my hands on his chest and he sucks in a breath. I know this because I can feel the movement beneath my hands. A surge of power rushes through me, that I can make him react like that. I like it. A lot. “I just wanted to help a girl out.” He removes one hand from my side and circles his fingers around my wrist, clutching it loosely. “You confuse the hell out of me.” His words are a surprise and I’m not really sure how I should answer. “Feeling’s mutual,” I finally whisper. Without any hesitation whatsoever he dips his head and kisses me. It’s my turn to suck

in a breath, shocked at that first touch of his lips. They’re warm and soft and taste faintly of beer and I curl my fingers into his T-shirt, not wanting him to escape. “I said I wasn’t going to do anything with you tonight,” I remind him when he breaks the kiss, his mouth still hovering above mine. “Not even let me kiss you again?” Oh, the sound of his deep, rumbly voice does something to me. Makes my belly flip and my blood run hot. “We shouldn’t,” I say against his lips. He kisses me again, kissing me silent, boneless, brainless. It’s the simplest of kisses. No tongue. No moans, no groans, no wandering hands and hot words of urgency. Instead it’s just…a kiss. That evolves into a series of sweet, lingering kisses that has me leaning into him. Has me parting my lips, wishing he would take it deeper. But he doesn’t. Eventually he pulls away and I open my eyes to find him watching me. His cheeks are ruddy, his eyes a little dazed and his lips—perfect, pink, delectable lips— are damp. “You need more of that in your life,” he says. I frown. “More of what?” His mouth is on mine yet again, in a too brief, too delicious kiss. “More of that,” he whispers. Just before he turns and unlocks the door, making his escape without even a backward glance.

I need to get the hell out of here. Regret runs through me, punishing me hard, pushing me through Tuttle’s house and toward the front door. I ignore everyone—which is hard because I know everyone—but I don’t care what they want to say to me tonight. All I can think about is Emily. The sound of her voice rings in my head. I can’t shake that wary look on her face as she watched me. She didn’t trust me when I first barged into the bathroom, and I can’t blame her. Doesn’t matter that I tried my best to run to her rescue earlier in the hot tub and save her from the assholes on my team. I could easily be lumped in with the rest of those assholes. I’m as bad as the rest of them. So why does Emily make me want to be different? It’s like the moment we just shared is stuck on rewind in my brain. How her body felt beneath my hands. How responsive she was when I kissed her. How much I wanted to take that kiss further, but something held me back. I could sense she was hanging on by a thread. One wrong move would shatter her and I needed to treat her like she was made of glass. “Cannon!” The sound of her voice makes me stop and I turn to watch as she makes her way to where I stand. She stops just in front of me and grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers together. It takes her a moment to speak and I realize she’s trying to catch her breath first. Meaning she just chased after me. Wild. “Why did you leave?” she finally asks. “Why did you come after me?” She squeezes my hand, her gaze never leaving mine. “Why did you kiss me?” Because I can’t resist you? I can’t answer that question truthfully. Instead, I shrug. “I don’t know.” Emily gives me a look, one that says bullshit. “Be real with me right now,” she murmurs.

I don’t know how I can hear her soft voice, what with all the noise surrounding us, but I do. As if all of my senses are so completely focused on her, I see and hear nothing else. So it’s my turn to squeeze her hand as I bend forward and dip my head close to hers, her damp hair brushing against my face. She smells good, like strawberries. “There’s something about you that I can’t resist,” I whisper in her ear. When I pull away, she’s smiling. “Is that a line, Cannon Whittaker?” Shaking my head, I crack a smile as I say, “No ma’am.” She bursts out laughing. “Did you just call me ma’am?” “Yeah.” I shuffle my feet and look down at the floor. Could I be any dumber? “I did.” “Come on. Let’s go outside.” She tugs on my hand and I follow after her, surprised when she takes us through the front door. The moment we walk outside, the air is cooler, a fresh breeze washing over us, and I’m grateful to be out of that house, away from the noise and the heat. I suck in a deep breath as I let her lead me down the front steps, past a couple literally writhing around on the front lawn, their arms and legs intertwined. “Get a room,” Emily yells at them, making me laugh. “Where we going, Em?” I ask her as she leads me past the fence that surrounds Tuttle’s front yard. I’m not sure what she’s up to, but I’m game for whatever as long as I can spend more time with her. “Right here,” she says, pointing to a bench that sits in front of the fence, right at the start of the walkway leading to the front door. “Let’s sit down.” I glance around before sitting on the iron bench, Emily nestled up right next to me. I slip my arm around her shoulders and tug her in closer, liking how easily she fits. Like we were made to sit like this together. Cheesy as hell, but true. “Um, I hate to tell you this, but if we’re going to make out, we’ll be putting on a public display right here,” I say, my ears going hot the moment the words leave my mouth. I’m such an idiot. I don’t know why I’m embarrassed but I need to get over myself. She giggles. “I didn’t bring you here to hook up, Cannon.” I fight the disappointment that threatens to take over when she glances up at me, amusement glittering in her eyes. The moon is bright at only half full, yet I can see her clearly, her face gilded silver. She’s beautiful. I wonder if anyone has ever told her that. “Then what are we doing?” I ask her, looking around like I’m confused. Because I am confused. By the entire night, by this girl, by the way she’s looking at me, how she kissed me. Everything’s happening so fast and I have no control over it, which is the hard part, you know? I’m usually in control of everything. “Here.” She reaches out and touches her fingers lightly to my jaw, tilting my head back. “Look at the sky.”

Emily drops her hand and I lean against the bench, my gaze fixed on all the stars. She leans her head against my shoulder and stares up at the stars too. “The sky is clearer out here,” I say. “I know,” she says softly. “Not as many city lights blocking the stars. Though the moon is pretty bright so we can’t see as many.” “There’s still a lot up there.” She turns to look at me, her eyes wide and she’s wearing a pretty smile. “Not as many as there would be if the moon was smaller. Right after a full moon, the sky is full of so many stars, no way could you ever count them all.” “Have you ever tried?” Slowly she shakes her head, her smile fading, but not her happiness. No, she looks pleased by my question, by my willingness to sit out here with her and stare at the sky. “I figured it was impossible,” she admits. “Nothing’s impossible,” I say firmly. “Unless you don’t try.” “Are you saying we should try?” “Hell yeah, we should.” The smile is back, fleeting but there, and then she’s kissing my cheek, her lips lingering close to my jaw. I swear I hear her inhale and I wonder if she’s trying to smell me. God knows I’m trying my hardest to smell her. “I like you, Cannon,” she murmurs against my skin. “Oh, yeah?” I’m afraid if I move, I’ll ruin the moment so I stay completely still, desperate to keep her close. Em nods. “Yeah. But don’t let it get around. I don’t want to ruin my reputation.” Her careless, supposedly joking words are like a punch to the gut. I back away from her, frowning. “Why you always gotta bash yourself like that?” “What do you mean?” She scowls. “You don’t want anyone to know that you like me because it’ll ruin your reputation?” I ask incredulously. She looks away, bracing her hands on the edge of the bench seat, offering up a little shrug. I’d bet money she’s gonna bolt any second, but luckily she remains in place. “Don’t act like that with me, Emily,” I tell her, talking to the back of her head. I don’t need to see her face as long as she’s listening to my words. “You’re more than a hook up in the back seat of some asshole’s car. And you’re more than the flirty girl in geometry class who pretends it’s okay when the guys make hand gestures at her. Like it’s funny they’re pretending to ask for a hand job when that shit isn’t funny at all.” Her shoulders flinch at my reminder. I’d seen some guys in the class we had together do that to her time and again and she always laughed. Brushed it off. At first I thought she was cool. Then I thought the guys were jerks.

Then I pulled them aside one day after class and told them to stop with the crude gestures or I’d beat the shit out of them. They never gestured at her again. She has no idea I made that stop. “You don’t know me,” she says quietly, still facing away from me. “So don’t act like you do.” “I’d like to get to know you.” She glances over her shoulder, her gaze meeting mine, and I swear her eyes are damp with unshed tears. “Please. You just want to feel me up in the hopes I’ll fall to my knees for you.” Okay, now I’m sorta pissed. “When did I ever say that? When did I even act like that’s all I want from you?” When she says nothing, I forge on, anger making my voice thunderous. “I’ve been nothing but a gentleman toward you all damn night so at least give me some credit.” “Why? In the hopes it might score you a blow job?” She leaps to her feet, her hands resting on her hips. “Please. I’m not falling for your shit, Cannon.” “It’s not shit.” I rise to my feet too, standing above her, my anger fading quickly. I wish I could pull her into my arms and give her a hug. I’m thinking she really needs one right about now. “I’m being completely honest with you, Em.” “You’re a player.” She flings the words at me like an accusation. “You’ve gone out with so many girls I’ve lost count.” It’s never fun to have your reputation thrown at you, that’s for sure. And since when was she keeping count of the girls I’ve been with? “So? It doesn’t mean I haven’t been waiting, looking for the right one.” Her mouth drops open and she’s staring at me like I’m crazy. “What are you saying?” I shrug. “Assume whatever you want.” Her gaze falls to the empty bench before it returns to me. “You still want to look at the sky?” “You still want to sit with me?” Her mood changes are a trip. She nods slowly. “You won’t try any fast moves?” “That’s not why I’m here.” Releasing a shuddery breath, she walks back over to the bench and sits down, patting the empty space beside her. “Then let’s do this.” I go and sit down, stretching my arm along the back of the bench, careful not to touch her. Let’s do this.

I’m in Tuttle’s room. I’m on Tuttle’s bed. It is definitely the most surreal moment of my life, I must tell you. He’s half-sitting/half-lying next to me, the both of us propped against a mountain of pillows, staring up at the ceiling, which has—I kid you not—twinkle lights. It’s not like my room, where I strung white Christmas lights around my iron headboard because I saw it on Tumblr once and thought it was cute. Though of course, my version is never as cute as the Tumblr version. And it’s not like the old plastic glow in the dark stars I had stuck on my ceiling when I was a little kid either. No, this is a sophisticated magical array of stars in a velvety night sky, strewn across Tuttle’s ceiling. It’s crazy. It’s awesome. It must’ve cost a fortune. I have a feeling this is the theme of Tuttle’s life. His bed feels like a cloud, soft and cuddly. The pillows are that perfect combination of firm yet sinkable-soft. I can feel his gaze on me, checking me out every once in a while, though he might be on watch, waiting for me to lose my mind or barf my guts out, considering I’m kind of buzzed. But otherwise, he doesn’t really say anything. We’ve been silent for approximately two minutes and already I feel like I’m going to burst. Maybe it’s the alcohol. I drank a lot of beer earlier—beer bongs are dangerous—and my head is currently spinning. This is the reason I’m laying down. Tuttle made the suggestion and while at first I balked, complaining about how many other girls he’s had to his room, he just shook his head, took my arm and guided me to the extra large bed in the center of his room. Where I gratefully collapsed on top of it, sighing with happiness when the bed/cloud embraced me. I went completely still when he stretched out next to me, his body so close I could feel his warmth and I discreetly breathed in his scent. He smells like a citrus pine tree, which sounds weird but smells delicious. Trust me. Remember, this is Jordan Tuttle I’m talking about. Finally I can’t take it anymore. I need to talk. I need to talk to Tuttle and ask him

what’s up with him being so nice to me. I want to ask if he knows what happened to Thad and Tara, but then I tell myself I don’t care what happened to them. They are the rottenest scum of the earth. They are lower than the rottenest scum of the earth. They are everything I despise and hate and want to destroy. Dramatic much? Yet my heart hurts too much over their betrayal, so I don’t want to talk about them at all, let alone think about them. I don’t want to talk about Tuttle’s motives either. So I stick with the safe stuff. “What’s up with the stars?” I nudge his arm with my elbow and wow, his arm is rock hard with muscle. I’m tempted to skim my fingers over his biceps but I keep myself under control. What if he slapped my hand away? Talk about mortifying… “You like them?” I glance over in his direction to find him watching me yet again. This guy likes to stare, but it’s not creepy. No more like it’s kind of hot because with the way he’s intently staring at me, I feel like I’m the only girl in his universe. “They’re amazing,” I admit when I realize he’s waiting for an answer. He stares up at the ceiling once more. “They’re also in our movie screening room. Something about the material helps with acoustics. Back when the house was being built, my mother had a moment of supposed good-mom feelings and decided my room needed stars in the ceiling too.” He hesitates, then murmurs in a higher pitched voice, “Nothing but the best for my baby boy.” My heart actually aches at all the sarcasm and bitterness I hear in his tone. He doesn’t like his mother. That much is clear, just by that one sentence. “You’re their only child?” “I have a sister. She’s thirty-two, married with three kids and miserable.” His gaze remains fixed on the stars twinkling down upon us. “I’m the let’s-see-if-we-can-save-ourmarriage-baby. My sister was fifteen when I was born and she’s resented the hell out of me ever since.” “Your family sounds…” My voice drifts because what can I say? They sound miserable? Awful? Rude? “Fucked up? Yeah, we are.” He chuckles, but there’s no humor there. “We’re the classic case of money doesn’t always make you happier. I know that sort of thing pisses people off, so let’s not talk about it.” “Talk about what? The fact that you’re richer than anyone else at our school, yet you’re miserable and your family sucks?” When he frowns at me I sit up and start gesturing with my hands, jabbing my finger at him like I’m a nut job. I’m thinking the beer is making me bold. “I don’t feel sorry for you. You can have whatever you want. Buy whatever you want, go to the college of your dreams and sleep in a room with fake stars twinkling above your head every single night. Your life is everyone’s dream come true.” He slowly shakes his head, his gaze growing darker. He almost looks…disappointed? In me? “Now you’re all pissed off. I told you we shouldn’t talk about it.”

“Whatever. I’m not falling for your poor little rich boy routine.” I wave a hand, dismissing his words and he laughs. Actually laughs, the sound full bodied and rich and wonderful. His laugh does something to my insides. Twists them up and reminds me that I’m totally overstepping my boundaries with Jordan Tuttle while sitting on his giant bed in his giant room. Oh, and I can’t forget that we’re all alone and there’s this weird crackling energy brewing between us. Chemistry? Is that what it feels like? No freaking way. Not me and Tuttle. “You really think I’m a poor little rich boy?” he asks with a frown. I point at him, ready to blurt out a big hell yes, when he snatches my hand and curls his fingers around mine. His thumb skims across my palm slowly and tingles scatter over my skin, making me hyper aware of his proximity. “Aren’t you?” I sound breathless. My heart is racing from his touch and he glances down at our linked hands, which of course allows me to see just how thick his eyelashes are. But what’s worse? The eyelashes or his beautiful blue eyes? Kill me now. He is too gorgeous for words. “Yeah. I guess I am.” His gaze lifts to mine and lingers. “So you don’t feel sorry for me?” “Who in their right mind ever feels sorry for you?” I laugh nervously, but the sound dies in my throat when he gently tugs on my hand so I have no choice but to move closer to him. “Is this the beer talking, Mandy?” His voice is low, his gaze locked on mine and I swallow hard, almost too scared to speak. Frowning, I let my gaze roam over his face. He has great skin, the bastard. Not a zit in sight. I’m still recovering from the honker I had on my cheek last week thanks to PMS. I can see stubble skimming his jaw and my fingertips literally itch to touch him there. “No.” Um, be real. ”Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Why do you ask?” “You don’t strike me as the type to be this…” “Crazy?” I supply for him. “Weird? Pushy?” He cracks a smile, his eyes lighting up and I suck in a breath. Now is not the time to freak out over the beauty that is Jordan Tuttle. I need to remain calm. Focused. Normal. Ha. Let’s see if I can actually keep my crap together. “Bold,” he offers. “You’re always so quiet in class.” “That’s because I don’t want anyone to notice me,” I admit. “I notice you.” He hesitates. Reaches out with his free hand and pushes a wayward strand of hair away from my forehead. “I have for years.” Okay. He can’t just go and say things like that. His words make my heart feel like it just tripped over itself and they give me this weird hope. I should be devastated tonight. Crying my eyes out over Thad and Tara’s betrayal and while yes, I did cry over their betrayal and I drank too much beer and acted the fool for all of about ten minutes, I don’t

feel sad at this particular moment. No, I feel excited. Intrigued. Blown away. I need to focus on the blown away part because come on. He doesn’t like me. He’s just trying to make me feel better. He knows I’m upset over what I discovered and he’s offering me comfort. That’s all. But when does he offer comfort to anyone? He doesn’t give a crap about girls and their silly feelings. He’s too self-absorbed, too wrapped up in his own issues. He’s selfish. Everyone says so. Everyone. “Don’t lie to me, Tuttle.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat, fighting the urge to close my eyes when his fingers continue to blaze a path across my face. They drift over my cheek, along my jaw, his thumb coming perilously close to the corner of my mouth. Then they’re sliding into my hair and he cups the side of my head. I feel his breath flutter across my face when he whispers two words. “It’s Jordan.” My eyes slowly open to find his face right in mine. So close I can count every eyelash, can see the faint scar in the corner of his right eye. He’s watching me expectantly, like he’s waiting for me so I say something brilliant. “Huh?” “My name. Don’t call me Tuttle.” Now he does touch my mouth with his thumb and oh, wow, I wanna melt. He dips his head and comes closer, his mouth hovering just above mine and it takes everything within me to keep my eyes open. I want to remember every second of this moment. Closing my eyes might mean I’ll miss something. “Call me Jordan.” “Jordan…” I start but the next word is silenced. By his lips.

I couldn’t resist kissing her. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve noticed her for years. I have. Even when we were younger and I was nothing but an irritating thirteen year old, awkward as hell and uncomfortable with the way Amanda Winters made me feel every time I looked at her. She made my heart pump a little faster, my head would spin and this sort of hunger would form low in my belly that had nothing to do with food. She’d smile at her friends and I wished she’d smile at me like that. She’d swing her long, smooth dark hair over her shoulder and I wanted to touch it. Run my fingers through the silky strands and hear her sigh with pleasure. Yeah. Weird thoughts for a thirteen year old but I couldn’t help it. I’ve wanted Amanda with an almost painful longing that’s gone on for years. A longing I’d shoved deep down inside of me, hoping I’d forget all about it. But opportunity presented itself and here she is, in my arms, my mouth on hers. And she tastes like heaven. Heaven and beer and the faintest hint of something sweet, that must belong only to her. I give in to my long repressed urges and touch her hair, thread my fingers through it and the strands are as soft as I’d imagined. I keep the kiss on the chaste side, not wanting to push too hard in case she bolted on me. She did just happen to see her boyfriend boning her best friend earlier. That’s some straight up bullshit right there, and I don’t want her to think I’m taking advantage of her in her fragile state. Hell. I wonder if she does I’m taking advantage of her. I realize quick she’s not reacting to my mouth on hers. Her entire body is stiff, like she’s frozen solid and I know I’ve either scared her or freaked her out. I pull away from her lips and stare at her face, willing her eyes to open. When they do, she’s watching me with a wariness that worries me. I also can’t help but wonder who she’s more afraid of—me or herself. “Why did you kiss me?” she asks, her voice a faint croak. She clears her throat and averts her gaze, her cheeks going pink with embarrassment. “Did you not want me to?”

She meets my gaze once more, her teeth sinking into her lower lip for a moment before she says, “Your timing is awful.” “Because you still have feelings for the asshole who cheated on you with your best friend?” Amanda’s eyes go wide before she bursts out laughing. “Nothing like getting right to the point,” she says once the laughter dies. I shrug one shoulder. Don’t say anything. We’re still lying on my bed, our bodies so close I can feel the warmth of her body radiate toward mine. I could lean right over and settle my lips on hers and make her forget that loser boyfriend of hers for good. Slip my arm around her waist and pull her flush against me. It wouldn’t take much at all to push this farther. But I won’t. I should keep my distance and let her make the next move. She bends her head, her hair rustling against my pillow she’s lying on. Will it smell like her when she leaves? Holy shit, my thoughts about her make me feel like a perv. “It hurts, knowing that they’ve done—that. I would’ve given him whatever he wanted too. He just never pushed the issue. I was perfectly willing. So why did he mess around with my best friend?” Anger swells up inside of me and I stuff it down. She was perfectly willing to give that asshole whatever he wanted and he still went off and cheated on her. What was wrong with the guy? If she were mine, I’d treat her like a goddamn princess. If she were mine, she’d never doubt how I felt about her. I’d do my best to show her how I feel every damn day, just to bring a smile to her face. Just to make her happy. “But I shouldn’t talk about that sort of thing with you, right? Like you’re even interested in me, but you know what I mean. And talk about tacky, considering I’m rambling on about my stupid boyfriend and you just kissed me. Not that it was much of a kiss…” Her voice drifts and I slip my fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face up so she has no choice but to look at me. “Not much of a kiss?” Her words are a challenge and I’m ready to conquer. “You weren’t impressed, huh?” She makes a cute little face. “I think you kissed me just to shut me up.” Her voice drops. “Or because you feel sorry for me.” “I feel sorry for you?” I drop my fingers from beneath her chin. This girl has no clue. “Well, yeah. I’m me and you’re you and here I am at your house, a drunken sad mess and you feel bad, right? Just watching out for me, which makes you a stand up guy, seriously. All of my past thoughts about you being a complete jerk are banished for good, so thanks for that.” I’m incredulous. “You really thought I was a jerk?” “Well, duh.” She rolls her eyes and giggles. I’m thinking she might still be a little buzzed. “You’re the one who basically said so earlier, right?”

“Right.” I just thought she was going along with me. Or maybe remembering our early middle school days, when I had a giant chip on my shoulder with my parents’ names scrawled across it. My bad attitude got me into a lot of trouble back in the day. “So thank you.” She smiles and reaches out to touch my chest and I swear to fucking god, her fingers burn through the thin material of my T-shirt. “For being so nice to me tonight. You’re really sweet. I’m just glad I didn’t throw up on your bed or something awful like that.” I capture her wrist with my fingers before she can yank her hand away from my chest. I hold her there, my thumb skimming the soft skin of her inner wrist. Her eyes go wide again and her breaths quicken the longer I touch her. I’m not letting her go. I can’t leave it like this. “You think I’m sweet,” I say. She nods, her eyes luminous in the dim light of my bedroom. “And that our kiss was less than impressive,” I add. She doesn’t nod at that statement. Smart girl. “Oh, and you think a guy like me can’t like a girl like you,” I remind her. “Why is that?” “I-I don’t know.” “You have an idea, Mandy.” I scoot closer, my legs brushing against hers, my grip still tight on her wrist. “Tell me why.” She says nothing. Just stares at me with those wide, unblinking eyes, a shuddery breath escaping her. I release my hold on her wrist and slip my hand around her neck, cupping her nape. She sucks in a breath, her eyes falling closed when I lean in close, my mouth at her ear as I whisper, “Tell me why I wouldn’t be interested in a beautiful, smart, funny girl like you.” Turning my head, I press my lips to her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair, her skin, everything about her. A sigh escapes her when I start to kiss the soft skin there and I’m overcome with the need to devour her. But I keep my urges in check. With Amanda, I can’t mess up. I gotta take this slow. Do this right. Somehow I end up rolling her over on her back and I’m hovering above her, my knees on either side of her hips, my mouth still on her neck. Her hands are resting on my shoulders, like she’s desperate to hold on for dear life. When I finally lift my head and our gazes meet, I ask, “Do you want me to stop?” She slowly shakes her head and I lean in, running my lips along the delicate line of her jaw, her chin, her cheek. I’m trying to drive her crazy. I want her wanting my mouth on hers so damn bad, she’ll forget she ever said our kiss was just okay. What we could have would never be considered average. I know it. Just being close to her like this has me feeling like I could burst into flames at any given moment. I know she feels it too. Her

entire body is trembling and I know it’s not because she’s cold. It’s because of me. “Tell me what you want,” I murmur against her soft skin. She turns her head so our mouths are perfectly aligned, our gazes locked, hers dazed, mine I’d guess determined. “Can you say it, Amanda?” Her damp lips part and I stare at them, transfixed. Her tongue darts out to touch the corner and I want to groan in agonized frustration. She drives me out of my mind and she has no freaking clue. “Kiss me again,” she whispers. Hesitates for a moment before she continues. “Please?” I waste no time. I kiss her like I’m absolutely starved for her, which isn’t too off base. The kiss deepens in an instant, our tongues tangling, one of her hands going to the back of my head, slender fingers sliding through my hair and gripping me tight. I literally growl against her lips when she tugs on my hair extra hard and she actually giggles. Giggles. “Unbelievable. Now you’re laughing at me,” I murmur against her giggling mouth. “Not at you. At your growl.” She tugs on my hair again so I growl in warning and she giggles even harder. “You’re too cute,” she tells me. “You think this is cute?” I thrust my hips against her slowly, showing her exactly what she’s doing to me and her eyes nearly bug out of her head when she feels me. “Jordan…” My name falls off her lips just before I kiss her again. And then it’s on. My hands are under her shirt and her hands are under mine and our legs are tangled up together. We roll onto our sides facing each other, our mouths still locked and then she’s rolling again, until she’s on top of me, straddling my hips with her long legs draped over either side of me. “Now I’m in charge,” she says triumphantly after she breaks the kiss, her thighs squeezing my hips and driving me out of my ever lovin’ mind. “I surrender,” I tell her with a faint smile. “Use me. Abuse me. Get your revenge.” She slips down my body, her hands busily shoving my shirt up to almost my armpits when she pauses and lifts her head, frowning as her gaze meets mine. “Get my revenge?” I can’t concentrate for shit. Her mouth is too damn close to where I want it—on my stomach. Though I can think of an even better place she can put her mouth on me. “Yeah. For what your boyfriend and best friend did to you tonight. Use me.” That’s a good enough reason, right?

Em’s practically in my lap and I’m not pushing her off. We’re not going at it or anything, she’s just snuggled up so close to me that I’ve slowly hauled her in closer. Closer. Even closer… She’s resting her head against my shoulder, strands of her fragrant hair in my face. She’s been pointing out constellations out to me for the past thirty minutes, rattling off facts that are both interesting and boring, all at once. Boring only because I’m sort of drunk and her sweet voice is lulling me to sleep. I’m not even looking at the sky anymore. I’m savoring the sound of her voice, her soft skin as I run my fingers up and down her shoulders and arm. My touch makes goose bumps rise and she shivers every once in a while. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” she asks after a few quiet minutes pass and I startle at her question, my eyes popping open to find her staring up at me, her expression full of amusement. “I was totally listening,” I lie, sitting up straighter but not giving up my hold on her. “You were not.” Em jabs me in the ribs with a pointy elbow, but she’s also smiling so I know she’s not too mad. “I put you to sleep!” “Only because I was so comfortable sitting here with you like this,” I tell her, not wanting her pissed at me. She’s touchy. One minute she’s coming on to me, the next she’s trying to push me away, and then a few minutes after that, she’s on the run. She’s confusing. Intriguing. I’ve never really liked a challenge before. I like my girls easy. I want to know what they want without having to think about it too hard. Maybe go on a date, usually just hang out and talk and laugh. Sometimes have a drink or five, smoke a J, end up wrapped around each other in my truck or in my room or hers or out at the park or…whatever. Wherever. I’m an uncomplicated guy. “I really didn’t bore you?” she asks. Shaking my head, I meet her gaze, hoping she can see the sincerity in my eyes. “No. I like how passionate you are about the stars. I liked listening to you. It’s just maybe I liked listening to you a little too much…and yeah, you caught me. I was totally drifting off and

that was rude of me. Sorry.” Em watches me, her head tilted to the side, her expression completely unreadable. “You are too good to be true, you know that?” I frown. “What do you mean?” Swear I can’t win with this girl. “You’re totally hot, you’re a popular football player and all the girls love you and I’m pretty sure the teachers love you too. You’re like this fantasy high school character straight out of a movie or a novel. A jock with a heart of gold and proper manners that just wants to help the school’s bad girl find her lost dignity.” That last sentence makes me wince because she nailed me on the head, and that’s embarrassing as hell. “Yet I’ve also seen you hanging out with total skanks who have worse reputations than I do,” Em continues, holding nothing back. “I seriously don’t get you.” “I don’t get you either,” I toss back at her, being one hundred percent honest. “You don’t make much sense.” “Neither do you.” She raises her brows in seeming challenge. Yeah. She’s right. I never act like this with a girl. Only Em makes me want to…I don’t know. Protect her? Watch out for her? Make sure she doesn’t do anything to hurt herself or put herself at risk? I treat her like she’s fragile, like I don’t want to hurt her delicate feelings, but she’s looking at me right about now with enough fire in her eyes to set me aflame. So who’s the delicate one tonight, huh? Clearing my throat I say, “Maybe together we could…” What? Make sense? Like I can tell her that. She’d run screaming from Tuttle’s house and considering we’re so far out of the city limits, she’d probably get lost forever. “What? Get it on and have some fun? Okay. That sounds perfect.” She eagerly climbs on top of me—there’s no other way to describe it—and then she’s right there, her chest in my face, her arms slung around my neck, her mouth pressed against my forehead. I stare down at her tits, all that creamy skin on display. I’m tempted to bury my face in her cleavage and give her exactly what she wants, but for some weird reason, I hold back. Stupid. I know what I’m doing is totally stupid but damn it, this thing between us isn’t just going to burn out after tonight. I don’t want it to. “Oh my God, you’re so big and hard and…” She grabs hold of my face with both hands and forces my head back, her mouth landing on mine with precise, expert skill. I lose myself in the taste of her lips for a moment, because damn, the girl has a mouth on her like no other. The kiss is eager and hot, deep and full of tongue and my hands move to her ass almost unconsciously. I’m squeezing her, pulling her in as close as I can get her, and she’s basically dry humping me by the time I break the kiss, trying to catch my breath. And possibly catch the remaining brain cells that are desperate to make a run for it. All because of a kiss from the most confusing girl on this planet. “Slow down,” I whisper when she tries to put her mouth over mine again. “Gimme a

minute.” Her sigh of frustration is obvious and I smooth my fingers over her butt, trying to calm her down. But that only seems to infuriate her more because she disentangles her body from my grip and climbs off of me in a matter of seconds. “I don’t want to give you a minute,” she says, frustration lacing every one of her words. “I want all of you right now.” “Here? On a bench in front of Tuttle’s house?” I glance around, noting that we’re mostly alone but I do spot a couple out on the lawn nearby. A couple who appear mostly naked and are wildly groping each other so I avert my eyes, turning to face Em once more. “I don’t think so.” She stomps her foot like a pouty little kid and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Why not? What’s the big deal? Since when did you get a moral compass or whatever?” What the hell is a moral compass? I’m not about to ask. I don’t want to look like a dumbass. I’m not stupid but sometimes I worry I’m not the brightest bulb around. When I was younger homework wasn’t a priority and tests and all that, they never came easy for me. People like Tuttle always make me feel less than. The guy is way too smart for me and he knows it. And I don’t like how Em just made me feel like an idiot too. “So I should have left you to the assholes in the hot tub? Is that what you wanted?” I’m yelling and she’s taking a step back, like she needs the distance. That makes me feel bad and I clamp my jaw shut, trying to calm down. “Yeah, you should’ve. I did want them. You’re the one who decided to step in and become my hero.” She spits out that last word like it’s a dirty one. “Haven’t we already had this argument?” I ask wearily. I slump back against the bench and rub my eyes with my hands, keeping them there for a moment before I drop them so I can look at her. “This is ridiculous.” “Yeah. It is. So I’m gone.” With that she turns on her heel and walks away, never once looking back. I don’t say a word. I don’t stop her or chase after her. Hell, I don’t even know exactly what just happened. All I know is, I’m too exhausted to go after her. She’s too much for me. She probably always will be.

I head back toward Tuttle’s house, wiping my fingers beneath my eyes to get rid of the tears. Stupid, irritating tears. Like I’m sad over what happened between Cannon and I. He means nothing to me. I don’t even know him. All I wanted to do was get off and he had to go and ruin it for me. Act polite and crap when that was the last thing I wanted. I just wanted to lose myself, you know? Get caught up in his kisses and the way he touches me. I like how his big hands feel sliding all over my body, the way he squeezed my butt with them. He’s big and strong yet gentle and…sweet. Frowning, I mentally shove Cannon out of my thoughts. I don’t care about his sweetness. He’s of no use for me tonight. I need to find someone else. Someone willing, ready and able. I ignore the front door and walk around the side of the house toward the backyard, where the party is still in full swing. The pool is crowded with people, some of them wearing swimsuits, some of them buck ass naked. I see one guy who graduated a few days ago jumping into the pool with a bottle of tequila in one hand, his swim trunks falling past his very white butt before he makes a gigantic splash in the water. “Total waste of good booze!” someone yells while plenty of other people boo and give the guy a bunch of grief when his head pops up out of the water. He grins good-naturedly, his gaze snagging on mine when I come to a stop near the pool. I return his stare, trying my best to remember his name. Nathan? Nate? Nathanial? Wait—Noah. His name is Noah. He played basketball with Dustin and while he’s a nice guy, he’s nothing special. As in, he’s not some hot, gorgeous player fighting off a bunch of girls. Meaning, he’s the perfect guy for me to hook up with tonight. “Nice jump,” I tell him as I slowly approach the pool. He stays where he’s at, treading water, the tequila bottle long gone. “My friends are pissed that I ruined their alcohol.” “Isn’t there enough inside?” I arch a brow. Noah smirks. “Yeah, but they spent forty dollars on that shit, so they’re mad.”

Understandable. Who buys forty dollar tequila before coming to Tuttle’s house? Clearly these guys haven’t partied here before. “Their loss.” His gaze roams over my body, lingering on my legs for a while before he speaks. “You coming swimming?” I shrug. “I did earlier.” “Don’t you wanna cool off?” “Don’t you wanna warm up?” The smile I send him is practiced. As in, I’ve literally sat in front of a mirror in my room and practiced this smile again and again. I’m trying to hook him. Reel him in. Looks like it’s working. He goes to the ladder and grabs the handles, hauling his lanky body out of the water. He’s tall and thin, his skin pale and his black swim trunks barely clinging to his narrow hips. I normally like them bigger—this makes me think of Cannon, ugh—but this boy will do. When he stops in front of me, Noah shakes his head, water droplets spraying everywhere and reminding me of a dog. I scowl as he runs his hand over his short brown hair, and I take a step back as I continue to get showered with water. “What’s your name again?” he asks, like we’ve talked before. We might’ve seen each other around when I went to Dustin’s basketball games but we’ve never been introduced. “Emily, but call me Em.” I beam at him. “And you’re Noah. Star basketball player.” His cheeks turn ruddy and he waves me off, almost like he’s bashful. Please. ”I wouldn’t call myself a star.” “Come on. Don’t be modest. I watched you play a lot of games. You’re amazing.” I put on the awed tone, knowing boys like it when I talk like that and from the spark that lights Noah’s eyes, I see it’s worked. Everything’s working. It’s almost too easy. “My team was pretty good.” That’s true. They won their regional championships tournament. “But I’m not that amazing. Trust me. Couldn’t even get a scholarship for college.” His expression turns hard and I realize I’m losing him fast. “Their loss!” I sound way too chipper so I dial it down. “Where are you going to college?” “Community for a year, maybe two. Then I’m going to transfer.” He sounds bitter and I guess I can’t blame him. That’s the last thing I want to do too. That means I’m stuck here and I’ll feel trapped. My parents would probably want me to still live with them and while it’s the obvious choice, helping me save money and all that, I want to make my escape from them as soon as I can. Not that they notice me, or care. They’re too focused on their own lives to worry about mine.

“Well, at least you can still hang out with us, right?” That was the wrong thing to say. I see his expression fall and his gaze dims. I need to cheer him up fast. Threading my arm through his, I lean into his cool body, pressing my cheek against his upper arm for the briefest moment. “Let’s go get something to drink, okay?” We find some beer and make small talk. He complains about his friends, who are now nowhere to be found, and I complain about mine, who are probably still around but hopefully they won’t notice me. He grumbles about a girl he had a major crush on the last half of the school year and how she never even noticed him. “She was in band. In your grade.” He flicks his chin at me and I frown, not sure who he’s talking about. “Aren’t they all a bunch of weirdoes anyway? Why’d you like her?” I tease with a giggle, pretending I’m already buzzed. I wish I was. I think I’m gonna need it to get through the rest of tonight. “She was cute.” He shrugs. Takes a sip from his beer before he continues. “She had that whole innocent thing going on. Like I knew she was a total virgin yet she was probably hot for it, you know?” I cannot believe he’s talking to me about this. Worse, I know exactly what he’s referring to because he’s describing me in a nutshell. Just because I’ve given a few extra hand jobs and blow jobs during my junior year does not mean I’ve given it all up. I’m still a virgin, though I’d like to change that status by summer’s end. I’m tired of it hanging on to me like some sort of invisible cloak of purity. Screw it. I wanna get laid. “What’s her name?” I ask, curious. “Tara. I don’t remember her last name.” Noah grins at me and I smile back, a little repulsed by his crooked smile. I’m mean. I shouldn’t judge. But I am totally judging right now and this guy needs braces. “I don’t know her,” I tell him. “Don’t worry about her. Screw her.” His grin widens. “I have you tonight. I don’t need her.” “Is she here?” “Yeah. I saw her earlier.” Noah scowls. “With some wimpy looking douche. She was hanging all over him. It pissed me off.” “Oh, well yeah. Forget her.” I scoot closer to him, my side flush against his. Reaching out, I rest my hand on his thigh and slip my fingertips just beneath the damp hem of his swim trunks. “You’re right. You do have me tonight.” He dips his head and presses his mouth to mine. There’s no finesse, no sweet, innocent kisses to warm me up. His tongue thrusts inside my mouth like an angry animal, busily searching for mine and I withdraw from him, my hand now on his bare chest, keeping him at a distance.

“I don’t want to do this here.” I smile at him, hoping it’ll ease the sudden lust that’s seized him but he doesn’t look happy. “Where then? My truck is parked out in the field.” My smile is so wide and fake it hurts. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Noah takes my hand and we dash around the pool, ignoring the catcalls from everyone hanging out nearby. I’m scanning the entire backyard as best as I can, making sure I don’t see Liv or Dustin or worse, Cannon close by, but no one’s around. I’m almost disappointed. Noah brings me to his beat up old Ford truck and opens the passenger door for me, practically pushing me inside. I rest my suddenly clammy hands in between my thighs, trying my best to focus my thoughts but my head is spinning. Did I drink one beer or two when I was talking to Noah? I don’t remember. I’ve drank a lot tonight and most of the time, I felt perfectly fine. A little buzzed, a lot turned on, especially when I was with Cannon, but for the most point, I’m good. Right now, I’m not feeling so good. At all. Noah slides inside, behind the steering wheel and then throws his chair back so he’s lying there, a tent already forming in the front of his swim trunks. I try not to stare at it, but wow. We kissed once. Could he get that worked up over a sloppy kiss that lasted all of fifteen seconds max? I guess so. “Come here.” He wags his fingers at me and then grabs my hand, pulling me over so I’m lying on top of him, my face in his. Then he’s kissing me, his wet, gaping mouth coming at me like he’s about to swallow me whole and for a while, I let him continue. I try to slow him down, try to pull away from him but he won’t give up the horrific kissing. His hands are on my boobs and he’s twisting and turning them both like I’m the volume control on a car radio. Back and forth, back and forth… It sucks. Batting his hands away, I shift to my side, drape my body over the center console and smile coyly at him while I reach for the string on the waistband of his swim trunks. “What do we have here?” I ask teasingly. “Why don’t you open them up and find out?” Noah bends his arms behind his head and lies back like he has all the time in the world. And I have to be honest—I’d rather go down on him than deal with his obnoxious kissing and greedy hands. This is so much easier. Blow jobs I can control. My emotions? Big muscly guys who want to be my knight in shining armor? I can’t handle them. At all.

Use me. Those two words ring in my head over and over again. Use me. Use me. Use me. I shove myself away from Tuttle and leap to my feet, staring at him sprawled across his bed like some sort of dream fantasy come to life. I mean, seriously. He’s so freaking gorgeous with his shirt shoved up under his arms and exposing his ridiculously flat yet rippled abs—I exposed him like that, thank you very much—and his shorts hanging low on his hips. Revealing a tantalizing strip of dark brown hair that leads from his navel and down his lower belly before disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. If I was a bad girl, I would’ve followed that trail with my tongue just to see where it led me. But I’m not a bad girl. Not even close. I don’t use people for my revenge. I’m a nice girl who gets good grades and plays in the band and has the very best friend in the whole world and a terrific boyfriend who— Wait. Scratch that. I have none of that anymore. The tears are streaming down my cheeks before I even really notice them. And when I do notice them, when I notice Tuttle noticing them and the faintly horrified look on his face upon spotting them, then I really break down and fall apart. Whirling away from him, I spot an open door on the opposite side of the room and head toward it, ignoring Tuttle when he calls my name. Luckily enough my instincts are correct and it’s a bathroom. A ridiculously huge bathroom that is downright decadent for a teenage boy to be using by himself but whatever. From what I’ve seen, the Tuttles don’t do anything half assed. I slam and lock the door and then turn on the lights, inhaling sharply when I take in the opulence surrounding me. The countertop is huge, with so much available space I stare at it in awe. There are two sinks and the mirror runs along the entire wall, reaching all the way to the ceiling. There’s a giant walk in shower and a separate whirlpool tub with jets and a massive window that overlooks the backyard… It’s freaking ridiculous. I can’t even believe this is Tuttle’s life. He’s living the dream.

Some sort of warped fairytale where he’s the supposed poor little rich boy who’s ignored by his parents and can do whatever the hell he wants. What’s so bad about that? I use the toilet because when a girl has to go, she has to go. I wash my hands and the soap smells so amazing I just want to stand there and sniff my palms for a few seconds, but that’s warped and weird so I stop myself. There’s a pounding on the door that makes me gasp and I leap away from the counter, staring at the door as if I can see who’s standing on the other side. Not that it takes a genius to know who it is. “Amanda. Open the door.” Tuttle’s dreamy voice is enough to put me into a trance and I literally have to shake my head to shake me out of it. I refuse to let this guy get to me. He just wants me to use him. He wants me to take my revenge out on Thad and Tara’s deceit by screwing around with him instead. Forget that! I won’t sink to their level. “Mandy.” He knocks again, the booming sound making me think he’s pounding on that door with his fist. “Come on. At least answer and let me know you’re all right.” “Go away,” I yell at the door, glaring at it. Wishing he could see just how frustrated I am. This entire night has been ridiculous from the get go. I’m so over it. Over everyone. Especially Tuttle. The door handle rattles. “You’re being ridiculous.” “No, you’re being ridiculous,” I throw back at him like the mature almost adult that I am. He reduces me to stupidity when I’m in his presence and it’s infuriating. He’s quiet for a moment, which I think is dangerous, but I decide to inspect his bathroom a little more closely. I run my fingers across the towels and they don’t disappoint. Plush and thick, I bet they feel like a hug when you wrap them around your damp, naked body. This thought of course, makes me imagine Tuttle’s damp, naked body after he steps out of the shower and what he might look like. My imagination runs away from me completely…meaning bathrooms are a dangerous place. Blowing out a sigh, I push all naked Tuttle thoughts out of my head and rub my hand across my forehead, glancing around. I contemplate making a jump for it out of the bathroom window. But we’re on the second floor and I could seriously hurt myself, so forget that. I’ll just wait out Tuttle. He’ll have to leave sometime and then I can sneak out and make my escape from this God forsaken house once and for all. I wander over to the whirlpool tub and pick up a full bottle of bath salts, open the cap and take a sniff. Everything in this bathroom smells amazing and I can’t help but wonder what all this stuff costs. Way more than my parents could ever spend in a lifetime, I’m sure. And we’re just talking Tuttle’s bathroom. A click sounds in the silence and I turn around to see the door swing open and Tuttle stride inside, coming straight for me. His face is determined, his eyes dark and stormy and

I wait in breathless anticipation until he stops just in front of me, so close I could reach out and touch him with ease. But I don’t. “I said the wrong thing.” I nod once but otherwise don’t reply. How did he get inside? Probably has a key, the tricky bastard. “I didn’t mean to freak you out or upset you.” Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I wait for him to continue. “I just wanted to kiss you.” My skin goes warm at his confession. His gaze is now locked on my lips. “I still want to kiss you,” he tells them. I squirm a little. I still want to kiss him too. Stupid, ridiculously hot boy that he is, it’s like I can’t resist him. “Will you let me?” He finally tears his gaze away from my lips and looks straight at me. “Kiss you?” Without a word I offer up a little nod and he moves in closer, his hands going to my waist and lifting me onto the edge of the counter. The tile is cool under my thighs and I gasp. Gasp again when he pushes my knees open and steps in between them, like he’s the boss of me and has total control of my body. That was kind of hot. He cups my face with his big hands and we gaze at each other for a few seconds. This is going to be one of those dreamy kisses you think only exist in movies—where the boy cradles the girl’s face in his hands before he leans down and presses his mouth to hers. I always silently swooned at those types of kisses. They’re the best. Jordan’s head descends and he’s kissing me. Sweet and tender and soft and wet and hot and oh my god, his tongue curls around mine over and over. Slowly. I reach out and grip the front of his shirt like I’m clinging to him for dear life, which I sort of am. His hands drop from my face and he circles his arms around my waist, holding me close. It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had. Hands down, the most amazing kiss of my whole entire life, not that I’ve been kissed much. But Tuttle’s lips put Thad’s to absolute shame. I have the scariest thought, one that makes me break away from Jordan Tuttle’s delicious lips and blink my eyes open. What if Jordan’s kisses ruin me for anyone else? What if no one ever kisses me like he does? Does this mean I’ll go through the rest of my life comparing other kisses to Tuttle’s? How fair is that? How miserable will my life be as I try to find a man who can top Tuttle’s lips? “Your brain is working overtime,” he murmurs against my neck as he kisses me there. His hot lips make me shiver and when he licks my neck, good lord, I’m a goner. I’m thankful I’m holding onto him or I might’ve fallen to the floor in a boneless heap.

“I’m thinking about the way you kiss.” He chuckles, the sound tickling me and making me squirm. “If you’re thinking while I’m kissing you, then I’m doing it wrong.” No. That’s the problem. He’s doing it right. So, so right. “Stop thinking.” He lifts away from my neck and I gaze up at his handsome face. His jaw is shaded with stubble and his eyes are heavy lidded, giving him this sleepy, sexy look. He’s completely focused on me and nothing else, and I like being his sole focus. I also like how messy his hair is. I like it so much I reach for his hair and run my fingers through it, messing it up even more. His eyes fall closed for a moment and he moans softly. “That feels good.” A heady thrill rushes through me, that I can give him pleasure. That I can make him feel good. “You want me to keep doing it?” “Yeah, if I can keep kissing you.” So we do. We kiss and kiss and kiss. Me sitting on the hard edge of the bathroom counter, my hands buried in his hair, his hands running up and down my back beneath my shirt, fingers tripping over my bra clasp. Our mouths are fused and I wonder how I can even breathe, or how he can breathe. We both rarely come up for air, we’re too consumed with each other and I never, ever want it to stop. “Let’s go back to my bed,” he murmurs long, kiss-filled moments later. He’s caressing my side, his fingers lightly skimming over my skin and I can barely keep my eyes open when I answer him. “Okay.”

I spotted Em a while ago, flirting with that guy Noah from the basketball team. He’s staring at her boobs and she’s giving him that wicked smile, the one I know for a fact she’s practiced in front of a mirror for years. Looks like all that practice paid off because next thing I know, he’s kissing her and she’s pushing him away with a disgusted look on her face. I’m about to go over there and tell him to lay off when instead she takes his hand as they both rise to their feet and leave the backyard. She doesn’t even notice me as they walk past, and I’m glad. I don’t need her giving me some smug smirk. She’d love to rub it in my face that she’s gonna get Noah off while I’m left sitting here with blue balls. But I’m still hopeful. The night isn’t over yet. Livvy reappears a few minutes later after going inside to the use the bathroom. She smiles at me as she approaches, stopping directly in front of me so she’s all I can see and hear. “We should go, huh?” “You ready?” I tilt my head down to meet her gaze and she smiles up at me. “I need to get up early tomorrow so…yeah.” I drive her back home, and we don’t talk. The music on the radio is the only sound that fills the car but I’m cool with it. What can we talk about anyway? Everything’s already been said. She knows how I feel about her, but it doesn’t matter. Not right now. She doesn’t want us to start something up only for her to leave for the next six weeks. I get her logic but it still bums me out. When I pull my Jeep in front of her house and throw it into park, Livvy turns to smile at me. But I can see the sadness in her eyes and I know this moment isn’t easy for her. “I’ll miss you,” she admits, her voice soft. “I’ll miss you too.” “I don’t want to go.” Her lower lip trembles and she presses them together. “I hate that I have to leave you guys.” “Come here.” I pull her into my arms, but the hug is awkward thanks to the center console. I run my hand over her hair and whisper in her ear, “It’ll go by fast. You’ll be back soon.”

“Yeah.” Her voice is muffled against my neck. “Sure.” Slowly she pulls away from me and I kiss her. Nothing too crazy since it doesn’t feel right, to push myself on her when she’s acting so vulnerable. I’m an asshole sometimes, but I will never force myself on a girl. “You gonna be okay?” I ask after she pulls away. She nods but she won’t really look at me. Instead, she reaches for the door handle and climbs out of the Jeep, shutting the door quietly behind her. I watch her go up the walkway toward her front door and enter the house. And then she’s gone. I drive the few blocks to my house and park my car, but I don’t go inside. Instead, I exit my Jeep and lean against it, watching her house from my driveway since she’s just down the street. I can specifically see her bedroom window, and that the light is still on. So I wait her out by checking my phone, looking at all the photos from the party that are on Snapchat. When I glance up a few minutes later, I notice her light is off. Without thought I jog toward Livvy’s house and into her front yard, rounding the side of the house to where her bedroom window is. I grab a couple pieces of bark from the nearby flowerbed and start throwing it. One after the other, the pieces of bark land against the glass with a slight ding and she finally lifts the blinds, squinting out into the darkness. “What are you doing?” she whispers when she opens the window. Like we haven’t done this before. It’s been a while, but still. “Let me in?” We busted the screen a while ago and it’s gone, much to her mom’s worry. “Someone could sneak into your room!” she’d said after Livvy tore the broken screen off the windowsill. We gave each other smirks and continuous eye rolls, considering the only one sneaking into Livvy’s room was me. “I didn’t want our last night together to end like that,” I tell her. “Like what?” She’s frowning and I shake my head, glancing around impatiently. I don’t have time to explain. “Let me in.” She steps back and I crawl through the window and shut it before I turn toward her. She’s standing in the middle of the room wearing just a tank top and the tiniest shorts I’ve ever seen. She’s all legs and bare skin and no bra beneath that tank and I can see her nipples poking against the thin fabric. My self control shatters in that very instant and I lunge for her, pulling her into my arms and kissing her like my life depends on it. This moment feels so serious, like I’m trying to communicate with Livvy through my actions how much I care about her. I can say it over and over again—though I really don’t because the words never come easy—but showing her is the best way to her heart. It has to be. Within minutes I have her on the bed and I’m stripping her clothes off. The tank is

gone. The shorts are around her ankles though she’s still wearing her panties. My hands are everywhere, touching and stroking and making her gasp. I kiss her chest and lick her nipples and she slaps her hand over her mouth to keep herself from crying out too loudly, I guess. I don’t know. I’m not really paying attention to her reaction. I can only focus on her—and my need to get her off. My need to get off rides me hard too and I feel desperate. I’m frantic to touch her one last time before she leaves me. For some weird reason, it feels so…final between us. I don’t get it. But I don’t have time to think it over either. I’m running on pure instinct right now. My fingers are between her legs and she’s spreading her thighs wider, giving me better access. She rears up and tugs my shirt up and over my head, tossing it onto the floor, whimpering when I have to remove my hand from her body to get rid of it. “Don’t stop,” she whispers when I increase the pace of my fingers and I reassure her that I don’t plan on stopping at all by kissing her as I continue to touch her. She reaches for me, her hand delving beneath my shorts, determined fingers grasping onto me. My moans are a little too loud when she starts to stroke and she glares at me, shushing me in a way that almost makes me laugh. Her mom’s room is just down the hall. If she caught us, my ass would be in huge trouble. Her mom likes me, but if she caught me messing around with her baby girl? Forget it. She’d hate me forever. I’m so determined to come, I falter when touching Livvy, too focused on my own pleasure. Her fingers grip me tight and I wish she would put her mouth on me but she won’t. Maybe someday, when she comes back from Oregon and we can talk about actually having a real relationship, we can push it to the next step. I’m freaking desperate to push it to the next step. Her fingers pick up speed and I collapse with my back against the mattress, all plans of touching Livvy falling away as I zero in on the way she feels. She’s holding me tight, moving so fast that I can feel it barreling down. My entire body goes tense and my spine tingles just before I come with a barely restrained groan. She’s gone before the last shudder leaves my body, off to get Kleenex or whatever to clean her hand up. Clean the bed up. She offers me a handful and I take them sheepishly, wiping myself off before I toss them in the trashcan near her bedside table. “Livvy.” She turns to look at me, holding her tank top in front of her chest. Reaching out, I tug on the fabric, trying to get her to drop it but she just holds on tighter. “Come here.” “You should go,” she says, taking a step away from the bed, from me. “It’s really late.” Her words are like a punch to the gut. “You don’t want me to stay?” “It’s not that. I just don’t want my mom to find you in here with me.” She sends me a look. “She will kill us. Kill you.” Sighing, I shake my head and slip under the covers, patting the empty spot on the mattress right next to me. “Come on. Just for a few minutes.” I’m pushing my luck but

give me a break. I want to soak her up as much as I can before she leaves tomorrow. Doesn’t she see that? Doesn’t she realize how much I care about her? Liv pulls the tank top back over her head, offering me a too quick glimpse of her chest. Then she’s climbing into bed with me, pulling the covers over the both of us, her head nestled against my chest. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her in closer, throwing a leg over hers to keep her in place. It feels so good, lying in bed with her like this. I never want to move.

Dustin should go. I know I’m being a total bitch but oh my God, we were so loud just then. Well, me not so much, but he couldn’t seem to control himself. I can’t believe Mom didn’t burst into my room and discover us doing what we were doing. She would’ve died. I would’ve too. That is the very last thing I want to happen. But then he crawled into my bed and gave me those puppy dog eyes and I couldn’t resist him. How can I kick him out? Besides, he’s right. We need just a few more minutes of cuddling like this and then he has to go home. It’s late, past midnight and I’m exhausted. Well. My body is buzzing and I’m still throbbing between my legs but yeah. I’m tired. “What do you do up there anyway?” When I say nothing, he continues. “Up in Oregon. At your dad’s house.” “Oh. It’s so boring there. My stepmom wants to hang out, take me shopping while trying to bond with me and somehow, I don’t know, become my best friend or whatever. When I first get there I’m usually okay with it, but I cut her off fast.” Christine tries so hard, but Mom hates her, which means I have to hate her. I My half brother and sister make me crazy. They’re little and complete pests and they just want to go through my stuff. “You can text me whenever you want, you know.” He says this conversationally, but I wonder if he wants more. I told him not to push. I said I didn’t want to pursue anything serious considering I’m leaving tomorrow, and I’ll be gone for six long weeks. But sometimes it’s like he doesn’t even listen to me. “I’ll text you like I usually do.” I keep my voice even, trying not to get distracted by the hypnotic way his fingers skim over my stomach, back and forth, moving lower each time. “Yeah, which isn’t much at all,” he reminds me as he rolls over on his side so he’s facing me. His hand is still on my stomach, his other arm curled around my shoulders and I am completely surrounded by him. “Please don’t start a fight with me,” I tell him wearily, lifting my gaze to his. “It’s late. I should probably go to sleep.” “I’m not trying to start a fight.” His fingers slip beneath my panties and the knowing

smile that curls his lips is irresistible. “I am trying to start something else though.” I part my lips, ready to offer up a weak protest but then he kisses me and strokes me at the same exact time. I was already halfway to my breaking point before he got caught up in his own deal earlier and I’m immediately primed and ready to go. Now it’s my turn, and while I halfheartedly tell myself I really shouldn’t do this, I’m excited that he’s touching me again. And this time he’s touching me in my bed, his fingers working their magic, his mouth on my neck, the both of us breathing heavily and grasping helplessly at each other. I fall apart fast. So quick, I gasp in surprise when the sensation washes over me. So quick, I’m almost disappointed I didn’t have enough time to really savor it.

Dustin kisses me just before he’s about to leave and then he’s gone, slipping out through the window and stealing across my lawn like some thief in the black of night. I watch him go, can actually see him run across his front yard and sneak back into his house just by walking through the front door. His parents don’t seem to care what time he gets home. He doesn’t have a strict curfew like I do. I swear it’s because he’s a boy and I’m a girl. So unfair. But whatever. I’m about to close the window and shut the blinds when I see a familiar figure walking down the sidewalk, headed in the opposite direction of Dustin’s house. I peek my head out through the window and squint into the darkness, whispering a sharp, “Em!” to hopefully get her attention. She stops in her tracks and turns to look at me, then starts to approach my house. As she draws closer, I notice smudges of mascara beneath her bloodshot eyes and she looks tired. Worn out. “Hey,” she says when she stops directly in front of my window. “What are you doing?” “I could ask you the same thing.” I pause for a moment. “We didn’t get to hang out much at Tuttle’s party.” Em shrugs, looking away from me. “Didn’t have much time I guess.” “But it’s my last night before I leave,” I remind her. She returns her gaze to mine. “I’ll miss you.” Will she really? I’m not sure. “I’ll miss you too.” “Sorry we didn’t get to spend time together. But I knew you had Dustin, so you didn’t need me around.” Ugh. I hate when she says that sort of thing. “I wanted you around, Em. There’s a big

difference.” “We’ll hang out more when you come back home,” she offers. “Promise?” “Yeah.” Em nods, nibbling on her thumbnail. “I promise.” “Why are you out so late?” “Was with a guy.” She shrugs again, still nibbling on her nail. “Noah. He just graduated.” “You mean Noah from the basketball team?” She nods. “That’s the one.” “Why were you with him?” I’m surprised. He doesn’t seem her type. Not that I really know her type anymore. “Why not? He’s funny. We drank, we hung out, we messed around, I sucked his dick, and now I’m headed home.” I start to giggle. I can’t help it, considering what she just said. “You so didn’t suck his dick.” “I so did.” “How was it?” “Better than kissing him.” Now we’re both laughing. No way can Em be serious. She’s so full of crap. “Why didn’t you have him drop you off at your house?” The laughter dies. “I didn’t want him to know where I live.” My mouth drops open. “Are you for real? What, is he some sort of stalker?” “I’m not sure. And I didn’t want to take the risk.” Huh, isn’t that funny. I’m starting to think my best friend is continuously engaging in risky behavior. How many times have we received that lecture at school throughout the years, starting in middle school? Risky behavior is the term they use for everything-drugs, drinking, sex, cheating in school, flirting with teachers, careless online behavior. The list goes on and on. “Be careful this summer, okay Em?” I study her, hoping she hears the sincerity in my voice. I do want her to be careful. There are too many crazies out there and she’s being so careless. “Don’t get too out of control without me around to watch over you.” She smiles and steps up to the window, reaching out for me. We embrace, our arms slung around each other’s necks, her face buried against my shoulder. I worry for a moment she might smell Dustin on me, considering Dustin was just literally all over me, but she says nothing. Just gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek before she pulls away and starts walking backwards. “I’ll miss you,” she tells me. “Don’t know how I’m going to survive this summer

without my best friend.” “You’ll be fine,” I reassure. “You’ve done it before. What’s six weeks, right?” Em laughs. “Well, for you it’ll be torture, since we’ll all be here and you’re stuck with your dad.” Ugh. Thanks Em for the reminder. We say our goodbyes and I watch her go, finally closing the window when I can’t see her any longer. My gaze snags on my packed suitcase sitting by the bedroom door and I frown as I crawl into bed, yanking the covers up to my neck. I tell myself that my time in Oregon won’t be so bad. That I have to go since it’s the last summer I’ll spend with my dad before college. My leaving is the right thing to do. Besides, no matter what happens, I know I can count on my friends.





I miss you so much! I miss you too. I have a surprise for you. :) What is it? When you come home you’ll find out. But that’s not until next week! :( It’s worth the wait. Trust me. Does Dustin know the surprise? Yes but he won’t tell you. How do you know? Cuz he knows I’ll kick his ass. :)

I stare at my phone screen, frustrated at my friend Emily’s secrecy. She knows I hate surprises. I always have. Surprises usually bring bad news, at least for me. Surprise! Pop quiz. Surprise! You’re failing Chemistry. Surprise! He likes someone else. Surprise! You’re getting a baby brother. Surprise! You’re getting a baby sister. Surprise! Your dad and I are getting a divorce. Not necessarily in that order, but you get the gist. Deciding to change tactics, I start texting Dustin. What’s up? The usual. What’s up wit u? Bored. Lonely.

If you were here with me… What? I’d make sure you weren’t bored. Or lonely. :) I smile, trying to fight the butterflies that flutter in my stomach when he talks like that. Dustin and I have been close since we were young. He’s one of my best friends. I’ve told him everything. Confessed who I liked, who I’m mad at, how far I’ve gone with guys— which isn’t very far—and he’s admitted all his secrets too. He’s the first person I got drunk with. The first person I got high with. He’s also the first boy I tongue-kissed. When we were thirteen and feeling like losers who’d never done anything, we at least had each other. But it was forgotten. Kid stuff. Until last spring when we were at a party, got drunk together and started making out. Next thing I knew we were slipping our hands down each other’s jeans, getting each other off. It happened again—and then again, right before I left for my dad’s. I had to push him off of me before we took it too far. I can still remember the pained expression on his face, and the memory of that night hurts my heart. The memory also makes my heart flutter with excitement. Even though he’s my best friend and I don’t want to ruin our friendship, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if we really were together. I trust Dustin. We’re close without being in a relationship-close. I can also admit—only to myself—that Dustin is a good kisser. And he knows what to do with his fingers. My cheeks are hot just remembering. Where are you? In bed. Naked. :) Dustin… I know. Sorry. I chew on my lip, mad at myself for looking like a prude via text. The problem with messing around with your best friend who happens to be a boy is that they form certain expectations. We’ve crossed the line. In his eyes, there’s no going back. He wants more. He wants it—me—all the time. I think I want that too, but I’m not sure. What’s Emily’s surprise? I can’t tell you.

Why not? I was sworn to secrecy. Come on D. :( He doesn’t answer and I don’t push. But I’m frustrated. Being stuck at my dad’s for the summer is the worst. Mom and Dad split when I was eleven and at first, being divided between two homes was awesome. I went to Dad’s on the weekends and it was like one big party. We went out to eat, he bought me whatever I wanted, took me on trips. Summertime was even better. We’d go on vacations to the beach, or Disneyland, wherever I wanted to go. Birthdays I got twice as many gifts and the same with Christmas. Mom’s house, where I’m at most of the time, is the drag. Homework. Clean my room. Help out since she works and isn’t always home to cook a decent meal. It’s like a cycle set on repeat. Do your homework, clean your room, do your laundry, help me, help me, help me. Dad’s house was my escape. Until it wasn’t. He moved from California to Oregon for a new job and met and married Christine, who’s much younger than my dad. Christine convinced him they should try for their own family. Now I have a little brother and sister named Dakota and Sierra—I know, I know, they sound like national parks—and trust me, they are a pain in my ass. Always getting into my stuff, always extra loud way too early in the morning. No more epic summer vacations. I’m stuck in Oregon from mid-June to early August, where Dad works all day and Christine is at home, staring at me with obvious disappointment every time she spots me. So I hide away in my room, counting down the days until I can go back to Mom’s. At least at home, Mom doesn’t really care what I do. As long as my room is clean, I help with chores, the homework is done and I come home by curfew, I can do pretty much whatever I want. She’s rarely home anyway. Between her job as a nurse and her new boyfriend, she’s busy. We talk on the phone once a week while I’m at Dad’s and we occasionally text, but it’s not the same. I miss her when I’m not there and she drives me crazy when I’m home. But at least she’s around more than Dad. He can’t give me any time. He’s too busy working or with Christine and his new kids, the better kids, the ones he wants to stick around for. Playing family man like it’s some sort of show he’s putting on for whoever’s watching. I don’t even know why I come here anymore, but Mom put a guilt trip on me, claiming this would be my last summer visiting Dad before I graduate high school. She’s right. So I’m suffering through one more summer before I can end this charade once and for all. My phone buzzes and I grab it, reading the text from Dustin. Check out E’s IG.

I do as he says, scrolling through my feed. I’ve ignored Instagram pretty much the entire summer because looking at it makes me sad. Pics of my friends having fun back home while I’m stuck here with no social life? No thanks. I don’t need to rub salt in the open wound. But maybe Dustin’s right and his request is a clue. Maybe Emily’s account will show me the surprise. I scroll and scroll, finally finding a photo of Emily with Dustin and another guy. A guy I don’t recognize. Emily’s standing in between them in a tiny lime green bikini, her skin red from the sun, chin-length dark brown hair tucked behind her ears and her lids lowered over her eyes at half mast, like she just took a hit or maybe she’s drunk, the sloppy grin on her face confirming it. Probably both. She has a cup in her hand and the guy I don’t know is looking at her like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen. Huh. More like he’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. The caption below the photo says: Summer daze make me feel good. #justfriends #friendzone #zoned #owned #relationship #lies #heartbreak #friends #bullshit I stare at the photo for a long time, then click on Emily’s user name— crazysexycool4uuuu—so I can check out her other photos. And there are a ton of them. The ones from late June show her in various swimsuits. Considering her parents are rich and she has her own credit card with a huge limit, she buys what she wants and damn the consequences. She looks good. Em’s not curvy, but she’s fit. In the eighth grade she played volleyball and softball. Gave that up once we got into high school because, and I quote, “I don’t want anyone to think I’m some lezbo jock.” Politically correct and sensitive, that’s my Em. Early July photos show Em and her family visiting her grandparents, waving American flags and Em in a short video spelling her name out with a sparkler in her hand. Mid-July is Emily back at home, hanging with Dustin. Lots of photos of her and Dustin, always with their arms around each other, Dustin shirtless, Emily in a sexy bikini, their bodies pressed close. Huh. Frowning, I keep scrolling upward, since I went straight to June, wanting the surprise to ease up on me. Slow build, like the best kind of anticipation. But I’m starting to think there’s no surprise at all. Unless she considers that guy in the photos the surprise. Talk about lame. Around July 19th is when I start to see the guy in her photos regularly. He’s cute. Gorgeous really. Medium brown hair streaked with gold, sparkling light eyes—I can’t tell

if they’re brown or green, or maybe they’re hazel. Definitely not blue. Nice body, which I’m seeing a lot of since he appears shirtless in pretty much every photo. Most are taken by Em’s pool and there are so many people there. When did Em get so popular without me? I close out Instagram and text Dustin. Please don’t tell me my surprise is the guy. More like he’s E’s surprise. What do you mean by that? They’re hooking up. But he’s a douche. I lean back against my pillows, stunned. I can hear my little brother and sister squealing downstairs. I hear a bird chirping just outside my window and the next-door neighbor is playing his radio outside as he gardens, some easy listening station that makes me want to stab pencils in my ears. They’re hooking up. I’m a little…jealous? That guy is hot. And I’m also jealous over the photos with Em and Dustin. I miss them. I miss being a part of that friendship. The three of us against the world, it’s always been like that. And it always hurts when one of us is missing. Most of the time I’m the one missing. You don’t like him? I sink my head farther into the pillows and close my eyes, waiting for Dustin’s reply. Everything’s changed this year. Last summer I was miserable and texting Em and Dustin every single day. And if we weren’t texting we were calling each other, though that was rare. What we loved to do most was FaceTime each other and watch movies together. Simple stuff. Innocent stuff. Now I’ve seen Dustin’s junk and he’s seen my boobs and we’ve swapped spit. It’s just all so…weird. Yet exciting. I sort of want to pursue more, but how do I tell him? How do we make this work without ruining everything? I don’t want Em to feel left out either… I hear my phone and I open my eyes, grabbing it. He’s okay. I guess Em needs the distraction. What do you mean by that?

He doesn’t reply for a while and I start to get nervous, nibbling on my thumbnail, feeling like an idiot for even asking. I’ll tell you when you come home. Hurry up. I miss you. :) Aw. I miss him, too. A lot. We’ve known each other forever but grew extra close in fifth grade. I’ve been friends with Emily since middle school, when she first moved into the neighborhood. I love making friends with the new kids. It’s like a hobby of mine, one that Dustin used to make fun of. “You take in all the strays,” he once teased me and I didn’t protest because he was right. Looks like Em took over my hobby this summer and made friends with the new boy. My phone dings again and I look at the screen. When are you coming home? Em wants to throw you a party. I wrinkle my nose. I don’t want a party. Why? I don’t need that sort of thing. That’s her surprise. She’s hanging with the popular crowd. Really? Yeah. They swim in her pool when her parents are at work. Huh. They’re using her for her pool? That’s lame. I’m surprised she’d let them. Most of the popular crowd at our high school can be rude. Snobbish. I’m on the yearbook staff so I have to deal with them a lot. Some are nice. I can’t lump them all together as egotistical jerks, but a lot of them are. Em always agreed with me, saying she wanted real friends, not phony friends who only use each other. Wonder when she changed?

“You look tan.” I glance down at my legs. They’re not my usual shade of pale, so I guess I could consider my skin tone tan. “There’s not much to do there but lay outside in the sun.” “Doesn’t it rain all the time in Oregon?” Mom flicks on the blinker and taps the brake, slowing so she can turn right onto our street. “And doesn’t anyone in your father’s house believe in sunscreen?” The anyone comment is directed right at Christine, my stepmom. Mom hates her. Mom hates Dad too. Makes for awkward conversations when I come home from his place. “It doesn’t rain much where Dad lives,” I say with a shrug. She holds back a sigh and pulls into our driveway. The minute she puts the car in park I reach for the door handle, desperate to make my escape, but she grabs hold of my arm, stopping me. I glance over my shoulder, frowning at her. “What?” “I was hoping you’d have dinner with me tonight. With me and…Fitch.” Grimacing, I slump back into my seat, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Em asked me to come over as soon as I got home.” She did. I’d been so thrilled to finally hear from her a few days ago, and we’d kept up the conversation, even though I was sort of hurt it took her this long to reach out. She flat out ignored me pretty much all summer. But I never brought that up and neither did she, though she did send me a series of photos through Snapchat these last few days, of various near-naked torsos. The lime green bikini almost sliding off her chest and a big, male hand covering one boob. A boy’s very pale, very firm ass in shadow, his swim trunks pulled down, most likely by her. And then the photos went poof because Snapchat saves nothing. Yeah. Em has definitely had an interesting summer. Much more interesting than mine. The sigh Mom had been holding back finally escapes, a slow hiss like she’s a tire leaking air. “You can go over to Emily’s house for a little while, but be home by dinner.” I glance at the time on my phone. It’s already almost five. Mom likes to eat early. “What time is that?” “Six thirty.” “Mom!” Another sigh, though it’s more a hiss. Like she’s a snake. “Fine. Seven. But no later than that, okay?”

“Okay.” I push out of the car and slam the door, going to the trunk to get my suitcase. I grab it and haul ass into the house, dumping the heavy suitcase onto my bed before I dart into the very small walk-in closet and check out my reflection in the full-length mirror that hangs on the wall. I don’t look bad, but I don’t look my best either. I tuck my reddish brown hair behind my ears and stand up straight, leaning in close to run a finger beneath each eye to get rid of mascara smudge. Screw it. This is as good as it gets. It’s just Em after all. No biggie.

“Oh my God!” I squeal as the door swings open. I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt and the matching smile on Em’s face tells me she’s feeling much the same. “Looking good, chica!” Em pulls me into her embrace and hugs me tight, her thin arms clamped around me, her mouth at my cheek as she gives me a sloppy kiss. “I missed you,” she murmurs against my skin. Oh, wow. She’s high. I can smell it on her and I disentangle myself from her embrace, offering her a weak smile. If I go back home reeking of weed, Mom will kill me. Or ground me forever. Both equal punishments in my eyes. Em giggles and stumbles a little bit. “I’m so glad you’re finally back!” “Me too,” I tell her as I close the front door. “Did you miss me?” “Always,” Em says without hesitation. She’s giving me a sleepy look, one that tells me she’s sort of trashed and I wonder if she’s drunk too. Is this how she’s spent her summer? Drinking and getting high with her so-called new friends? “I’ve lost weight.” Em does a little twirl, clad in the same lime green bikini I saw her wearing in that one photo on Instagram. “It’s my new diet of weed and vodka. Keeps me skinny.” She bursts out laughing and rests her hand on her hip. I can actually see her hipbone jutting out, the bikini bottom rides so low, and she’s so thin. “Come out back. There’s people I want you to meet.” “Where are your mom and dad?” I ask as she takes my hand and drags me through the giant, airy house. We may live in the same neighborhood, but her house is huge and ours is…normal. And boring. I practically trip over my flip-flops as I follow after her. I can hear music playing outside, one of those annoying songs that was on constant rotation all summer. And I hear water splashing too, like someone’s in the pool. Lots of someones, maybe. Is she having a party? Oh God…is Dustin here?

My heart starts to pound and I swallow hard, wishing I would’ve at least changed my clothes before I came over. Slipped on a bikini. Anything to look cute, to look good for… who? Dustin? Yeah. Definitely Dustin. I can’t believe I’m thinking like this. Em stops in front of the French doors that lead outside and turns to face me, jerking on my hand so I’m standing close to her. So close my nose wrinkles as the pungent scent of marijuana washes over me. I can only hope it doesn’t cling to my clothes. And if it does, that Mom won’t notice when I get back home. “I want you to meet Ryan,” Em says, her voice low and smoky. She sounds completely different, like we’re co-conspirators sharing a major secret. Something we’ve done a time or twenty during our friendship. But this one feels…bigger than the rest. “He just moved in down the street and he’s, well…we’ve been…” I raise a brow. “Hooking up?” “Livvy!” She smacks my arm, making me wince. “Shut your mouth. I was going to say we’ve been spending a lot of time together.” Is that code for hooking up? “Dustin already told me.” “Oh.” The irritation flitting across her face is clear. “He has such a big mouth. I told him to be quiet. I wanted to be the one who told you.” Unease creeps over me. Was she purposely keeping Ryan a secret? How weird. “I saw him in your pics on Instagram and Snapchat.” She waves a hand, dismissing my words. “The Snapchat thing…that was for fun. And I was just showing off on Instagram. Everyone shows off there.” True. “So you’re not hooking up with Ryan?” The smile curving her lips is coy. Secretive. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Right. She so is. “You spent a lot of time with Dustin too,” I point out, sounding like a jealous bitch, but I can’t help it. “Ew, no. He only has eyes for you.” With that startling remark, she throws open the doors and grabs my hand, dragging me out toward the pool. “Look who I found!” she calls “It’s Liv! She’s finally home!” They really don’t care. Barely anyone looks in our direction. There are a few kids I recognize from school swimming in the pool, groups of girls hanging out on the lounge chairs wearing the skimpiest bikinis I’ve ever seen. Girls I barely know, have said hi to in the halls maybe a handful of times. What is Em doing, inviting them here? Not like she’s friends with any of them… I spot Dustin on the diving board, a giant grin on his familiar face when he sees me. I smile back like I can’t help myself, taking in his classically handsome features, the way his warm brown eyes sparkle. He throws one hand up in the air in a wave before he hurls his long body into the water in a perfect flip.

Such a show off. “So you’re the infamous Liv. You really do exist.” The deep, even voice coming from behind me makes me whirl around, my lips parted like I’m ready to speak. But the second I catch a glimpse, it’s like all those words dried up in my throat. It’s him. The boy from the photos. And he’s even better looking in person, which is saying a lot. My brain scrambles as I try to come up with the right thing to say. He just stands there, clad in blue swim trunks that hang dangerously low on his hips, acres of golden skin on display. Droplets of water cling to his arms and chest and I watch one wind a path down his flat stomach, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trunks. The words finally fall from my lips like I have no control over them. “And here I thought you were an actor Em rented for the summer to pretend to be her boyfriend.” His smile is slow. And wow, it ends up a powerful, knock me on my ass grin. Thrusting his hand out toward me, he says, “I’m Ryan.” “So formal.” I take his hand and shake it, trying to ignore the buzz of electricity that flows from my palm to his. “Olivia.” “Nice to meet you,” he says with a slight bow, his amused tone making me laugh. He holds onto my hand for a moment too long and I snatch it away from him, rubbing my fingers against my palm, trying to get rid of the sparks that still remain on my skin. Ryan continues to stand in front of me, his smile still firmly in place, damp golden brown hair waving around his face. He’s pushed sunglasses up onto his head and that allows me to finally discover his eye color. Green. Rich, deep green like a mysterious forest. I can’t stop staring at him and he can’t seem to stop looking at me either. I drop my gaze from his, but that feels like a mistake. His chest is like a work of art. Tanned, smooth skin stretched over lean muscle. It’s obvious I’m checking him out, but I don’t even care. He doesn’t call me out on it either. I think he likes that my gaze is roaming over every inch of him. And I have a feeling he’s doing the same to me, despite my being the most overdressed girl here. Okay, this is totally weird. I need to get away from him before the situation gets super awkward. “Livvy!” Strong arms wrap around me from behind and a wet, warm body presses up against me. I recognize the body, the voice, his scent immediately. Dustin. He presses his cheek against mine for a quick second before he dips his head and kisses my neck, his lips cold against my skin. A shiver moves through me and I playfully shove him off of me, rubbing my cheek against my shoulder, my now-wet clothes clingy and most likely unflattering. “You made me wet,” I grumble. “That’s what she said,” Ryan adds, and both boys laugh.

My cheeks are on fire and I look around for Em, who’s nowhere to be found. Oh, there she is, over by the diving board, taking a swig out of someone’s beer bottle before handing it back to him. He’s big, tall and broad with blond hair and I recognize him as one of the football players from school. She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, laughing extra loud when he says something to her. I frown. I’ve never seen her like this before. Dustin takes a step closer to me, his arm nudging mine, and I glance up at him. “Where are Lou and Cindy?” I ask, referring to Em’s parents. He shrugs, shakes his head and scatters water droplets like a dog, some of them hitting me. “They went on vacation a few days ago.” “Without Emily?” I’m shocked. They always go on a couple of family vacations every year. It used to be the highlight of her summer. “She didn’t want to go on this particular one since they’re visiting her sister in Virginia, so they let her stay alone.” Em has never liked her older sister. There’s a ten-year difference between them and they have zero in common. “They won’t be home for another three days. It’s full blown party time.” The smile Dustin sends my way makes my knees melt. He’s such a good-looking guy, what with his dark hair and equally dark eyes. He has a good body too, though his isn’t as developed as Ryan’s. Dustin’s taller, though, well over six feet and he’s on the basketball team at school. And when he looks at me like this, I can feel that crackling chemistry between us. It draws me to him, makes me want more despite my fears. But what I have with Dustin is also warm and comfortable. I trust him. There’s definitely an attraction between us, but I’m also afraid if we jumped into a relationship, we’d ruin our friendship in the process. There would be no going back. I shouldn’t even worry about boys right now. My next goal is to graduate high school and get into a good college. Preferably one out of state and far away from here. And when I say out of state, I don’t necessarily mean Oregon. Dad is dying for me to become a University of Oregon Duck. If I can get down to southern California, I’d be happy. I want to get out of this valley, out of this hot city that will lead me nowhere. Growing up in central California, I’ve always felt like there’s nothing here. We live in the suburbs, we go to the best high school in the school district and my neighborhood is pretty upscale, but yeah. I’m desperate to get out of here. “You met Ryan already.” Dustin pauses. “What do you think?” “He seems nice.” The disgusted look that crosses Dustin’s face takes me by surprise. “Seriously?” “What? Do you not like him?” Dustin pretty much likes everyone, or so I thought. “Who does Dustin not like?” Ryan magically appears, moving closer so he’s standing

with us, on the other side of me. I wave a hand, hoping he didn’t hear what we said. “No one. Don’t worry about it.” “Well, it certainly can’t be you,” Ryan says, his voice warm. “I think Dustin’s ready to stake his claim with you.” Oh boy. This is strange. “No one can stake a claim. I’m not claimable.” Is that even a word? “Well, if he’s not going to claim you, I’d like to try.” Ryan flashes me a devastating grin. “You’re everything Em described.” My stomach fizzes with nerves at the way Ryan watches me. “And how did Em describe me?” “Redhead.” He steps closer and gently tugs on a strand of my hair. “Freckles.” He taps the tip of my nose with his index finger. “Pretty.” My cheeks are warm all over again. He shouldn’t flirt with me. Even if he’s just hooking up with her, he clearly belongs to Em. “Livvy’s gorgeous.” Dustin slings his arm around my shoulders and wraps it around my neck, tugging me close to him. I have no choice but to go, wondering at the possessive way he’s acting. Like he wants to prove something to Ryan. “She just doesn’t realize it yet.” “Stop. I’m standing right here.” I lightly jab Dustin in the stomach with my elbow, making him grunt, his arm loosening around my neck. I step out of his hold and Ryan laughs, shaking his head. The glare Dustin sends him is murderous, the tension between them palpable. Something’s going on between these two. And I don’t like it.

You should come over and spend the night.

The text came from Em about thirty minutes ago and I still haven’t responded. I know for a fact Mom won’t let me go over there tonight and I also know Em will be persistent in trying to convince me to come over. I can’t win. I was eating dinner when I received her text. I went to check it, but Mom cleared her throat, her gaze sharp as she watched me. I shoved my phone into the pocket of my denim shorts and smiled politely at her new boyfriend, Fitch. His name sounds like it belongs to a pet, not a man, but whatever. He makes loving eyes at my mother and praises her cooking—which is just mediocre if you ask me—and earlier I saw him grab her ass in the kitchen. She swatted his hand away with a potholder and he just laughed, pulled her in close before laying one on her. I looked away and made myself scarce. It felt like I was prying in on a private moment. The dinner conversation had been strained between all three of us. I tried my best and kept saying I was tired when Mom asked me what was wrong. It was a better excuse than telling Mom her new boyfriend was sort of boring. That would only hurt her feelings. I’m cleaning the kitchen when I finally decide to pause and answer Em. Can’t come over. Mom wants me to stay home tonight. I send off the text, but mere seconds later Em’s responding. Forget your mother! I need you! Lots of crying emojis follow this proclamation. Sighing, I shove my phone back into my pocket and resume wiping down the granite countertops, careful to not leave any streaks. After the divorce, Mom had the kitchen remodeled, the entire house repainted, and she replaced her bedroom furniture too. Every last scrap of it right down to getting rid of the mattress, and it hadn’t been that old to begin

with. “I’m purging,” she’d told me with a gentle smile and a hostile gleam in her eye. “Getting rid of all that bad juju.” She’d never talked of bad juju before so I knew she was full of it, even when I was eleven. Adults don’t think we’re paying attention, but we so are. They also believe we don’t understand what’s going on, but that’s a lie they tell themselves to feel better about their decisions. I knew Dad had cheated on her, had overheard one of their raging fights late at night, long after they thought I’d gone to bed. Tears streaking down my cheeks as I clutched one of my stuffed animals close, listening to them scream accusations at each other. Dad called her a cold, unfeeling bitch who withheld sex on purpose. Mom called him a cheating bastard who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. I’m pretty sure they were both fairly close in their assessments of each other back then, now that I look at things, see the past through my seventeen-year-old clear-as-can-be eyes versus my younger self’s rose-colored glasses. Mom loves to reference those stupid rosecolored glasses, especially when talking about Dad. “After I took those rose-colored glasses off, I finally saw the reality of my situation. And at that one particular moment, Olivia, my life was a world of shit,” she’s told me more than once. Did I mention Mom is a bit of a drama queen sometimes? My butt buzzes and I pull my phone out, reading the new text from Em. Don’t ignore me bitch. Dustin wants you here. He’s DYING to see you. It’s like she’s trying to tempt me, though she doesn’t know about Dustin and me. That’s another thing I’m afraid of—Em’s disapproval if Dustin and I really got together. I think she’d be jealous. I think she’d be upset and accuse us of leaving her out, which would never be my intention. It’s best I avoid them tonight, even though I’d love to see Dustin. I’m tired and afraid I might do or say something stupid. But I also need to respond to Em’s insistent texts. I can’t come over. Maybe tomorrow? The phone rings in my hand, startling me. Emily’s name flashes across the screen, the vibrating phone making my skin tingle. I slide the green button and slowly bring the phone to my ear, offering a tentative, “Are you sick? Why are you calling me?” “I am sick. Sick of being without my Livvy!” I pull the phone away from my ear when

she screams into it. “Come on, your mom will let you come over. It’s me! I’m harmless.” Right now she’s as harmless as a rattlesnake ready to strike. I’m pretty sure the girl is drunk and stoned and it might not be safe that she’s staying home alone. Though from the background noise, I can only assume people are there. She said Dustin is. “You’re not harmless,” I finally tell her as I turn on the water at the sink and rinse the rag I’d been using. “You’re crazed right now.” She giggles. “Isn’t it great? I almost did a strip tease for Ryan earlier in the pool house.” I go still. “Haven’t you already done that?” Her giggles fade. “Oh, we’ve messed around for a little bit, but nothing serious. He hasn’t seen me naked or anything.” Why does this make me feel better? “Really?” “Really. We’re just friends.” Her voice drops. “Though I guess I’m the sort of friend who gives blowjobs. Who knew?” Her laughter is incredibly loud and I wince. “You actually gave him a BJ?” “Don’t be such a priss. I can’t help it if you’ve never done anything.” I clamp my lips shut. I won’t tell her about Dustin. Not over the phone. I should tell her in person, but I don’t even want to admit it to…anyone. Not yet. It feels too soon. Sighing, I’m determined to not give in. “I’ll come over tomorrow afternoon. Okay?” “Livvy…” “Tomorrow,” I say again firmly. “Bye, Em.” I hang up before she can say anything more.

I don’t make it over to Em’s house until midafternoon the next day and I figure she’s mad at me. I texted that I was coming over a while ago and she never replied, though the message said read beneath it. Meaning she’s not answering me on purpose. So I let her be pissed, figuring she’ll get over it soon enough. When I show up at her house, no one answers the door, though it was unlocked. I enter the house and look around, figuring that everybody is out by the pool once again. The place is a mess, especially the giant kitchen. There’s half eaten food covering the marble countertops, empty liquor bottles stacked in the farmhouse sink, along with beer bottles and cans. Two liters without the caps on them—so the soda was probably already flat—sat near the giant stainless steel fridge and there are open bags of chips everywhere. Shaking my head, I survey all the damage. I know I’m going to be stuck helping her clean up. It’s what I do. Dustin and me, we’re always bailing Em out of some sort of mess. Frustrated, I head upstairs to drop off my bag in her room before I go outside. The door is partially closed, but I think nothing of it. Imagine my surprise when I push the door open to find Em and Ryan sitting on the edge of the bed, their mouths fused, her arms wound around his neck and his hand on her boob. “Ohmigod, sorry!” I squeak, dropping my bag on the floor with a loud thud before I start to hightail it out of there. Ryan’s hand falls from her chest and Em shoves him away, leaping to her feet to come toward me. “Liv! Finally you’re here.” She curls her arm around my shoulders and forces me to face Ryan, who’s still sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs spread in that way boys sit, wearing only swim trunks again. Does the guy ever wear actual clothes? “We’ve been waiting for you. Tell Ryan hello.” “Hello,” I say in a monotone, incredibly uncomfortable from interrupting what was surely a private hookup moment. He smiles and rises to his feet, smoothing a hand over his rumpled hair, his biceps bulging with the movement. Hair Em was probably responsible for rumpling. “Hey, Livvy.” Tingles race over my skin and I force myself to ignore the signs. The signs that I might be attracted to this boy who just had his tongue in my best friend’s mouth. I don’t even know him. It’s purely a physical thing, as in every single thing that makes him up

physically, I find attractive. And I shouldn’t. He doesn’t belong to me. He belongs to Em. I should be thinking about Dustin. Not Ryan. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.” Em turns toward me, and envelopes me in a warm hug, her mouth on my neck as she starts to speak again. “I’ve missed you.” I hug her back, my gaze meeting Ryan’s as I say, “I’ve missed you too.” He sends me a playful, rolling eyes look that I ignore. Em kisses my neck and pulls away, her blue eyes bright, her cheeks flushed. She’s wearing a white lacy cover up over a black string bikini and her chin-length, gold-streaked bob is tucked behind her ears. She’s effortlessly gorgeous, all rosy from kissing a cute boy for who knows how long. “Now that you’re here the party can start.” I laugh and shake my head. “Looks like it’s already been going for the last few days.” Em rolls her eyes and lets go of me, heading for her dresser. “I was just biding my time until you showed up.” “So I bring the party?” I tease, meeting Ryan’s gaze once more. “You definitely bring something,” “he tells me before pulling me into a tight hug. My chest presses against his, my arms going around his waist for the briefest moment before I release him and back far away. He makes me nervous. “Aw, I love that you guys are already hugging!” Em cries as she watches us. Guilt swamps me but Ryan just smiles. “I’ll leave you girls alone.” He looks at me. “See you at the pool.” And then he’s gone. The air seems to cool the moment he’s left the room and I go to stand next to Em, watching as she digs through the top drawer of her dresser. It’s an elaborate piece of furniture, cream-colored with an endless number of drawers, every one of them stuffed full of clothes. The one she’s digging through now is overflowing with lacy scraps of fabric. There are panties in every style and color, boy shorts and thongs and bikinis, some of it standard, most of it sexy. Her underwear drawer is like Em in a nutshell. “So how’s your summer been? Besides the partying and hanging out with the popular crowd? Have you done anything else?” I’m trying to make conversation but she’s hardly paying attention to me. “It’s been so boring without you here,” she says, her head practically buried in that drawer. I think she’s saying that to make me feel better. Not that she needs to. I’m a big girl. She’s allowed to have fun when I’m not around.

“What are you looking for?” I ask. “A black lacy thong I bought last week.” She lifts her head and smiles at me. “I want to wear it tonight.” “But aren’t we going swimming?” Em blows out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, but I don’t want to forget. I want to wear it for…” Her voice drifts and she purses her lips. “Ryan?” She sighs and slams the drawer shut, turning to look at me. “Well, yeah. But it’s no big deal. We’re just friends.” I raise a brow. “Is that what you call it? Because I hate to break it to you, but you were kissing him just a few minutes ago, and he had his hand on your boob.” “So crude.” She nudges my shoulder with hers. “Voyeur.” “Just stating facts. Facts I saw with my own eyes.” I pause, but she doesn’t say anything. “I don’t get why you can’t say that you like him and he likes you. What’s the big deal?” “Because he refuses to make this a big deal so I can’t, okay? He told me straight up that we’re going to be just friends and that’s it.” “Friends who kiss and offer up blowjobs?” I add helpfully. She scowls. “Right. Look, I know the score. I can’t pretend this is something more. He told me from the start his expectations.” “What about your expectations?” I’m kind of offended on her behalf, not that she notices. “They’re the same as his!” Em throws her hands up in the air. I’m irritating her, but I don’t care. This isn’t like Em. She doesn’t hook up, not really. Not on a constant basis, though I’ve heard rumors in the recent past. Rumors I’d always brushed off. But now, it sounds like Ryan’s only…using her. Not that I’d say that. Not right now. She’s mad enough. I try reverse psychology on her. “So you’re just using him.” “Right. Yes. That exactly.” She points at me. “So I want to mess around, so what? He’s the perfect guy to mess around with. First, he’s gorgeous. And he’s…experienced. No judgment. He’s discreet. Crap, he really doesn’t know anybody here and I love that about him. He doesn’t really know me. I can be whoever I want with Ryan.” “And who exactly are you with Ryan?” I’m envious of that wistful tone in her voice. The fact that she’s having so much fun with Ryan and doesn’t care what anyone thinks must be so freeing. Sometimes, I wish I were more like her. “Free. Wild.” She smiles wickedly. “So. Freaking. Wild. You wouldn’t believe what we did last night.”

Panic takes hold and I grab her arm, gripping her wrist with my fingers. “Did you…” “No, we haven’t had sex yet.” She shakes off my hand and heads for her closet. “But we’ve done other things.” I nearly sag to the floor I’m so relieved. I don’t want to be the last virgin. But I don’t really want her to be the last virgin either and one of us is going to have to be eventually. This isn’t a race. Though it feels like one. “I have a bikini for you,” she calls from within her closet. “Wait until you see it!” “I’m already wearing one.” Dad had bought me a couple, though I really only wore one of them. It’s not that warm where he lives and besides, all I ever did was hang out with Christine, Dakota and Sierra all day. That sucked. “You don’t have one like this, though.” She emerges from her closet brandishing what looks like a sliver of turquoise fabric and a bunch of strings. “You are going to look so incredibly hot.” I take it from her and hold the two-piece out in front of me. The top is made up of two triangles and strings. That’s it. The bottom is skimpy. It looks like it would barely cover my ass. “Em, come on. Everything will be hanging out.” “Exactly. And all the boys will die.” She laughs and snags the bikini out of my hands before she flings it back at me. It hits me in the chest and I grab it. “Go put it on, hooker. You know you want to!” I head for her giant , private bathroom, the bathroom I’ve envied for years because it connects to her room. It has a giant tub with jets and a big glass shower. A huge countertop with two sinks and all her makeup and hair stuff spread out all over it. What I would give for this much space, and all the privacy she could ever want… “Can’t undress in front of me? When did you get so modest?” she asks. “I’m on my period,” I tell her as I shut the door. A lie. I don’t feel like stripping in front of her. I know she doesn’t have a problem with stripping naked in front of me, but she’s right. I’ve always been shy about that stuff. “Gross!” She laughs. “That’s going to ruin any prospects you might have tonight.” “I’m not looking to hook up,” I tell her through the door as I tug the sundress I wore over to her house up and over my head, leaving it in a heap on the floor. “Please. We all are.” She hesitates for the barest moment. “Dustin’s out there. He’s been asking about you.” I pause in my stripping, my heart tripping over itself. “What is he saying?” “How much he’s missed you. I think he has a total crush on you, Liv.” Here’s my chance to be honest. Taking a deep breath, I lean against the door, my forehead pressed against the cool wood. “We’ve sort of had a thing for each other.” Silence greets me from the other side for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

I slowly crack open the door to find her face almost directly in mine. “Dustin and I… we’ve messed around a few times.” Her mouth drops open. “Really?” I nod, reaching out to touch her arm but she jerks away from my touch. “It was crazy. I don’t know…I think I like him, too.” Em’s expression is completely flat, her blue eyes dull. I part my lips, ready to offer up a bunch of silly excuses, anything to make her smile but then it’s like a switch turned on. Her face brightens, her mouth stretches into a wide smile and she hauls me into her arms, hugging me close. “I’m so happy for you two! Wow, Livvy and Dustin sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. That is the cutest!” “Um, well we’re not a couple or anything like that,” I try to say but she’s already dancing around, her boobs jiggling beneath her skimpy top. I’m afraid a nipple might fly out. “Funny how he never told me about you two,” she says. “I spent all summer with him and he never mentioned a word about this.” “You don’t believe me?” I’m incredulous. “Of course, I believe you! I’m just surprised. It’s so crazy, to think of the two of you together! So fun and crazy.” Her smile slips and her eyes dim. “I should go downstairs and check on everyone. See you at the pool?” “Yeah,” I say weakly. “Definitely.” The moment she’s gone I sag against the door, staring at my new bikini lying on the counter in front of me. She acted weird. I hope she’s okay with this. I hope we’re all okay with this.

I’m drunk. Just like I predicted, it’s not even six and I’m already buzzing hard. I’m a happy drunk. Some people are mean when they drink. Mom always accused Dad of being a vicious drunk, but I never really saw it. Me and Em? We’re the happiest little drunk girls you’ve ever seen. We’re laughing and yelling and singing along with the music playing off someone’s iPhone. More people showed up, people I don’t even recognize, but I don’t care. We both greet them like they’re our long lost friends and we’ve been dying to see them for years. We hand them beers because we’ve gone through all the hard liquor in the house. We invite them into the pool. Someone ordered pizzas and a bunch of boys pitched in their money to pay for it. When the pizza arrives it smells so good I immediately grab a plate and load it with three slices, not really caring if I look like a pig. Em makes a period hangry issue comment and I ignore her, chomping away on the most delicious slice of pepperoni, olive and mushroom pizza I’ve ever eaten in my life. “You’ve been ignoring me.” I swallow and glance over my shoulder to find Ryan standing there. I thought it would be Dustin, since I sort of have been ignoring him to save any awkward conversations we might have in front of Em. Though he’s been trying to make grabs in the pool all afternoon. Not innocent grabs either—like, his hands hover near my boob vicinity every time he’s close. He even grabbed my ass, trying to tug my bikini bottoms down, but I swatted his hand away and called him a pervert. The hurt look he sent me made me feel bad, but I don’t want to make Em upset if she sees us together. Not like I could explain anything to him since I haven’t caught him alone the entire afternoon. In fact, Brianne Brown’s been cozying up to him, like she always does. She’s been after him for a year. I would love to yank all her pretty blonde hair out of her head. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” I tell Ryan. I really haven’t seen him much these last few hours. I figured when Em wasn’t with me she was with him. He settles on the edge of the lounge chair beside me, his big, warm body pressed up against mine. I scoot away from him and glance around, discreetly looking for Em but as usual, she’s nowhere to be found. No one’s really around. We’re on the opposite side of the pool from where everyone else is and they’re either congregated around the table with

the pizza boxes or they’re inside getting something to drink. Meaning we’re pretty much all alone. “Glad to hear it. I thought you were mad at me.” “Why would I be mad at you?” I lift the slice of pizza up to take a bite and he nods toward it, his expression hungry. “Can I have a bite?” he asks, his voice so low I swear I feel it in the pit of my stomach. “Um, sure.” I hold it up, fully expecting him to take it from me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans over, so close his body brushes against mine as he takes a bite of the pizza. I’m shocked silent, my entire body going still as I watch him chew. He’s so close he could lean right over and kiss me. Touch me. I scoot away from him even more. “Delicious,” he says, smiling at me. “You have sauce on your face.” Before I can say anything he’s wiping at the corner of my mouth with his thumb. My lips part the slightest bit and I swear he gently presses his thumb between them before he pulls away. Oh. Shit. I’m not stupid. He’s totally flirting with me. This is so not cool. What about Em? “Thanks,” I murmur, suddenly not hungry anymore. “I should be thanking you, sacrificing your dinner to a guy you just met.” Despite the distance between us, he leans his shoulder into mine. “Em said you’re a giver.” “I do like to help out my fellow man.” Ugh, that sounded so stupid. “I’m sure.” He smiles, tilts his head to the side. “Need something to drink?” “I’m good.” I tell him, balancing the plate of pizza on my knees. I feel extra exposed sitting with Ryan, wearing the skimpy bikini Em gave me, and I swear it feels like my boobs are gonna bust out of the triangles at any given moment. Ryan’s gaze drops to the triangles, as if he can read my mind. “Nice suit.” “Thanks.” “I think Em got you the wrong size.” How did he know the suit was from Em? “What do you mean?” “Looks like someone’s trying to escape.” He reaches out, his fingers slipping beneath the triangle of thin fabric covering my right breast and readjusting it. I swat his hand away. “What are you doing?” His lazy smile tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Trying to help you.” “I don’t need your help,” I tell him haughtily. “You should keep your hands to yourself.” “Aw, you’re no fun.” His eyes darken. “Hey, it was harmless flirting. I’m sorry, okay?”

I sit up straighter, appeased by his apology. “Okay.” “You’re not mad at me?” Shaking my head, I admit, “Not really.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I like your honesty.” “Most people don’t,” I say, thinking of Em. She gets mad at me when I’m honest. She calls it too honest. But I don’t like to lie to her so it’s like I can’t make her happy no matter what I say. “I like girls who aren’t full of bullshit.” His laughter dies and he grows serious. “You’re not full of bullshit, are you, Livvy?” I part my lips, ready to say something but before I can get the words out someone else speaks up. “What’s going on?” We both look up to find Dustin standing over us, his expression thunderous, stupid Brianne Brown standing right next to him, her arm hooked through his. I want to slap that smug look right off her bitchy face. “I was just copping a feel and Livvy got mad at me,” Ryan says, voicing the one hundred percent truth, his expression solemn. I start to laugh, shaking my head. Clearly I’m drunk and stupid right now. “Seriously, Liv?” Dustin asks, sounding pissed. “He’s joking.” I sigh and shake my head. “Totally joking, bro,” Ryan says, devouring another piece of pizza and ending his part of the conversation. “I haven’t talked to you much today,” Dustin says, regaining my attention. I smile prettily up at him, batting my eyelashes. I’m sort of pissed he brought Brianne around. “You’ve been otherwise occupied.” I’m talking about Brianne. She’s tiny with big boobs and pretty blonde hair that is currently caught up in a bouncy ponytail. She’s a cheerleader too. Meaning she and Dustin would make a perfect pair. Seeing them together makes me feel nauseous. “Maybe we could catch up later?” I hear the hopeful tone in his voice. See the irritated scowl she shoots his way before she glares at me. She doesn’t want us to catch up. “Yeah, definitely,” I answer brightly, my gaze locked on them as they turn and walk away. The moment they leave us, my shoulders sag and I blow out a sigh. Ryan’s nudging me with his elbow, that smile on his face unreadable. I have no idea what he’s thinking and it’s kind of freaking me out. “He’s jealous.”

“Of who?” “Of me.” Ryan reaches out, his index finger tracing a path along my shoulder. “And us. Sitting together.” I jerk away from him. He needs to stop touching me like that. It’s not right, not when he’s with Em. “He is not.” “Aren’t you two together?” I shake my head. “We’re friends.” Best friends. Who want something more. Maybe? “Uh huh.” The look he sends me is knowing. “So it’s like that between you two.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I refuse to look at him. He’d probably see the guilt in my eyes and I’d be busted. Just like that. “Right. So tell me.” He leans in close, his mouth right at my ear. “You’ve kissed him.” I remain quiet. “Sucked his dick?” He is unbelievable. I send him a look that hopefully is chock full of indignation. “Jerked him off, then.” The tips of my ears go hot. “Fumbling fingers in your panties? Did he find your sweet spot or did you have to take care of yourself later when you got home?” “Ew.” I shove him and he nearly topples off the lounge chair. Somehow he keeps the plate of pizza in one hand, never dropping it as he lands on his feet. “You’re vulgar.” He grins. “You like it. And I think I’ve just guessed your darkest, dirtiest secret.” “My lips are sealed.” I mime zipping my lips and throwing away the key. Though he did just figure out my darkest, dirtiest secret. “Right. Keeping it in the vault and all that.” He nods, standing in front of me and blocking my view. As in, he is my view. “No. There’s just…nothing to tell.” I shrug, all feigned nonchalance. Ryan settles beside me once more, devouring the last piece of pizza in three bites before he speaks again. “So no jerking off and finger-fucking went down between you two. Got it.” He says the words so casually and I want to die. Just evaporate into thin air. “You are like really….” When I say nothing else, he laughs. “Go ahead. Say it.” “Crude?” “Yeah. But does it bother you?” His voice is low, low, low.

I squirm, pressing my thighs together. “It makes me uncomfortable.” “In a good way or a bad way?” I lift my head, my gaze meeting his. “Would you believe me if I said in a bad way?” He shakes his head slowly. “No.” Glancing around, I make sure nobody is close and then say, “What about Em?” “What about her?” “I thought you two were…” “Together? Not at all.” I’m startled by the vehemence in his tone. “She said the same thing.” “Really? That’s good. Em and I? We see eye to eye.” His face comes closer to mine. I can see there are gold flecks in his green eyes. And that he hasn’t shaved in a day or two. Stubble covers his jaw. “I don’t know if I believe you.” His whiplash change of subject makes me tilt my head. “About what?” “About you and Dustin.” He hesitates, his mouth curving into a lopsided smile. “I think you have messed around with him.” “So what if I have? Does that bother you?” “No.” His smile grows. “Makes me curious.” “Curious about what?” “Exactly what you two have done together.” I can’t tell him. Can I? No. Yes? “We’ve kissed.” “Big deal.” “Um…touched each other.” Why am I saying this? “Under your clothes? Or completely naked?” His gaze rakes over me, like he’s trying to imagine me completely naked. I bet he’s having an easy time of it considering I’m barely dressed. Stupid Em and the stupid bikini she gave me. “You ask way too many personal questions,” I tell him. “I’m trying to figure out what you like.” I suck in a breath. “Why?” “Because whatever he can’t do for you, maybe I can.” Okay. Okay, okay, okay. This boy is way too forward. I rise to my feet, practically trip over my own flip-flops, and I step away from him, needing the distance. “You’re with Em,” I remind him. “It’s not serious.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say firmly. “You shouldn’t flirt with me. We shouldn’t be talking about any of this,” I tell him as I start to walk away. “Thanks for the pizza!” he yells after me. But I don’t acknowledge him.

It’s late, past one in the morning and I’m in Em’s bed alone when I feel someone slide under the covers. I go stiff, scared for the briefest moment it’s a stranger, but then a strong arm wraps around my middle and Dustin rests his chin on my bare shoulder. “I can’t believe I found you,” he whispers close to my ear, his lips touching my skin and making me shiver. “I’ve been here the entire time,” I tell him sleepily. Well, I’ve only been here for maybe an hour. Em disappeared a while ago and so did Ryan. I think they’re in her parents’ bedroom doing…God knows what. I shouldn’t let it bother me. He’s sort of a creep, to flirt so heavily with me right before he tumbles into bed with one of my best friends. I should tell her what he said. How he touched me. The words he said. Everything Ryan says is laden with sexual innuendo. And for one breathless, shivery moment, I wanted him to talk to me like that again. Touch me again. But that is absolutely crazy. I like Dustin. I should be with Dustin. Everywhere I looked though, I couldn’t find him. My head was spinning and most everyone had already left, so I dragged myself upstairs and collapsed into Em’s bed, drunk and tired yet unable to fall asleep. I’m still wearing the bikini. And Dustin is still wearing his board shorts. Nothing else. We are skin on skin, and his mouth is now on my shoulder, his fingers drifting lazily over my stomach. I told myself I wouldn’t do this again, but wow, his touch feels so good. And I’ve been so lonely this entire summer. It feels good to be back, in Dustin’s arms. “I missed you,” Dustin murmurs, his mouth hot on my neck, his hands wandering up until they’re cupping my breasts. His touch is gentle yet with enough firmness to make me crave more. I arch into his hands, gasp when he shoves the triangle-shaped fabric away and he’s touching nothing but bare skin. “If you want me to stop, I will.” He always says that. He’s considerate. And I really appreciate that. My feelings about him confuse me though. And it doesn’t help that Ryan’s walked into our lives and sent my head spinning even harder. Even though I should totally forget about him. He seems… Dangerous. “Don’t stop,” I tell Dustin, turning around to face him when he encourages me with his hands on my waist. He grabs hold of my leg, drapes it over his hip as he leans in and

kisses me. His damp, full lips move over mine hungrily, our tongues thrusting, hands wandering everywhere, the bed creaking as we shift into a better position. I don’t want to go too far, but I need to ease the building ache deep inside. Right now, it’s like only Dustin can take care of me. “Ah, hell,” he moans when he slips his hand in my bikini bottoms. “Livvy, you’re so wet.” I rock into his hand and kiss him, moaning when his busy fingers hit a particular spot. “Oh God.” I want more. More, more, more. If he stops touching me like this, I will die. And he knows it. “Missed you so bad, Liv. Missed being with you like this,” he whispers, his fingers increasing their pace, his mouth hungrily devouring mine. I move with him, my hands sliding down his chest, loosening the ties of his swim trunks so I can dip beneath and grab hold of him. When I wrap my fingers around him, he groans against my lips, his fingers faltering. We’re a mess. Sloppy. Somehow I end up naked and flat on my back and his swim trunks are around his knees as he hovers above me. I’m touching him and he’s touching me and we’re kissing. Moaning. Whispering words of encouragement. That ache deep within me grows, consuming me, and my hips rise toward his, seeking fingers like I have no control. I squeeze him tight, his fingers slip over one spot over and over again, and that’s it. The shudders consume me, a soft “oh” falling from my lips as I shake and he follows right after me, a choked moan coming from deep within his chest. Until he collapses on top of me, his forehead pressed against mine, his ragged breath hot in my face. I clutch him close, smooth my hands down his back and he shivers beneath my touch. “We came—” Dustin pants, like he can barely talk. “—together.” I nod, suddenly feeling shy. It’s just so strange to get naked with your best friend. I’m so caught up in the moment it usually doesn’t bother me, but afterwards, I feel weird. Awkward. He rolls over and pulls me into his arms, kissing my forehead. “Next time I want to go down on you.” Oh, God. I’m not even tempted by the prospect of him going down on me. I can’t imagine Dustin with his face down there. It’s too embarrassing. I just…no. Pulling away from him, I slide out of bed, thankful it’s so dark. I find my bag on the floor and grab an old T-shirt I brought to sleep in. I tug it over my head and pull the tie out of my hair before I gather it all back up and put it into a sloppy bun. There. I’m ready for bed. My eyes have adjusted to the dark and I watch as one of his legs sneaks out from

beneath the covers and he kicks off his shorts so they land on the floor with a soft plop. The comforter bunches around his waist as he leans against the pile of pillows, curving his arms behind his head and looking as comfortable—and satisfied—as he pleases. “Come here,” he says, and I watch him, hesitant. The faint smile fades and he sits up straighter, his hands braced on the mattress, the muscles in his arms straining. “What’s wrong, Livvy? You haven’t acted the same since you came home.” “We’ve barely talked.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Yeah, and whose fault is that?” “I don’t know, Brianne Brown’s?” “Give me a break.” He sounds irritated. “Did you do anything with her tonight?” Totally crazy question I don’t want to know the answer to. “Why? Are you jealous?” “No!” God, no. Fine. I’m totally jealous. “I didn’t do anything with Brianne. She left a while ago. I came to find you. I’m in bed with you.” He pauses. Takes a deep breath. “I just made you come with my fingers, Liv. What else do you want from me?” I stare at him, my heart racing, my mind racing too. I don’t know what I want from him. I’ve been avoiding him since I got home yesterday since I don’t know how to ask for what I want. And then he sneaks into bed with me, all warm and big and cuddly. How could I resist? “I—I don’t know what I want,” I finally say, my voice raspy, my entire body starting to shake. “Liv.” He sounds different. Like he’s not mad or frustrated with me any longer. No, more like he’s worried about me and he wants to take care of me. I watch as he slides out of bed, completely comfortable as he comes toward me without a stitch of clothing on. “Come to bed with me.” “No.” I shake my head, my entire body going stiff when he wraps his arms around me. “Olivia.” My name is a whisper against my hair and my muscles slowly start to relax at his closeness. The familiar scent of his skin, the way he holds me, close but not smothering. “Come on. Please don’t be mad.” “I’m not mad.” I’m never mad at him. More like I’m mad at myself. “I’m a jerk,” I say as he pulls away and takes my hands. “A terrible friend.” “No, you’re not.” “You deserve someone better than me,” I tell him once he leads me over to the bed and

guides me under the covers. He pulls me back into his arms and I go willingly, nestling my cheek against his bare chest. His heart beating so steady and true is a comfort. This is Dustin. My Dustin. My eyes close and I start to fall asleep when I hear him say something. “I don’t want anyone else,” he whispers. “I hope I deserve you.” I can’t answer him. I don’t know how. I fall asleep instead.

“So. You and Dustin.” I shuffle to the kitchen counter and plop down on one of the stools, propping my elbows on the counter. “What are you talking about,” I mumble. “You told me you were on your period.” No need to explain my lie. I shrug instead. “It was nothing.” I don’t want her to make a big deal about last night. How does she even know? “Uh huh.” The knowing smile on Em’s face tells me she doesn’t believe me at all. “He was naked in my bed, Liv. And you were snuggled up next to him.” Crap. She saw us. But when? “I wasn’t naked,” I point out. Em goes to the fridge and pulls out a jug of orange juice. “Right, but he was.” “What did you do? Peel back the covers and check him out?” I’m grumpy. She’s hitting me with stuff I don’t want to deal with first thing in the morning. “No. I saw his shorts on the floor and he’d kicked the comforter off partway. I saw his naked butt.” She grinned. “That tells me plenty. So what happened? Did you two have carnal knowledge of each other? You know, s-e-x?” “Em! Jesus! Don’t say things like that.” I glare at her, then lower my head to stare at the counter. I have a pounding headache from too much booze. “Well? Did you?” Em shuts the fridge and turns to face me, the orange juice still clutched in her hand. “How was it? Dustin has nice hands. Long fingers.” I lift my head and gape at her. “What do you mean?” “You don’t notice things like that? You should. Boys with good hands…mmm.” She shivers, like that’s the only thing she wants in this world. “Does he know what to do with them?” I say nothing. How can I? To deny it would be a lie. “Your silence is confirmation. You two got busy in my bed.” She slaps the edge of the counter. There’s a vicious gleam in her eyes and I almost worry she’s mad at me. “Dirty girl.” “Shut up. Where were you last night?” The grin on her face is a tell-all. “With Ryan,” she says slowly, then sighs. “It was… magical.”

I’m tempted to tell her all the things he said to me yesterday, but I keep my mouth shut. “Is he still here?” “No, he had to get home.” She uncaps the orange juice and pours a cup for herself, and then a cup for me. “I was going to sleep in my bed but saw it was otherwise occupied.” “I’m sorry.” I take the orange juice she offers me and sip from it, wishing I had coffee. I’ll go to Starbucks in a bit and grab myself something. I need to feel like a functioning human being first before I leave, though. “I think Dustin is still sleeping.” “Aw, isn’t that adorable?” There’s an edge to her tone, one that says maybe she doesn’t find his crashing out in her bed that adorable after all. “I don’t know what to think about us. About me and Dustin,” I clarify when Em looks at me strangely. “Since I’ve come home, it’s been weird between us.” “Uh huh.” Em nods. “Want me to talk to him? Ask how he feels about you and report back?” “Oh, I don’t know…” My voice drifts. I love that she’s offering but I’m scared that she might mess it up? That’s mean of me to think, but I can’t help it. “I want to help.” She smiles. “So let me help.” Dustin chooses that particular moment to shuffle into the kitchen, his bedhead at epic levels, clad in only those maddening swim trunks. Dustin has a nice body. He’s lean, with broad shoulders and a long torso. My gaze drops to his hands. His long fingers, the wide palms. He reaches for me and I watch as he clamps my shoulder and drops a kiss to my cheek before sitting on the stool next to mine. “Mornin’.” His voice is extra deep and scratchy, and he clears his throat. “No coffee?” “If you want coffee, I suggest you head to Starbucks,” Em says snidely. Dustin’s brows rise “Well, excuse me. What crawled up your butt this morning?” “God, you’re so gross. And if you really want to know, you did.” Em doesn’t bother offering him a glass of orange juice. She storms out of the kitchen instead, calling over her shoulder, “I’m taking a shower,” as she leaves. We look at each other the moment she’s gone, our eyes wide. “What’s her problem?” he asks. “I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure her and Ryan had sex last night.” I hate that’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth. It’s like I can’t help it. Why is she in such a snit if that did really happen? She planned on wearing special undies and everything. Now she’s all crabby. It makes no sense. Dustin’s dark brows rise even higher. “Really? I didn’t think he was trying to tap that.” “Guys are such pigs,” I mutter, shoving his shoulder. I grab my glass, but he snatches it out of my hand, taking a long drink. “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for lumping me in with all the rest of them.” He hands me back the glass, his gaze warm. “You okay?” I know what he’s asking. And I appreciate that he’s so thoughtful. “I’m fine,” I tell him, offering a reassuring smile. “How about you?” “Freaking awesome.” He leans in and delivers a smacking kiss to my lips. “Wanna go grab breakfast?” “And leave Em alone? We should wait for her to finish her shower first.” She’ll be mad. I know she will. But shit, breakfast does sound good. There’s nothing here but a bowl of stale potato chips and orange juice. I don’t even think there’s any cereal. The house is pretty much empty of everything. “Screw that. I’ve been with her all summer. I need an Emily break.” He reaches out and touches my hair, tucking a loose strand behind my ear. “I want to have some time with you alone so we can really catch up.” “I don’t have much to tell you. Just the usual. Christine’s lame. My dad was never around. Dakota and Sierra were even more annoying than usual.” I shrug, noticing the way he’s looking at me. Like he really cares. Like he wishes he could take all of my problems and conquer them. I bet he would if he could. I’ve known him for what feels like forever. Longer than Em and I have been friends. We grew up together in this neighborhood and he chose me as his best friend. When Em came along, I chose her. We all three chose each other. So why does he want to get away from her? “Are you two in a fight or something?” I ask. When he frowns at me, I clarify, “You and Em.” “She’s being weird. I think it’s that Ryan guy.” Dustin scowls. “I don’t like him.” “Why not?” Unease slips down my spine. I don’t particularly like Ryan either. He’s funny and awful and sexy and arrogant, yet…I’m drawn to him. It makes no sense. “He’s a know-it-all. Thinks pretty highly of himself. You can just tell. I’m sure once school starts he’ll ditch us all for the popular crowd.” “Dustin. My friend. My love. We are the popular crowd,” I tell him in all seriousness, then shove his shoulder, which is pointless. The boy has muscles. He’s lean and fast, with the body of an athlete. He’s become well known because of his basketball skills and while we’re not total losers, we’re not super-popular either. “Seriously, why would he ditch us?” “He’s a jock. Played football at his old school. He just started going to practice here.” He grimaces. “I hear he’s good.” Of course he plays football. Of course he’s good at it. He seems untouchable. He’ll start school and see all the other girls there and forget all about us… Ryan will become a football god and break Em’s heart. I’ll console her with ice cream and ’90s movie night and everything will be right in our world. Dustin will want to hang

out with us and we’ll get drunk on his dad’s liquor stash because his parents are never home on a Friday night. They always go out. It’ll be like old times. “Let’s get out of here.” He leans in to kiss me again and I dodge him, leaping to my feet and waving a hand at the oversized T-shirt I’m wearing. “I need to change.” I point at him. “So do you.” “I think I have another T-shirt around here somewhere since you’re wearing mine.” He glances at the mess surrounding us and makes a face before looking at me. “We’ll need to help her with this, huh.” “You know it.” Dustin sighs. Runs a hand through his dark hair and messes it up thoroughly. He looks cute like that. For one quick moment, I can forget all about my worry and imagine what it would be like if we were really together. It would be…nice. I have no doubt Dustin would make a great boyfriend. He’s attentive. Caring. Good-looking. A great kisser. Smart. Funny. He makes me laugh. I want that. I want him. I’m just having a hard time telling him. “We should wait for her,” I suggest, my voice quiet. “We can change while we wait and then all three of us can go to breakfast. Then we’ll come back and clean up the house.” “Good idea. I guess.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You always have good ideas, Livvy.” That’s not really true. But I’m not going to correct him.

We end up at a breakfast house not far from our neighborhood, a place I remember going to all the time when I was a kid and my parents and I were still a happy little family unit. We’d go every Saturday morning and I always got the chocolate chip pancakes since they came with a whipped cream face and a cherry nose. But that was kid’s stuff. My past life. I’m different now. Since coming home I feel different and I think a lot of it has to do with what happened last night. Between Em and I. Dustin and I. Even Ryan and I. If my best friend ever found out how Ryan touched me, what he said to me… I think she’d hate me forever. Em’s so focused on her phone she doesn’t realize the waitress is waiting for her order after Dustin and I already gave ours. I kick her under the table and she glares as I flick my head toward the waitress. “Oh.” Em sits up straighter and sets her phone on the table. “What did you get?” she asks me. “Bacon, eggs and hash browns. Sourdough toast,” I tell her. “I’ll have the French toast.” Em smiles at the waitress as she hands over the menu. “Bacon or sausage?” “Sausage.” “Didn’t you get enough sausage last night?” Dustin asks, his tone completely innocent. Em narrows her eyes and we all forget about the waitress as she huffs away. “You’re disgusting.” “Seriously, Em,” I say quietly, gaining her attention. “What happened with you and Ryan?” She remains silent, her phone buzzing and she picks it up, types out a quick text. “We’re all friends here,” Dustin says when she still hasn’t answered. “We used to tell each other everything.” The look she sends both of us is full of irritation. And…hurt? “Funny, how some of us are still keeping secrets.” Dustin tilts his head so he’s staring at the table, like he can’t face her. I remain still,

fighting the war inside me. I forgot to mention to Dustin that I told Em about us. I hope he won’t be mad. Her expression turns incredulous. “So you two are really together now? After everything we’ve been through?” “No,” I say just as Dustin says, “Yes.” Our heads swivel in tandem as we both stare at each other. It’s his turn to have eyes full of hurt. I didn’t mean to deny we’re together, but we’re not really together. We haven’t made it official. Yet. “Which is it then?” Em’s tone is snide. “Are you with Liv or not, Dustin?” I frown, my gaze going to her. Why does she sound…jealous? And why are we having this very personal conversation in the middle of a crowded restaurant? “Keep your voice down, Em. Jesus,” Dustin says. “I deserve to know the truth.” Em lifts her chin, her expression completely unreadable. “I’m the one who’s going to get left out of this special little relationship if you two turn into boyfriend and girlfriend, so at least tell me what’s going on.” “You kind of sound like a jealous bitch,” Dustin mutters. “I don’t have any reason to be jealous.” Em’s brows shoot up. “Do I, Dustin?” “Oh my God, what is wrong with you two?” I glare at the both of them. “Stop fighting. What happened is no big deal.” “Maybe to you,” Dustin retorts. “Dustin, come on.” I reach out, touch his hand, but he snatches it away like I’m made of fire and I just burned him. “I don’t want to fight.” “I don’t either,” he says, though he won’t look at me. “You two lovebirds are gag-inducing.” I watch as Em picks up her phone and starts texting once more. She can feel my gaze on her and finally glances up, her expression daring me to defy her I guess. “What? You talk in code and kept your so-called relationship a secret. I’m out of the loop yet again. I always am when it comes to you two.” “Em.” She’s focused on her phone once again, her teeth sinking into her lower lip like she’s trying to contain a smile from spreading across her face. All around us regular life is happening. Families crowded into booths, their kids babbling nonsense. I hear a baby cry, an older woman laugh uproariously, a waitress asking someone if they want more coffee. I look around, the tension at our table palpable in this sea of normalcy, and I hate it. I want normalcy. Crave it. “We’re going to help you clean up the house after breakfast,” I tell Em, desperate to change the subject. “When are your parents back?”

“Tomorrow night.” She sighs and grabs her coffee, taking a big gulp. “They’re going to kill me.” “No, they won’t. They won’t even know you had anyone over,” I say firmly, gently nudging Dustin’s side with my elbow. “Right D?” “Right.” He nods. Doesn’t look at either of us. He’s still upset with me, I suppose, studying his phone, his brows furrowed, his other hand clutched around the sweating plastic cup from Starbucks he picked up on our way to the restaurant. They let him come in with the Frappuccino when I told him they’d probably make him throw it away. The triumphant smile he’d given me when he’d strutted into the restaurant had been… cute. Sweet. Made me smile in return and laugh. None of us are smiling or laughing right now. And it sucks. “Hey.” A familiar voice makes all three of us lift our heads to find Ryan standing in front of our table. He’s got a giant grin on his face, his golden brown hair damp, and he’s wearing a white T-shirt and black basketball shorts. His gaze meets mine and darkens the slightest bit as he drinks me in. I feel that look all the way down to my toes. “Ryan!” Em leaps from her seat and wraps him up in a full-body hug. He returns it, one hand briefly skimming her butt as he kisses her cheek before she takes his hand and pulls him into the booth with her. “I invited him to breakfast. Hope you don’t mind,” she tells us, her tone defiant. As if she wants us to tell her we absolutely one hundred percent do mind. “No, of course we don’t,” I say, my voice a little too high. A little too bright. Dustin says nothing at all.

The plan after breakfast was for us to head back over to Em’s house in Dustin’s Jeep so we could start the cleanup process. But Ryan’s thrown a wrench into the mix, since Em wants to ride with him. Meaning she’s forcing me to have to ride with Dustin. Alone. Which is good, because I need to clear the air and apologize for denying that we’re together. Maybe that’ll give him the opportunity to ask me to be his girlfriend and I’ll say yes. Right? Right? It’s what I want. I know it’s what I want. Though once we agree we’re dating, that’ll change our entire relationship.

“You have a phone charger in your car, right?” Em asks Ryan as we stand in the parking lot. “Nope.” He shrugs. “Why, you need one?” Em nods, glancing over at Dustin. “I know you have one.” “I do,” he agrees, his expression reluctant. Like he doesn’t want to deal with Em. Not that I can blame him. “Then I guess we’ll all three ride back together and you can follow us, Ryan,” Em says. His expression turns into mock pouting. He even purses his lips, which is, like, the cutest thing ever. “Maybe I don’t want to ride alone.” “Aw.” Em wraps her arms around his middle and squeezes him. “It’s only a five-minute ride.” “I know.” His pout vanishes and his gaze clashes with mine. “Maybe Livvy can ride with me.” “Oh, I don’t think…” I start, but Em cuts me off as she pulls away from Ryan. “Perfect! And I can ride with Dustin and charge my phone.” She sends me a meaningful look before she glances at her phone, but now it’s her turn to pout. “Damn it. It just died.” That meaningful look means she’s going to talk to him about me. My stomach immediately starts twisting in knots, making me regret I ate so much at breakfast. “Come on. Let’s go,” Dustin says, glaring at me as he grabs hold of Em’s hand and drags her to his car. Leaving Ryan and I standing in the parking lot together. “You look scared,” he says the moment they’re out of earshot. Ugh. I hate how he does this sort of thing. “You don’t scare me.” He starts walking toward me, his body brushing against mine as he passes. “Maybe I should,” he murmurs. “Come on.” I turn and follow after him, surprised when he whips out a keyless remote and hits the button, a brand-new white BMW’s taillights flashing when it unlocks. The car is so new it doesn’t even have plates yet. And it’s gorgeous. Expensive. “This is yours?” I ask as he opens the passenger-side door for me. Ryan waves a gallant hand toward the open door. “No. I’m stealing it.” He rolls his eyes as I draw closer. “Yeah, it’s mine. Get in.” I climb inside, overwhelmed by that new car smell. The black leather seats are buttersoft, the scent strong and rich as it envelops me, and my mouth goes dry when he slides into the driver’s seat, his hands reaching for the steering wheel.

Who knew a guy climbing into his car could be so sexy? “This is really nice,” I say as I lean forward and run my hand over the dash. “It’s all right.” He starts the car, the engine rumbling to life, and I lean back, trying my best to discreetly watch him as he drives. He moves with a confidence I’ve never seen in any guy I know before. Like he’s in full command of the car, the space, the parking lot, the road. It all belongs to him and we’re just lucky enough to get to cruise along for the ride. My gaze drops to the cup holders in the center console and I spot the iPhone charger cord resting there. “You lied,” I say incredulously. He sends me a confused look. “What about?” “You have a charger.” I hold it up, let the white cord dangle from my fingers. Ryan’s face breaks out into a devastating grin. “So I did. Anything to get you alone with me in my car.” I drop the cord back into the cup holder and turn away from him, my mind swirling. I can’t believe he lied to Em. I also can’t believe he wanted to get me alone. “You didn’t want to ride with me,” he says once he navigates out of the parking lot. “It’s not that, it’s just…” I watch him, unsure of what to say next. He sends me a quick look. “What?” “You and Em.” I hesitate for a moment. “I know you’re together.” “Just because we messed around last night doesn’t mean we’re together. It was nothing.” “You shouldn’t flirt with me,” I remind him. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a little harmless flirting between…friends.” His lips twitch in the corners and I know he wants to laugh. The jerk. “I’m not going to get into the middle of you two,” I say. “There’s nothing to get in the middle of.” I’m shocked. He has to be lying. Or he cares way less than Em does about what they’re doing. “So what are you two exactly?” “Friends?” He sends me another cryptic look as he gently presses the brakes. We come to a stop at a streetlight, Dustin’s black Jeep is up ahead of us. “Isn’t that what you and Dustin are?” “Well, yeah.” I shrug, not wanting to talk about what Dustin and I are. “And you two messed around last night, right?”

God. Is he fishing for information or does he actually know? “Nothing happened,” I mumble, turning my face away so I can stare out the passenger-side window. He chuckles. “Liar,” he murmurs just before I feel his fingers dance across the top of my thigh. I suck in a breath, my gaze meeting his once more, and he’s smiling, a freaking devil’s smile curving his lips. “You just don’t want to admit you got naked with Dustin.” My mouth drops open. The way he describes things…it’s like he was actually there. Last night was the first time I actually got naked with Dustin. How does Ryan know this? Or is he just assuming? “Your face says it all.” He squeezes my knee, his palm hot against my skin before he releases me. “How was it? Did he make you come?” “Stop,” I gasp, blown away he would say these things. It was bad enough, what Dustin said to me last night. I’m not comfortable talking about this sort of stuff in the middle of the day in Ryan’s car, let alone last night after an intimate moment with Dustin. “I’m guessing he didn’t.” Ryan shakes his head and hits the gas when the light turns green and the traffic starts to move. “Too bad. Sexual frustration is the worst.” “Like you know anything about it,” I retort, crossing my arms in front of my chest like some sort of shield against his crazy questions and statements. But it doesn’t work. They just keep coming. “Oh, I know everything about it. I’m totally sexually frustrated right now. At this very moment.” “Give me a break.” I roll my eyes. “It’s true.” Ryan presses a button and the window slides down, letting in warm summer air. He looks over at me, the wind blowing his hair into his eyes. He looks gorgeous, those green eyes of his pinning me in place. “And it’s all because of you.” “You are unreal.” I start to laugh, shaking my head. I don’t believe him. Not at all. He’s full of shit. Just saying things to try and get a rise out of me or something. “You were just with Em last night.” “Yeah. So? I mean, it was great and all, but she’s not you.” The sly smile stretching his perfect lips makes me want to punch him. I uncurl my arms and raise them in the air, like he just said the most ridiculous thing ever, which he did. “You’re insane.” “For you.” “You just met me.” “Yeah, but the attraction was there from the very start.” He flicks on his blinker, turning right as he follows behind Dustin. “I shook your hand and I think you electrified me. Short-circuited my brain.” “Shut. Up.” “Dead serious.” A hesitation. “You didn’t feel it?” His voice softens and I look at him,

hold my breath when he reaches out and yet again touches my thigh with gentle fingers. I jerk my leg away from his hand. “I did. I looked into your eyes and thought, ‘This girl is gorgeous. I want her.’ But then I saw you with Dustin and figured I didn’t have a chance.” I’m breathless. Wordless. He can’t mean it. “All I’ve heard from Em all summer is Livvy this and Livvy that. She puts you on a pedestal, you know. You’re her best friend.” “She’s my best friend too,” I say quietly. “That’s why…” “It was nothing.” He reaches out and squeezes my knee, and this time I don’t pull away. It’s like I can’t. “Trust me. Em knows what’s up. It’s a summer thing.” “Whatever. Maybe you should make that clearer to her.” Ryan removes his hand from my leg as he pulls in front of Em’s house and shuts off the engine, turning to look at me. “I may have been with Em last night, but I wanted it to be you.” “You’re ridiculous.” Please. He’s full of it. He has to be. “I don’t believe you.” He shrugs. “Believe what you want. It’s true. And I’m going to prove it to you.” My hands are shaking as I reach for my tiny purse and sling the strap over my shoulder. I grip the door handle, ready to burst free from the car when he grabs my wrist, stopping me. I turn to look at him, silent. Waiting. “She means nothing to me,” he says, his expression dead serious. I make a face. “She should. You slept with her last night. Had sex with her.” “We didn’t have sex. We really didn’t do anything. She was too drunk and passed out the minute her head hit the mattress.” He smiles. “But we’re friends. Like you and Dustin.” He pauses. “You get it, right?” Slowly I nod, tug my wrist out of his grip. I’m shocked by his admission but I try my hardest to play it cool. “I get it.” I start to climb out of the car and then bend down as I lean against the door. “Oh, and by the way…” “Yeah?” “You were wrong. Dustin did make me come.” I smirk at him. “Just thought you should know that.” It feels really good to see that stunned expression on Ryan’s face. Feels even better to shut the door before he gets a chance to say anything else.

“Our last weekend of freedom,” Em sing-songs as she floats past me in the pool. She’s sprawled out on a bright yellow inflatable lounge chair, her golden skin glistening from all the suntan lotion she slathered on earlier. Guess she gave up on sunblock. Me? I’ve got on SPF 50 and I’m wearing a hat that belongs to Em while I float on the giant ring that looks like a chocolate donut with sprinkles. “I don’t want to go back to school.” “You so do.” She splashes me with water, her Ray-Ban aviator sunglasses hiding her eyes, but I know they’re flashing at me. “You can’t wait to strut your stuff in front of the boys and show off your summer tan.” “Right. Me, tan?” I glance at my body. I do have tan lines, but they’re faint. All I see are the new freckles that sprouted up. “Give me a break.” “You’re looking so gorgeous right now, Liv. I see the way the boys stare at you.” “Like who?” The early afternoon sun is hot and I close my eyes, my cheap sunglasses I got at Target not enough to ward off the intense glare. It’s August and hot as hell and we’re counting down the days until we have to be back in school on Tuesday. Em’s parents came back two nights ago and they never said a word about the condition of the house. That’s because we worked on it for hours, especially Dustin and me. The kitchen was the absolute worst and we spent most of our time in there. Eventually Ryan and Em took off, claiming they were going to clean her parents’ bedroom, but they shut and locked the door and Dustin and I immediately knew what they were up to. It pissed me off. That Ryan could flirt with me, say such crazy as hell things to me and then go off and bang Em behind closed doors. What an asshole. This was my first time hanging out with Em after we cleaned her house, and she’s acting so weird. She begged me to come over, admitting the minute I walked into her bedroom that she needed to get high. We passed a joint between us for a couple of minutes, but I never really took a big puff. I didn’t feel like getting wasted. Clearly getting wasted was on Em’s Saturday to-do list. “Liv. I need to know something.” Her tone is deathly serious and I go tense, scared of what she might ask me. If it’s about Ryan I’m unsure what I should tell her. Hopefully they’ll end it soon and I won’t have to tell her anything. Though I should. She’s my best friend. I’d want to know if Dustin was

acting flirty with other girls. Even if he doesn’t officially belong to me. “What do you want to know?” She lifts her sunglasses, her dark blue eyes staring right at me. “You and Dustin. What’s going on?” I sigh with relief. Dustin I can handle. Ryan, I can’t. “Well, like I said. We messed around a few times before I left for my dad’s.” I let my fingers drift in the water, swirling them back and forth. Her brows go up. “Define messing around.” “We didn’t have sex, but…” I wave a hand and she giggles. “You’ve touched his dick.” “Stop.” I slap my hands on my cheeks. “You’re so funny. What’s the big deal?” She splashes me again and I splash her back. “Did you suck it?” “No! God.” I splash her even harder and she laughs, rolling off the inflatable lounger and dunking under the water, her glasses sliding off her head. I sink under the donut and dive down, snatching her floating glasses up just before they hit the bottom and then I swim to the top, my head breaking the surface just as Em’s does too. We’re facing each other, the water dripping over our faces, my sunglasses forgotten but hers clutched in my fingers. “Here,” I say, handing them over. Em takes them. “Thanks.” We tread water as I try to catch my breath and I can feel her looking at me, her gaze searching for…what? I don’t know. It’s weird. “You had sex with Ryan,” I finally say. Wondering if she’ll deny or confirm. She shrugs. “Sort of.” That was the most vague answer ever. “You want details yet you won’t give me any?” “You’ll freak out if I give you details.” The smile on her face is wicked. “Like, I could tell you he’s huge. And he knows what he’s doing with his fingers. And his tongue.” “Stop,” I whisper, and she laughs. “See? You definitely don’t want details.” Her smile fades, as does the laughter. “I don’t think he likes me, though.” “What do you mean?” “Not like you like me. Or Dustin.” She presses her lips together, like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t. “Where is Dustin anyway?” “Out of town with his parents.” And he was so pissed about it too. He texted me saying they planned a weekend family trip without telling him and he didn’t want to go.

Em blinks rapidly, looking surprised. And hurt. “He didn’t tell me that.” “Em…” I can tell she’s mad, though I don’t really get why. She’s been acting weird about Dustin and I since I came home. “No. Don’t make excuses for him. It’s like he forgets all about me when you come back home. It sucks.” She turns away from me and starts to swim, her lithe arms cutting through the water with precise strokes. I follow after her, irritated by her changing moods, her irrational anger toward me and Dustin and the fact that lately she always has to get high to function. I don’t like it. The second we hit the shallow end I stand, grabbing hold of her foot and stopping her progress. She swings around, her body making a big wave, and she lands on her feet, shoving her hair away from her face while glaring at me. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask. “Nothing,” she bites out, thrusting her chest forward. The black bikini she’s wearing barely covers her boobs and her nipples are hard. I can see them strain against the fabric. Why I notice this, I don’t know, but it’s like she wants me to see. She is being so weird lately. I don’t get it. “Did you talk to Dustin? In the car that one day?” I ask. I never did find out what she said. “Not really.” She shrugs. “He wasn’t very…responsive.” There’s a sneer curling her lips. “Are you jealous of my relationship with Dustin? Because don’t be. If we get together, I promise we won’t neglect you,” I tell her. She laughs, but it’s sad. “Oh, that sounds familiar.” I frown. “What are you talking about?” “Just…” She shakes her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about it.” “No. I think we do need to talk about it.” I step closer to her, about to reach out and grab her arm when I hear a familiar male voice. “Please, please tell me you two are about to make out.” Ugh. Ryan. Em’s mood shifts yet again. “Who let you in?” she coos as she bats her eyelashes at him, her voice sickeningly sweet. He kneels down and rests his elbows on his bent knees, smiling at the both of us. “Your parents. They’d freak out if they knew what I’ve done to their daughter in their bed.” “You are so bad,” Em says, splashing him. I’m disgusted. If Dustin had said that, Em would’ve called him an awful name. Ryan says it—and what he says is freaking rude but true—and she acts like it’s the cutest thing ever.

Ryan rises to his feet and pulls his T-shirt off, tossing it on a nearby chair. His chest is like a work of art and his abs…render me speechless. I try my best not to stare at him. “It’s damn hot out here.” “You know, I didn’t invite you over,” Em says as he walks along the pool’s edge, heading straight for the diving board. “And you know your day is made whenever I show up.” He grins, hops onto the diving board and goes to stand on the very edge. “Maybe I was having an intimate swim with my very best friend,” Em continues. “Ooh, that sounds dirty.” Ryan laughs, his gaze meeting mine. “Now I’m really glad I came over.” I say nothing. How can I? I don’t want to give myself away and I don’t want to piss Em off. Right now he’s her golden boy. So I have to stay silent and deal with them together. He’ll show his true colors eventually and she’ll figure out he’s not the one for her. He’s a total douche. A sexy douche, but still. “Hey, show Liv your cannonball,” Em calls. Ryan bounces a little, the board dipping from his weight. “She won’t be impressed. Will you, Livvy?” He’s such an ass. I shake my head once. “Nope.” Em whirls around. “Liv,” she hisses. I shrug. “He’s so cocky.” “He has reason to be cocky. Trust me.” She turns and cups her hands around her mouth. “Show me what you got, sexy boyfriend!” Her vague reference to Sixteen Candles will not make me smile. Ryan jumps on the edge of the diving board, gaining height, gaining momentum. I watch, trying to fight my fascination but it’s no use. He’s gorgeous. Everything he does appears effortless, whether he’s driving his beautiful, expensive car or hopping on a diving board with that perfect body of his. Or smirking at me while saying the most inappropriate stuff ever, it all just seems to come so easy to him. And when he finally hops off the diving board, executing the most perfect dive in the history of teenage kind, his body slicing into the water with hardly a sound, barely a ripple in the water, I tell myself I’m going to have to stay strong. Withstanding Ryan might end up being the death of me.

Em’s parents went out to dinner, leaving the three of us alone in the house with money for pizza delivery. The minute their car pulled out of the driveway, Em dashes off to raid their liquor stash and Ryan runs out to his car, walking back into the house with a giant smile and a joint pinched between his fingers. “Who’s ready for a smoke?” He looks right at me, his gaze so intense it’s like he can see deep inside. All of my secrets, all of my fears. I shake my head. “No thanks.” The smile falters. “You’re no fun.” “Aren’t you supposed to stay clean, considering you’re on the football team?” “Drug tests already happened. I’m good.” He has a lighter in his hand too and his thumb flicks against it. Once. Twice. Until finally the flame is lit and he holds the end of the joint over it until a tendril of smoke rises. “I’m celebrating tonight.” “You’re celebrating a clean drug test by smoking pot?” My brows go up and my tone is full on judgmental, but I don’t care. “That’s smart.” “You don’t get it, do you?” He moves closer to me, the both of us seemingly alone since Em is in the giant walk-in pantry looking for liquor bottles. My hands grip the edge of the cool marble countertop and he reaches out, his index finger sliding across my knuckles in a feather-light touch. “I’m celebrating the fact that I get to spend my Saturday night with you, Livvy.” My fingers tighten around the thick marble. I refuse to look up at him. “Don’t start this again.” “Don’t start what?” His tone is innocent and he removes his finger from my hand. I immediately miss his touch, which is so incredibly pitiful. “You know how I feel about you.” It’s bullshit, I want to say, but I don’t. I think he’s a liar. I think he’s totally playing me to…what? Make Em jealous? Drive her insane? Drive me insane? “I also know how you feel about Em. You need to leave me out of it.” “You guys like whiskey?” Em calls from inside the pantry. “No,” I yell in reply. “Damn it,” I hear her mutter, and I can tell she’s still rifling through the bottles. They clank against each other and I wince, hoping she doesn’t drop one.

Ryan says nothing. Just watches me with those green, green eyes, his mouth tilted upward at the corners, appearing as if he has a secret. In a way, I guess he does. “You staying the night?” he asks, his voice soft. I nod. “Gonna sleep in Em’s bed?” I frown. “What do you girls do when you’re in bed together, hmm?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, tracing the rounded edge. “Not what you’re thinking,” I say snidely as I move away from him, unsure where he’s going with this. “How do you know what I’m thinking?” He touches my cheek. My chin. Places his thumb in the center of my bottom lip and gently tugs until it releases. “You have cocksucking lips.” I jerk away from him. “You are such an asshole.” His eyes warm, as if he enjoys me calling him names. “It’s true. Big lips look especially good wrapped around my…” “I found gin!” Em emerges from the pantry triumphant in her discovery, the nearly full bottle of gin gripped in her hand as she holds it above her head. “Got any tonic to go with it?” Ryan asks. “Oh.” She sets the bottle on the counter and hurries back over to the pantry. “Let me check.” The moment she disappears from view, he’s turning toward me. Touching me, his hand on my arm, his fingers skimming down, stopping at my wrist. I move away from him, irritated that he thinks he can get away with this. I wish like crazy that Dustin were here. He’d be a good distraction. Protection. My shield against the potency that is Ryan. Ugh, that I even think he’s potent is so freaking annoying. “You can call me as many names as you want and try to get away from me, but it’s going to happen,” he says, his tone assured. Arrogant. “What’s going to happen?” I ask as I go to the sink and turn on the water, pushing the lever to hot. I wash my hands vigorously, scrubbing them like I’m about to go into surgery. Like I can wash away his touch with a few pumps of antibacterial foaming soap. Do I really want that though? Or am I trying to convince myself? He stops so he’s standing right next to me, his head bent, his mouth close to my ear. “You and me.” His lips brush my temple, and then like a ghost…

Ryan’s gone. Barging into the pantry and telling Em that she’s blind, there’s a bottle of tonic on the top shelf. I just scrub my hands harder, but no matter how much I try, I can’t wash away his touch. His words. His everything.

“I’m scared, Livvy.” Em’s voice trembles in the darkness and I blink my eyes open. I’d just about drifted off when she spoke and I’m lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling. We’re in her bed. We’ve been here for a while, at least an hour, maybe more. Ryan finally left and I’d never felt so relieved. The tension ran high the entire night. We gave up on the gin when we found better stuff and ended up drinking vodka and Sprite. I got a little buzzed. We watched a movie on Cinemax that was basically soft porn and I left the two of them in the living room, not even bothering to say good night. I figured they would do it on the couch. Figured Em’s parents wouldn’t come home until late, and I was right. I stayed up in her room and listened to music with my ear buds, scrolling through Instagram until I got sick of seeing photos of everyone having a good time during their last weekend of the summer before school begins. I miss Dustin. I wish he was here with us. With me. “Why are you scared?” I finally ask. She sighs, the sound so forlorn I feel sorry for her. Sort of. She is, after all, the lucky bitch who lives in a gorgeous house, has her own car, a pool, money, all the clothes she could ever want, parents who let her do whatever she wants and a hot guy who’s into her. Oh, and who also claims to be into me. This is so messed up. “School is going to start and everything’s going to change.” “No it’s not,” I say. Em turns and I do too so that we’re facing each other. I can see her eyes glittering in the dim light. She’s watching me so carefully, in that assessing way she has. “It is. Everything’s changing. Can’t you feel it?” “No.” I’m lying. I can feel a shift, but I blamed it on the weirdness between Dustin and me. The weirdness between Ryan and me, too. “Starting our senior year, planning for our future, for college. We have to take SATs and ACTs and pick our majors and all that crap. Plus there are the boys.” She ticks those items off like a list. “That’s what’s messing everything up.” “We won’t let any of that mess everything up,” I reassure her. “As long as we don’t

change, everything stays the same, right. We can study for the SATs together. Pick out the same college, live together in the dorms. It’ll be perfect.” Em touches my cheek, her hand sliding down to cup the side of my neck. “You’re so funny, Livvy. Don’t you see? We’ve changed the most.” When I remain quiet, she continues, “You and Dustin together. I don’t know what to think about that.” “There’s nothing to think about,” I say. She stares, silent, her fingers curling into my neck, her nails scraping my skin. I wince and pull away from her. “Is it that easy to dismiss him?” “He’s my friend,” I say, trying to reassure her. “Just like you’re my friend.” “So you put me equal with Dustin.” Em laughs, the sound soft. “I find that hard to believe.” “I put you above Dustin.” The words fall from my lips so easily, but they’re a lie. Dustin has always come first. I’ve known him longer and we have a deeper history. Not having him around this weekend makes me want him around, despite my worry over what’s happened between us. How much we’ve changed. I guess Em is right. “Wow, I can’t believe I rate so high.” She pulls me into her arms and holds me close, shifting so her head is nuzzled between my neck and my shoulder, her mouth moving against my skin. “I love you, Livvy. So much. Don’t ever leave me.” “I won’t,” I tell her as I kiss the top of her head. “Don’t ever change,” she murmurs. That’s a promise I can’t make, no matter how much I want to.

Dustin drives me to school on our first day back because it’s a tradition—we always go to school together on the first day. Though Em wasn’t ready yet so she didn’t go with us. There was no way I would be late on our first day of senior year. Em may not give a shit, but I do. “Looking good,” Dustin says as I walk toward his Jeep Wrangler, my backpack slung over my shoulder. By day’s end it’ll be full of books and my back will be aching. I do a twirl, showing off my outfit even though I shouldn’t. I’m wearing denim shorts and a cute flow-y cream-and-lace top. Very Coachella, which is still a look to strive for. “You like?” I ask him. His gaze is warm, appreciative as he leans out his car window. “I freaking love.” Dustin’s use of the word love takes all the steam out of me and my smile fades. I’m nervous as I walk around his car and get in on the passenger side, slamming the door behind me and letting my backpack drop to the floorboard. “Why the long face?” he asks as he pulls out onto the road. “It was hard getting up this morning so early.” I stare out the window, taking in my neighborhood, each house as familiar to me as breathing. We go past Em’s place and her car is still parked in the front… And Ryan’s is parked behind it. I face forward, my mind awhirl. So he’s taking her to school? That’s serious. That doesn’t say “just friends”. Though Dustin is taking me to school too, so maybe that doesn’t say just friends either. Of course, we’ve been going to school together on the first day—on pretty much every day—since I can remember, so maybe I’m just jumping to conclusions. “Olivia.” Only Dustin says my full name, beyond teachers and my parents. “Did you hear me?” Shaking my head, I focus on him, smiling brightly. “Sorry. I was thinking. What did you say?” “I asked if you wanted to get together after school and come to my house.” He pauses, his gaze fixed on the road. “My parents won’t be there.” He wants to hook up. I know what he’s asking. I can tell by the way he won’t look at me, the tone of his voice. “Um, I don’t know. I might hang out with Em…”

“And Ryan?” His tone is vicious. Angry. “Well, probably, if he doesn’t have football practice. He’s Em’s boyfriend, after all,” I say, though I don’t know if that’s necessarily true, from what they both tell me. “You should hang out with us. I think Em wanted to go swimming. It’s going to be so hot today.” It already was. “She’s having you come over there to be her front, you know. All she really wants is to fuck Ryan,” Dustin says. “Stop talking about them like that,” I tell him, my voice low. It’s so rude, so… “What do you want me to say? That they have a special relationship?” He sneers. “Give me a break.” “The way you talk about Ryan, it’s like you’re jealous.” “I’ve had to deal with his shit all summer. Let’s just say I can see right through him,” he mutters. “And what do you see?” “A prick who uses girls and thinks he’s the shit.” I lean back heavily against my seat, staring out the window once more. Dustin’s right. Ryan is a prick who uses girls and thinks he’s the shit. “So you won’t come over.” A weary sigh escapes me. Is it always going to be like this? Me stuck between the two of them and constantly having to choose? “She invited me last night.” “So she comes first.” “Well, you can come over too,” I start but he doesn’t let me finish. “I don’t want to go over to Em’s house and hang out with her and that asshole,” he mutters. “I just want to hang out with you.” “I don’t get it. Why do you hate him so much?” “Why do you always want to talk about him?” I lean back in my seat, shocked by the anger in his tone. “I don’t always want to talk about him. But I do want to go over to Em’s after school. It’s always fun to gossip about everything,” I say, my voice small. “So you’re choosing Em over me.” He stares straight ahead, never taking his gaze off the road. “Why does it always have to be a choice? Can’t I have you both in my life? Why do things have to change?” I’m not just talking about Em or Ryan. I’m talking about the changes between me and Dustin too. He sends me a look. “We grow up, we change. It’s a part of life.” “Being a grown up means being able to talk rationally and not get jealous over stupid

stuff,” I mutter, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Are you calling me jealous?” he asks incredulously. “Well, are you?” Dustin brakes hard and the car swerves wildly to the right as he jerks the steering wheel, cutting off the car behind us. It races by us as he stops on the side of the road, the horn blaring, the driver giving us the finger and yelling obscenities, but I don’t even think Dustin notices. He’s too busy staring at me, his expression full of hurt and anger and so much more that I can’t even begin to describe. “You’re right. I’m jealous. He’s a total dick, Livvy. He moved in on Em so fast I got whiplash. And I see the way he looks at you.” He hesitates before he adds softly, “And how you look at him.” The pain in his voice, on his face…it makes me feel bad. But I’m also immediately on the defensive. “I don’t look at Ryan in any special way.” Do I? “Do you like him?” “No, not like that.” I shake my head. “Never like—” He cuts me off by reaching out to grab my hand, and his fingers curl around mine. They’re warm, his touch comforting. Dustin is like a cozy blanket I want to wrap myself in when I’m feeling down. And that’s nice. I appreciate cozy. Sometimes, I really need cozy. I frown, the threat of tears pricking the corners of my eyes. No way do I want to cry today. I can’t. “Don’t fall under his spell like Em did,” he says, his deep voice soft. He squeezes my hand and I meet his gaze. “He’ll only hurt you.” My lips part, but I can’t speak. “He’s hurting Em right now. Can’t you see? He doesn’t care about her. And he won’t care about you either. Not like I do, Livvy.” He brings our linked hands to his mouth and he kisses my knuckles. “You’re talking to me like I’m an idiot,” I point out. “I would never make a move on Ryan. Em is my best friend.” “I thought I was your best friend.” Here we go again. I shake my head, feeling like a selfish bitch, but I refuse to have this conversation. Pulling my hand away from his, I look away, not wanting to face him. “Please, Dustin. Don’t do this. Not today. It’s the first day of school,” I plead. His frustration and anger suddenly overwhelms the tiny space. “If not today then when, huh? We’ve been dancing around this for over a year. We’ve been making out for months, hooking up. I want more. I want…” He clamps his lips shut, his gaze dark as he looks away.

I finally dare to look at him, noting the steely determination of his jaw, his brown eyes turbulent, his hair ruffled by the breeze. He’s good-looking—gorgeous, really—and he’s my Dustin. But I don’t want to get together with him like this, when he’s so angry. Fighting over Ryan, worried over Em, squabbling over who my real best friend is. This is stupid, and Dustin and I aren’t stupid. Yet we’re acting like two jealous idiots who can’t figure our shit out. “What do you want?” I ask softly, selfish enough that I want to hear his answer. “You,” he says, his voice breaking just the slightest bit. Just enough that I can tell. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I wanted you to be my first, but…” His voice drifts and he shakes his head firmly. “I wanted us to be each other’s first. I want us to finish our senior year together, and maybe even figure out a college to go to. Together.” My heart is cracking wide open yet panic swamps me too. This is exactly what I want, so why am I not answering him? It’s just…at this moment, it doesn’t feel right. This, how we’re coming about it, doesn’t feel natural. It somehow feels… Wrong. He plots and plans. It’s what he does. And it’s like he has our entire lives plotted out for us. That’s scary. Maybe I don’t want this after all. Nothing against him, but maybe I want a different boy. Maybe I want a lot of different boys. I don’t know. What I do know is that—oh God—I’m afraid to tie myself to Dustin. The sudden realization smacks me in the face. He acts like he wants forever and that terrifies me. We’re too young. Things can change. Things always change. “I-I don’t know,” I stutter, closing my eyes as the guilt rushes over me. What am I doing? Why am I messing this up? He puts the Jeep into drive and pulls away from the curb, saying nothing, and I remain quiet too. Until the silence becomes unbearable and I feel like I’m about to burst out of my skin when we pull into the senior parking lot. “Don’t hate me,” I whisper once he parks the car and turns off the engine. Dustin doesn’t look at me. It’s like he can’t. “I could never hate you, Livvy.” He pulls the keys out of the ignition and throws open the driver’s side door. “Hope you have a good day.” I climb out of the car, the tears forming in my eyes, my chest so tight I can feel that ache everywhere. “Bye, Dustin.” I come way too close to sobbing. Why do those two words feel so final? The first day of school hasn’t even started yet and I’m already trying not to cry.

Em bursts into the girls’ bathroom, the door slamming behind her and cutting off all that frantic energy and sound coming from the hallway just outside. The first bell is going to ring any minute and I texted her that I was hiding out in the bathroom, that I needed to talk to her. “What’s wrong?” she asks, sounding winded. I spill my guts about Dustin, how jealous he acted, how much he hates Ryan and how badly he wants to be with me. My thoughts are a confused, jumbled mess and I swear I’m going to cry, but I don’t want to ruin my makeup. I worked on my eyes for twenty minutes this morning. I wasn’t about to screw up a good cat eye and decent contouring. “He’ll get over it,” she reassures me, drawing me in for a hug, clutching me close before she releases me. She looks amazing wearing a little blue-and-red plaid pleated skirt and a white T-shirt that clings to her chest, the fabric so thin I can see the bra underneath is black. She wears the schoolgirl sexpot look well. “I know he will. He gets over everything and moves on. He always does.” “Maybe he won’t,” I practically wail, sniffing loudly. Damn it, I cannot cry. Em goes into a bathroom stall and pulls off a wad of toilet paper, handing it to me. I blow my nose, dab at my eyes and go to the mirror, checking on my makeup. Still looking good. “He will. He did with me. He forgot all about me,” she says, her voice small. My eyes go wide and I turn to her, tilting my head to the side. It’s like my heart is in my throat at her words, the meaning behind them. “What did you just say?” “I didn’t know how to tell you this.” She crosses her arms in front of her, in full on defensive mode, her expression contrite. “But when you were gone this summer, Dustin and I…we messed around a couple of times.” “What?” My ears are ringing. My head is spinning. It’s like I can hear the words she’s saying, but I don’t understand them. They can’t be true. What she’s saying—I don’t know why she’s lying to me. “It was no big deal at the time, or so I thought. We were drunk and feeling stupid and horny, I guess, and he just…kissed me. Next thing I know we’re wrapped around each other and our hands are everywhere. I finally had to shove him off of me.” “You’re lying,” I accuse. She has to be. I can’t compute this. I don’t want to compute this. “I’m not, I swear! It happened a couple of times over the summer, while you were gone. Sometimes it got—out of hand, and he didn’t want to stop. I told him we shouldn’t, but he kept pushing and I gave in. He even tried to turn it into a serious thing, but I told him no way. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do that to you.” She grabs my hands and I jerk away from her, backing up, needing the distance. “It’s been so hard to keep this from you,

Livvy. That’s why I was so upset when I found out you were hooking up with him, too! It’s like Dustin was bouncing from you to me and back to you again.” I can’t believe her. I don’t want to believe her. Dustin would never do that to me. No way, no how. I just… I can’t wrap my head around it. And she wouldn’t do that to me either. My two best friends messing around after he messed around with me? No, no, no, no. “He told me not to tell you. Made me swear on it, like he forced me to agree to keep this secret. It’s been so hard, that’s why I didn’t talk to you much when you were gone. I felt so terrible. I never want to hurt you. Ever.” She hesitates. Winces a little. Why does it feel like such an act? “You’re my best friend, Livvy.” Right. Sure. She’s carving my heart into tiny little pieces with her words, yet she doesn’t want to hurt me. I wish I could hate her. I think I’m in shock. “So you two hooked up.” My voice is flat. My emotions, my heart, my everything is… flat. Unfeeling. A mess. I’m a riotous mess inside and I’m trying my best to keep my cool. “It was nothing.” She waves a hand. “You and Dustin had—sex.” I choke the last word out. It hurts, saying it. So stupid, considering I keep pushing Dustin away, but he gave me that whole “firsts” speech not even an hour ago and now Em is telling me they were together. Meaning I came second. I might’ve asked for it by leaving, but he couldn’t even wait for me. “One time. Just…it was only once. To get it over with, you know? Now we’re not virgins anymore.” Em smiles, but it’s fake. I can tell. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which look frantic. Nervous. “But now I’ve told you everything and we can move on, right? Put this all behind us.” Her lips quiver at the corners, like she’s going to what? Cry? Give me a break. “Forget boys. Forget Dustin. It’s just the two of us, together. I matter more than he does. You told me that. You promised.” “That’s before I found out you were two were together,” I say, my voice raspy, my stomach roiling. I feel like I could throw up. Just puke up my breakfast along with all the horrible images her words conjure up. Dustin and her. Together. Dustin kissing Em. Dustin touching Em. Dustin naked with Em and actually having sex with her. Did he do it to her in her bed, like when we were together last? I close my eyes against the thought and blindly run into a bathroom stall, retching into the toilet. “Livvy!” Em pushes the door open and I can feel her behind me, her hands going to my hips, then tugging on my hair. I jerk away from her hold, afraid she’ll try and help me. I don’t want her help. “Oh my God, are you all right?” “Get out,” I gasp, running my hand over my mouth, the taste almost unbearable. I need gum. I need to brush my teeth. I need my mom.

The bell rings, the low, familiar tone loud in the bathroom, but I don’t turn around. Don’t make to leave. But I definitely want Em to leave. I’m desperate to get away from her. “We have to go to class,” Em says, her voice quiet. “Just go,” I sob, my stomach pitching and rolling again, and I lean over the toilet, bracing my hands on the edge of the seat as I purge my guts. My stomach cramps and my head swims. My eyes are filled with tears and I don’t know if it’s because I threw up or because I’m sad. Devastated. “I can’t leave you here,” she says, and I whirl on her, knowing I look like hell, that my makeup, everything is shot to shit, but I don’t care. Let her look, let her judge. “I don’t want you here. Leave. Go!” She flinches, as if every word I hurled at her was a physical blow, and she backs out of the stall, pushing the door open with her butt. “You’re mad. I get it. We’ll talk later.” “No. You don’t get it. I never want to talk to you again,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Come on, Livvy. You’re making such a big deal about this,” she whines, still just inside the stall, the metal door at her back. “You fucked Dustin!” I scream at her, the tears streaming down my face as my stomach rumbles. I rest my hand over it, wishing it would stop. I don’t want to throw up anymore. I want to go to the office and go home. Mom will flip since it’s the first day, but I don’t care. If you vomit at school, they send you home. It’s a guaranteed pass, like a fever. “It meant nothing. We’re just friends fooling around, right? Like you two were. Are. Whatever.” She shakes her head, looking about as pissed as I feel. “And you always told me he was just your friend. You never wanted more from him. You always told me that!” she yells back. “It doesn’t matter.” It’s a betrayal, pure and simple. Though how can it be if she didn’t know Dustin and I hooked up in the first place? Whatever. She messed around with him. He played us both. She’s a fool. But then again, so am I.

“You sure you’re feeling better?” Mom asks as we sit at the table eating breakfast. Well, she eats. I’m pushing around my yogurt in its cup, the slices of honeydew melon she cut for me a few minutes ago sitting neglected on my plate. I haven’t regained my appetite thanks to my stellar first week at school and how I lost my two best friends since they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. The only bright side is that betrayal is an excellent diet. I’ve barely eaten anything and I’m guessing I’ve already lost a few pounds. “My stomach is still queasy,” I tell her, which isn’t a lie. I feel sick over everything that’s happened. I’m so freaking grateful it’s Friday. I can stay home over the weekend and not face everyone at school. Like Em. And Dustin. And stupid, irritating Ryan. I’ve barely seen Ryan, which is fine with me. Though every time I pass him in the hallway he smirks at me, like we share a naughty secret. He’s in my government class, but I always get there early and he arrives just as the bell rings, sitting in the back so I don’t have to see him. I can feel his gaze on me, though, practically burning a hole in my back for the entire period. It’s annoying. Dustin is in my trig class, but so are a bunch of his friends and he sits with them, sending me hurtful looks every time I catch his eye. I’m so mad at him I’m afraid I might scratch his eyes out. What’s crazy is I’ve never even talked to him about what happened between him and Em. I don’t think I can. I don’t want to hear his explanations, his excuses. Just thinking about the two of them together hurts my heart. And I don’t know what to think about that. Or how to handle it. I have no classes with Em, thank goodness. She’s sent me what felt like a billion texts on Tuesday after the bathroom incident, all of them basically saying the same thing. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Forgive me.

He’s nothing. Our friendship is everything to me. Please talk to me Livvy. PLEASE!!!!!! They changed tone when I ignored her. Answer me. You can’t ignore me forever Liv. Are you really going to ruin our friendship over a stupid guy? Really? FUCK DUSTIN! He’s an asshole! YOU are the asshole for letting him ruin everything!! I finally had to block her. I felt like a bitch doing it, but I couldn’t take the texts anymore. “Olivia.” I look up, see the scowl on Mom’s face, and my stomach clutches with worry. “What?” “I need to ask you a question.” She takes a deep breath, her expression…nervous? Oh, shit. “Your nausea. How you’re tired all the time. There’s no way you could be pregnant, is there?” “What? No!” The word explodes out of me and the relief on her face is obvious. I push back my chair, rise to my feet as I glare at her. “I can’t even believe you asked that!” “You’re a seventeen year old girl who’s been moody and distant ever since you got back from your father’s. Then you complain of nausea and you throw up on the first day of school. I’m sorry if I jumped to conclusions,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “When would I have got pregnant in the first place, huh? I was at Dad’s all summer!” She shrugs. “Maybe you met a boy in Oregon.” That’s freaking laughable. “He keeps me under lock and key there. Most of the time I was stuck hanging out with Christine.” Mom makes a disgusted face. “I didn’t know what to think. You’ve been so distant. And then when you kept throwing up…” “I’m not pregnant, Mom. Okay? So don’t worry about it.” “Are you on birth control? Because you should be. Condoms aren’t one hundred percent effective, you know. Maybe you should get on the pill.” I so do not want to be having this conversation right now. My cheeks are on fire hearing Mom talk about condoms and birth control and the pill. “I’m not having sex, Mom, so don’t worry.”

Her eyes look ready to bug out of her head. “You’re a virgin?” My glare is murderous. “Mom. Please.” “Well, it’s just I was having sex at your age.” She pauses, takes another deep breath, all while I’m dying because she just said that. I don’t want to think about my mom having sex. Gross. “Olivia, I want you to know that you can come to me for anything. Anything at all. I don’t want us keeping secrets. We never have before. I know we haven’t talked much lately because I’ve been busy with work—” “And with Fitch,” I add like a sniveling little brat. “Right, and Fitch.” She clears her throat. I’m sure she hates me throwing him in her face, but he’s there. Wedged right between us. He spends the night at least three times a week, and between him and work, it’s like she has no time for me. Which was fine when I first got home and wanted to be with my friends. But this week, I’m hanging out with no one and feeling terribly alone. I would never say this out loud, but I kind of need my mom. And she’s not there for me. “If I need you, don’t worry. I know where to find you.” I slam back the rest of my coffee, setting the cup on the table before I grab my backpack off the chair, slinging it over my shoulder. “See ya.” “Have a good day, honey!” she calls after me, the slamming door cutting her off. I walk through the garage and emerge out into the warm morning. It’s been ninety-plus degrees all week and today is no different. I’ve given up trying to look cute. Now I’m just trying to get through the day before I can hide out in my room for the weekend. I’m wearing a pair of army-green shorts and a white sleeveless T-shirt, with little lace detail around the neck. My thick hair is in a ponytail and I didn’t even bother to put any makeup on beyond a quick coat of mascara. I’m so over my senior year and we’re barely a week in. The school is close to my house, so I’m walking there when I hear a car come up just behind me. The engine slows, its rumbling purr loud in the otherwise quiet morning, and I glance over my shoulder to see a sleek white BMW following me. And Ryan is in the driver’s seat. Turning away, I increase my steps, not wanting to talk to him. The car pulls up alongside me, and he rolls the passenger-side window down. “Livvy,” he calls, his deep, familiar voice making my stomach twist. “Go away,” I tell him, staring straight ahead. If I look at him, something bad will happen. Like my knees will get weak or my heart will trip over itself. He’s so good looking and it’s like he uses his looks as a weapon. Forget that. He’s trouble I don’t need. “Em mentioned you two are fighting.” His words make me want to break out into a run, but I don’t. I just walk even faster. “Want a ride to school?” “No thanks.” I shake my head.

“You can’t ignore me forever.” Watch me. “Go hang out with Em. I’m sure she needs you.” “There’s nothing between us. We haven’t even talked that much the last few days. Only when I was asking about you.” His words enrage me. I stop walking and he hits the brakes, his car idling. I dare to turn, to look at him, glare at him, hope like hell he can see all the anger and frustration and pure irritation in my gaze. I wish he would leave me out of their supposed discussions. “You always say that yet you two are always together.” “Not anymore. I haven’t seen her since Wednesday.” “Big deal.” “Get in the car, Livvy.” I shake my head. Cross my arms in front of my chest. Glancing up, I see another car pass us by. It’s Dustin’s Jeep. My stomach drops into my toes. Someone is with him in the passenger seat. A girl. It’s Em. And they don’t even notice us. She’s looking over at Dustin, talking animatedly, her hands gesturing wildly in the air. I feel like I’ve been sucker punched in the gut. Growling under my breath, I stalk toward Ryan’s car and open the door, practically throwing myself into the passenger seat. I shrug my backpack off my shoulder and hold it in my lap, turning to look at him. “Happy now?” I ask snidely. “Immensely,” he says, his smile wide. Like my crap mood doesn’t even bother him. “Shut the door and put your seatbelt on, babe.” Ugh. I should sock him for calling me babe, but I don’t. Instead, I do as he tells me, pulling the door shut and locking my seatbelt into place. Once he hears that click, he shifts the car into drive and pulls back out into the street, driving slow, like he wants to savor this moment of the two of us alone in his car. “You never talk to me in class,” he says, his deep voice all soft and melty. I refuse to let that voice melt me. “You’re always late,” I say with a shrug. He grins. “So you do notice me. I figured you didn’t even realize I was in government with you.” I can’t not notice him. And that’s what’s so hard to deal with. “What are you doing tonight?” he asks. “Nothing,” I automatically answer. “Jordan Tuttle is having a party at his house.” Ryan pauses. “Want to go?”

I shake my head. “Not even with me?” “Especially not with you,” I mutter. “Your flirty ways aren’t going to work on me, Ryan. Quit while you’re ahead.” “So the hottest girl at school won’t go with me to Tuttle’s party.” I turn to stare at him, shocked by his comment. “I’m trying to gain some street cred with my new team here, Livvy. Throw a guy a bone.” Jordan Tuttle is our varsity quarterback. He’s also outrageously good-looking, outrageously talented on the field and an outrageous asshole. Much like the guy whose car I’m currently sitting in. “You don’t have a game tonight?” Ryan shakes his head. “Not for another two weeks.” “So you definitely made the team?” The arrogant smile he sends my direction is bone melting. Thank God I’m sitting down. “Of course I made the team.” I shove his shoulder, unable to resist. “You are so full of yourself.” “That’s your favorite quality of mine.” “Not even.” He pulls into the senior parking lot, slowing down to look for an open space. “So? Will you go to Tuttle’s with me tonight?” “I can’t,” I admit softly, shaking my head. Ryan guides the car into a spot and shuts off the engine. “Why not? Embarrassed to be seen with me?” Not even close. “I don’t want the hassle.” He frowns. “The hassle of what?” “Fighting you off. Dealing with Em.” Dealing with Dustin if he’s there, which he might be. Though he really doesn’t hang out with the football crowd since he’s on the basketball team. There’s some sort of weird divide there, but he is friends with Tuttle, so maybe he’ll be there. And I don’t want to risk running into him. “Don’t say no yet.” Ryan grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth, dropping a kiss on my knuckles. “Think about it.” He’s being extra sweet, not as cocky. But why? What’s his motive? A guy like him has to have a motive. I don’t trust him. I need to remember that. He’s not to be trusted. Ever.

“Where’s your other half?” I glance up to find Amanda Winters standing in front of me. It’s lunch period and I’m sitting against a tree, my ear buds in, though I don’t have any music playing. I use them as a defensive method to keep people from talking to me. Looks like it didn’t work with Amanda. Pulling the right ear bud out, I squint up at her, the sun shining above her head making it hard for me to see. “Who are you talking about?” I have two former other halves, after all. “Emily.” Amanda makes a face. “You two are usually always together.” “Yeah, well, now we’re not.” Amanda is only in one class with me this year. I’ve known her since kindergarten, and while we’ve never been close, we’re not what I’d consider enemies either. “You guys have a falling out?” She plops down on the ground beside me even though I didn’t invite her to. Looks like I’m not having lunch alone after all, which is what I’ve been doing the last two days. “I guess.” I offer her a halfhearted smile. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” “No problem.” Amanda nods toward my neglected sandwich sitting next to me, still encased in Ziploc. “Whatcha eating?” I study Amanda, wondering at her motives. Ever since I got home from Oregon, I feel like people are saying one thing but they mean another. As in, I can’t trust anyone. And I definitely don’t trust Amanda. I don’t even really know her that well. “Ham and Swiss on sourdough.” “Not hungry?” “Not really.” “Me either.” Amanda scans the quad, much like I do. This is the social hour, when everyone gossips, flirts, makes out, fight, whatever. Couples come together or they break up. Friends have arguments that result in a temporary falling out. Or even a permanent falling out. Someone gets suspended at least once every couple of weeks and it always happens out here in the quad. Yet I have no desire to be a real part of it. Not anymore. I feel anchorless, adrift at sea without my friends on either side of me. I see Em off in the farthest corner of the quad

with a new squad of girls. I’m sure that’s what she calls them too, her squad. She always did have Taylor Swift aspirations. Dustin is sitting at a table with his basketball buddies, and every once in a while he lifts his head in this certain way, his gaze intent as he scans the area. I may be totally reading too much into it, but I think he’s looking for me. Right. In my dreams. And then there’s Ryan, holding court in the center of the quad, surrounded by the other football players and their hangers-on, every one of them girls. Cheerleaders, the popular girls, the ones who smile brightly and twirl their hair around their finger while they flirt with the boys and look perfect. These girls are the ones he has to choose from, and every one of them is prime. Jordan Tuttle is sitting to his right and he doesn’t look too thrilled with all the attention the new boy is getting. No surprise. Jordan wants to be king of his court, not share his throne with the new guy. Jordan and Em would probably make a perfect couple, though he’s not one to dip below his social level. Em would be considered slumming for Jordan. Harsh but true. “Why aren’t you hanging out with your friends?” I know Amanda has a huge social circle. She’s in band and they’re all kind of weird—well, at least our high school band is. Not that they’re freaks or anything, but they spend most of their time together, and they rarely date outside of the music department, so it all feels rather…incestuous. “I quit band,” she admits, turning to look at me. “I was sick of their shit.” “Really?” I frown. “But you’ve been in band since, like, fifth grade.” “Yeah, well, it sucks. I’m so over it. My parents are flipping out, like I’m throwing everything away, including a band scholarship, which is nuts. Hate to disappoint them, but playing the clarinet isn’t my ideal career choice, so I’m giving up on that dream,” Amanda says sardonically. I burst out laughing. “You don’t see yourself playing the clarinet in a smoky jazz club wearing a fedora and drinking scotch on your break?” Amanda grins. “Not really. And you have a vivid imagination.” “Sorry.” I stop laughing, feeling stupid. “Got carried away, I guess.” “I don’t mind.” She smiles, leans her shoulder against mine briefly before shifting away. “I’m sorry if you and Em are in a fight. That’s hard.” “It’s okay,” I say softly, touched by her apology. “I’m realizing that maybe she wasn’t a good friend after all.” “I’m having the same problem,” Amanda says. “What do you mean?” “Tara Knudson. You know her, right?”

Vaguely. Fellow band geek along with Amanda, she’s a member of student council, and a total brainiac—also like Amanda. “Yeah, sort of.” “She was my best friend.” Amanda plucks at the dead grass we’re sitting on, pulling blades of it out so hard the roots and dirt still cling to the ends as she tosses it on the ground. “Until I found her in a bedroom at one of Jordan Tuttle’s parties, wrapped around my boyfriend like a pretzel.” “Get out.” “I’m serious,” Amanda says with a nod, her eyes sad. “I hate them both. Broke up with him and her on the spot.” “Who was your boyfriend again?” I feel like a jerk for asking, but I honestly don’t remember. “Thad Billings. He’s in band, though he’s a junior.” Amanda makes a face. “That’s what I get for dating a younger man.” I giggle. I can’t help it—the way she said that was kind of funny. “How long were you two together?” “Almost four months. We started dating right before school was finished.” She shakes her head, stares off into the distance. “I’m starting over. Clean slate. No more band, no more best friend, no more boyfriend.” Sounds familiar, not that Dustin was my boyfriend. “Aren’t you dating Dustin Henry?” Is she in my head or what? I scoff. “No, we’re just friends.” “Just friends. Cheaters love to use that term.” Amanda’s eyes go wide. “Not that I’m calling you a cheater. I’d never say that about you. I don’t even know you that well, but— you know what I mean.” “I do. Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were calling me a cheater.” I’m definitely not the cheater. I may’ve kept secrets from both Em and Dustin, but I definitely didn’t cheat on them. They’re the ones who were messing around behind my back. “You’re on the yearbook staff, right?” Amanda asks, clearly trying to change the subject. So I let her. “Yeah, I am.” It’s my one thing. The only thing I have that doesn’t involve Em or Dustin. “Why do you ask? And please don’t ask me to take photos out or insert photos of you. That’s out of my control.” Somewhat. She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t care about that stuff. I was just wondering. I need something new to focus on. Now that I’m not in bad my counselor keeps telling me I need to find other extracurricular activities so I look good on my college applications.” “We’d love to have you.” So many people sign up for yearbook thinking it’s an easy class. But it’s also hard work, so we tend to lose people too. “Olivia Hudson, what are you doing all the way over here?”

Dread slithers down my spine. I know that voice. Was just riding in his car this morning. Now here he is standing in front of Amanda and me, that typical self-assured smile curling his perfectly kissable lips, his hands on his hips as he stares down at the both of us. “Hey Ryan,” I say stiffly. “Who’s your friend?” His question makes Amanda sit up straighter. “Amanda Winters, meet Ryan…” I am having a total blank moment. I hear his full name every day in government when our teacher takes attendance and now I can’t remember it. Not that he offers it up either. “Nice to meet you.” He smiles down at Amanda, one of those dazzlers that’s probably making her melt inside. Poor Amanda. She has no idea what or who she’s dealing with. At least I can prepare myself to withstand the potency. Sort of. “You two look lonely.” “We’re fine,” I say quickly before Amanda can say anything. Not that she’s speaking. I think she’s become mute in Ryan’s presence. “Don’t worry about us.” “Come sit at our table.” He flicks his head in the direction of his precious centerpiece table. “Thanks, but lunch is almost over.” I smile, wishing he’d leave. He frowns, looking like he’s going nowhere, damn him. “Come on, Livvy. What do I have to do? Beg?” I laugh. “Please. You’re not the type to beg.”’ “Watch me.” Without warning, he falls to his knees and I scoot my legs up, my bent knees pressing against my chest, my mouth falling open when he curls his hands together like he’s about to pray. “Please, please, please Livvy. Come sit with me for the rest of lunch. And bring your hot friend.” The smile on Amanda’s face is so wide I bet it hurts. No way can I allow myself to be swayed by his cuteness. Life is so not fair. “Won’t the queen bees be pissed if we sit with you?” I nod toward the table. Every one of the girls sitting at his table is watching us, their disgust obvious. I’m sure they’re all secretly vying to be the first to sink their claws into Ryan and snatch him up as their boyfriend. Ryan glances over his shoulder for all of about two seconds before he returns his attention to me. “I don’t give a shit if they’re pissed or not. Come on, Livvy. I’m feeling like an asshole right now.” “You are an asshole, didn’t you know?” I laugh when he clutches his heart like a lovesick cartoon character. He is so full of crap. But he’s also cute. And kind of funny. I like funny. I usually find it irresistible, so if he proves to have a good sense of humor, I’m probably done for. “Then do this asshole a favor and come sit with me. And you too, Amanda. Come on.” He stands, offering his hand to Amanda, and she takes it, popping up to her feet. She sends

me a look, one that says, don’t be stupid, let’s do this! Reluctantly, I put my hand in Ryan’s and he tugs me to his feet, pulling me in close so he can whisper in my ear, “Knew I could convince you.” I raise a brow. “You’re that confident.” “With you? Always.” He steps closer, his body brushing against mine and making a million tingles scatter all over my skin. “I bet I could convince you to do just about anything I want you to.” That sounds like a promise—or a threat. “Don’t be too sure,” I say, my voice shaky. I can feel Amanda’s gaze on us and I’m sure she’s curious to know what he’s saying. It’s like I can feel everyone’s eyes on us. They’re probably all wondering what Ryan wants with me. He’s out of my league. I know it. He probably knows it too. But he doesn’t really seem to give a shit. “By the time I’m finished with you, I’ll have you eating out of my hand,” he says, his words oozing with confidence. And for some reason, his words conjure up all sorts of dirty thoughts. Maybe it’s the way he said eating and hand. Out of his mouth, he makes the words downright wicked. “Come on.” He turns so he’s between Amanda and me, and he slings his arms over our shoulders, dragging us both into his body. He’s solid and warm, muscular and tall. I fit perfectly just beneath his arm, but so does Amanda. “You know those bitches I’m sitting with, right?” I laugh as he leads us toward the table and so does Amanda, though she sounds a little nervous. “Not really,” I confess, and Amanda mumbles her agreement. We’re not privileged enough to sit with the popular girls. “Well, let’s bring you into the fold. Girls, meet Livvy and Amanda,” Ryan says as we all three stop at the head of the table. They all mutter hello, their gazes narrowed as they blatantly scan both of us. Probably sizing up the competition, not that I consider myself real competition with them. I’m just…a girl. Who happens to be on the yearbook staff and gets decent grades and is desperate to get out of this hellhole otherwise known as my hometown. The guys are checking us out too, with interest in their eyes, the words fresh meat most likely floating in their brains as they study us. Amanda’s not a bad looking girl. She has shiny brown hair that’s cut bluntly just past her shoulders and expressive brown eyes. Her nose is a little big, but she’s tall and willowy, though she doesn’t have much in the boob department. “Sit down,” one of the guys offers, nudging the boy next to him to get him to move over and make room. “Join us.” I’m about to sit next to Amanda when Ryan snags my hand, forcing me to sit in between him and stupid Tuttle. I look at him, the determined line of his jaw, his icy blue eyes staring right at me. Hardly anyone calls him Jordan. They all just call him Tuttle, even the teachers.

“This is Livvy,” Ryan leans over to tell him, his shoulder brushing against my chest as he does so. The smirk he sends in my direction when he shifts away tells me he did that on purpose. “I know Olivia,” Tuttle says, his voice full of irritation. “We’ve gone to school together forever.” “We played a married couple in the sixth grade play,” I remind him. One of my more mortifying moments that I don’t like to remember. Back in sixth grade, the last person any girl wanted to be married to was Jordan Tuttle. He’d gone through an awkward stage back then, with a mouth full of braces, pimples already dotting his face and a weird, gangly body that seemed to grow extra fast. I think he was close to six feet tall by the beginning of seventh grade. He’d filled out just fine and was now a freaking superstar. Everyone wanted a piece of Jordan Tuttle. “Didn’t we have to kiss at one point? In the script?” Jordan asks, his eyebrows rising. I shake my head. “Um, no. We were only twelve. I’m sure you would’ve rather spit on me than kiss me.” At the time Tuttle hadn’t seemed interested in any girls, least of all me. Ryan laughs. “Missed opportunity, bro.” “I was trying to make you jealous, asshole,” Tuttle says, leaning over so now his shoulder was pressing directly against my boobs. I am surrounded by two large, muscular boys, and it’s like I’m the tasty center of a football-playing sandwich. “Considering she’s all you’ve been talking about the last few days.” My head swivels to Ryan, shock coursing through me. “No way.” “Way,” Ryan says, reaching out to dab the tip of my nose with his index finger. “I’m telling you, Livvy, I’m going to make this happen.” I lower my voice. “Really? So what’s going on with you and Em?” He waves a hand, seemingly dismissing her. “She’s old news. I hate what she’s done to you.” He does? I watch him carefully, trying to see if he’s sincere or not. He stares back, his expression never wavering. Maybe he is being truthful. “You should come to my party, Olivia,” Tuttle says, making me turn away from Ryan. I make a face as I look at Tuttle. Why does he keep calling me by my full name? It’s weird. “I don’t think…” “Don’t think. Just say yes,” Ryan says, interrupting me. “Bring your friend if that makes you feel more comfortable.” How is that going to make me more comfortable if I barely even know Amanda? This entire situation is getting completely out of hand. “Ryan…” “Don’t argue. Don’t protest.” He rests his finger against my lips, silencing me when I

was fully prepared to argue and protest. “Come on, Livvy. We really want you there. You and Amanda.” “What about Em?” I ask, my voice small, my brain fully prepared for another one of his bullshit answers. But I have to ask again. I have to make sure. “What about her? I already told you. Forget that chick.” His lips quirk up. “Oh, wait, I already have.” He holds up his hand and Tuttle gives him a high five as they both laugh. “You two are pigs.” “Give me a break. You’re mad at her. I know you two had a falling out. You and Dustin too.” He skims his fingers down my cheek, the feather-light touch sending my senses into overdrive. “What better way to get revenge on them than to come with me to the party tonight?” I would never consider myself petty. I’m not one to stoop low and I don’t like playing games. But at this very moment, I feel like my life has turned into one giant game, and I need to stay ahead in order to not get burned. I was already burned by Em and Dustin, and their betrayal cut like a knife. Maybe now I can finally even up the score.

When school lets out I walk home, texting Amanda along the way. I’m reluctant to go to the party. What if Em’s there? Worse…what if Dustin’s there? I don’t want to deal with either of them, and I definitely don’t want to deal with the both of them. I won’t go to Tuttle’s party if Amanda can’t make it. And for a minute, I think she’s going to back out, what with the text she sends me. Tuttle is an asshole. He made fun of me in eighth grade. Laughing, I type out my reply. He makes fun of everyone at some point in our lives. Now you’re just part of the club. The summer afternoon air is hot. Stifling. I think of Em’s pool. Of jumping into the water, feeling it wrap around me and cool my skin, ease my thoughts. I frown. I should forget all about Em’s pool. Me hanging out at her house is never going to happen again. Our friendship is over. And no matter how much it hurts, how much I might miss her, I can’t forget that she betrayed me. My phone dings again and I read the texts from Amanda. So you’re going to force me to go to Tuttle’s party? Fine. I’ll go. I’ll even drive. What time should I pick you up? Let’s go late. The less time I spend with Tuttle, the better. I’m relieved she offered to drive. Though she keeps mentioning Tuttle, which is somehow…telling? Maybe? Pick me up around nine? My mom probably won’t let me leave the house if it’s any later.

Sounds good. I shove my phone into the back pocket of my shorts. I’ll tell Mom I’m spending the night at Amanda’s. Or maybe even Em’s. She won’t check on me and anyway—she doesn’t have a clue we’re fighting. I didn’t want to tell Mom about any of it. She’d ask too many questions, questions I didn’t want to answer so I remain quiet. It’s easier. As I approach my house, my heart falls into my toes when I see Dustin’s familiar black Jeep parked in the driveway. I stop in front of our neighbor’s house and look around, trying to figure out if I can make my escape without Dustin seeing me, but it’s too late. He’s climbing out of the Jeep, looking good in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that hugs his lean torso, his expression contrite when he faces me. I stay rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to tear my gaze off of him. My heart is racing. My head is spinning. And the anger begins to simmer to a low boil. “Go away,” I yell at him. “We need to talk, Livvy. You can’t avoid me forever,” he says, his voice washing over me and reminding me for a brief second that I still care about this boy, despite what he’s done to me. “Watch me,” I say, my tone defiant as I dart across the lawn and make my way toward the front door. I fumble with the zipper on my backpack, undoing the small pocket in the front so I can yank out my keys. My hands are shaking as I try to unlock the door and then he’s there, standing directly behind me, his hand on my upper arm as he tries to turn me around to face him. “Come on,” he pleads. “Look at me.” “No.” I finally succeed in opening the door and I squeeze inside, trying to shut the door on him, but he thrusts his shoulder forward and blocks me, pushing his way in. I fight against him, but he’s stronger than me. He sets me aside and shuts the door, locking it behind him. He’s angry too. I can tell by the way the corded muscles in his neck stand out in stark relief, how he glares at me with those dark, all-knowing eyes. He has almost a dangerous air about him and my traitorous body responds. Dustin’s… hot like this. Mad at me. Frustrated with me. The feeling is mutual. “You’re going to believe Em over me?” he says as he leans against the front door. “After everything we’ve been through? Seriously?” “I don’t want you in my house.” My voice is shaky. I curl my arms in front of my chest so he can’t see that my hands are shaky too. “Go home, Dustin.” “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to say!” The words burst out of me like I can’t control them, and it feels like I really can’t. “You had sex with Em and kept it from me. Oh, and we messed around with each other too, but we also kept it from Em. How messed up are we, huh?” “Livvy…” “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Dustin.” I never really understood that cliché before, but now I totally get it. Dustin wants us both hanging on a string, tied to him, so he can yank us back in whenever he chooses. He can’t have both of us. He can’t have me. “What happened with Em…” He takes a deep breath and expels it slowly, tilting his head back so he’s staring up at the ceiling. “Nothing much happened at all, I swear. It meant nothing. It was a mistake.” “A mistake that happened a couple of times,” I remind him and the miserable expression he wears confirms what Em told me, though he doesn’t answer me. It wasn’t just a one shot deal. He’d messed around with her multiple times. The realization settles like a rock in my stomach. “Like you and I were a mistake. Right?” I throw out on purpose, hoping it’ll hurt him. The wounded look he sends my way tells me I made a direct hit. “You don’t believe that.” “Oh, but I do.” I turn and walk deeper into the living room and he follows me, his hand hooking around my arm. I tug out of his grip and he grabs me again, spinning me around so I have to face him. “There’s nothing left to say, Dustin. I want you to leave.” His expression hardens, his mouth thinning into a straight line. “I can’t believe you’d be this heartless.” “Heartless? Heartless? I can’t believe you have the nerve to say that to me! You’re the one who asked me to be your girlfriend, all while you knew you’d hooked up with Em and kept it from me! You’re the heartless one, asshole,” I bite out that last word, and I’m so angry, I’m breathing hard. “You don’t think I feel bad for doing that? I never wanted to hurt you—” “Too late!” I lunge toward him, my hands landing on his chest as I give him a hard shove. He goes stumbling back, the look of shock on his face almost comical. But I’m not in the mood to laugh. “I messed everything up. I’m sorry,” he whispers, rubbing at his chest like I might’ve hurt him. Maybe I did, I don’t know. It’s wrong, but I wouldn’t mind making him hurt just a little. Payback for what he did to me. “I’m so sorry, Livvy.” “Fuck you.” I’ve never said those two words and really meant them before. I do now, though. I mean it with every fiber of my being. Fuck Dustin. Fuck Em. Fuck the both of them for keeping their secrets and ruining everything. They ruined everything.

Everything. The tears slip down my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying. I wipe at them furiously, feeling weak. The last thing I want in front of Dustin. He’ll jump on that. I know he will. And then he’s right there, standing directly in front of me, and I don’t fight him. I don’t push him away. “I’m sorry.” He says those two words so softly I barely hear them. He says them again, cupping my face with his big hands as he tilts my head back so my blurry gaze meets his, his thumbs gently wiping away my tears. He stares into my eyes, his gaze dropping to my lips, and then his head descends. I stretch up on my tiptoes… We’re kissing. And the kiss is wild. Hungry. Hot. He pulls me into him and I collide into his chest with a whimper, my lips parting and his tongue sweeping into my mouth. We cling to each other, his hands falling from my face to land on my hips. His fingers curl around the belt loops on the front of my shorts and he yanks me closer, as close as we can get. A mixture of fear and excitement grips me and I struggle against him, tear my mouth away from his, and then he’s kissing my neck, his mouth wet, his teeth nibbling my skin and making me shiver. “Don’t fight it,” he whispers close to my ear. “Don’t fight me, Livvy.” He kisses me before I can say anything, and I let him. I get lost in the taste of his lips, the sensation of his hands roaming beneath my shirt and touching my bare skin, his tongue tangling with mine. I’m so angry yet I want him. It’s the craziest, most confusing thing I’ve ever experienced, and I don’t know how to stop it from happening. So I let it happen. I let him guide me to the couch. I let him pull me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. I let him kiss me so thoroughly I’m left breathless. His mouth breaks away from mine to move down the length of my neck, his hand curved around one breast, my hands in his hair, the both of us panting, our bodies trembling with anger. Passion. I let him take my shirt off, his fingers skimming over my collarbone, down the valley between my breasts. His attention is fixed on my chest, as if he’s enraptured, and without thought I reach for the tiny clasp on the front of my bra, undoing it with a quick flick of my fingers. And oh God, I let him touch my bare skin, his fingers shoving away the cups of my bra impatiently, his mouth eager as he kisses me there. Licks me there. Sucks me there… “Stop.” I shove at his shoulders and he leans back, his eyes glazed as he stares up at me with swollen, damp lips and ruddy cheeks. “Dustin. What are we doing?” He shakes his head. Swallows hard. Tentatively reaches out to brush the back of his fingers against my left breast. I shiver at the gentle touch, telling myself I can’t do this. I can’t fall into this trap. “You should go.” My voice is low, my gaze never wavering from his, and he touches

the side of my face, his fingers brushing my cheek before he drops his hand. “Get off me, Liv.” His voice is steel. Hard. Demanding. Without a word, I do as he asks, turning away from him so I can fix my bra, snatch my shirt off the couch and slip it back on. I take a shuddery breath and turn to find the living room empty. He’s already at the door, his broad back to me as he runs a hand through his hair. I watch with held breath as he opens the door, pauses, as if he might turn to face me or say something. But he does none of that. He slips out of the house, shutting the door behind him quietly, and I fall onto the couch the moment I hear that click, my legs giving out, my heart thundering as I think of his mouth on my skin, the anger I felt toward him. The pleasure that I let consume me for one delicious, crazy moment. I slap my hands over my eyes, waiting for the shame to wash over me. Yet it never comes.

“Want to pre-party?” I ask Amanda as I slide into the passenger seat. She sends me a confused look. “With what?” “This.” I pull out a bottle of vanilla-flavored vodka Mom had in her stash. I remember that she didn’t like the taste. She bought it last Christmas. I’d bet money she forgot it was in the back of the pantry. Amanda’s face brightens. “Sweet.” She reaches for the bottle and takes off the cap, then tips it to her lips. The moment she takes a swallow she grimaces. “This stuff is awful.” I laugh and take the bottle from her, gulping a few swallows down. She’s right. It’s horribly sweet yet burns like acid as it slides down my throat. I can feel the alcohol working its magic within minutes, though, coursing through my veins, leaving me warm and tingly. I take another drink. Then another. Not giving a damn that we’re sitting in my driveway at nine o’clock at night. Mom isn’t even home. She left a few minutes ago with Fitch. They were going to the movies like they were a young couple in love or something gross like that. “Slow down there, cowgirl,” Amanda says, amusement lacing her voice, her arm stretched out toward me as she waggles her fingers. “Don’t polish it all off in one swallow.” “You said it’s awful,” I point out, giving her the vodka. “Doesn’t mean I won’t drink it. Beggars can’t be choosers.” We polish off the bottle within twenty minutes. Well, I mostly polish it off. Amanda takes a few sips, but otherwise she’s trying to be good as our designated driver for the night. She only has to get us to the party, though. Tuttle’s parties are known to go on all night, with lots of people leaving in the morning after they’ve slept off their drunken night. His parents go out of town on a regular basis and somehow they never find out about the big parties he has. Or if they did know, they never protested. “I can never remember how to get to his house,” Amanda says as she puts Tuttle’s address in her maps app. “You’ve been to his house before?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve been to exactly one of his parties.” Her eyes get this faraway look as she stares into the distance. “It was a crazy night.” “It’s always a crazy night at Tuttle’s,” I joke, though it’s true. The last time I went there Dustin and I had so much fun— No. I push the thought of Dustin out of my head. Forget him. I’m with Amanda tonight. I need to focus on that. Off we go to his house, me giggling and desperate to talk about what happened between Dustin and I earlier. But I don’t know if I can trust her with my secrets yet, so I remain quiet. She cranks up the music and is singing along with the radio, her voice actually pretty good and then I’m singing along too, only I sound awful. “Your talents don’t lie in your voice,” Amanda says not too kindly once the song is over. I laugh and shove at her shoulder, which makes her hands jerk on the steering wheel, the car swaying. This only makes me laugh harder. “You’re mean.” “Honest,” she points out. “There’s a difference.” Maybe she’s what I need in a friend. Someone who’s painfully honest, who will tell me when I’m screwing up and being an idiot. Clearly Em let me fail on a daily basis. Now look at me. I’m the queen of the idiots. It’s like I can’t control myself when I’m around boys. Especially Dustin. It’s weird because I never let boys distract me before. Have my hormones kicked in or what? I’ve been focused throughout high school. Involved in a few clubs, mostly yearbook-related. Was on student council last year, but only as part of the junior prom committee. I didn’t party much, but then again neither did Em, not until near the end of the last school year did she start getting a little crazy. We all started getting a little crazy. Leaning forward, I slap the dash of Amanda’s tragically average car, desperate not to think tonight. I need to just enjoy and…feel. “Hurry up. I need a drink.” Amanda presses on the gas, gunning it, and my body snaps against the seatbelt, jerking my head back. She laughs when I glare at her. “You told me to hurry,” she points out, and I give her the finger, making her crack up. I’m not acting like myself. I could blame the booze or my earlier encounter with Dustin but I don’t think that’s why. I feel…freer somehow. Like I can do and say and be whatever I want, whenever I want. I don’t have Dustin and Em holding me back. I don’t care what anyone thinks. We arrive at Tuttle’s house in less than twenty minutes, so it’s almost ten o’clock by the time Amanda pulls into the long gravel driveway. He lives out in what we call the country, where the lots are bigger and the houses are grander. Tuttle’s family is loaded. His dad is a big shot corporate lawyer and his mom comes from money, so they live in a freaking

mansion. And by the looks of all the cars parked along the driveway and out in the fields that surround the Tuttle house, it looks like practically the entire senior class is here. Amanda parks the car out in the field and we make the long trek down the driveway to the house. The night air is warm, a cool breeze washing over us every few minutes, and I spot a few familiar faces as we walk. A small group of guys stand in a circle passing around a joint. A cluster of girls console one who stands in the center, her hands pressed against her face as she cries. I look away, hoping like crazy I don’t end up like her tonight. I’ve cried enough this week already. Ryan’s car is parked right in front of the four-car garage, the half-moon shining from the sky above making the BMW’s pristine white paint gleam. I didn’t notice Dustin’s Jeep anywhere, but that doesn’t mean he’s not here. I have a feeling he is. And I don’t want to see him. “Should we just open the door?” Amanda asks as we walk up the steps that lead to the entrance. I’m guessing she hasn’t been to a lot of house parties. The music playing inside is loud, the throbbing bass seeming to pulse within me. So many people are talking and yelling it’s like a dull roar, where you can’t make out what they’re even saying. “No one will hear us if we knock,” I say as I grab the handle and push open the door. I stop in the entry as Amanda shuts the massive door behind us, taking it all in. The living room is huge—and it’s crammed full of people. Some are sitting on the overstuffed white couches. Most are in the middle of the room dancing to the music blasting from invisible speakers, cups clutched in one hand, smiles pasted on their sweaty faces. It’s blistering hot despite the giant fan circling frantically above us. “Let’s look for something to drink,” Amanda yells close to my ear, and I nod, taking her hand as I lead her through the crowd. We push our way through the crowd, Amanda and I a united front. I see the curious looks on everyone’s faces as we pass. They’re probably wondering when did we start hanging out, and I have a feeling some of them will ask where Em is. Or maybe they know. Maybe she’s already here. My stomach twists at the thought of seeing her. We make our way to the kitchen, which is three times as huge as my own. The room isn’t as crowded and the air is much cooler. I sag in relief against the shiny black granite countertop as Amanda grabs two bottles of beer from a giant bucket of ice that sits on the floor. “Tuttle’s so high class he doesn’t even have a keg?” Amanda asks as she twists off the cap of her beer.

I do the same and pitch it into the nearby garbage can that’s already overflowing with trash. “I guess so.” Amanda brings the beer to her lips, her wide-eyed gaze darting everywhere, taking the kitchen in. “I think I could fit my entire house in here.” I smirk at her. “Whoever marries Tuttle is going to live the high life.” She grimaces while I chug half my beer. “Who’d marry Tuttle? Talk about setting yourself up for misery.” “And here I thought you were madly in love with me.” Tuttle comes up directly behind Amanda, and the look on her face is straight out of a cartoon. All bugged-eyed and gaping mouth and flushed cheeks. She stiffens when he wraps his arm around her neck and pulls her in close, her back pressed against his front. He presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek and she sends me a look. One that says, save me. I just laugh and shake my head. “What exactly did you hear?” Amanda asks him cautiously. She looks frozen in place, like she might shatter at any moment, and I’m starting to suspect she might like Tuttle more than she’s letting on. “Enough to know you think you’d be miserable if you married me.” Tuttle kisses her cheek again, his mouth drawing closer to her lips and she leans away from him. “Aww, what’s wrong, Mandy? You don’t like it when I kiss you?” “Get off me.” He loosens his hold on her and she turns around, her hands going to his chest to push him away. He goes easily, the smile on his face downright unreadable. I never know what Tuttle’s thinking. It’s like no one does. His gaze shifts in my direction and he slowly approaches me, his arms open wide as if he expects me to walk into them. So I do, a surprised huff of breath escaping me when he hugs me tight. I return it, careful not to spill my beer before I disengage from his hold. “Ryan will be glad to see you.” Tuttle’s gaze eats me up yet I can’t look away. “Lookin’ good, Olivia.” I tell myself not to be excited by the mention of Ryan, but I can’t help it. I’m pitifully excited. “You realize no one calls me Olivia but teachers and my parents,” I point out, finishing off my beer. I set the empty bottle on the counter and Tuttle grabs a fresh one from the bucket of ice. “And Dustin.” Tuttle smirks, like he knows my secret. “He’s allowed to call you Olivia.” I say nothing as he twists off the cap on the beer and then hands the bottle to me. His fingers graze mine and I meet his gaze, wondering why he’s bothering with us when he has hundreds of other people to choose from. He’s barely said ten words to me the past three years of high school. He runs with a different crowd. But he’s eyeing Amanda and me like he’s interested, though he tends to focus more on Amanda. All while she’s doing her very best to ignore him completely. This is going to be a weird night.

“Tuttle!” A curvy blonde appears out of nowhere, curling her arm through his as she stares up at him with adoration in her eyes. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” “I’ve been here the entire night, doll.” He leans in and drops a kiss to her over-glossed lips, his hand smoothing over her ass in a blatant possessive gesture. I stare at both of them, at the display they’re putting on, at the obvious way Tuttle’s laying his claim on some girl, like that’s supposed to make us feel…what? Jealous? “Who are your—friends?” the blonde asks with a sneer, glaring at Amanda and me. “She’s Olivia.” Tuttle smiles as he points at me with his beer bottle. “And that’s my future wife, Amanda.” Amanda’s eyes bug out of her head yet again. The girl sniffs, her eyes narrowed as she contemplates us. “Huh.” “Who are you?” Amanda asks. The blonde’s thin eyebrows rise. “You don’t know who I am?” “Um, no.” Amanda’s trying to contain her smile, but it’s no use. It breaks free and wow, when the girl smiles? She’s knock-em-dead gorgeous. From the stunned look on Tuttle’s face, I believe he thinks the same. “I’ve gone to school with most everyone in this house since I was five. And I’ve never seen you before in my life.” The blonde makes an irritated noise and glances up at Tuttle. “Tell them my name, sweetie.” He makes a face, one that says he’s busted. “Uh…” She pulls away from him, her glare icy enough to freeze hell. “I give you the best blowjob of your life and you can’t remember my name?” “Aw, babe, you should know better. I say that to all the girls,” Tuttle drawls as the blonde storms out of the kitchen. We still never find out her name. “Do you really say that to all the girls you’ve been with?” Amanda asks when the blonde is gone. “That they just gave you the best blowjob of your life?” Tuttle shrugs, looking completely at ease. The little argument didn’t faze him one bit. “Yeah, probably. I’ll say pretty much anything when a girl lets me come in her mouth.” “Ew,” Amanda says as I start to laugh. Big, warm hands land on my hips and I go hot when lips brush against the side of my neck. I could smell him before he touched me and I glance over my shoulder to see Ryan standing there, a satisfied smile on his too-gorgeous face. “I figured you wouldn’t show up,” he murmurs. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He shifts so he’s standing at my side, and I can’t take my eyes off of him. He’s wearing

a charcoal gray T-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit him to perfection. His brown hair is artfully mussed, his mouth damp from the beer he just took a drink of, and my heart goes pitter-patter the longer I stare. “You’ve made my night.” He shifts his attention to Tuttle. “Hogging her already?” “Keeping her by me since I knew you’d come back for another round.” The boys grin at each other and I wonder what they’re talking about. Maybe it’s best I don’t know.

“Tuttle slid his hand between my legs,” Amanda announces when I find her hours later. Yes. Hours later, I finally stumble upon her on the crowded back patio. I lost her somehow and ended up wandering all over Tuttle’s house, both inside and out. Talking with people I don’t know, telling more than a few people no, I didn’t come here with Em and sorry, I have no idea where she’s at. I also drank lots of beer. Did a round of tequila shots with a group of cheerleaders including Lauren Mancini, queen of the student body, who called me over and offered me a glass. That was a surreal moment. I spotted Dustin about an hour ago. Chilling outside with his basketball friends and sending me hot looks, all while ignoring Brianne Brown, who’d planted herself right next to him, her arm linked in his. It was difficult, but I looked away. I’m not going to be lured in by him again. It doesn’t matter how good his hands felt on me earlier. Or how frantic yet delicious his kiss had been. None of that matters, not when I know he—he cheated on me (I have no idea what else to call it) with Em. I haven’t seen her all night. But back to the matter at hand. Amanda is watching me, an expectant expression on her face. She looks excited about her revelation. What she expects me to do with her announcement, I’m not sure but I’ll try my best. “And?” I send her a pointed look. “Did you like it?” Amanda rolls her eyes, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling. She’s buzzing, I can tell. “It happened so fast, and with nothing leading up to it. Just one moment we’re sitting there all cozy in an overstuffed chair sharing a bottle of whiskey and the next, his hand is between my legs.” “Did he at least kiss you?” “No, but he said it was like we were kissing because his lips touched where mine touched on the whiskey bottle.” Her expression is full on dreamy. That’s either really romantic or a total line. I’m not sure which one yet. “And then he groped you.” “Not really a grope.” She taps her finger against her lips. “More like this sly touch. Like one minute he’s passing me the bottle and the next his hand drops to the middle of my thighs, his fingers creeping in.”

“You never answered my original question.” At Amanda’s frown I continue, “Did you like it?” “Oh. I don’t know.” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know how to feel about Tuttle. He confuses me.” Welcome to the club, I want to tell her, but I don’t. I’m confused too. Ryan’s running hot and cold, as usual. He’d seemed so happy to see me earlier in the kitchen, but then we got separated and it’s like he’s avoiding me. I don’t understand. Maybe he’s playing hard to get. I frown. Pretty sure I should be the one who’s playing hard to get. How do I mess this stuff up every single time? “Boys are confusing in general,” I tell her, reaching out to touch her arm. “Want something to drink?” Amanda shakes her head. “I need to find a bathroom first.” We end up back in the house, pushing through the throng of bodies that crowd every available space, making our way to the bathroom. We find it blissfully unoccupied and I stand watch outside the door, deciding I’m going to use it too when Amanda finishes. “Did you come with him?” I look to my right to see Dustin standing there, his expression unreadable, his arms crossed in front of his chest. The position makes his biceps bulge attractively and I tear my gaze away from his arms to glare at him. “Who? Oh, you mean Ryan? Why do you care?” “You know why I care.” He drops his arms and his hands curl into fists at his sides. “This is so stupid, Livvy. Just talk to me. Let me explain.” “So what? You can talk yourself out of it and earn my forgiveness? Nope.” I look away from him, but then he’s there. Right in front of me, in my face and not going to budge. His voice drops and he has the nerve to touch my cheek. And God, his fingers feel good on my skin. “What happened earlier didn’t mean anything to you?” I shake my head, my defiant gaze meeting his. “We got caught up in the moment.” He blows out an exasperated sigh and his hand drops from my face. “It’s more than that and you know it.” I’m about to say something else, maybe even tell him to back off, but then Ryan’s looming behind me, acting like the Big Bad Boyfriend who will throw down on anyone— just for me. “Leave her alone, asshole.” “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” Dustin asks, his temper showing. “The same guy who’ll beat the shit out of you if you don’t quit harassing Livvy.” Ryan stands taller, his shoulders, his chest going wide. But no matter what, he’ll never beat Dustin in height. I wonder if that bugs him. “Come on, Ryan. Back off,” I start, but Ryan glares at me, that look saying more than

words ever could. Let me handle it. Amanda chooses that particular moment to open the bathroom door. She stumbles out and comes to a stop, looking from me to Dustin to Ryan before looking at me once again. “I think I interrupted a love triangle,” she says with a hiccup. Truer words were never spoken. I take my opportunity and start toward the bathroom, ignoring Dustin when he calls my name. Slipping out of Ryan’s hold when he tries to grab my hand. It’s not until I shut and lock the door behind me that I’m able to take a full, decent breath. I’m shaking. I don’t know how I’ve become so completely caught up in this love triangle, as Amanda calls it, but I hate it. Turning on the faucet, I cup my hands and let it run for a while, finally leaning over the sink so I can splash the cool water on my flushed cheeks. I close my eyes, letting the water drip from my face, but after a while my head starts to spin so I open my eyes. Reach out for the faucet and turn the water off before looking at my reflection in the mirror. I look like hell—smudged eye makeup. My cheeks are still flushed despite the water dripping on my skin. I grab a towel and dry my face. Take a deep breath and turn to unlock the door. Ryan shoves his way into the bathroom the moment the door cracks open. “You took forever. Jesus,” he mutters as he locks the door before he turns to me. The wicked smile on his face makes my blood chill. “Finally we’re alone.” “You’ve ignored me all night,” I say, clamping my lips shut the moment the words leave me. I sound like a jealous girlfriend, which is ridiculous. There’s nothing going on between us. Not really. He tilts his head to the side, leaning against the door. “Aw, Livvy, don’t be like that.” “Be like what?” I lean against the edge of the counter, waiting to hear his explanation. My head won’t stop spinning. I’ve had way too much to drink. “Like…that. You know. Like you own me.” His smile doesn’t fade as he pushes away from the door and starts to approach. “Let’s keep this simple.” “Keep what simple?” I ask warily. “You and me. We’re…friends.” This sounds vaguely familiar. “We don’t need to define what’s happening between us.” “Right now, a whole lot of nothing is happening between us.” He grabs hold of my upper arms and lifts up. I end up sitting on the bathroom counter, and I spread my legs when he shifts to stand in between them. “Well, I can make a lot of something happen if you want.” His voice drops about ten octaves, low and rumbly and sexy. I tilt my head back and stare at his gorgeous face,

wondering how in the world I found myself in this situation. I go from having zero prospects to two hot boys who are practically fighting over me. I feel like I’m in some sort of weird dream state. Things like this don’t happen to me. They just… Don’t. “I don’t want to be another hookup at Tuttle’s house,” I whisper. It’s true. I’ve heard endless stories of various hookups at one of Tuttle’s parties. If I mess around with Ryan tonight, my name will be added to a long list of girls who’ve hooked up with Tuttle’s friends on a Friday night. “You’re not hooking up with Tuttle.” He smiles. “You’re with me.” “I know that.” I roll my eyes and his smile fades. I think he realizes he’s going to get nowhere with me tonight. And he’s right. He’s not. First, I’m not about to give up that easily. And second…I’m still a mess from what happened with Dustin. Stupid Dustin. “You’re going to make me work for it, aren’t you?” He touches the corner of my mouth with his thumb, drifts it across my bottom lip. “Every girl should make a boy work for it,” I murmur as his hand falls away from my face. “Most don’t.” He leans in close, his mouth just about to land on mine. “Em sure as hell didn’t.” Okay. That is the dose of cold reality I really didn’t want to hear. I shove at his chest and he takes a faltering step back, the potential kiss ruined. Glaring at him, I hop off the counter and start for the door, but he darts in front of me, blocking me from going for the door handle. “I shouldn’t have brought her up,” he says. “No shit,” I mutter. “I don’t even know what I was thinking.” “Clearly.” I sigh and cross my arms in front of my chest. “Let me out, Ryan.” He slowly moves away from the door and I unlock it before throwing it open, striding out into the hall to run smack dab into… Em. Could my night get any worse? Her gaze goes wide when she sees Ryan emerge from the bathroom just behind me. “What are you two doing together?” I go into automatic “placate Em” mode, which is what I’ve been doing for years. “It’s not what you think—” I start.

“None of your damn business,” Ryan tells her, interrupting me. He stands just beside me and slings his arm around my shoulders. Em wrinkles her nose. “Well, don’t you two look cozy.” I can’t stop staring at her. She looks…crazy. She has tons of eyeliner on, yet her face is pale. Her lips are blood red and she’s wearing a black tank top and the shortest denim shorts I’ve ever seen in my life, black fishnet stockings and Doc Marten boots completing the look. She looks like every punk goth girl come to life. I have to remind myself I’m mad at her. That she had sex with Dustin and they kept it from me. They betrayed me, and I know my logic is messed up because essentially I did the same thing to her with Dustin, and I don’t even know how to keep any of this straight anymore. We’re all messing around with each other. And it’s a freaking disaster waiting to happen.

“Are you so stupid you’re really going to fall for his crap?” Em asks, waving a hand in Ryan’s direction. I step out from under Ryan’s arm, needing the distance. I thought seeing Em tonight would only make me angry, but instead I feel bad. I feel sad too. We’re letting boys get in the way of our friendship and that’s so dumb. Even if that boy is Dustin. Who is now standing directly behind Em, like they’re together or something. They look so much like a couple I’m filled with the need to lash out. “Are you so stupid that you’re going to believe everything he says?” I point at Dustin and he takes a step back, looking offended and wounded all at once. Ugh. Tired of him trying to get me to feel sorry for him. It’s bogus. The anger sweeps back over me, swift and deadly, and without a word, I turn and make my escape. I hear Ryan call my name. Dustin does too. Even Em yells after me. But I don’t answer them, I don’t turn around—I just keep walking, pushing past people, earning a few rude remarks for my equally rude behavior. My head is still spinning, the music is so loud and I find myself outside, on the front porch, heaving my guts out in the bushes near the door. Oh God, this is so freaking gross. I hate puking and I keep doing it this week. “Hey.” Amanda lightly touches my arm once I’m finished, her voice laced with concern. “Are you all right?” I turn and wipe my hand across my mouth. She takes a step back with a grimace. I’m sure I look just fantastic. “Have any gum?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “In my car.” The look on her face is complete sympathy. “Did you drink too much?” I nod. “It was the vanilla vodka,” she says solemnly. My stomach lurches at the memory and I turn back to the bush, afraid more might come back up. But it was a false alarm. Thank God. “Are you ready to go?” she asks. “You want to leave?” I’m surprised. I thought the plan was to stay the night. Which was a stupid plan when I think about it, but still. “Are you drunk? Should you drive?” “Trust me, I’m completely sober.” Amanda shakes her head, then looks around. “I need

to get out of here.” “Why?” She grabs my hand and leads me down the front porch steps. “I’ll tell you when we get to my car.” We hurry back to the car, both of us shivering since the temperature has dropped dramatically. There are still so many cars parked along the driveway, in the field. There are also more than a few cars occupied with couples inside doing God knows what. A few of them look to be rocking. That could’ve been me tonight. Though most likely on a bathroom counter—or Ryan would’ve had me on my knees. I have no idea exactly what he wanted to do, but I could take a guess or two. I sort of regret pushing him away, but dude—he brought up Em. That ruined my mood completely. And I’m not going to give Ryan a blowjob in Tuttle’s bathroom. Forget that. He probably has cameras in every room so he can capture special moments and use them against people later. Probably not, but it’s fun to think about. “Okay, listen,” Amanda says the second we pile into the car and she shuts her door. She turns my way, pointing at me. “You can’t breathe a word of this to anyone.” “Breathe a word of what?” I ask. She digs through the center console until she finds a pack of gum and she offers it to me. I take a piece with a murmured “thanks” and tear off the wrapper, popping the minty gum into my mouth. I nearly moan it tastes so good—and it takes away that nasty barf vanilla vodka flavor. “What I’m about to say. I don’t want anyone else to know.” Amanda looks away, blowing out a harsh breath. “I shouldn’t even tell you. I don’t know you. Not really. Who’s to say you won’t run and tell your friend Emily and then the two of you will laugh at me every time you see me?” “Amanda.” I reach out and touch her arm. She turns to look at me, her dark eyes wide, her expression—scared? “Em and I are pretty much through. And I swear I won’t tell a soul. I promise. You can trust me.” I really want her to trust me. I need a real friend. I think she does too. She swallows hard and I drop my hand from her arm, waiting to hear what she’s going to say. “Jordan kissed me,” she whispers. I frown. “Who?” An exasperated noise escapes her. “Jordan Tuttle!” “Oh. You threw me by calling him Jordan.” “He asked me to call him Jordan.” She hesitates, a dreamy look crossing her face. “He says he doesn’t like it when girls whisper Tuttle when they’re doing…whatever it is

they’re doing to him.” “He actually said that to you.” Amanda nods. “And you fell for it.” She frowns and turns away, her long dark hair shielding her face. “There’s nothing to fall for. He kissed me. That’s it.” “And he told you to call him Jordan.” “Don’t you see?” She turns to look at me again. “No one calls him Jordan. Not even the girls who do him or give him blowjobs or hand jobs or whatever.” I hate to break it to her, but he probably uses that line on every girl he tries to get with. I’m not going to tell her that, though. I’m not going to be responsible for Amanda’s broken heart. I still think she’s trying to mend the pieces back together after her ex cheated on her. “Your ex wasn’t at the party, was he?” I ask. She shakes her head. Laughs a little. I feel like my question lightened the mood, just like that. “No way. He’s not cool enough to get an invite from Tuttle ever again. Last time was just a fluke thing.” Right, because she caught her ex with her best friend at Tuttle’s. Crap always goes down here. And seriously, I’m almost relieved to hear her call him Tuttle instead of Jordan. “So how was it?” “How was what?” “The kiss you shared with Tuttle.” “Oh.” The dreamy look is back. “It was—nice.” “Nice?” I arch a brow. “Yeah.” Her gaze meets mine. “It was sweet.” “Sweet?” Come on. Tuttle is not known for being sweet or romantic or nice. He’s the guy who gropes you and somehow convinces you to get naked so he can have his way with you. I’ve heard enough stories the last few years to know at least half the shit that’s said about him around school is true. “He didn’t really try anything. He seemed almost nervous,” she admits. “With the exception of the crotch grab,” I point out. “That happened before I went to the bathroom. The kiss came after.” “What happened after you left the bathroom?” “We ran into each other and he took my hand and started leading me up the stairs. I asked where we were going and he was being all mysterious, telling me I’d find out when we got there. I started to get frustrated and tried to leave, but he wouldn’t let me.” She hesitates, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I’m glad he wouldn’t let me.”

Oh God, I’m envious of her romantic moment with Tuttle. While I would normally find it hard to believe under normal circumstances, I think I’m just drunk enough to believe in true love. “So he took me to his bedroom and I was ready to bail, you know? I wasn’t about to become another Tuttle party conquest.” Pretty much what I told Ryan in the bathroom. “But he didn’t want to stay in the bedroom. He has a balcony off his room and he took me outside so I could see the view. And it was gorgeous. Then…he kissed me.” Her tone was wistful. “That’s…sweet.” I can’t believe that word left my mouth in reference to Tuttle. “Right?” She turns to me excitedly. “It was so crazy. Yet nice. But I have no idea if we’ll see each other again, you know? We probably won’t. He’s, uh, done this sort of thing before. I think he’s just drunk and he didn’t know what he was doing. He rarely talks to me at school.” “He talks to no one at school except his closest friends.” “We have three classes together this year.” She bites her lip, then releases it. “We’ve always had a class together. For, like, ever. He’s actually really smart.” “You want to go back inside and look for him?” “No. I don’t want to ruin the moment. He’ll probably say something awful and I’ll hate him forever.” Amanda shakes her head. “Tell me what happened with the new guy. And Dustin.” “There’s nothing to tell,” I say, the words practically tripping over themselves I said it so fast. “Right. Give me a break. I’m sure something happened. That’s why you had the both of them looking ready to fight over you.” She rolls her eyes. “Besides, I thought you and Dustin were together.” “We’re not.” Everyone thinks we’re together. We both thought we’d end up together eventually. “We’re just friends. And Ryan…” I sigh. “I don’t know how I feel about him. He’s confusing.” “They all are,” she says with a nod. “You can talk about it if you want. I won’t tell anyone.” I’m not comfortable telling Amanda anything about Ryan and Dustin yet. And half my problem is I don’t know what to say, how to explain all the stupid, insane things I’ve done these last few weeks. I have no excuses and I don’t want Amanda to hate me for what I’ve done. “We should go. Maybe?” I squint my eyes and peer at her. “Or are you drunk?” “Jordan’s kiss and this conversation sobered me up completely,” Amanda says firmly. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ask you to drive me home and then you get a DUI or whatever.” That would be awful. I don’t want to put her at risk. “I’m good. I promise.” She starts the ignition. “Let’s get out of here before we both do

something stupid and go back inside that house.” I laugh. “Good idea.” We’re just pulling out of the driveway when I get a text from an unfamiliar number. Did you leave? Where did you go? Frowning, I reply: Who is this? “Isn’t that Dustin?” Amanda asks. I look up from my phone to see Dustin standing in front of his Jeep, talking with someone. More like yelling at someone. It’s freaking Em. And she’s yelling at him too. “My life has turned into a bad TV movie,” I mutter under my breath. “Like Lifetime on steroids.” Amanda bursts out laughing. “No joke.” Her laughter dies. “Do you think they’re fighting about you?” I glance down at my phone when I see the text reply. It’s Ryan. I miss you. We didn’t spend enough time together tonight. What happened in the bathroom earlier was a disaster. I should’ve never brought up Em. “I doubt it,” I say as we drive past them and Amanda guides the car onto the road. “I’m sure they’ve already forgotten about me.” Maybe. Maybe not. I decide to answer Ryan’s texts. You just brought up Em again. His reply is immediate.

Sorry. Forgive me? Talk to you later? Smiling, I tap out a quick response. Okay. :)

I waste most of my Saturday sleeping, which pisses Mom off. Not that I care. I have a raging hangover that only sleep, four ibuprofen and two bottles of water can finally ease. Mom forces me out of bed around three, demanding that I do my laundry and help clean up around the house. I start my laundry and clean my bathroom before hopping into the shower. The hot water feels good and I soak under the spray longer than usual, and the bathroom is completely steamed up by the time I finish. Mom hates it when I take long showers. Lately it feels like she hates pretty much everything I do. I’m sneaking back into my room wrapped only in a towel, my hair falling against my back and dripping wet when I collide with freaking Fitch in the hallway. Like full on run into him so hard my boobs bounce against his chest. “Oh my God!” I practically shriek. My shrill voice makes Fitch jump about a mile. He grabs hold of my upper arms, his fingers squeezing into my flesh. “Jesus, Olivia. You scared the hell out of me.” “Let me go,” I demand, unable to pull out of his grip for fear my towel will slide off and show him everything. I’m completely naked and Mom’s boyfriend is way too close. And he’s actually touching me. I’m trying my best not to completely freak out. “What are you doing?” His gaze skims the length of my body and it’s not necessarily creepy, but it’s not on the up and up either. As in I think Fitch just checked me out. “What do you think? I just got out of the shower.” I pull away and his hands fall to his sides, his expression a little dumbfounded. What, hasn’t he seen a teenage girl in a towel before? Probably not. “Where’s Mom?” “She ran to the supermarket.” He runs a hand over his very short brown hair and I flatten myself against the hallway wall, edging closer to my open bedroom door. Weird. I swear I closed it before I went into the bathroom. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” Fitch says when I remain quiet.

I meet his gaze, my fingers curled around the edge of my bedroom doorframe. I’m close to making my escape and I can’t wait to get away from him. “It’s okay,” I say shakily. “We don’t need to tell your mom about our little—run in, do we?” He smiles nervously. “Maybe it can be our little secret.” “Sure,” I say as I slip backward into my bedroom and practically slam the door in his face. Sagging against the door, I lock it as quietly as possible so it’s not obvious and I glance around my room, checking to see if anything out of place. But it doesn’t. Everything looks exactly the same and I tell myself I’m just being paranoid. Maybe I did leave my bedroom door open. Why would Fitch want to search my room anyway? There’s nothing interesting in here for him. I frown. Well, there is that tiny baggie of weed I have buried deep in my underwear drawer. Oh, and then there is my underwear drawer. Fitch has never given me a creeptastic vibe before, but I don’t know him that well. They started dating before I left for the summer yet Mom never brought him around. Now she’s leaving him at the house with me while she goes shopping. I don’t like it. With a sigh I push away from the door and go to my dresser, grabbing clothes to change into, which I do hurriedly. I wrap the towel around my head and grab my phone, checking to see if I have any messages, and I’m all sorts of excited to see that I do. One is from Amanda. Do you have a hangover? Another is from…Ryan. What are you doing tonight? My heart skips a giddy beat. Amanda’s text came in ten minutes ago, Ryan’s almost fifteen. I decide to answer Amanda first to prolong the anticipation. I’m better now. Slept most of the day and just took a shower. Amanda’s reply is immediate.

I had to get up early to go do a family thing. I’m in bed now. I feel like a zombie. Poor Amanda. Have you heard from Tuttle? OMG no!!!!! Why would you even think that???!!!!??? Lots of exclamation points and question marks—Amanda’s being a little over the top. Well, he did kiss you… I’m deleting these texts! I told you I don’t want anyone to know what happened last night. Okay. Chill. This is just between you and me. Right. Someone will find these texts and then I’m ruined. No way. *delete delete* She’s even more dramatic than I thought. A secret isn’t a secret when more than one person knows about it. Amanda doesn’t reply, and I guess I can’t blame her. Mom told me that a long time ago, warning me that’s what makes secrets so dangerous. Following Amanda’s wishes, I delete any and all texts that mention Tuttle and then I respond to Ryan. I think I’m stuck at home tonight. :( It’s like he’s sitting on his phone, he responds so quickly. On a Saturday night? Harsh. My mom got mad at me when I tried to sleep most of today. You should’ve stayed the night with me at Tuttle’s. Are you still there? Nah. But I did stay the night.

You could’ve been cozy in the guest bedroom with me. My face is on fire and all he’s doing is telling me we could’ve slept together. Though come on. We wouldn’t have just slept together. Something else would’ve happened. Something I might not be ready for. But then again, maybe I am. Sounds like I missed out. You did. But you can have your chance again with me. More like you should be asking if YOU deserve another chance with ME, after what you said last night. He doesn’t reply, and I grab the brush on top of my dresser, parting my hair in the middle and then running the brush through it again and again until it’s sleek and straight. It’s easiest for me to braid it when it’s still wet and I twist one side into a French braid and then the other side before Ryan finally responds. Let me make it up to you. I bite my lip, thinking of all the ways he could do exactly that. How? Go out with me tonight. Where? It’s a surprise. The door leading out to the garage slams and I lift my head, listening for Mom’s voice. I hear it, along with Fitch’s, and I wonder if she’ll let me go. I can almost guarantee she won’t. She’ll want to play happy family tonight and it’s going to suck. I’d rather be stuck in my room doing homework than hang out with them. Unfortunately, I have no homework. “Livvy! Come help me unload the groceries!” Mom calls, and I grimace. Why can’t stupid Fitch help her out? Grabbing my phone, I send Ryan a quick text before I go help her.

Sorry. I’m in prison tonight. Probably for the rest of the weekend. But I’ll see you Monday, okay? Not waiting for his reply, I go to the kitchen to help Mom.

“You were with Em last night, right?” Mom asked just after we sit down to eat dinner. I pause in bringing the fork to my mouth, then slowly set it down on my plate. It’s best that I don’t totally lie because she’s on friendly terms with Em’s parents and she could find out with a simple phone call if I was with her or not. “Um, no. I was with Amanda, remember?” She frowns, sending a quick glance at Fitch before looking at me. “Who’s Amanda? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention her before.” “We’ve been hanging out lately,” I explain before I shovel food in my mouth. Fitch barbecued steaks and I have to admit, they’re pretty delicious. “What did you do?” “Oh, we went to miniature golf.” No one I know goes to miniature golf anymore, but what else could I say? If I told her a movie, she’d ask which one and then want details. Plus, she was at the movies herself just last night. No way could I tell her the truth. Hearing I went to a giant party at Jordan Tuttle’s house would make her lose her shit. Mom’s face brightens. “How fun! But what’s going on with you and Em? You haven’t talked about her all week.” I chance a look at Fitch, who’s acting completely oblivious as he eats everything on his plate. “It’s…complicated. Can we talk about it later?” I don’t want to share my best friend troubles with Mom’s boyfriend. He doesn’t need to know my private business despite the fact he almost saw me naked. I’m still a little mortified by that. “Oh.” Mom looks surprised. “Well, maybe tomorrow you can tell me what’s going on.” I offer a weak smile. “Yeah. Tomorrow.” We finish eating and I help clean up the kitchen like usual. Mom slips outside to talk with Fitch and I can hear her giggle through the partially open window above the sink. Hear the sound of lips connecting and her gently chastising him for who knows what. Best if I don’t know at all.

The kitchen is clean by the time it’s dark outside and I’m dying to leave. Mom and Fitch are cozied up on the sectional couch in the living room, scrolling through the Netflix menu together and trying to decide if they want to watch a comedy or an action film. “You should come join us, Livvy,” Mom calls from the living room. I’m lingering in the kitchen, contemplating if I should reach out to Ryan again or not. I don’t want to seem like I’m trying too hard. Or being too pushy. He worried me after saying last night I should be chill and not be the overbearing friend. I need to back off. But I don’t want him to forget that I exist. “I’m not in the mood for a movie,” I tell her before I dash off to my bedroom to grab my phone. I purposely left it in my room so I wouldn’t be tempted to look at it. When we have these ridiculous family dinners she gets mad if I keep checking my phone and has threatened to take it away more than once. I can’t risk losing it, so I stash it away and pray I don’t miss anything major. Of course Ryan texted. And of course he’s saying exactly what I want to hear. I don’t think I can wait until Monday. I want to see you tonight. Livvy? Where are you? Playing hard to get? I’m cruising around the neighborhood if you want to come with. The last message is time stamped less than five minutes ago. My fingers fly over the keyboard as I send him a message. Are you still in the neighborhood? A few minutes pass and I chew on my thumbnail, afraid I missed my opportunity. But then he replies and I practically start to bounce. I’m right outside your house if you wanna come see. Without thought I stash my phone in the back pocket of my tiny denim shorts and race through the house. My hair is in braids, I have no makeup on and my outfit is sort of lame, but I don’t care. I stop near the living room and say, “I’m going out.” Mom nudges Fitch in the ribs and he pauses the movie they just started. “Where? And

with who?” “With a…friend. And I don’t know. We’re just going to hang out around the neighborhood.” I shrug, glance at the front door. I need to go. Get out of here before Ryan gives up and leaves. “What friend? Don’t be sketchy with me, young lady, or else I won’t let you go at all.” I blow out an exasperated breath. “His name is Ryan. He moved into the neighborhood over the summer. He’s friends with Dustin.” That last bit I added is a complete lie, but I’m trying to make her feel better. “Oh. How is Dustin? He hasn’t been by much either lately,” Mom says. “Mom, can I go?” I’m jittery with impatience. And I think Fitch can see it. He reaches out and touches Mom’s arm. “Let her go. It’s early yet,” he says. I hope he realizes I’m giving him a mental high five. “I promise I’ll be back by midnight.” “Ten.” I roll my eyes. It’s already a little past eight. That’s less than two hours with Ryan. “Eleven.” Mom sighs. “Fine. Eleven. And when you go out with this boy again, I want to meet him.” “Okay, okay,” I tell her, hoping like crazy we do go out again but not really wanting Ryan to meet my mom. “Be careful. Make sure your phone’s charged.” “It is,” I yell as I make my way to the front door. Mom’s biggest fear is if she can’t get a hold of me. I hate that she can keep tabs but love that I can call someone if I need to be rescued. I open the door to find his car parked in front of my house. I can hear the low rumble of the engine, the dark-tinted windows obscuring Ryan from my view, and I tell my heart, my entire body to calm the flip down. This is no big deal. Just the two of us. Alone. Together. I can handle it. I can play it cool. If Em can be with this guy, then so can I. I think of her, a disgusted look on her face. Of her saying I’m taking her sloppy seconds. I can literally hear those words come out of her mouth and I… Hate them. Because they feel true. What am I doing? Pushing all thoughts of sloppy seconds and Em out of my head, I walk calmly across the lawn toward Ryan’s car. The passenger-side window slides down and there he is, bending over to peer out at me, a cute smile curving his too perfect lips.

“Hey. So you made it after all,” he says when I reach the passenger door. “I did.” I lean down so our faces are level. My smile can barely be contained. “I broke out of jail.” “Then it’s my lucky night.” He flicks his chin at me in that wholly masculine way boys do. “Get in.” I open the door and slide into the passenger seat, Ryan’s clean, citrusy scent wrapping all around me once I shut the door. It’s like the world ceases to exist when we’re in his car. “Where are we going?” “A surprise. Remember?” Grinning, he guns the engine and we tear off down the street, into the dark, dark night.

After Ryan pulls his car into a church parking lot and we share a joint, he takes me to Sonic to get milkshakes. Sonic is like a kitschy drive-in and they have delicious ice cream and slushy drinks, though I’m not big on their food. Of course, since we smoked that joint we both agree that we’re starving and pretty much anything sounds good. We park and are discussing milkshake options when Cannon Whittaker approaches the car and chats up Ryan. Cannon is another senior football player on the varsity team, a big hulking mass of muscle with dark blonde hair and a baby face that’s oddly out of place with his giant man body. “Who you here with?” Ryan asks him, and Cannon mentions some girl’s name I don’t recognize. Waves a nonchalant hand in her direction and I crane my neck to check her out. A petite yet busty girl with long, straight platinum blonde hair is sitting on the tailgate of his tricked out silver truck, sending Cannon a pouty look that she believes will entice him, no doubt. “Wasn’t she with Tuttle just before school started?” Ryan asks. Cannon makes a dismissive noise. “I guess. I don’t know. She’s like the team mascot, if you catch my drift. Knows how to keep her mouth shut, too, which is why we keep her around. If you ever…” His voice drifts as his gaze meets mine and he clamps his lips together. I’m glaring at him. I know what he was about to say. And Cannon is an idiot to say it in front of me. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m good.” Ryan places his hand on my thigh and gives it a squeeze before he releases me. I say nothing, though my skin goes hot where he touched me. Should I be insulted? Probably. Yet for some weird reason, I’m not. Maybe it’s the weed. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m with a hot guy who makes me tingle with just a glance, and I have no idea what that’s like, being with someone so incredibly popular yet also mysterious. No one really knows anything about Ryan. Maybe I could be the first person to really get to know him. Or maybe Em was the one he confessed all of his deep, dark secrets to. Frowning, I push all thoughts of Em out of my mind. I hate how she always creeps up on me when I’m with Ryan. It’s probably guilt, though I shouldn’t feel guilty for being with Ryan. They were never really together in the first place.

Cannon and Ryan perform one of those complicated handshakes boys always do and then he’s gone, headed back to his little blonde fairy so they can cuddle on his truck’s tailgate and she can spoon-feed him ice cream. No joke. “I didn’t know you were friends with Cannon,” I say once he’s gone. He’s one of those guys who struts around campus like he’s the shit. Well, really the entire football team does that, including Ryan. “Only because of football,” Ryan says with a little shrug, smiling up at the carhop girl when she suddenly appears with our order. The second she’s gone I’m talking again. Saying things I probably shouldn’t say. “You’ve barely been at school a week and you’re already making lots of friends.” I’m trying to sound casual. Like I’m not digging for information, though I really am. “Guys from the team, that’s it.” He smiles, slow and sexy. “Oh, and you.” His gaze drops to my lips. They’re tingling like he actually touched them. And now I’m giggling, my cheeks warm, as usual. I hate that I blush so easily. “You’re such a flirt.” I gently shove at his shoulder, but it’s like trying to push a boulder. “You love it,” he says, his voice dripping with confidence as he snatches my wrist and drops a quick kiss on my hand before dropping it. I can’t react, since he did it so fast. But he acts like it’s no big deal. Instead, he’s leaning forward and messing with the sound system settings before music starts to play. “You like rap?” He turns to look at me. Not really, but I nod eagerly just to see him send me that pleased smile yet again. “This is my favorite song,” he says as he sinks into the black leather seat, his fingers tapping on his knee to the heavy bass beat. “Um, so how’s practice going?” I ask after too many minutes of silence between us. I didn’t want to interrupt his favorite song, but I also don’t want him to think I’m boring or that I have nothing to say. “It’s good. We’re looking all right. The team I was on at my old school was better. Hate to say it.” He grimaces and lowers the stereo volume with a button on the steering wheel. “But we’ll catch our rhythm eventually. Get better.” “I’m sure.” “And it’s hot as hell here, so that kind of sucks. Makes practicing after school miserable. I’m not used to the California heat.” He traces the steering wheel with his index finger and I become fixated on that finger, imagining it’s actually touching me. “Thank God we have a pool.” “I’m sure it’s much cooler in Washington,” I say. “Definitely.” Ryan runs a hand through his hair, messing it up adorably. Boys and messy hair—they just get me every time.

“Do you miss Washington?” I ask. “Yeah, sometimes. I miss the weather. My old house too, because it was the only place I ever lived until now. Sometimes, change is hard, you know?” I do know. I’m living through massive change at this very moment. “But it’s good here. I like California.” He smiles softly. “You’ll come to our first game, right?” We were good little students with loads of school spirit the first couple of years, but Em and I gave up midway through our junior year. Football games became boring, especially when they started doing awful—with the exception of Tuttle. We barely paid attention and would rather work the social angle. Though now that I’m helping with the photos for yearbook, I’ll be going to all sorts of games. “You really want me there?” “Hell yeah I do. I’ll need a good-luck kiss from you to make sure we win.” He flashes me a smile and I roll my eyes, giggling when he moves in closer and makes a kissy face at me. The roller-skating server chooses that moment to show up by Ryan’s window. “Doing okay?” she asks, her tone flirtatious. I’ve never seen a Sonic carhop check up on customers like this before. “Need anything else?” I just want her gone. “I’m good,” I tell her, lifting my vanilla shake. Ryan shrugs and when he says nothing else, she skates away, glancing over her shoulder one last time. I sort of wish she’d run into a pole. I’m going to hell for my jealous thoughts, I swear. “We should’ve ordered food,” he says as he stirs his spoon in his chocolate shake. “Do you want to call her back?” I hope he says no. “Nah. I’m fine.” He grabs the cherry that sits on a cloud of whipped cream in his cup and pops it into his mouth. “Can I have your cherry?” he asks after he swallows. Um. Well, that could be taken a different way. Cheeks hot, I nod. “Sure.” Ryan shifts so he’s sitting closer, his face practically in mine. “Feed it to me,” he says. With shaky fingers I pluck the cherry from the top of my shake and hold it out toward Ryan. His mouth opens and I set it between his lips, tugging the stem off before he starts to chew. “Mmm, delicious,” he murmurs once he swallows. I look away from him and take a few sips of my milkshake, savoring the icy cold deliciousness. I hear Ryan shift in his seat and I glance over at him, my lips still wrapped around the red straw. He sends me a pointed look, his eyebrows raised. “So vanilla, huh? Do you consider yourself pretty vanilla?” I let go of the straw, tilting my head to the side. “What do you mean?” He stirs the long-handled spoon in his cup before pulling it out and licking the chocolate ice cream slowly. My body goes warm at seeing his tongue and I squirm in my

seat, waiting for his answer. “Never mind,” he says after a few licks of ice cream. “I think I have my answer.” He chuckles. I giggle. Again. We quietly half-eat, half-drink our milkshakes, and I chance the occasional glance at him, taking in everything that makes up Ryan. The navy blue T-shirt he’s wearing and how it stretches across his shoulders and chest. His arms are like masculine works of art and his fingers are long. Memories rush over me, the night at Em’s house, when he slipped those long fingers beneath my bikini top. I wonder if he’ll touch me like that again. I wonder if he’ll do it tonight. If he tries, I’ll let him. I won’t push him away. I’ll want more. “I like the braids.” He tugs on one and our gazes meet. “Cute.” “I didn’t want to blow dry my hair,” I say with a shrug. His gaze is intense as he watches me, curling the end of one braid around his finger again and again, pulling me closer and closer to him. Until we’re so close our breath mingles together and I can see those little flecks of gold in his green eyes. “So you’re lazy,” he teases, his eyes sparkling as they search my face, settling once again on my mouth. “Is that what you’re telling me?” “I—” I’m about to defend myself when an ear-splitting horn honks, startling us both. We jump away from each other, my back brushing against the passenger-side door, and I glance out the windshield to see Cannon’s truck idling in front of Ryan’s car. “See ya later, Bennett!” Cannon yells before he hits the gas and tears out of the parking lot. “Is that your last name?” I ask him. “Bennett?” Ryan laughs. “Well, yeah. You didn’t know? I thought you knew everything about me.” “Definitely not everything,” I mumble, setting my near-empty milkshake into the center console cup holder. Not even close. The guy doesn’t talk much. We flirt. We say stupid things to each other. I swear he was about to kiss me before we were so rudely interrupted by Cannon. “Wanna go to the carwash?” he asks, knocking me from my thoughts. “Right now?” I send him a questioning look. “I like to keep my baby clean.” Ryan strokes his hand across the sleek dashboard almost lovingly. “I go to this one that’s open late on Saturday.” He pitches his cup into the nearby trashcan and closes his window before starting the car. “Ready?” I nod, and then we’re speeding out of Sonic so fast the tires squeal when he turns onto the street. Ryan hits a button and a panel above our head slides back, revealing a sunroof. I glance up at it in wonder, a little sigh escaping me as he hits another button and the tinted glass opens up, letting in a rush of warm night air. My braids are flying in the breeze, and when Ryan accelerates harder, I lean back and laugh. My head is fuzzy from the joint we smoked earlier and I’m buzzing. Happy. I close my eyes and savor the sensation of the wind rushing over me, Ryan’s scent, the soft

sensation of the leather seat cradling my body. Ryan touches me, his fingers burning the skin of my thigh, and I shift under his touch, spreading my legs a little bit. He takes the unsaid invitation seriously, sliding his fingers between my legs, so close to that low point where I throb for him, and I suck in a gasping breath. I keep my eyes closed, sink my teeth into my lower lip when his fingers tease the frayed hem of my denim shorts, and then I swear I feel his fingers barely brush against the front of my very plain, very boring cotton panties. I can’t look at him. I can’t watch what he’s doing but oh, I can feel it, and his fingers feel… So. Good. Ryan snatches his hand away unexpectedly and I’m so disappointed, so on freaking edge I almost want to yell at him. My eyes fly open and I see he’s half hanging out the driver’s side window, punching buttons on the pay machine at the car wash. He slides back into his seat and puts the car into gear, sending me a knowing smirk as he pulls the car around and lines it up properly to go through the carwash. “You really know how to show a girl a good time,” I tease as he hits the button and the sunroof slides closed, as do the car windows. “Carwash on a Saturday night, nothing better,” he says with a mischievous smile. “Reach for the button on the right side and put your seat back.” I frown at him. He sure is bossy, always telling me what to do. Though I never protest. “Why?” “Just do it. I’ll show you in a minute.” I do as he says and so does he after putting the car in neutral, both of us flat on our backs once the seats can go no farther. The car jerks forward onto the automatic mechanism and I stare up at the sunroof window as white bubbly soap coats it completely. Ryan rolls on his side, getting as close to me as possible. “Watch,” he murmurs, and I do, entranced by the water rinsing away the first layer of soap before a new, thicker layer is squirted on. And then he’s right there, his head blocking my view, his face in mine. I lick my lips, part them as if I’m about to say something, but he doesn’t give me a chance. He’s kissing me. His lips are warm and firm, and the moment they touch mine, a million butterflies flutter in my stomach, making my entire body shake. I reach for him, my hand going to the back of his head, fingers sinking into his silky soft hair as he kisses me again and again. Our mouths becoming more and more open until finally his tongue sweeps in and tangles with mine. Only a handful of guys have ever kissed me. And most of the kisses were quick and boring and…lacking. Completely lacking that certain something I always saw in movies or read in books. Dustin brought me to that point. We may have our moments and right now I’m super pissed at him, but the boy can kiss.

Ryan kisses even better. It’s like his mouth fits perfectly with mine. His fingers gently stroke my cheek as he keeps kissing me until I’m breathless. Weightless. Until we suddenly stop moving. “Shit,” Ryan mutters as he brings his seat back up, throws the car into drive and pulls away from the carwash. I start to laugh as I push the button and my seat slowly rises to an upright position. My entire body is shaky and my head is spinning more from that kiss than the weed I smoked a while ago. Frustration is etched into Ryan’s handsome features, his jaw like granite and his eyes turbulent. I study him, think about actually reaching out and touching him, but I don’t. I curl my hands together and rest them in my lap instead. “I should get you home,” he tells me through clenched teeth. “What time is it?” “Almost eleven.” He glances at me, though mostly keeping his attention on the road. “Wouldn’t want you to turn into a pumpkin.” Mom and her stupid curfew. “My mom really wanted me home by ten.” “You got her to change her mind?” “I wanted it to be midnight. But her, uh, boyfriend got her to compromise.” “A champion on your side?” “I don’t know why. I don’t like him that much.” I think back on the weird way he looked at me when he found me in my towel. How he asked to keep that encounter between us. Why? What does it matter? Not like he yanked off my towel and tried to do something skeevy with me. Though he might’ve…wanted to? A shiver moves down my spine at the realization. “Maybe he just wanted to get you out of the house,” Ryan suggests. “Yeah. Maybe,” I agree, my voice distant. I guess that could be the reason, but I don’t know why. Mom could go to Fitch’s house too, though I have no idea where he lives or if it’s even nice. He has that forever bachelor-type vibe, so maybe he lives in a shit hole. More like Mom doesn’t want me alone. She probably thinks I’d be up to no good. She’d be right. Within minutes we’re back at my place and he leans over to press a quick kiss on my cheek. “I had fun, babe,” he murmurs against my skin. My skin goes hot at him calling me babe. “I did too.” “We’ll have to do it again sometime.” I nod, afraid I might say something that sounds too eager and crazy.

“I’ll see you Monday?” I nod again, reaching out to open the passenger-side door. He doesn’t offer to walk me to the front door and I don’t ask him to. What’s the point? I guess he could kiss me on the front porch, but he could’ve very easily kissed me just now too. Yet he didn’t. I don’t take it as a bad sign, but Ryan is definitely sending me mixed signals. Kissing me in the carwash so thoroughly we forgot where we were, and now he’s practically shoving me out of his car? It makes no sense. I climb out of the car and slam the door, offering him a little wave before he drives off down the street. I remain on the sidewalk, my arms wrapped around my waist as the BMW gets smaller and smaller in the distance until it’s finally gone. I drop my arms to my sides and am about to turn to go up the walkway to my house when I catch a glimpse of movement to my right. “Liv!” My knees go weak at the sound of that familiar voice. “What are you doing?” I ask irritably. “I live on this street too, you know. Or am I not allowed to be here?”

“Why are you here anyway?” I ask. We may live in the same neighborhood, but Em’s house isn’t this close to mine. She has no reason to be out here at this time of night. Unless… I glance over my shoulder, spotting Dustin’s house, which is just across the street and five houses up from mine. Maybe she just came from his place. Oh God, if that’s the case, I swear I’ll lose my shit. Though really, I shouldn’t care. It’s not like I’m with Dustin. I just came home from a date with Ryan. I have no claims on Dustin. I have no claim on Em either. Em shrugs, tucks a thick lock of dark hair behind her ear and pulls a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of her black skinny jeans. She puts one in her mouth, pulls a lighter out of her other pocket and starts smoking. “Couldn’t sleep,” she says after blowing out a stream of smoke. “Since when did you start smoking?” I ask incredulously. Yeah, we’ve passed a lot of joints to each other over the last few years, but I’ve never seen her actually smoke before. She takes another drag and blows the smoke straight at me, a wicked smile on her face. “Since this summer. It was stressful not having you around, Liv.” Whatever. I’m not about to get into some stupid conversation with her where she blames me for abandoning her. “I should go inside. It’s late.” “Come on. Your mom won’t care if you’re outside talking to me.” Em’s right and she knows it. “Let’s catch up.” “I have nothing to catch up on with you.” I start to turn away from her, but she grabs me, her fingers tight around the crook of my arm. “Don’t leave, Livvy. Please.” Her voice is a hoarse whisper, and I face her once more, frowning as she drops her hand from my arm. “Are you okay?” She shakes her head, yet her smile is bright. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “I don’t know,” I say carefully. “You seem…moody. And you changed your entire look. Why?” “I did.” She tugs on a strand of her hair, her smile faltering. She’s not answering my question either. “You are too sweet, you know that? I mess around with your best friend, the boy you like, and it upsets you so much I make you puke. Yet here you are talking to

me like nothing ever happened, just after I snuck out of his house.” My frown deepens and I fight the urge to shove her. Hard. “I figured that’s where you were coming from,” I say, my voice flat. “We didn’t do anything, though.” She sucks on that cig like it’s her lifeline. “He just wanted to talk. He’s having a tough time of it, not that you care. He’s so bummed you won’t give him the time of day.” It’s weird. Dustin is the bad guy in this situation yet I miss him. I’m mad at Em for keeping their secret, yet I can’t stop missing her either. Almost even more than I miss Dustin. I don’t have a lot of girlfriends and Em is my closest one. “He’ll figure out how to survive without me.” “He doesn’t want to. He’s really sorry that he hurt you,” Em says. “Then he should tell me, not you.” My spine goes rigid and my voice is stiff. I don’t need to hear his supposed apology come from Em. How screwed up is that? “He can’t since you won’t talk to him.” The wry smile she sends my way makes me automatically smile in return, and I don’t try to prevent it. This is…insane. I don’t know how to not be Em’s friend. Yet I can cut Dustin off so easily. It hurts, though. It all hurts. Being with Ryan tonight eased the pain temporarily, but now that I’m looking at Em, talking to Em, and thinking about Dustin, all that pain comes rushing back, bleeding into my skin, soaking into my bones. “You should go home,” I tell Em as she drops her cigarette onto the ground and mashes it out with her flip-flop. “Your parents are probably wondering where you are.” “They won’t even notice I’m gone.” She waves a hand, her eyes narrowed with disgust. “They aren’t paying much attention to me lately.” “Is everything okay?” Again, my question is automatic, like I can’t help but be concerned with Em and her family troubles. “It is what it is. You know how they are.” She shrugs, the spaghetti strap of her red tank top sliding off her shoulder, reminding me that she’s not wearing a bra. Easy access for Dustin, I presume? Ugh. I hate even thinking about the two of them together. I need to stop. “You were with Ryan,” Em says, her voice breaking through my thoughts. “I saw you get out of his car. Don’t bother denying it.” I meet her gaze head on, deciding to own my shit. “I was. Does that bother you?” “No. Yeah. Sort of.” She shrugs again, staring off into the distance. “I feel like I should warn you.” My skin prickles at the words. “Warn me about what?” “Ryan.” Em sighs and looks at me once more. “He’s just using you.” “For what? To get back at you somehow?” The idea is almost laughable, though I don’t

say it out loud. “No. He’s just…a user. They all are. The popular guys. The ones who believe their shit don’t stink. He doesn’t care about you, Livvy. Not like I do. Not like even Dustin does. Ryan will just work his hardest to get into your panties, and once he does? He’ll toss you aside. Tell all his friends you were a lousy lay and they’ll laugh about it, then move on to the next one.” I flinch at her harsh words. See the misery in her gaze. “Like he did to you?” I say, my voice flat. Em nods silently. I take a deep breath, mentally telling myself that I’m different. That Ryan would never treat me like that. But I don’t know him very well. I have no idea if he would really treat me like that or not. Look at Dustin. I thought he cared about me. He claims he wanted me to be his girlfriend yet he fooled around with my very best friend. He’s been with the both of us. That’s something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over.

Dread consumes me as I approach campus, and I slow down, reluctant to go to school. Sunday was a total wash and that was fine with me. I slept in, I ate one too many donuts from the box Fitch went out and picked up while I was still sleeping, and I essentially avoided Mom and her boyfriend all day. Not that she cared. She gave up on trying to get me to hang out with them and eventually left the house with Fitch. They didn’t come back until I was about to go to bed. I had my chance to break free and hang out with…someone. Anyone. But I stayed home instead and caught up with my favorite YouTubers before I put a movie on Netflix and zoned out. Now it’s Monday morning and this is the last place I want to be. Trepidation fills me as each step takes me closer to school. Right about now I would rather be homeschooled. But I know Mom would drive me crazy, so that’s out. Someone shouts my name and I turn to see Amanda hurrying toward me, a giant smile on her face. “Hey, Amanda.” “What’s up? Did you just get here?” She sounds breathless when she finally reaches me, little strands of dark hair flying in her face, which she impatiently bats away. “The gossip is rampant this morning.” I grin at her. “What about? You and Tuttle?” “Oh my God, no. Stop!” She glances around, like she wants to make sure no one is paying us any attention. “About what happened at Tuttle’s party after we left.”

I frown, my stomach twisting into a giant knot. “What are you talking about?” “I guess the police were called and they shut the party down and sent everyone home? And a fight broke out between some guys? And Dustin was involved?” Amanda makes a little face. “What? Are you serious?” My Dustin was in a fight Friday night? He’s never been the violent type. He gets along with everyone. He’s so easygoing I can’t imagine him wanting to beat up anyone. “As a heart attack. I don’t know all the details, but I got a Snapchat story from Lauren Mancini—” “Wait a minute,” I interrupt her. “You’re Snapchat friends with Lauren Mancini?” Lauren is one of the most popular girls at school, if not the most popular. Student body president, head cheerleader and assistant editor on the yearbook staff, Lauren can do no wrong. “I’m friends with her brother.” Lauren has a twin brother, Sam. “We’ve been in band together since middle school.” Meaning Sam Mancini is the farthest from popular. “So what? She posted photos of Dustin and someone else getting into a fight on her Snapchat story?” I never even bothered to follow Lauren or friend her on Snapchat. We move in different stratospheres. She probably doesn’t even realize I exist. Out of the corner of my eye I see Tuttle approaching us, and so does Amanda. I can tell by the way she just suddenly gripped my hand so tight I think my fingers might fall off. “Ladies.” He smiles, but his gaze is only for Amanda. “Love of my life.” His voice softens and I swear he sounds downright… Sincere? She rolls her eyes, her fingers still clinging to mine. “Quit with the over the top declarations.” He rests his hand to his chest as if she just wounded him. “What? You don’t believe me?” “Not really.” Amanda shakes her head, a little smile curling her lips. “What happened at your party, Tuttle? Was there really a fight?” I ask. His gaze drops to where Amanda’s and my hands are connected. “Have you gone to bat for the other team and forgot to tell me, Mandy? My heart is breaking right now.” She lets go of my hand with a frustrated little growl. “God, you are so annoying.” Tuttle grins. “You love it.” “Seriously. Tuttle. Was there a fight at your party or what?” Now I’m the irritated one. “Yeah. No big deal, though. Just between your boy and…your other boy.” Tuttle laughs. “You’re getting as bad as me, Olivia. Breaking hearts all over this school.” Ugh. He’s annoying. And I can only focus on his saying my boy and my other boy.

What a mess. “Are you saying that Ryan and Dustin got into a fight? Like…a physical fight?” Tuttle nods, smirking like the smug bastard he is. “You’re really coming at your senior year with both fists swinging, aren’t you?” I’m so mad I can’t even speak. I chance a look at Amanda and her gaze is full of sympathy. “Did you know?” I ask her, hating how hostile I sound. But if she did know and never told me, how can I trust her? She shook her head, her eyes wide. “No. Like I told you, I only found out last night on Snapchat thanks to Lauren.” I blink up at the sky and tell myself to get a grip. But I can’t. Em never mentioned it when I saw her after sneaking out of Dustin’s house. And Ryan definitely never mentioned the fight to me. Not once while we were together Saturday night and he had plenty of opportunity to tell me. God, did he hurt Dustin? Did Dustin hurt him? I never saw one mark on him, not that I was able to inspect his body up close… “I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” I tell Amanda, not giving her a chance to respond before I’m taking off, leaving her alone with Tuttle. I hear her call my name but I ignore her, running up the steps and pushing through the doors of the school’s main entrance, heading straight for Dustin’s locker. The hallway is packed and I shove my way past everyone, my backpack nailing more than one person, earning an irritated “Hey!” or “Watch it!” for my rude efforts. I don’t bother apologizing or smiling at anyone. I’m a girl hell-bent on making her way to the senior wing and no one is going to stop me. “Dustin!” I yell his name when I spot him standing in front of his open locker and he whirls around to face me, his expression one of pure happiness for all of about a millisecond. And then he becomes pissed off, scowling at me, his gaze going blank. That’s when I notice the purplish bruise ringing his left eye. A gasp escapes me and I rush toward him. “Are you okay?” I try to touch him, but he takes a step back. “Well, I look like a loser who got his ass kicked thanks to your new boyfriend, but otherwise I’m fine,” he says, his voice painfully sarcastic. “He’s not my boyfriend.” “Right.” He turns his back to me and grabs a book out of his locker before shutting it. “I’m sure you two had a good laugh over what happened.” “Dustin, I didn’t even know anything happened.” I don’t want to admit Ryan didn’t tell me about their fight, but it’s pretty much assumed by what I said, right? God, I’m so furious Ryan didn’t tell me he got in a fight with Dustin. He had to think I’d find out somehow. Wouldn’t it have been better to come from him? “What were you two fighting about anyway?” He slings his backpack over his shoulder, his expression incredulous. “Come on, Liv.

Give me a break.” “I didn’t know this happened, okay?” His eyelid is a little swollen, but I’m guessing it looked even worse on Saturday. The bruise is a vivid combination of purple and yellow hues, and I wish I could give him comfort. Tell him I’m sorry. That I never meant for him to get hurt, all because of me. “I find that hard to believe.” His jaw goes firm as he stares at me hard, like he can’t stand the sight of me. My heart cracks at the look in his eyes, how stiff he is, like he’s afraid to get too close to me. “Move. I need to get to class.” “Dustin, please.” I reach for him again and he jerks away from me. “Talk to me.” The warning bell rings right on cue. “I can’t. We have class.” The hardness leaves his face and his gaze turns pleading. “There’s nothing left to say, Liv. You’ve made your point. I’ll give you what you want and leave you alone.” “But—” He walks away from me before I can say anything else, his back and shoulders rigid with tension. I watch him stride down the hall, my heart racing, my mind spinning with all the supposed reasons Ryan didn’t tell me about his run-in with Dustin. I can’t think of a single valid reason for Ryan to keep this from me. Not a one.

I have trig with Dustin the period before lunch and I leap out of my seat the second the bell rings, buzzing over to where he sits with his friends and cornering him before he can leave. “Can we talk?” He sends me a wary look, ignoring the low oooohs his friends are murmuring. One of them even says, “Dustin’s in trouble,” drawing the words out, and I glare at him until he shuts up. “Please?” I add when Dustin still hasn’t said anything. He’s calmly stuffing his book into his backpack, taking his time to pull the zipper closed while I’m practically bouncing up and down waiting for him to give me an answer. “You gonna sic your boyfriend on me again?” He finally lifts his gaze to mine and I see the anger in his eyes. The irritation. “No.” My stomach flutters with nerves. Dustin looks…hot in tough mode, with the black eye and in his full on I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude. I’m sick for thinking this way but I can’t help it. His attitude is a total turn-on. “You buying me lunch?” He rises to his feet, towering over me, and I drink in his lean frame. Why am I suddenly noticing just how tall he is? And how big his hands are? This is ridiculous—I stay away from him for a few days and he’s turned into a totally different person in my eyes. “I can buy you lunch,” I offer tentatively. “As long as you drive.” He cracks the barest smile. “I definitely don’t want you buying me cafeteria food.” “Then let’s go. Time’s a wastin’,” I say, falling into my old habit of teasing him and acting like everything’s fine when it is so not fine. It’s a mess. We’re a mess, but maybe… Just maybe we can fix this. It works to our benefit that we’re leaving late for lunch. The senior parking lot is mostly empty and I don’t even see Ryan’s car, which is a good thing. I don’t want him to see me with Dustin. More like I don’t want to cause any more fights or problems. I just hope that wherever we go to eat, Ryan’s not there either. As we drive we don’t really talk. Just about lame stuff like how hot it is and the trig

homework looks impossible. I worry it might be too hard for me and he smiles that familiar you’ll-be-fine Dustin smile, reminding me that I’m smart. Then he clamps his lips shut like he didn’t mean to say that. We end up at Pieology, where they make custom pizzas with really thin crust. I love their pizza and so does Dustin because we have distinctly different tastes when it comes to pizza and this way we can choose our own. I get a mostly veggie pizza with chicken and an herb butter sauce mixed with a little bit of red sauce. Dustin grimaces when I make my order and I roll my eyes when he orders the very unoriginal Mad to Meat You pizza. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack,” I tell him as we go over to the fountain and fill our cups with ice. I get Sprite and he gets Dr. Pepper. “And Dr. Pepper is disgusting.” “You’ve been insulting Dr. Pepper for years. Your opinion isn’t going to make me stop drinking it,” he says as he calmly fills his cup with that vile soda. “It’s gross.” I snap the lid on and push a straw through the opening. “And so is your veggie pizza with chicken.” He mock shudders. “Who puts chicken on pizza? It’s just…wrong.” “You’re ridiculous. Everyone loves chicken on their pizza.” The restaurant is packed and we find one very small table tucked into the very farthest corner. We head toward it and sit across from each other, so close our knees brush against each other. I shouldn’t let it bother me. It’s not like he’s touching me sexually. But every time our knees collide I feel a buzz just under my skin, like electricity shooting through me, so light I’d almost miss it. Yet I feel alive. Everywhere. “What did you want to talk about, Liv?” he asks once we’re settled in. “Tell me what happened Friday night,” I say, wanting to get right to the point. We only have so much time and I refuse to get in an argument with him. He drops his head to stare at the table, pinching a napkin between his fingers. “Ryan really didn’t tell you?” I shake my head and say no when I realize he’s not even looking at me. “Such bullshit,” he mutters under his breath. “Well, I got into an argument with Em first.” “With Em?” I remember seeing them outside when we left the party, both of them yelling at each other. He nods as he starts to tear the napkin into shreds. “She was being…weird. Clingy. I think she was trying to make Ryan jealous, kind of rub it into his face about what he was missing.” “I can’t even believe you’re mentioning her right now,” I whisper, my stomach roiling.

Looks like my appetite is fading thanks to Dustin. My emotions are so all over the place when it comes to my supposed best friends. It’s confusing. They confuse me. Especially my feelings for Dustin. “I’m trying to tell you what happened, okay? It’s not easy for me to tell you all this.” His gaze meets mine and I nod, not wanting him to stop talking. He returns his focus to the napkin shredding. “Em ends up getting so pissed at me and everyone else in the house that she leaves.” “With who?” Dustin shrugs. “I don’t know. She texted me that she got a ride. She asked me for one, but I wasn’t ready to go. I thought you were still in the house, so I went looking for you.” My heart cracks. “You did?” “Yeah. Found Ryan instead. He said something stupid. I said something stupid back. We started pushing each other and next thing I know we’re going at it.” “I can’t believe he gave you a black eye.” I also can’t believe Dustin went back into Tuttle’s house looking for me. Why? I almost don’t want to know. “He sucker punched me. One of his stupid bros called my name and got my attention. Your Ryan punched me in the eye when I was distracted.” Dustin stares off into the distance, his jaw rigid. “The pussy.” “Dustin.” I rest my hand over his, ending the shredding. “You should’ve never got into a fight with him.” “You don’t understand.” Dustin pulls his hand from underneath mine. “I couldn’t let him get away with what he said about you.” Unease settles over me like a dark, foreboding cloud. “What did he say?” Dustin shakes his head. “I can’t tell you.” “Come on. Please?” “I shouldn’t.” His voice is firm. “But you deserve to know.” He hesitates for the quickest second. “He was joking, saying he would take bets on how fast he could get into your pants.” “Take bets?” How disgusting. “Are you serious?” “He’s a jerk, Livvy. That asshole doesn’t deserve you.” “He doesn’t have me,” I murmur. Dustin’s head jerks up his eyes wide and I try to smile but fail. Maybe smiling isn’t the right thing to do at this moment. I’m pissed that Ryan would say such a thing. What a pig. “We’re not together.” “You were with him at the party.”

“I didn’t come with him. I went with Amanda Winters.” Dustin leans back in his seat. “I didn’t know you were friends with Amanda.” “We’ve been hanging out.” Now it’s my turn to shrug. “But you went out with Ryan Saturday night.” I frown. “How do you know that?” Our pizzas are delivered to our table and the server guy is over-the-top attentive, asking us if we need anything else and wanting to make sure our pizzas were properly cooked to order. I practically want to throw a napkin at him to get him to leave, and finally whatever Dustin says works because the guy is gone and now it’s just the two of us once more. Alone. “Em told me she saw you two together. Well, that she saw Ryan drop you off at your house,” Dustin says before taking a giant bite of his pizza. I watch him eat, picking a piece of chicken off my pizza and popping it into my mouth. “We just hung out Saturday. It wasn’t anything major.” “But you like him.” I duck my head, my cheeks hot. “I shouldn’t.” “No, you really shouldn’t,” Dustin agrees a little too passionately. “Why does everyone hate him?” I lift my head, hoping I’ll get a straight answer. An honest one. “He’s a douche. I think you know it too. You’re just attracted to him or whatever.” Dustin’s cheeks turn ruddy, making me realize this conversation is just as awkward and weird for him as it is for me. Despite our being friends for years, he likes me. We’ve been intimate together. And now here we are at a crossroads, with neither of us knowing which way to go next. “So you’re seeing Em now.” When he sends me a questioning look, I continue. “She told me she was at your house.” “You talked to her?” He sounds shocked, but I guess I shouldn’t blame him. “She didn’t give me much choice. You know Em.” We share a secret smile because boy, do we both know Em. Though he knows her a little more intimately now… Ugh. My wayward thoughts make me crazy. “Nothing happened between us. I was still really pissed off about Friday’s fight and she was just trying to make me feel better,” he says, his voice calm and reassuring in that typical Dustin way of his. Yet his words don’t calm or reassure me. They make me anxious. It feels like Em has taken my place. I normally would’ve been the one who went to Dustin’s house to make sure he was all right. Now she was doing it. She was being his safe place and I’m the one he got into fights over.

I’m selfish for feeling this way. For thinking this way. I miss Dustin. I want to keep our friendship. Maybe deep down inside I like that he’s always there for me, that he has a crush on me and that I’m so comfortable with him. That I know if I wanted to, I could tell him I want to be with him and he’d agree. But then I remember he’s been with Em and I can’t believe she broke Girl Code so easily and that he sort of cheated on me with her. Or she sort of cheated on me with him. God, see? It makes no sense. My positive thoughts and silly hopes all go to shit as reality smacks me right in the face. I finally nibble on a piece of pizza, full of regret over my appetite leaving me. I watch as Dustin basically inhales his pizza in a matter of minutes and starts staring longingly at mine. “I thought you hated veggies and chicken on pizza,” I tease him as I pluck another piece of chicken off my pizza and eat it. “Normally I do, but I’m starving. You gonna eat it?” I shake my head and he slides my plate on top of his, digging in. “If I ate as much as you, I’d be as big as a house.” “You would not,” he says between mouthfuls. “Would too. You’re a human vacuum.” We’ve fallen into our natural habits and it feels so right. Talking with him, watching him—despite the black eye, it all seems so normal. “Livvy.” He shoves the plates out of his way and reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. “I’m sorry for what happened between Em and I. I don’t expect your forgiveness or expect you to say that everything’s okay, because you shouldn’t say that. And if you’re not over what I did, I totally get that too. Just know I feel bad. I never meant to hurt you. It was all a…terrible mistake.” Sounds familiar. I called us a mistake. And at the time we felt like one. I didn’t want to tie myself down to just one guy. More like I didn’t want to tie myself down to Dustin, and I know that’s what he wants. He thinks I’m it for him. He’d never say that out loud and holy shit, I sound like a total egotistical asshole, but it’s true. Dustin has our lives planned out. And I want to try to take a different road. I still want to. That hasn’t changed. “Does Em feel the same way?” I pull my hands out from under his but keep them on the table, and he does the same. He hesitates and I take a sip of my soda, hating how my anxiousness feels like it’s eating me alive. “I don’t know how she feels.” “Do you like her?” Oh God, I can’t believe I just asked him that. “Not like I like you,” he murmurs, stretching out his index finger to gently rub it across mine. I feel that tiny touch like he stroked my entire body.

I’m sitting on the bleachers after school, a cool breeze washing over me and sending my hair flying across my face. I push it out of my eyes, my gaze zeroing in on Ryan out on the field. Their coach is yelling at the top of his lungs, blowing his whistle what feels like every two seconds, and his barking voice is giving me a headache. But I’m not going anywhere. I need to talk to Ryan and it’s like he knows. He knows he’s done wrong and he’s avoiding me like I’m an ultra-contagious sexually transmitted disease. The boy is going to have to face me sometime. I need to ask him if he really made a bet he could get into my panties. Boys are so awful. The varsity cheerleading team is on the sidelines, running through their routine and shouting constant positive reinforcement statements at each other like, “You’ve got this!” and “Don’t give up now!” They’re working on their stunts as their sassy and perfect ponytails bounce in the wind, and honestly? They’re fascinating to watch. All kicking tanned legs and precise head movements, their arms sharp as they swing through the air. They are the complete opposite of the football team—which looks like a scrambling mess —and I can’t help but find it amusing. Even the band is out on the opposite end of the field, running through drills and formations, the tuba players colliding with each other every single time, making the band teacher lose his shit as he yells himself hoarse. Everything that’s happening now is so straight out of a teen movie it’s not even funny, and I sit there on the cold metal bench, a secret smile curling my lips despite my irritation with Ryan. “What are you doing here?” I look down to see Amanda waving at me as she runs up the steps, her pounding feet loud on the old bleacher steps. I’m the only one sitting this high and she scoots in right next to me, flashing a giant smile in my direction as she blows out a long breath. “I’m waiting for Ryan to finish practice,” I tell her as she runs both hands through her long hair, tugging out the tangles. “What are you doing here?” “I was missing being in band so I thought I’d come out and watch them,” she says, though her gaze is fixed on the football players. Specifically Tuttle. “Uh huh.” I nudge her with my shoulder. “More like you’re spying on Tuttle. What did

you two talk about after I left you this morning?” “Nothing.” Her cheeks turn the faintest pink and I know she’s full of crap. “He just flirted with me like he always does and then I went to class.” “You like him.” She shakes her head, her gaze meeting mine. “No, I don’t. He’s awful. He screws anything that moves. And if he’s not having sex with a girl, he’s asking for a blowjob or a hand job or God knows what.” “Then why does he seem so interested in you?” I wasn’t saying it to be mean, but seriously. Why did Tuttle seem so into Amanda? “I don’t know.” Amanda’s gaze returns to the field, to the football players, to Tuttle. “I think he just likes to give me a hard time. That’s all.” There’s more to it than that, but if she’s not ready to admit anything, then I’m not going to pry. She’ll open up to me eventually. Hopefully. “What are you going to talk to Ryan about? The fight?” she asks. I nod. “I went to lunch with Dustin.” “You did?” She sounds shocked. “What did he say?” I fill her in on what happened, what Dustin said. She listens quietly, her expression equal parts sympathetic and indignant on my behalf. I love that I can talk to her and she seems truly interested, when Em would always get distracted or even out and out tell me she was bored. “Why do you think Ryan kept it from you?” she asks once I’m finished. “Probably because he knew how pissed I’d be when I found out.” “He seems like the type who wants to cause trouble though, you know?” She makes a little face. “From everything you’ve told me and what I’ve witnessed, he doesn’t act like he’d care if you knew or not. Actually, I think he’d want you to find out.” My gaze goes to Ryan just as he tears his helmet off in obvious anger and it goes flying across the grass. His hair is a mess and he’s covered in sweat, his scowl noticeable even from the nosebleed seats. He lifts the hem of his practice jersey to wipe at his face and I catch a flash of his perfect abs. I squeeze my thighs together to ease the sudden ache there. I’m so mad at him yet he’s so freaking hot. “He sends me mixed messages,” I tell her, my gaze still fixed on Ryan as he grabs a water bottle and chugs it. “One minute he acts totally into me and the next he’s avoiding me. He’s…weird.” “Hmm.” She presses her lips together like she’s repressing what she really wants to say. “What do you mean, hmm?” I turn to look her.

“I don’t know. When guys act like that they’re usually hiding something. Like my ex Thad. He would play that game with me and it turned out he was trying to hide the fact that he was messing around with my best friend.” The bitterness in her tone is obvious. “Not every guy cheats, Amanda,” I remind her gently. “Yeah, but a lot of them do. And I don’t want to be mean, but I wouldn’t put it past Ryan to cheat, not that you two are even really together. Didn’t he say that to you?” Yeah. He did. “Look at him. He’s gorgeous and rich and already part of the popular crowd, and he’s only been at school for a week. He’s going to surpass Tuttle soon for the most popular senior boy,” Amanda continues. “I don’t think Tuttle likes him,” I say. “I know Jordan doesn’t like him.” When I look at her, her cheeks are rosy. “What? He told me.” “When?” “Just watch out for Ryan,” Amanda says, like she knows what she’s talking about. “He’s probably up to no good.” She’s most likely right, but she’s talking with all the authority of a girl who’s in with the popular crowd and she’s not. She’s just Amanda Winters, former band geek, current smart girl and possible crush object of one Jordan Tuttle. Hmm. Maybe I should give Amanda more credit. We stay pretty quiet through the rest of practice. The cheerleaders leave first, and then the band clears the field. But the football coaches won’t let up. They’re relentless in demanding the boys run through a play again. And again. And again. Never once does Tuttle make a mistake. The guy launches the ball like it’s a missile, spiraling through the air, his aim true. It’s everyone else who needs work. They all look like they scramble on the field, running into each other, fumbling the ball. I knew our team wasn’t the best, but I didn’t realize they were that bad. Finally, when the boys are dragging and look ready to collapse, the head coach calls practice to an end. “Did you see how good Tuttle played?” Amanda asks me as we rush down the steps toward the field. “Yeah. I stayed quiet so I wouldn’t disturb your moment.” And Amanda was totally having a moment. She watched Tuttle move across that field in awe. You could hear his deep, rough voice calling the plays, and she leaned forward every time, like she wanted to savor the sound. “Shut up,” she says good-naturedly over her shoulder. We land on the ground and she starts to go in the opposite direction. “Hope your talk with Ryan works out.”

“Wait a minute.” I snag hold of her wrist, stopping her, though I keep my gaze focused on the field. The players haven’t gone back into the locker room yet and I don’t want to miss my opportunity to get to Ryan before he tries to avoid me again. “You aren’t going with me?” Amanda slowly shakes her head and I let go of her. “I don’t want Tuttle to know I was watching him practice. That’ll just feed his already massive ego.” “He’d probably love knowing you were watching him.” Yeah, it would feed his ego, but it also shows she cares about him playing the game. Girls don’t come to watch Tuttle play football. It’s more about the status he’d bring if he ever allowed any girl to actually be seen with him. Normally, he doesn’t. He’s a lone wolf who runs on hookups and booze and nothing else. “Whatever.” She laughs. “Go chase down Ryan before he makes his escape.” Ugh. That’s exactly what I end up doing, which is stupid. I jog across the field, hating how out of breath I become. I’m not taking P.E. this year since it’s not required and I probably should’ve. I need to get back into shape. Other guys on the team spot me first and they get Ryan’s attention by calling his name and pointing at me. He turns to watch me approach, his hair damp with sweat and his eyes blazing with… Anger? Irritation? I can’t even tell anymore. “What are you doing here?” he asks when I get in hearing distance. “We need—” I stop in front of him and try to catch my breath. “—to talk.” He grimaces. “If this is about me kicking your little friend’s ass, trust me. He had it coming.” My mouth drops open in shock and I hear more than a few snickers come from the other boys. I ignore them and thankfully they all start to walk off the field. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I knew you’d be mad at me.” He shrugs, his expression completely blank. “So what was the point?” “But you also had to know I’d find out…right?” He sighs wearily, the tension seeming to leave his body all at once and making his shoulders sag. “Right. And you’re reacting just like I thought you would.” “How exactly am I reacting?” My voice rises and I sound the slightest bit shrill. Like a jealous, put-out girlfriend. Exactly what Ryan didn’t want to deal with. The rest of the team has left the field and are headed for the locker room, until it’s just Ryan and me. He doesn’t look thrilled to be left with me, and honestly? I’m not too thrilled to be left alone with him either. “Like a bitchy girlfriend. And I haven’t even got you naked yet.” He shakes his head,

muttering, “I don’t know if it’s gonna be worth it either.” Icy cold shock combined with boiling hot rage washes over me and I blink up at him, dumbfounded by his cruelty. “What did you say?” I gasp out. His mouth thins into a firm line. “You heard me.” What an asshole. “Is it true that you made a bet with your friends about having sex with me?” He throws his hands up into the air. “Seriously? No, I didn’t make a bet, Livvy. Who’d you hear that from? Your little puppet, Dustin? Or maybe Em? Like they care about you.” Oh, that is it. I turn on my heel and run off the field, past the bleachers, out toward the parking lot. Until my lungs are burning and I’m halfway home before I finally stop to rest, bending over and resting my hands on my knees as I try to calm my breathing, my racing heart. Everyone keeps warning me about him. Amanda, Dustin, Em. And for some stupid reason I kept thinking I was different. I was special. He’d treat me better. He’d fall for me and we’d become a real couple. Clearly I’m delusional.

I’m going to be totally lame right now and pull the PMS card. That’s why I’ve been acting so insane lately. Why my emotions have been all over the place. On top of the unusual amount of turmoil I’ve suffered through since school started, I was also experiencing a raging case of premenstrual syndrome. It’s been almost two weeks since the infamous football field argument with Ryan, and Aunt Flo’s visit is just about to come to an end. Meaning I am finally feeling back to normal. “I hate being on my period,” I say as I come out of the bathroom stall. The first bell is going to ring in a few minutes, so we need to hurry. Amanda is leaning over the counter, closely examining her face in the horribly dim light of the senior hall girls’ bathroom. Big mistake. I always look like hell in this room. I end up with weird shadows on my face and what looks like giant bluish-black bags under my eyes. “How long does yours usually last?” she asks, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “Four or five days.” I stand at the sink next to her and wash my hands, then grab some paper towels. “How about you?” “Three days. I used to be super irregular until my mom put me on the pill.” She pulls a Fresh tinted lip balm out of her purse and applies it quickly, rubbing her lips together before shoving the balm into her backpack. “You’re on the pill?” I sound shocked. I try to act casual, but it’s no use. I really am shocked. “Yeah, though it’s not like I’m having sex on the regular.” The moment the words fall from her lips in walks Em, along with two other girls, one I recognize but whose name I don’t remember and the other… Brianne Brown. The girl who is trying her best to sink her claws into Dustin and make him hers. Why are the two of them hanging out? “Livvy.” Em’s upper lip curls and her gaze slides to Amanda. “And Livvy’s friend.” Amanda sends her a pointed look. “Amanda.” “Right. Amanda. AKA clarinet fourth chair?” Em laughs and so do her friends. More like Brianne titters and the sound is so annoying I want to shove her head into the toilet and flush about ten times.

Dude. Maybe the PMS is still lingering. I feel a little ragey just looking at Brianne. “More like second chair, but thanks for noticing. Though I’m not in band any longer, so yeah.” The smile Amanda sends her is saccharine sweet and I cover my mouth with my fingers, not wanting Em to notice me holding back my laughter. The one girl locks herself away in a stall while Brianne goes straight to the mirror and starts messing with her hair. She’s always been incredibly vain, so that’s no surprise. What is a surprise is Em’s behavior. Since we encountered each other that one Saturday night almost two weeks ago, we haven’t really talked, or even seen each other at school. This past weekend I ended up staying home and helping Mom with yard work. I got a sunburn, blisters on my hand and an extra seventy five dollars in my pocket that I plan on using for new clothes. But when we last talked, I figured Em and I were cool. Not like we were on bestfriends-till-the-end terms, but we had come to an unspoken truce. Or so I thought. “You haven’t been hanging with Ryan much anymore, huh?” Em smacks her gum as she smirks at me. “Keeping tabs on me?” So annoying that she knows. And now she’s rubbing it in my face. “I don’t have to. Ryan’s been spending all his free time with me.” She blows a bubble and pops it so loud, she startles Brianne at the mirror. She sends us a dirty look before she starts reapplying her lip gloss. I go rigid with anger. Ryan and I have made idle small talk in class but not every day. We’ve texted a few times, nothing serious. A couple of nights ago he sent me a shadowy dick pick on Snapchat that I couldn’t even really see. I even screenshotted that sucker so I could zoom in, then sent it to Amanda so she could examine it, and she agreed. We couldn’t see…dick. Ha ha. “That’s nice,” I say just as Amanda grabs my arm and propels me out of the bathroom. I can hear Em yelling “Bye!” as we walk out, but Amanda doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “Why do you even engage with her, huh?” Amanda asks as she hustles me down the hallway. “I seriously don’t know.” Em knows just how to get to me, too. That’s what you get for breaking up with your best friend. They use all of your weaknesses against you. “Well, stop. Besides, she’s lying.” I come to a halt, making Amanda stop too. The crowd just parts around us as they keep going. “What exactly is she lying about?” “Being with Ryan. I know for a fact he’s been living and breathing football, this last week especially.” She starts walking again and I grab hold of her hand one more time,

causing her to stop again. “Stop doing that.” “Tell me exactly how you know this.” There go Amanda’s cheeks again. Turning a pretty shade of pink. That only means one thing. Tuttle. “I just know, okay? Their practices are intense. They’re not allowed much free time beyond the field. Tomorrow’s game is huge. They want to come at it hard.” Amanda makes a little face. “They’re playing the league champions, so they’re probably going to get their butts kicked.” “I had no idea.” We start walking once more, my thoughts filled with Ryan. Why he was so rude to me that night on the field—yeah, I still haven’t let it go—when he was probably frustrated over the team. They’d played like shit during that practice. I’d been a witness. “I’m not saying that’s an excuse for the way he’s treating you, but the pressure is seriously on,” Amanda explains, smiling and waving at someone we pass. It feels like she knows everyone, though they’re mostly people she knows from band. “So he was distracted.” “They’re all really grumpy.” “And you know this how? You’ve been hanging with the team?” I shoot her a curious glance because seriously. What is Amanda up to? She shrugs, trying for nonchalant, but it’s not working. “I’ve been watching them practice.” “Oh really? Why?” Now I’m trying for innocent and from the shrewd look she sends my way, I know she’s not buying it. Amanda rolls her eyes. “I don’t think I have to answer that.” “Whatever.” I nudge her and she nudges me back, a sly smile on her face as she quickly changes the subject. “Do you want to go to the game with me tomorrow?” “Sure. I should go so I can take some photos for yearbook.” “Perfect! Plus you can be at the game to support Ryan.” “I guess.” I shrug. I’m still hurt by how he treated me. And the bet thing. I still don’t know if that was true or not. Yeah, I know Amanda just gave him a great excuse for his bad behavior, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it. “Come on, Liv. Show Ryan you can be a cool girl who doesn’t have any expectations.” She lifts her brows as we stop in front of her classroom. “He’ll be impressed you showed up for him.” “You really think so?”

“He will! Guys like that sort of thing.” She talks like a girl with plenty of knowledge, but most of the time I think she’s just winging it. “Don’t chase after him, don’t ask him what’s wrong. Just show up, cheer on the team, congratulate him if they win afterward or tell him good game if they lose. The important part is you’re there for him.” “Okay.” I nod, encouraged by her words. She’s right. I should be there for him. “Yeah. Let’s do this.” Amanda’s smile is one of those doozies she’s so good at delivering. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up and we can sit together. Do you know this is the first time I get to sit in the stands like a normal person instead of always being with the band in those hideous, sweaty polyester uniforms?” “Do you miss band?” I ask her just as the warning bell rings. “I definitely don’t miss having to wear polyester,” she calls over her shoulder as she darts into class.

“Oh God.” I cover my eyes with my hands, peeking through my spread fingers so I can still keep track of the madness unfolding out on the field. “I can’t watch.” “Stop.” Amanda pokes her very sharp fingernail in my side and I shift away from her. The girl is forceful when she wants to be. “It’s not that bad.” “They look like they’re murdering each other!” I drop my hands, and hold the camera up to my face, trying to search for Ryan. But I can’t find him in the tangle of players. You can hear the boys grunt and groan and every time it’s our turn to try and score, Tuttle screams all of these numbers and weird terms to the rest of the team. I don’t get it. Amanda’s trying her best to explain everything, but I think I’m driving her insane. “They’re fine. They wear protective gear so they won’t get hurt,” she reassures me. “Huh.” I’ve read stories where players are paralyzed. Where they suffer one concussion after another and are messed up. This game is freaking dangerous. She can’t convince me otherwise. The referee blows his whistle and talks about personal fouls and everyone in the bleachers starts yelling and complaining. Including Amanda. She’s really into this game. Like, super into it. Not me, though. I don’t watch a lot of football. Dad left and took his Sunday ritual with him. Mom hates all televised sports and I guess her feelings rubbed off on me. I’d rather be hanging out on the upper field where everyone else is gossiping and waiting for this game to finish. Instead I’m sitting with Amanda, who’s glued to the hard, metal seat, her expression rapt as she watches our varsity boys scramble like lost puppies out on the field. “What happened? Why’d he say personal foul?” I ask, wincing when she immediately launches into a long, detailed explanation that I don’t really care about because I don’t really get it. I have no idea if they’re doing good or bad or worse. Amanda keeps reassuring me they’re holding their own and they look better than they did two weeks ago, but I don’t know. The minute it’s halftime, I’m dragging Amanda away from the bleachers so we can go buy a soda and maybe some nachos. The line is long at the snack stand and I whine a little at Amanda about having to wait and how starved I am, but she seems distracted. “We’re missing the band performance,” she tells me when I ask her what’s wrong. She

waves a hand toward the lower field and I can hear the band start playing. “So? Aren’t you glad you’re not in band?” “Well, yeah, but it’s weird. I’ve been performing out on that field for the past three years and now I’m not. It feels…strange.” She shakes her head, offering me an apologetic smile. “I should go watch.” “No, you shouldn’t.” I’m being selfish, but I don’t want her to leave me alone. “I should.” She nods, her expression firm. “I’m going to.” My mouth drops open, but then I snap it shut. Maybe she misses band after all. “You should take photos of the band.” Her face brightens. “You really think so? You’d trust me with the camera?” “Totally.” I have faith that Amanda won’t break it. “Do you know how to work a Nikon?” “My mom has one.” She takes the camera I hand over to her and slips the strap around her neck. “Wow, thanks. This will be fun.” I’m glad she’s excited about it. “You want me to get you something at the snack bar?” “No, I’m good. Thanks, Livvy! I’ll take good pictures, I promise!” She takes off before I can say another word. I stand in line alone, hoping I don’t run into anyone I don’t want to talk to. I smile and wave at a girl from my English class before I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and check it for…anything. Maybe a quick text from Ryan? I’d sent him one right before the game, wishing him good luck tonight, but he didn’t respond. Wishful thinking. He still hasn’t responded. And there’s nothing really happening on Snapchat either. I briefly scroll through Instagram as the line inches forward, distracted by the two girls behind me who keep droning on and on over how hot all the players are on our football team. “I mean, Tuttle is freaking gorg, but he won’t even look our way,” one girl says. “He doesn’t do freshmen. He’s turning eighteen soon and he has a strict no freshmen rule,” the other girl says with all the authority of a stupid freshman. I almost start laughing but restrain myself. “What about the new boy? He’s hot.” “Which one?” “Ryan Bennett.” If my ears could perk up, they so would. When the line shifts forward I take a tiny step, keeping myself close to the gossiping girls. “He’s totally hot. Flirts a lot too.” I frown. How would she know that? “Would that make him a fuckboy? Those types are the worst.” Both girls giggle and

I’m tempted to turn around and ask them what they know about fuckboys, but I restrain myself. “Hey, if he wanted to be my fuckboy, I’d take him on,” the other one says between giggles. “Is there a dance tonight?” “Yeah, but do you really think the football team will come to the dance?” Ha, no. They’re notorious for bailing on school activities unless they’re forced to attend them. They’re always at the homecoming dance only because so many of them are nominated and their head coach forces them all to go. “Maybe! Wouldn’t it be amazing if they showed? Oh my gosh, maybe we could talk to one of them!” They sound so excited, so young and naïve and hopeful, I have to cover my mouth with my hand so I don’t burst out laughing and say something rude like “keep dreaming.” “What’s so funny?” I turn to find Em standing before me, her brows raised, her ruby red lips formed into a contemplative pout. I smile at her automatically, immediately hating how I fall back into old habits every time she comes around. “Nothing.” I tilt my head toward the girls behind me. “What are you up to?” “Not much. Wishing I could get out of here, but I’m with Brianne so…” Em makes a face. “She likes these sorts of things.” “You hate these sorts of things.” Em smiles slowly. “I know. Yet here I am.” I say nothing. There are a thousand questions running through my mind, but I don’t know where to start and besides, I don’t think she’d answer seventy-five percent of them. It’s hard to remember I’m mad at her when she’s been such a big part of my life for the last six years. “Who did you come to the game with?” Em asks when I don’t say anything. “Amanda Winters.” She wrinkles her nose. “Since when did you start hanging out with Amanda Winters?” “Since when did you start hanging with Brianne Brown?” I throw back, my tone snotty. “Since we basically broke up.” The line shifts forward and I realize I’m the next one up. “Give me a break. We were never together.” “You’re my best friend, Liv.” Em steps closer, sinking her teeth into her blood-red bottom lip. “I’ve missed you so much. Brianne isn’t as much fun as you.” I’m not going to say Amanda isn’t as much fun as Em because that isn’t necessarily true. Amanda is a different kind of fun. She’s smart and funny and we have a good time together.

Frowning, I sneak a look at Em to find her already watching me. She looks so different. Her gaze is hazy, like she smoked a little something before coming to the game. Her eyeliner is thick and smudged and that lipstick she’s wearing makes her mouth look huge. “Have you seen Dustin?” I dare to ask her. “No,” she says flatly. Huh. I go up to the tiny window of the snack stand and Em goes with me. I order nachos and a Coke, then look at Em. “Want something?” She shakes her head and pulls a cigarette out of the pocket of her tiny denim shorts. The booster parent helping me thrusts her arm out the window, waving her finger at Em. “No smoking on school property!” the woman yells. Em laughs. “I’m not smoking it. See? It’s not lit.” The woman glares and I glare back, irritated. “My nachos?” I remind her. She pushes away from the counter with a withering stare and goes to make my nachos and get my Coke. Em cracks up, the cig still dangling from her mouth as she laughs. “Who got her panties all twisted in a bunch?” “Who knows?” This moment right now feels like old times. Em and I, when we’re together, we’re not always the best influence on each other. I know this. So does Em. We don’t outright get into trouble, but we push each other beyond our limits. Meaning usually Em pushes me and I restrain her. I never really noticed our push-and-pull relationship until I stopped hanging around her and started spending time with Amanda. It feels good, to have that rebellious little push back again. I’m thinking Em feels the same way. Once I pay for my food and drink I go sit at a nearby bench and Em joins me, exchanging her phone for her cigarette. She sends a text to someone before smiling at me. “Give me a nacho.” I hand her an extra cheesy one, her favorite. She bites into it, murmuring a little as she chews. “God, it’s so good. Hanging out with Brianne and Naya is exhausting. They’re always on diets. They force me to watch what I eat and they keep food journals. When I told them I don’t count calories they about died.” “That sounds awful,” I say before I take a big slurp of Coke. “Right?” Em reaches out and snags her own chip coated with processed cheese. “The only reason Brianne wants to hang out with me is because I’m friends with Dustin.” “Do you really believe that?” Em nods, licking a glob of cheese from the corner of her mouth. “Totally. She’s hoping I’ll put in the good word with Dustin.” “You two are still hanging out?” Ugh, it hurts just saying it. Dustin tells me he wants to avoid her. Em acts like they’ve never stopped seeing each other. I don’t know who to believe.

“Sort of? I don’t know. You should’ve seen the disappointment on her face when I told her we haven’t hung out much lately. Now Brianne is stuck with me.” She grins and snags the cup out of my hand. “She’s so hot for him it’s pitiful.” I tell myself not to feel jealous, but it’s no use. I’m half tempted to go find Brianne and pull all that perfect blonde hair out of her head. I hate how she chases after him. “Is he hot for her?” “He’s not talking to me, so how would I know?” Em shakes her head. “You sound like Brianne. She’s constantly asking me to go and make nice with him, but he’s iced me out.” Is it wrong that I’m glad he’s not talking to Em? Probably. “We don’t talk much either anymore, Dustin and I.” “We’ve all fallen apart and I hate it. All because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself over the summer.” Em shakes her head ruefully, not even noticing how my hands start to shake. Seriously, she would bring that back up. It’s like she enjoys rubbing my face in her and Dustin’s hookups. Like she doesn’t even care how she’s making me feel. “It wasn’t even that good.” “Em.” I sound like I can barely hold it together, which is fairly accurate. This is the last thing I want to hear. “What?” Her wide eyes meet mine and she looks like innocence personified—which I happen to know is a bunch of crap. “It wasn’t! He’s not really…skilled, you know what I mean? Yes, he has nice hands and he’s a decent kisser, but he finishes too fast for my liking.” I can’t take it anymore. I stand and pitch the nachos into the garbage can before I take a huge drink of my Coke. I need the rush of caffeine and sugar to fortify me. Fire me up. Or maybe if I keep my lips on the straw long enough, the urge to verbally tear her apart will pass. “Hey, you threw away perfectly good nachos,” Em whines. My plans to remain quiet are shattered. “Grab them out of the garbage can and finish them off then. You should be used to that, right? Considering you’re nothing but trash?” I walk away before she can say anything, before I can see her reaction. I know it’ll either be fake hurt or a smug gleam in her eye because she knows she got to me. Em knows just how to get to me. She always has. “What the hell, Liv!” she shouts after me, but I don’t turn around. I keep walking. I can hear her come up behind me, but she doesn’t try to stop me. I don’t want to cause a scene yet I know she’d have no problem telling me how she felt. Em has never been one to shy away from a confrontation. “You think what you’re doing is so much better? It’s like you’re going after Ryan on purpose.” Oh, Em sounds furious. Like I care. “We’ve all warned you about him, Liv. He’s using you, you know. He’ll bang you, tell everyone about it, maybe even take a photo or twenty and send them to all his friends. Once that happens, trust me, you’re really good and screwed. And he won’t give a shit either. He’ll already have moved on to the next

girl.” I whirl around to face her, my anger fueling me. Now I really don’t care if anyone’s paying us any attention. I almost want to put on a show. “Is that what he did to you?” Em lifts her chin and I see that flash of vulnerability shadow her gaze. “Like you care.” “Did he?” She drops her gaze and looks down, staring at her black low-top Converse. “It doesn’t matter what he did. You’re the one who’s chasing after him when you know the two of us hooked up. You look desperate.” I glare at her, all of my angry, rude responses evaporating. I take a deep breath and turn and walk away from Em, telling myself I’m doing what’s best. Fighting with her will get me nowhere. Making a scene will only end up embarrassing me. I’ve had enough embarrassment. Whoever heard her call me desperate will spread that around, I’m sure. I’ll become a total joke, all because I—what? Became interested in the boy she had a summer fling with? They weren’t involved, not really. It doesn’t matter. Somehow she’s the hurt one and I’m the bad guy. At least, that’s how she made me feel. And I hate it.

“We need to tell them they played a good game,” Amanda says as we walk toward the locker rooms. Night has completely fallen and most everyone has left the field and stands, though lots of girls are also headed toward the locker rooms. I feel lame doing this, but Amanda insists this is proper “we’re just friends” behavior and it’ll make Ryan feel good. “What if he thinks I’m being clingy?” I discreetly glance over my shoulder to make sure Em isn’t in the crowd, and thankfully I don’t spot her. “He won’t. You’re going to tell him he was great on the field with sincerity in your voice and then we’re out,” Amanda says firmly. “You walk away, leaving him wanting more.” “You really think that works?” I send her a doubtful look. “Have you tried it?” “I read lots of Cosmo articles,” Amanda says with a firm nod. “Playing hard to get works. When you’re beyond available, they don’t care. If they have to chase after you, they want you even more.” “That sounds ridiculous,” I mutter, knocking into her gently with my shoulder. She laughs. “I know, but if Cosmo says it works, then it works.” “Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “Do you think Selena just gave it up immediately to the Biebs? Do you think Gigi Hadid threw herself at Zayn? That would be a no on both counts.” “Now you’re busting out celebrity relationships? Please.” I laugh. “Biebs and Selena are over. And Gigi and Zayn probably are too.” “It doesn’t matter.” She waves a dismissive hand. “What I’m saying is boys want the chase. They want to feel like they hunted and conquered.” “That is so sexist.” “It’s natural,” Amanda corrects as she starts to slow down. I follow her lead. “Watch and see.” A crowd has formed at the entrance of the locker room and the head coach is already standing guard, glowering at all of us adoring female fans who anxiously await the team to emerge. Amanda pushes her way to the front of the crowd and I follow after her, earning more than a few dirty looks. “Not you too, Winters,” Coach Halsey groans when he spots her. She just grins at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You quit the band and turn into a groupie instead?” He shakes his head, the disappointment on his face clear. “Unbelievable.” Coach Halsey is in his late thirties and took over the failing team two years ago. He’s slowly turned them around one season at a time, and this year everyone has high hopes. They might’ve lost this game, but they proved a challenge to the opposing team, with the final score ending up 21-17. The head coach is also pretty decent-looking for an old man, and more than a few of the girls at school have a massive crush on him. He’s supposedly happily married, but I’ve heard a few rumors of inappropriate behavior with students. Not that I can confirm or deny them, but yeah. They float around, especially during the off-season when Coach Halsey is bored and only teaching P.E. “I’m not a groupie. I wanted to tell my friends on the team they did a good job tonight,” Amanda says. “Plus, we’re here on behalf of the yearbook.” “Oh yeah? And who are these player friends of yours?” Coach Halsey crosses his bulky arms in front of his wide chest. His voice is teasing, but he also looks concerned, and it makes me wonder… How the hell does Amanda know the head football coach? “Um. Tuttle and Ryan.” Amanda’s cheeks go bright red and I feel sorry for her. I thought I got embarrassed easily. This girl goes down in flames any time she thinks about, alludes to or mentions Tuttle’s name. It’s the craziest thing, especially since she rarely talks about him. I’ve become comfortable enough to tell her all about my raging crush on Ryan, which is still raging despite my frustration with him. I told her about Dustin. I told her about my, ahem, encounters with Dustin, and Em’s confession, and how my best friends completely failed me. Amanda’s a very understanding person. But she’s also very private. Too private. “You would become ‘friends’ with those two.” Coach Halsey even adds the air quotes. His gaze skitters over to me and he narrows his eyes. “Who’s this?” “Olivia Hudson.” Amanda smiles. “She’s on the yearbook staff and she was taking photos of tonight’s game.” “They played really great tonight,” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic. But the look Coach Halsey shoots my way tells me he’s not buying it. “Uh huh,” he says skeptically. “You two stay out of trouble, okay?” He winks and then walks away before we can answer him. “How do you know the coach?” Amanda sighs and looks over at me. “Years ago, he was the football coach at our middle school and my older brother played for him.” Oh, right. How could I forget Jeep Winters? Well, his real name is George, but everyone for some strange reason calls him Jeep. I don’t get it, but whatever. “How much older is he than you?”

“Five years. He graduated college this last December and he’s traveling all over Europe right now.” She sighs. “Lucky dick.” I burst out laughing because Amanda rarely uses words like dick. She curses, but not like Em and I do. “You don’t get along with your brother?” “He’s the greatest brother ever if you want me to be honest, which I also find super annoying. The guy can do no wrong,” she says irritably. “It’s enough to give a girl a complex.” “I’m sure.” I have no idea what she’s talking about. I consider myself an only child. Yeah, I have the younger brother and sister Dad has with Christine, but they don’t really count in my eyes. I have to live with them six weeks out of the year, big deal. “And why does everyone call him Jeep anyway?” “That’s my fault. I couldn’t say George when I was a baby, so for some weird reason I called him Jeep. Then it stuck. No one calls him George at home, though I think he ditched the nickname in college,” Amanda explains. “So you like football because of your brother.” “And my dad. And because I’ve been to pretty much every football game played by our school since my freshman year. It’s just a part of my life. I love football.” She shrugs, then her eyes light up and she nudges me in the side with her elbow. “They’re coming out.” Nerves flare in my stomach and I watch the locker room entrance. A few boys exit the doorway first, guys I don’t recognize but smile at anyway. Some of the girls shout their names and I watch in stunned disbelief as they run up to the boys like they’re going to ask for their autographs. “I don’t even know who they are,” Amanda leans in and whispers, making me smile. One by one the guys file out, and still no Ryan or Tuttle. The longer it takes, the more anxious I get. I sense Amanda is the same way. She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, her hands wringing together, and she stares so intently at that open doorway I half expect the building might start to crumble from the force of her glare. I’m being completely dramatic, but come on. She’s acting kind of intense. Finally, finally they emerge from the depths of the locker room, Tuttle and Ryan walking side by side, their hair damp from taking a shower and both of them looking painfully gorgeous. I can admit Tuttle is very attractive, but he’s not the one I have my eyes on. No, it’s Ryan who I can’t stop staring at. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that stretches across his shoulders and chest in the most enticing way, and khaki shorts that look preppy yet somehow work on him. His white baseball cap is on backwards and my knees go weak at how cute he looks. He spots me almost immediately and his eyes light up as he approaches, Tuttle coming along with him. “Livvy.” Ryan smiles, his green eyes sparkling. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” “Glad to see the presidents of our fan club made it,” Tuttle adds, his gaze glued on

Amanda. “Please,” Amanda says, sounding exasperated. “We just wanted to congratulate you both on a good game. Right, Liv?” Oh. I’m supposed to talk. I blink, trying my best to get Ryan’s perfect face and adorable smile out of my head. “Um, yeah. Right. You guys played great.” Ryan turns bashful, making a cute little face. “But we didn’t win.” “You came so close, though. You guys played an amazing game. I thought at one point you were going to tie it up,” Amanda says. “Our kicker isn’t the best,” Tuttle admits. “He’s getting better, though.” “You don’t have a second string you can trust?” Amanda asks. I watch her, amazed that she sounds so sincere. And that’s because she is sincere. She’s interested too. Tuttle looks like he’s about to sport wood, he’s so thrilled she’s talking football. “You don’t watch much football, do you?” Ryan says, his voice low. Like he’s speaking only to me. I shrug, a little embarrassed. “I don’t really understand it like Amanda does. I’m just here to take photos.” I point at the camera still around my neck. “I can teach you whatever you want to know,” he murmurs, his gaze never leaving mine. Mmm, I’ve missed his flirtatious tone, his innuendo-laced words. “I’m sure you could,” I tease. “Well, we just wanted to tell you both you played a good game,” Amanda says loudly, her hand going to my wrist and giving me a gentle tug. I step back with her, hating that she’s pulling me away from Ryan. I know I’m supposed to let him chase me, but I’ve never liked playing games. Not that I’ve played many games like this with boys. I have no idea what I’m doing. Not too sure if Amanda really knows either. “You two should come to my house,” Tuttle offers in that almost maddening unemotional tone he likes to use. Like nothing ever bothers the guy. “What for?” Amanda asks. Tuttle tilts his head, a mysterious smile curving his lips. “I’m having a little after game party and thought you’d like to go.” I’m about to say yes when Amanda cuts me off with a look. “I don’t know, Tuttle. We’re kind of tired,” she tells him. He raises a brow. “Too tired to party? Come on, Mandy. I know you like to party.” “Yeah, come over,” Ryan adds. “It’s only a few guys from the team and some girls. Nothing big.”

“Very exclusive,” Tuttle adds, like that’s going to sway us. He’s right. He’s totally swaying me. But is it working on Amanda? I turn to her and send the most pleading look I can muster. We must go to this. We must. “Come on,” I whisper to her, but it’s like she’s not even listening to me. Her gaze goes to Tuttle, her expression ultra-serious. “We’ll leave you ladies alone so you can chat,” Tuttle says as he leads Ryan away. “We shouldn’t,” she says the moment they’re out of earshot. “The small parties are even worse than the big ones.” “What do you mean?” “They’re like…” She looks around before lowering her voice. “Sex parties.” I giggle. “Please. We couldn’t get so lucky.” “Are you telling me if Ryan wanted to do it, you’d have sex with him tonight?” Amanda asks, her brows raised. Huh. When she puts it like that… “I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “Right. Because you’re not ready to take it that far yet.” “So? I think you’re overreacting. Even if they are having a sex party tonight, we just won’t have sex.” I feel like I just solved the world’s problems. “It’s not that easy. They can be very…persuasive.” She’s scowling. It’s almost like she’s talking from personal experience. “Then we never leave each other’s side. We’ll protect each other.” I smile brightly. “What do you think?” She studies me, her eyes narrowed. “You promise you won’t leave me?” “Promise,” I say with all the confidence I can muster. “Fine.” She sighs, sounding completely put out. “We’ll go to the party. But we’re leaving by midnight.” “Seriously, Mom? Give me a break.” Amanda laughs. “I don’t want to stay too late. I need my beauty sleep.” “Let me text my mom and tell her I’m spending the night at your house.” I whip out my phone and start texting her. “I thought I was spending the night at your house.” I grin at her. “See, that’s the thing. Your mom will think you’re at my house and mine will think I’m at yours. And we’ll be at Tuttle’s.” Amanda frowns. “I just said I wanted to leave by midnight.” “This way we can just crash there—it’s perfect!”

“It’s perfectly crazy,” she mutters under her breath as the boys approach us once more. “You girls in?” Ryan asks. I nod, unable to contain the smile that spreads across my face. “We are so in.” The arrogant smirk Ryan sends my way promises tonight is definitely going to be interesting.

“This is such a bad idea,” Amanda says as she slowly drives down Tuttle’s long gravel driveway. Even though the moon above is nothing more than a sliver, its light still casts a silvery glow upon the acres of land the Tuttle family owns. There are no cars parked along the driveway or in the fields tonight. As we get closer to the house, I see there are only a few cars parked in the driveway directly in front of the garage. No one is really here. And I’m so freaking excited I’m practically bouncing in my seat. “It’s a great idea,” I reassure her with all the confidence I’m feeling. “You might get alone time with Tuttle.” She sends me a look. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” “You don’t want to be alone with him?” “No.” She takes a deep breath, then lets it out shakily. “He terrifies me.” “Why?” Oh, there is so much more going on here than she’s telling me. “I don’t—I don’t want to talk about it.” She presses her lips together and pulls to the farthest left side of the driveway, out of the way of the other cars. Once she puts the car in park, she shuts off the engine and sits there, the engine ticking as it cools, the sounds of chirping crickets coming from the fields. “I don’t know if I can do this.” “Lots of don’ts in those two sentences,” I tease her. No way am I letting her back out now. We’ve made it this far. Now we’re going all in. “We can do this and we will. Let’s go.” I reach for the door handle, but Amanda doesn’t even move. Unfazed, I climb out of the car and run my fingers through my hair as I go round the front and toward Amanda’s door. I open it, leaning my arm on the top edge of the door as I stare at her and she stares back. “Come on.” “No.” She looks away from me. “Amanda.” I wish she would tell me what’s going on instead of leaving me in the dark. “You’re being ridiculous.” Her shoulders sag and her lips part. It’s a look of such utter defeat that for about five seconds I feel super guilty for putting her through this. But then the guilt disappears and I’m grabbing her hand, practically dragging her out of her car. “We’ll have fun,” I tell her. “I promise.”

Amanda mutters a few choice words under her breath as we walk to the front door, but for the most part she’s agreeable. As in, she’s not running back to the car screaming, so I take that as a good sign. I hit the doorbell and stand up straight, shaking my hair back before I check Amanda to make sure she’s okay. Besides the terrified glimmer shining in her eyes, she looks…great. Despite being a former band geek, she makes everything she wears look effortless. Her outfits are simple yet effective, style-wise. And I pay attention to this stuff. I follow lots of fashion and beauty bloggers on YouTube. Tonight she’s wearing an oversized white T-shirt with a wide neck that keeps slipping off her shoulder and flashing a glimpse of her pale pink bra strap. The most delicate gold chain circles her neck, a tiny pendant hanging from it; I can’t make out what it is. Her cropped jeans fit her long legs to perfection and I have serious envy over her cute black sandals. Ugh. The longer I look at her, the more she makes me feel like a total fail. “Do I look all right?” I ask her. My outfit seems lame next to hers. I’m wearing denim shorts I got at American Eagle on clearance and a soft blue T-shirt with a white moon and stars scattered all over the front. My hair is down and my neck is sort of sweaty, which means my makeup is sort of sweaty too. I swipe a finger beneath each eye to pick up any smudged eyeliner or mascara and turn to face Amanda. “You look great.” Her smile is soft. Nervous. “Do I look okay? Not that I care. I have no one to impress.” Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that. “You look more than okay. I want your shoes.” She laughs. “I’ll let you borrow them sometime.” The door swings open at that exact moment and we both turn to find Tuttle standing there shirtless, wearing only a pair of dark rinse jeans that hang so low on his hips they give us a glimpse of almost everything he has to offer. I can’t stop staring. The boy has muscles for days. I know Amanda is staring too. And Tuttle can’t help but love our reactions. “You girls looked ready to make out before I so rudely interrupted.” He swings the door open wider, smirking. I notice he has a shirt clutched in his hand and I wonder when he’s going to put it on. “Want to come in and put on a show for us?” “You cannot be freaking serious right now,” Amanda practically spits out, her expression enraged. Oh, Tuttle just stepped in it. But he just laughs as he steps forward, tugging on the ends of her hair. His fingers come so close to actually touching her boob she gasps. “You know I’m just teasing.” His voice is low and rather intimate. I almost feel like I’m interrupting their special moment. “Get your pretty ass in here, Mandy. You too, Olivia.” There he goes saying my full name again. Though I don’t bother calling him out on it. I’m too anxious over being let into the inner sanctum. This is a big deal. Huge. Partying with the football players after a Friday night game? Hardly anyone gets to do this. Now,

granted, our boys haven’t played their best during the course of my high school years, but they are still considered gods at school. Even more so than our basketball team, and they’ve won a few regional championships and they almost won state last year. I think it’s their size. All the football players are so big. Intimidating. Handsome. Fine. “Handsome” is a word Mom would use. They’re gorgeous. Hot as hell. You get what I’m saying. “Want something to drink?” Tuttle asks us like the polite host he is. I say yes while Amanda bites out a hostile no, and he sends her a look as he shuts the front door. One that says, chill out, and I really hope she does. The house is so quiet. We walk through the living room as Tuttle leads us to the kitchen and I look around, wondering where everyone is. The last time I came here I couldn’t really see the house considering there were so many people crammed inside. Now I can really take in the beautiful furniture that looks brand-new, the giant paintings hanging on the walls. The hardwood floors gleam, and thick, geometrically designed rugs are scattered throughout the rooms. A huge flat screen TV hangs above the sleek fireplace in the living room, three times as big as the one we have in my family room. His house looks straight out of a design magazine. Perfect. Beautiful. Cold. “Everyone’s outside,” Tuttle tells us as we enter the kitchen. He tugs the T-shirt he’d been holding over his head before he goes straight for the giant stainless steel fridge and pulls out two bottles of beer. “I think they want to swim.” “I didn’t bring a suit,” Amanda says. He sends her a wicked grin. “You don’t need one, pretty girl.” My stomach flutters with nerves. Yeah, I’m not jumping into Tuttle’s pool naked. No way. “We’re not going to skinny dip in your pool, Tuttle,” Amanda snaps, taking the beer from him. Guess she wanted something to drink after all. “That would be stupid.” “No, Mandy, that would be fun. Not that you’re being much fun tonight.” He grabs a beer for himself and starts toward the French doors that lead to the back yard. “Make yourself at home, ladies,” he calls from over his shoulder before he slams the door so hard the glass rattles. “What’s your problem?” I ask her the moment he’s gone. “He’s being nice.” “He’s being a perv,” she mutters. She takes a long swig from her beer then sets it on the counter. “No way are we getting into that pool naked, Liv. Next thing we know, we’re drunk, we don’t know what we’re doing and we’re getting gangbanged by the football team.” I laugh, but it’s not real. And the glare she sends me shuts me up quick. “They wouldn’t do that,” I say, my voice small. “We don’t know that for sure. Group mentality is a crazy thing. I’m not risking it.” She points at me. “And neither are you.”

I stand straighter and salute. “Yes, ma’am.” “This isn’t a joke, Liv! Seriously, you are not leaving my side tonight. We don’t know what might happen.” I know she’s serious. She’s making some valid points, things I don’t want to think about, because come on. Who wants to dwell on the bad stuff? These guys are nice. Funny. We have an opportunity here tonight and I don’t want to waste it. Meaning, I plan on spending time with Ryan—maybe even one-on-one time with Ryan. Though I promised I wouldn’t leave Amanda tonight. And I’ll keep that promise too. But if Tuttle wants some alone time with her and she’s down for it… “Maybe we should leave,” she says, glancing around the gorgeous kitchen nervously. “This house and everyone in it intimidates the hell out of me.” “No. No way.” I grab her arm to keep her from bolting. I swear she looks that freaked out. “We’re not leaving. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise. Let’s just drink our beers for liquid courage and then we’ll go outside. Okay?” “Okay.” She gives a jerky nod. Blows out a harsh breath. “Fine. Okay.” We start chugging our beers in earnest when the back door opens and Ryan enters the kitchen. My heart rate picks up speed and I polish off my beer in record time, smiling at him in what I hope is an enticing way. “Ryan! Hi!” Oh God. I sound way too excited. He heads straight for me, his eyes on me and no one else. “Livvy.” He pulls me into his arms and hugs me way too briefly. It’s just a tease of a touch, a hint of warm skin and soft fabric and his intoxicating scent. I contemplate lunging for him, but that is just way too crazy. “We’re so glad you made it.” “Who else is glad I’m here?” My tone is flirtatious and so is his smile. “Everyone. Come outside. I think we’re going to swim.” He takes my hand and starts to drag me through the still-open door. I glance over my shoulder at Amanda and give her a head tilt, one that hopefully says come on. Luckily enough she follows after us. “Don’t forget Amanda,” I tell him as he leads me outside. “Tuttle’s already staked his claim,” Ryan says, sending me a quick, warm look, one that makes my stomach tumble. “I’m just staking mine too.” Oh. Wow. There is a cluster of beefy-looking boys sitting at the hot tub wearing just swim trunks and dunking their feet in the bubbling water. They all say hi when Ryan demands them to and I wave in response, face-checking each one of them. They’re mostly seniors and I’ve gone to school with a few of them for what feels like forever, yet I’ve rarely talked to them once we started middle school. This is what happens. You cluster off into your groups during the early teen years and it’s so hard to break out of that predetermined clique. Some don’t want to. Most band

peeps are perfectly happy hanging with their fellow band members. They all date each other, hang out together…yet Amanda broke away from them and now she’s with me. And now we’re with the football team. We’re not the only girls here. I see a few cheerleaders all cuddled together on an outdoor couch, and they’re watching us. Assessing us. Probably hating on us. Not that I’m going to let it bother me. “You want to swim?” Ryan asks when he turns to face me. He’s still holding my hand and watching me with the sweetest look in his eyes. Like he’s so incredibly happy that I’m here with him. My heart swells and I know my answer is going to disappoint him. “I didn’t bring a suit.” I frown, hoping he thinks I’m sad, though I’m really not. Amanda’s right. Swimming in our undies with the football team isn’t the brightest idea. His smile never wavers. “I don’t think that will be a problem. No one’s gonna protest if you swim naked, Livvy. I know I definitely won’t.” I let go of his hand and give him a shove, and he stumbles back laughing. “Hate to disappoint you, but I’m not skinny dipping in Tuttle’s fancy pool.” And it is so freaking fancy. It’s a huge rectangle-shaped infinity pool that’s lit up so the water is a vibrant turquoise and it has a sleek waterfall. I remember lots of people fell into the pool at the last party. Once that started happening, clothes went flying and it was a total free-for-all. I didn’t participate in that particular event. I was too drunk and too stressed out last time I was at Tuttle’s. Not tonight, though. Tonight is filled with endless possibilities. I’m not going to let a one of them pass me by, either.

“Tell me…” Ryan pushes a wayward strand of hair away from my face, then tucks it behind my ear, his finger lingering on my skin. “Did you really like watching me play tonight?” I giggle. Only because I’m on my fourth beer and I’m not looking to stop. My entire body feels like it’s buzzing with electricity and I blame the alcohol. Oh, and the boy. Probably has more to do with the boy. He hasn’t left my side the entire night. Not even when the other girls tried to get his attention, and trust me, they tried a lot. Those cheerleaders are a persistent bunch. Yet he ignored them like they didn’t exist. Any time he talked to his friends, he made sure I was with him. Like I’m his girlfriend or something… “I’ve never really liked football,” I admit, glancing around as if I don’t want anyone else to hear my confession. Not that I care. I don’t think Ryan cares either. The way he’s watching me, his green eyes so intense, I don’t think he believes anything I’m saying. Is he even listening to me? “I don’t really understand it. I always get lost when I try to follow a game.” “I could teach you.” He touches the side of my face, his fingers drifting down my cheek so lightly I shiver. “Whatever you want to know, I’m game.” “I’m sure,” I drawl, hoping I sound flirtatious. We’re on the same couch the cheerleaders were on when we first arrived at Tuttle’s. We took over the spot as soon as the girls abandoned it and we’ve been cozily sitting together ever since. Most everyone has left Tuttle’s already. We’ve been here for hours, and while Amanda and I have stuck together most of the night along with Ryan, she up and disappeared on me about thirty minutes ago. I texted her almost immediately, and when she took way too long to answer, I started to panic. Guess the gangbang comment really got to me, as it should’ve. That’s serious business. But then she sent this: I’m okay. Didn’t feel so good. Tuttle put me up in a guest bedroom And I felt better. I also wondered if it was bullshit. I would bet good money she’s letting Tuttle touch her no-no square right about now.

“I’m serious, Livvy.” Ryan’s deep voice fills my head and I lift my gaze to his. I like how he always calls me Livvy. How his green eyes seem to sparkle every time he looks at me. I especially like the warmth of his touch, the way his fingers dance over my skin like he can’t not touch me. That’s sort of hot. And swoony. And romantic. He’s been so attentive tonight. So…perfect. Maybe Amanda was right. He probably was tense and exhausted after the excessive practices they suffered through to get ready for tonight’s game. That’s why he was so horrible to me the last time we talked, why he kept ignoring me the past couple of weeks. They’ve been through a rough time. And now they all seem to be letting off steam tonight. A few of them are pretty drunk. Some are hanging out in the hot tub. No one really went into the pool after all, and I’m guessing they were disappointed that none of us girls—not even the cheerleaders—jumped into the water in just our undies or even, ahem, naked. Yeah. That so didn’t happen. “What do you think?” Ryan asks, his deep voice breaking into my wayward thoughts. “You’ll really give me football lessons?” It’s the last thing I want. But if it’s the only way I can spend extra time with him, I’ll take it. “Whatever you want to know, I’m here for you.” He leans in and nuzzles my cheek with his nose. “I’m an excellent teacher,” he murmurs. I suck in a breath and close my eyes. His mouth moves over my cheek, his breath warm on my skin, and I tilt my head toward his. Slightly calloused fingers slip beneath my chin and lift it so I meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, his full lips part, and it’s like the world just falls away. No more music, no more murmured voices and husky boy laughs. All I can see and feel and focus on is Ryan and his beautiful face, his fingers firm beneath my chin, his mouth poised just above mine. It’s finally happening. I’ve waited for this moment for what feels like forever. I’ve known Ryan for barely a month, but it’s been an exhilarating ride since I first met him at Em’s house. His mouth touches mine. Soft but sure. Warm, full lips. A whisper of breath, a murmur of sound. He lets go of my chin to cup my cheek and my lips part easily beneath his. He takes the kiss deeper in an instant and chills race over my skin when he tugs me closer. When he slips his hand into my hair. When he rests his other hand at my waist, his fingers toying with the hem of my shirt… “Get a room!” Laughter follows and we pull away from each other quickly, my breath coming fast, my head spinning from just one kiss. Or maybe it’s the alcohol too. I don’t know. All I know is that one simple kiss wasn’t enough. I want more. And from the way Ryan’s staring at me, his eyes slightly glazed, his perfect lips damp, I think he’s feeling the same way.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He stands and offers his hand. I take it, his long fingers curling around mine as he pulls me to my feet. We head to the back door, a few of the guys yelling and cheering us on, and I try my hardest not to look in their direction, I’m so embarrassed. Ryan doesn’t seem bothered by any of it. We don’t say a word to each other as we walk through Tuttle’s house. I follow behind him, savoring the feel of my hand in his, curious over where he’s taking me. We pass through the rooms so quickly they’re like a blur and then we’re in a bedroom, Ryan shutting the door before he’s pulling me into his arms. His lips land on mine once more, and the kiss scorches all of my brain cells. His tongue is in my mouth, sliding against mine and I moan. He slips his hands beneath my shirt, his hot fingers burning my skin, and I squirm under his touch, wanting to get closer, wanting to get more of Ryan and his mouth and his hands and his body pressed against mine. “You drunk?” he asks after he breaks the kiss. “Maybe.” I nod, trying to catch my breath, but it’s no use. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t talk. I can only feel, and it all feels so incredibly good I don’t ever want this moment to stop. Ryan laughs and shakes his head, his gaze drifting over my face and settling on my lips. “You’re hot for it, aren’t you?” he whispers. I nod, another giggle escaping me before I clamp my lips shut. He’s right. I’m hot for him. I crave his touch so badly it makes my skin hot. Itchy. I try to touch his face, his shoulders, wherever I can grab him, but his strong arms wrap around me, stopping my attempts. His mouth is on mine as he walks me backwards and I go with him willingly until I’m falling, falling, falling. Onto a feather-soft bed that feels like a cloud when I finally land. Giggling yet again, I rise up on my elbows and contemplate him. Ryan stands at the foot of the bed watching me, his gaze intense. I drink him in greedily, loving how mussed his hair is. How swollen his perfect lips are. I lick my lips in anticipation and his gaze grows darker. What’s he waiting for? I’m definitely not putting up a fight. I’ve been waiting too long for this moment to happen. I’d start stripping right now if I wasn’t afraid I’d make a fool of myself because hello, I am a teeny bit drunk. “You gonna pass out on me, Livvy?” He lifts a brow and I can’t take my eyes off his face. As if he knows this, that dark eyebrow of his goes even higher. He’s so pretty. I shake my head but immediately stop, since the movement makes everything start to spin. “I’m fine,” I reassure him, wondering if I should give him a thumbs up. No, that’s totally cheesy. He licks his lips and heat licks up my thighs. I press them together, wishing he’d just get on with it and kiss me again. Touch me again. Maybe help me take off my clothes so we can get tangled up with each other…

“Livvy.” He whispers my name and then he’s right there, hovering above me, his face in mine. I can feel his breath, his body pressed close to my side. His hand is on my stomach, gently pushing my shirt up so he’s touching bare skin, and I close my eyes, letting the sensation of his slightly rough fingers on my body wash over me. “Your skin is so soft.” I say nothing, too focused on the path his fingers are taking. They circle around my belly button before moving upward, skimming across my stomach, seemingly counting my ribs, exploring every inch of my torso. My T-shirt is pushed up even farther, until his fingers are tracing along my bra, over it, caressing the exposed tops of my breasts, and oh my gosh… He leans in and presses his face against my chest, breathing deep, as if he’s trying to inhale me. My hands automatically go to his head, fingers sinking into his soft, thick hair as I hold him close. His hands and mouth are doing such magical things that I start to ache. Throb. I need more. I want so much more, but I’m scared. I don’t want to take this too far. Not tonight. I barely know Ryan. Yes, his kisses make my toes curl and I’m willing to do a few things, but… Not everything. Ryan lifts his body away from mine and my eyes fly open to find him watching me, his breathing ragged, his eyes glittering with lust. Just looking at him makes me catch my breath, my skin breaking out in goose bumps. When he shrugs out of his shirt I have to bite my lip to keep myself from saying something outrageous. Or moan. Or whimper. Watching the boy I’ve been lusting after for weeks whip his shirt off like no problem is enough to make me weak. He tosses the shirt on the floor before returning his gaze to mine. “Your turn,” he says with a little chin flick. I scoot into a sitting position and tug my shirt off with shaky hands, letting it fall beside me on the bed. I’m tempted to cross my arms over my bra-covered chest—it’s such an automatic reaction—but I don’t. Instead I sit up straight and hope he appreciates what he sees. “Nice,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on my chest. Okay, I guess he does appreciate me, though really this isn’t that big of a deal. “You’ve already seen me like this.” I shrug, remembering the tiny bikini Em made me wear. “You’ve even touched them.” “I know, considering I just did it.” The wicked gleam in his eyes makes me shiver. “No, I mean at Em’s party. Remember that night?” Oh God, if he forgot, that’ll be embarrassing. That should tell me how much I really matter to him. As in, I probably don’t matter that much. “I definitely remember that night.” He shifts closer, his voice low and a little rough. I clench my thighs together in anticipation. “From the first moment I saw you, Livvy, I knew I had to have you.”

I want to believe him. But those first encounters between us, he’d been with Em. Chasing after Em while flirting with me on the side. Now Em is forgotten and he’s got me locked up in a room in Tuttle’s house, our shirts off and our breaths coming fast. Something is going to happen tonight, something big, and I really don’t want to stop it. But once it happens, will he dump me for someone else, like he did to Em? “You’re so hot.” He touches me, his fingers drifting down the length of one bare arm. “And so real. There’s no bullshit with you.” I frown. That almost doesn’t feel like a compliment. From the expression on my face, I think he can sense my uneasiness. “Is that a good thing?” “Definitely. People can be so fake, but not you.” He kisses me before I can protest, before I can even utter a word. His kiss is all-consuming, hot and deep, and I give in easily, forgetting what he said, forgetting my earlier thoughts. I go willingly when he pushes me back, so I’m lying on the bed. He hovers above me, his hands braced on the mattress on either side of my head, his right knee in between my legs. He leans in and presses me into the mattress, his hot, hard body covering mine, and I gasp when he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the length of my neck. I throw my head back and close my eyes, his hot mouth burning my skin, and I clutch at him, another gasp escaping me when he lifts his knee up and pushes it between my thighs. Oh. His knee presses against a particular spot and I shudder. I cant my hips and rub against him and there it goes again. A thousand prickly points of pleasure sweep over my skin and I blink open my eyes to find him watching me. “You like that,” he murmurs, his mouth curved in a dirty smile. I nod, my lips parting, but he steals a kiss before I can say anything. His tongue thrusts into my mouth in time with his knee and I’m grinding down on him, essentially dry humping his leg, but ohmigod, I really don’t care. It feels too good to stop. Ryan murmurs dark words of encouragement and I’m so caught up I can’t think. Can’t worry if he’s dirty talking me, can’t focus on the fact that I’m shamelessly riding his knee. I’m close. I don’t want to stop. I don’t ever, ever want to sto— The door crashes open and Ryan springs away from me, leaping off the bed so fast I can’t believe it actually happened. My heart nearly trips over itself as I scramble off the bed and then immediately duck behind it to hide, barely peeking over the edge to see who interrupted us. Stupid Cannon stands in the doorway, a very tiny, very cute girl with long brown hair spilling over one shoulder standing next to him. I don’t recognize her at all. My brain is so fuzzy with lust and confusion that I wonder what happened to the blonde from Sonic, which is stupid. Why am I thinking about that girl? Looks like Cannon’s over her, though I shouldn’t be surprised. He doesn’t usually stick with just one girl. None of them do.

“Get the fuck out,” Ryan says, his voice rough with anger. Cannon grins, not bothered by Ryan’s tone at all. “Dumbass. Don’t you know you’re supposed to lock the door?” “I thought I did, asshole.” Ryan grabs a pillow and tosses it at Cannon. It glances off the side of his head, making him scowl. “Now leave.” “Aw, come on. Aren’t you two done in here? My girl’s not down to put on a public show.” Cannon wraps his beefy arm around the tiny girl’s neck, giving her a squeeze before he sloppily kisses her cheek. She giggles and tries to bat his arm away, but it’s pointless. He clearly overpowers her. “We’re a little busy.” Ryan is so irritated it’s obvious. Yet Cannon doesn’t care at all. He’s too intent on finding his own place to hook up. “Looks like you’re pretty much done with this one.” Cannon cackles evilly, his gaze going to me. I peer over the edge of the bed, my cheeks going hot at his words. With this one. Well, that’s sort of crude. “I’m not,” Ryan snaps. “Now get the hell out of here.” “Jeez. Whatever man,” Cannon mumbles as he steers himself and the girl out of the room, pulling the door shut behind them. “Shit,” Ryan says the moment they’re gone. He lands on the mattress, his weight making it rock, and leans over the side of the bed to study me. I feel exposed in just my bra and jeans so I pull my knees up to my chest and stare back at him, unsure of what to say. I’m also feeling really, really stupid. That entire moment was humiliating as crap. “You okay?” he asks gently. I nod. Look down at the floor. Anywhere but at him. I’m too embarrassed. Sobriety has hit me hard and my buzz abandoned me the moment the door slammed open. “I should go find Amanda,” I murmur. He blows out a ragged breath. “Good luck. I think she’s with Tuttle.” Of course she is. She’s off having some wild and mysterious affair with the most wild and mysterious boy at school, yet here I am freaking out over a minor interruption by an idiot football player. But that interruption stopped us from taking it any further. And it ruined my mood. I’m not interested anymore. Not at all. “I need to find her.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and start texting her, ignoring how Ryan’s stomping around the room, picking his T-shirt up off the floor and shoving it back on. He tosses my shirt toward me and it lands on my shoulder, startling me. I look up, surprised at the babyish way he’s acting, how he won’t even look in my direction. Irritation zips through my veins as I tug my shirt back on. It’s not my fault we were

interrupted. He was the one who was supposed to lock the door. I finish typing my text then hit send. Where are you? I want to go home. “So.” Ryan’s voice causes me to glance up and I find him standing directly in front of me, imposingly tall considering I’m still sitting on the floor. “Cannon ruined everything, huh?” It’s easier to blame it on Cannon. I might’ve frozen up eventually. I definitely wouldn’t have let Ryan take it any further than messing around. “Yeah, definitely.” I offer him a tiny smile. I feel bad, but seriously. I can’t get back into it. That’s just…how I am. Even with Dustin. Every time we messed around, even when we only kissed, I’d get a serious case of the guilts the minute we were done and I’d end up full of regret. I don’t know what it is about having to deal with boys during the aftermath, but I don’t handle it very well. Probably means I have a serious hang up and possibly even daddy issues, but I don’t feel like psycho-analyzing myself at the moment. “It was fun while it lasted, right?” He offers me a hand and I take it, letting him haul me to my feet. He tugs me closer, planting a soft, sweet kiss on my lips and the guilt slowly evaporates. He doesn’t seem mad. I didn’t have to turn him down so that makes the entire situation while embarrassing, also easier. I feel like all is right in my world. My phone buzzes and I glance down to see Amanda’s response. Me too. Meet me in the living room in five minutes. Relief fills me and I smile up at Ryan, whose brows lower in confusion. But I don’t explain myself. I just send a quick reply to Amanda before I slip out of his arms and stuff my phone back into my pocket. It’s nice having a friend I can count on.

The minute I walk in the door Saturday afternoon, I can tell Mom is pissed. Instead of acknowledging her, I head to my bedroom without saying a word. I don’t even bother looking at her, though I can feel her watching me. And I’m trying my best not to freak out. My heart is racing as I open my door and walk inside, tossing my backpack on my bed. I ended up spending the night at Amanda’s after all. When we met in Tuttle’s living room last night, she’d looked so sad, like she’d been crying. I’d asked her if she was all right and she assured me she was fine, but I don’t know. It didn’t look right. And she’s never one to tell me what’s up with her and Tuttle. He didn’t even make an appearance before we left, though Ryan was sweet and kissed me goodbye, telling me we should get together over the weekend. My thoughts floated in the clouds the rest of the drive to Amanda’s house, and she remained so quiet, her silence allowed me to bask in my head. I relived the moment with Ryan again and again, cutting out Cannon’s interruption. I focused on the taste of Ryan’s lips, how they felt on my skin. When he pressed me into the mattress with his big body, his knee between my legs, me rubbing against him with zero shame… My night with Ryan was one I never wanted to forget. We snuck back into Amanda’s quiet, dark house and crawled into her bed. She crashed out almost immediately while I lay there staring at the ceiling and still thinking of Ryan. Imagining what might’ve happened if Cannon hadn’t interrupted us. Would I have let Ryan do more? Would I have ended up doing something I’d eventually regret? I think of his smile, his deep, rumbly voice, the way he looks at me… “Olivia.” I squeal and turn to find Mom standing in my bedroom doorway, her arms crossed in front of her chest and a sour expression on her face. “Hey. Uh, what’s up?” I ask weakly, mildly annoyed when she walks into my room without me inviting her. Of course if I said that, she’d give some speech about how it’s her house and she owns it and blah, blah, blah. And I’d have to bite my tongue and not mention how Dad was the one who bought this house and gave it to her in the divorce, so really she can’t take all the credit. It would then turn into this giant, ugly argument and I’d probably end up getting grounded, and that is the absolute last thing I want to deal with this weekend.

“You tell me.” She drops her arms to her sides and shuts the door behind her. “I think we need to talk,” she says. Worst words ever. I land heavily on the edge of my bed, staring up at her as I try my best to act calm. There is a whole mess of things she could want to talk about and I have no idea which one she wants to discuss. “Okay,” I say carefully. “What’s going on?” Mom sits in my desk chair, turning so she’s facing me. “Where were you last night?” What? “I told you. I went to the football game with Amanda and then I spent the night at her house.” She studies me, her gaze laser-sharp, as if she’s trying to see into my brain and discover all of my dirty little secrets. When she looks at me like that, it’s kind of terrifying. “I’ve never even heard of this Amanda girl before.” It takes everything within me not to roll my eyes. “I told you a while ago, we just started hanging out. Amanda Winters. I’ve gone to school with her since kindergarten. She’s in honors classes and she plays in the band.” Well. That last bit is a lie since she quit, but I’m trying to convince Mom that Amanda isn’t a bad influence. I’m probably the bad influence in our friendship. “So you weren’t with Em?” Mom looks shocked—and confused. I blink at her, surprised by her question. “No. I saw her at the football game, but that was it.” “You didn’t leave with her?” “No, after the game was over, I went with Amanda back to her house.” Lies. Now it’s my turn to study her carefully. “Why? What’s going on?” Mom sighs and shakes her head. “I don’t know. Cindy called me last night at almost midnight, looking for Emily. She sounded very upset. And…possibly a little drunk.” Oh, shit. Yeah, sometimes Em’s parents like to party, but nothing too outrageous. “Do they know where she is now? Has she still not come home?” “I haven’t talked to Cindy since she called, but I promised I would talk to you and ask you about Em and if you know what’s going on. Has she been acting different lately?” Mom frowns. “I feel like you two have drifted apart since you came back from your father’s.” “We sort of have,” I admit, feeling bad. I don’t want to tell my mom the truth. It’s none of her business and besides, if I told her what happened, then I’d have to explain what’s going on with me and Dustin, and that’s just…too involved for my taste. “Cindy sounded worried. She told me a lot of concerning things about Em.” Mom hesitates, her expression unsure. “Are you positive you weren’t with her last night? I won’t be angry with you if you were. I don’t care what you were doing, I just want to make sure Em’s safe.” “I wasn’t with her, Mom. I swear. I don’t know what’s going on.” Worry eats at me. What if she’s still gone? What if something terrible happened to her? I can’t imagine losing Em for good, or even losing Em for a little while. Yeah, we’re on the outs right

now, but that’s different. This feels…serious. “I’m going to call Cindy and tell her what you said. Hopefully Em’s home now, but who knows? Her mom made it sound like she’s gone wild lately and this was one incident among many.” Mom stands and heads for the door, pausing before she opens it. “I’ll let you know what I find out.” The moment she shuts the door behind her I fall backwards on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. My mind is racing at all the possibilities. What the hell is Em up to now? Where could she be? Did she run away? Is she over at some guy’s house and forgot to call her parents? Where’s her car? Where’s her stuff? Why isn’t she answering her phone? Is it off? Is the battery dead? Reaching for my phone, I unblock her number, then send her a quick text. Where are you???? I’m worried!!! My mom said your mom is looking for you!!! Please tell me you’re all right. :( I wait five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. No reply. So I decide to text someone else. I need your help. Can I come over? The answer comes in less than thirty seconds. Yes.

Dustin is outside sitting on his front porch steps waiting for me when I arrive not ten minutes after I sent my last text. Normally I would’ve run straight over, not caring how I looked or what I was wearing. But for some weird reason I wanted to look nice. I brushed my hair and braided it. Put on a different shirt and applied mascara. It’s so stupid, like I want to impress him or something, while I’m also freaking out over Em. But I’m a bundle of mixed emotions when it comes to Dustin and Em and Ryan and… everyone. Even stupid Fitch, who eyed me appreciatively when I darted through the kitchen earlier and told Mom I was going over to Dustin’s for a little bit. She seemed so

pleased that I was actually going to Dustin’s house she didn’t even protest or stop me. Fitch told me to take my time and even winked at me, which skeeved me out. He’s being weird. I don’t like it. “What took you so long?” Dustin asks as I draw closer. I stop just in front of him, taking him in. The black eye is long gone but he still has that wary, distrustful attitude going on whenever I’m first around him, and I can’t help but find it sort of hot. We haven’t fallen back into our familiar best friends comfort zone, and maybe I don’t want to. We will never go back to that point in our lives, I’ve realized. We’ve changed. Our relationship has changed. Maybe we’ll survive all of this uncertainty and maybe we won’t, but right now, I need him. “Have you talked to Em lately?” When my mom called right before I left the house, Em’s mom told her she’s still not home. She was crying about it too. He scratches his chest, frowning up at me. “Is this a trick question?” “Why would you say that?” I rest my hands on my hips. God, he really is so annoying sometimes. “I’m afraid if I say no, you’ll be pissed at me. And if I say yes, you’ll be even more pissed at me.” I roll my eyes and plop down next to him on the step, my side brushing against his, our legs bumping. He’s warm and solid and he smells good, like soapy clean boy. It’s all so familiar I want to curl up into his arms and make all the bad stuff go away. “Just be honest, Dustin. Have you seen her?” I hesitate, then decide to tell him straight out. “She’s…missing.” “What? Are you serious?” His mouth hangs open in shock. “Yeah.” I nod. “Her mom called mine. I almost got in trouble because Mom thought I knew what was up. Like I was out with Em all last night getting into trouble.” I’m still a little miffed that she went into attack mode. “Huh. I saw her at school yesterday.” He looks off into the distance, squinting against the sun. “But that’s it.” “So you really weren’t with her last night?” The question leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I had to ask. “Why are you asking me again? Don’t you believe me?” “Just answer the question!” He glares at me, his dark eyes full of anger. “No, I wasn’t with her.” His mouth clamps shut, like he was going to say something else. Maybe mention the name of the person he was with last night. My heart drops when I see the guilt in his gaze, how he suddenly won’t look at me.

“Who were you with?” I ask softly. I have no room to talk. I was with Ryan last night, though I don’t want to tell Dustin. I don’t want to make him mad. Dustin sighs and drops his head, staring at the steps. “You’ll be pissed if I tell you.” I absolutely cannot judge. “I won’t be, I swear.” “Brianne.” He lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine once more. “We went to the movies last night.” “How was it?” I’m proud of how calm I sound, because deep inside my stomach is a twisted knot. “Shitty. She hated the movie and I thought it was hilarious. I guess she doesn’t have my sense of humor.” He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Then she tried to attack me in the Jeep.” “Please don’t give me the gory details.” I shake my head. “There aren’t any gory details to give, Livvy. She doesn’t do it for me. At all.” Not like you do. The unspoken words are right there, hanging between us. I’m not so egotistical to think he’d say that. More like, I know he wants to say that, because I know Dustin. I can see it in his eyes, read it in his body language. And if our circumstances were different, I’d want to hear him say it too. But I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to think about it either. We need to focus on Em, not us. There is no us. “Will you help me? Can we go looking for Em?” I ask him, desperate to change the subject. “I have a few ideas where she might be.” “Yeah, sure.” He nods and stands, holding out his hand for me. I automatically take it, letting him pull me to my feet, and he doesn’t let my hand go. His thumb streaks across my palm, the gentle touch making me shiver. “I’ll go tell my mom what I’m doing and then we’ll leave.” “Okay.” I nod and he smiles, reluctantly letting go of my hand, his fingers somehow seeming to cling to mine. I watch him walk through the front door, then turn away, my gaze going to the street. Just in time to see Ryan’s white BMW come to a halt directly in front of Dustin’s house. Oh. Shit. My heart starts to pound and icy cold dread slips over my skin, making me shiver. The passenger-side window slides down, revealing Ryan behind the wheel and Tuttle sitting in the passenger seat. I frown as they both scowl at me, and I wonder about their so-called friendship. Amanda told me Tuttle didn’t like Ryan, yet I see the two of them together more often than not lately. It’s strange. “What the hell are you doing?” Ryan yells as I approach the car, sounding like a jealous, possessive boyfriend. Exactly what I’ve been wanting from him for the last few weeks.

Until now. “Keep your voice down,” I tell him when I reach his BMW. I’m standing by the passenger side, trying my best to ignore Tuttle and that shitty little smirk on his face, but it’s difficult. I can sense he wants to say something so bad and it’s taking everything within him to keep his mouth shut. I send him a dark look before my gaze meets Ryan’s. “Why are you yelling at me?” “Why are you at Dustin’s house? I thought you were through with that asshole,” he practically spits out. His eyes are narrowed and his cheeks are ruddy. He looks pissed. “We’re just friends,” I remind him, sending him a meaningful look. “And right now isn’t the best time to have this conversation.” I tilt my head in Tuttle’s direction, hoping he gets it. But Ryan clearly doesn’t care. “Your so-called friend wants to bang you. Or maybe he already has and I’m just finding out about it now?” Oh my God. I can’t believe he’s acting like this. I round the front of the car, going to the driver’s side so maybe we can keep our conversation a little more private. Though I know Tuttle is trying his best to hear every word we say. “There’s nothing going on between Dustin and I. You know this. I was just with you last night,” I say, my tone turning pleading. “Can we talk about this later?” “What’s there to talk about, huh? You need to make up your mind who you want to be with, Livvy. It’s either me or him.” He revs the BMW’s engine, his expression reminding me of a pouting little boy who doesn’t get his way. “You can’t have us both.” “But—” I start to say, but he shifts the car into gear and pulls out, driving off so fast he creates black skid marks on the asphalt. I swear I can hear Tuttle’s laughter as they drive away, mocking me as I stand there alone in the middle of the street like an idiot. “What are you doing?” I turn to see Dustin standing next to his Jeep where it sits in his driveway. “Why are you in the road?” he asks, hitting the keyless remote so the Jeep beeps and the lights flash. I hear the doors unlock and Dustin tilts his head toward his car. “Come on, let’s go.” I go to his Jeep and open the passenger door, sliding into the seat. My head is full of too many thoughts, all of them centered on what just happened between Ryan and me. I should be thrilled he’s willing to stake his claim, that he’s actually jealous of my relationship with Dustin. But I don’t like his demand, and hate the way he yelled at me in front of stupid Tuttle. I can be friends with Dustin and be with Ryan. I can have both of them in my life, can’t I? Glancing over at Dustin, I catch him looking at me, his eyes full of too much emotion, his smile too soft, too sweet. My heart pangs and I smile at him in return, hating how torn I feel.

Hating worse the thought of Dustin not being in my life anymore because Ryan doesn’t want him to be.

We drive all over town, searching for Em, but we can’t find her. We visit all of her favorite haunts, the coffee shop she prefers and the bookstore that sells bongs. The pizza place close to school and even the stupid mall, though we haven’t hung out there in forever. We both text people we think she could possibly be with, stop by a few of their houses, even stop by the school, but she’s nowhere. It’s like she upped and disappeared. The longer we search, the more worried I become. I forget about all of my stupid problems and can only focus on her. Our friendship. How quickly it crumbled apart, all because of the boy I’m with. The boy I can’t let go of. The boy I don’t want to let go of. Yet I let Em go so easily, and that fills me with guilt. What kind of friend am I? Am I partially to blame for her disappearance? I think of how she acted when I first came home from Oregon. How she always wanted to get high, always wanted to party and how clingy she became. I didn’t get it then, and eventually blamed it on guilt over her messing around with Dustin when I was gone. But maybe there was something else going on. Something more. I wish I knew what. I wish we could find her. “Let’s get something to eat,” Dustin says, sounding exhausted. It’s far past dinnertime and dark, the sun having set over an hour ago. I’m starving but nothing sounds good. I feel sort of sick inside over everything that’s happened the past twenty-four hours. “I’m not hungry,” I tell him, staring out the window as we drive down the busy street. We’re not in the best part of town, more on the industrial side, though there are a few restaurants and a nightclub that caters to teens. “Wait a minute,” I say as a memory washes over me. “Isn’t the Echo Club down here?” Dustin makes a face. “Yeah, but that place is a shit hole.” He’s right. I remember going to the teen nightclub one Saturday night last spring with Em, right before school was out. We put on our sluttiest outfits on purpose and took the city bus there, giggling and falling against each other when men blatantly stared at us. Once we got into the club, we flirted with the doorman and got in for a discount, then danced our asses off for hours, putting on a show for all the leering boys who watched us as we fulfilled their lesbian fantasies. Boys are so simple sometimes. So stupid.

Two of them approached us, their grins huge, their breath smelling of beer. Em was feeling bold, asking them if they had more, and they took us out to their car in the parking lot, showing us the ice chest full of beer in the trunk. We oohed and ahhed over that ice chest like it was found treasure. We’d also gotten drunk. And high. We lost ourselves in the music playing on the radio, the booze, the boys, both of us fighting them off, slapping their hands away from our legs, our chests. Our gazes would clash and we’d laugh and laugh, pissing the boys off, not like we cared. Those boys…I hadn’t sensed it then, but when I think back now, I remember how they looked at us, their gazes dark. Primal. How they discussed exactly what they were going to do with us—and what they said hadn’t been very nice. Em acted like it was no big deal. She offered them both a blowjob if they just drove us home and they’d enthusiastically agreed that was a great idea. Until Em threw up the moment the car lurched to a stop in the parking lot of a park close to our house. She vomited everywhere, all over the backseat and the guys freaking out. All I could do was laugh at her, laugh at the boys whose faces had turned red with rage. They abandoned us in that park, the owner of the car tossing out a string of curse words at us before he peeled out of the parking lot. We walked home, Em chomping on a stick of mint gum I had in my purse, both of us laughing hysterically over how she ruined the backseat of that guy’s car. She said later that was one of the best nights of her life. I realize now how easily it could’ve turned into one of the worst nights of our life. “She might be there,” I say, turning to look at him. “She loves the Echo Club.” “Seriously?” Dustin sounds skeptical. “Yes, seriously. Let’s go.” He drives to the club, pulling into the parking lot and parking his Jeep. I practically run to the entrance and Dustin follows behind me, calling my name, asking me to slow down, but I don’t. I’m a girl on a mission and the bouncer guarding the door watches me approach with a wary expression. There is a line of people waiting to get in, all of them shooting me dirty looks when I stop in front of the doorman and smile at him. “Back of the line,” he says, jerking his thumb in the line’s direction. “I’m looking for a friend,” I start, but his ominous scowl silences me. “You’re all looking for a friend,” he mutters with a quick shake of his head. “You’re going to have to wait with the rest of them.” I turn to see Dustin stopping just behind me, a frown marring his face. “Do you have money?” I ask him. He shrugs. “Yeah. Like fifty bucks.” “Fifty bucks if you let us in now,” I tell the bouncer. “Hey,” Dustin protests softly, but I ignore him.

The doorman laughs. “Big deal, little girl. That leaves me, what, ten bucks after the cover charge? No thanks.” He crosses his beefy arms in front of his barrel chest. “Move it.” I try my best, most imploring, sweet and innocent girl look, but his expression becomes sour. Like he’s disgusted with me. Dustin tugs on my arm and I go with him, glaring at the doorman until I finally have to turn away or else I’ll trip on something. “Did you really think he’d let you in with a bribe?” Dustin asks as he escorts me to the back of the line. “Maybe.” I give a one-shoulder shrug, trying to ignore the irritation and frustration rolling through my veins. People are staring at us, their noses wrinkled in disgust, and I send them death glares right back. They turn away from us and I glance down at my clothes. I’m not dressed for a hot Saturday night at the club and neither is Dustin, so I know that’s why they’re passing judgment. That’ll probably hurt our chances of getting inside too—they don’t care if we’re paying customers. Sometimes they let people in only because they look good. “We’re never going to get in,” I whine as I lean against the rough brick exterior of the building. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering a little when the cool breeze suddenly washes over us. “We’re never going to find her.” Dustin’s not even paying attention to me. He’s too busy staring at his phone, tapping at the keyboard as he sends a text or a Snapchat or whatever. I want to smack him. I want to snatch his phone out of his hand and force him to look at me. To listen to me. He smiles a little, his gaze still glued to his phone screen, and the realization hits— whoever he’s communicating with, he’d rather be with that person than me. And that hurts. “Maybe we should go,” I tell him, my voice low, my throat raw. I’m trying to hold back the tears that threaten and I swallow hard, give a little sniff. Dustin looks up with a frown, his brow furrowed. “You don’t want to look inside?” I shake my head. Remain silent. I’m afraid if I try to talk I’ll burst into tears instead. I don’t know why I’m so emotional. Maybe it’s because we can’t find Em. Or because I made Ryan mad and jealous when I didn’t mean to. And because I’m losing Dustin and I have no one to blame but myself. It’s all of those things. Every single one of them. And I don’t know which one hurts the most. “Let’s go then,” Dustin says, taking my arm once more and leading me back out toward the parking lot. I say nothing, stumbling along beside him, ignoring my buzzing phone. It’s probably Mom wondering where I’m at. Or Ryan, ready to chew me out for spending my Saturday night with his enemy and my friend. I climb into the car and Dustin’s behind the wheel a few moments later, starting up his Jeep before he turns to look at me. “You all right?” “Yeah,” I croak, nodding before I turn to stare out the window. My phone buzzes again,

making my butt vibrate. “You should check that,” Dustin says. “What if it’s Em?” Closing my eyes, I thunk my head against the cool window, feeling like an idiot. What if it is Em? Why am I ignoring the phone? Fifteen minutes ago I would’ve jumped all over it and now I’m filled with dread over who it might be. I don’t understand why I’m so reluctant. My mind is one confused, swirling mess. “Olivia,” Dustin says, his voice deep and commanding, reminding me that yeah, I do need to check my phone, so I do. And oh my God, it is Em. I’m fine. At home. Mom wants to kill me and Dad can’t stop yelling and throwing things. It’s gonna be a fun Saturday night. Relief hits me so hard I sag against the seat, exhaling loudly. I glance over at Dustin, who’s watching me so very carefully, and I offer up a small nod. Just before I burst into tears.

“I want us to be honest with each other.” I pause, not even waiting for an answer or a reaction. “I’m sick and tired of keeping secrets and playing games. I need someone to be real with.” Desperately, I almost add. Amanda steps onto the front porch, closing the door behind her. “I’m not a game player, Livvy.” Sighing, I tilt my head, contemplating her. It’s a warm and sunny Sunday afternoon and I rode my bike to her house, something I haven’t done in years. Ride my bike, that is. I always got a ride thanks to Em. But she’s currently on lockdown and not talking, not that I’d ask her for a ride now. I couldn’t go to Dustin’s since that was…done. No way was I attempting to reach out to Ryan yet. Amanda is my only option and we don’t live in the same neighborhood. So I pulled my bike out of the garage, hosed it off, dried it with a kitchen towel—only to get grease on it —then left before Mom saw the mess I made. “Neither am I,” I finally say to her, noting the skeptical look she gives me. “Fine, I’m not always straightforward or whatever, but neither are you.” “What are you talking about? I don’t keep secrets or play games,” Amanda says. “You so do.” I pause for effect before I say, “Tell me about Tuttle.” Her lips thin. “There’s nothing to tell.” “Bullshit.” With a sigh she walks over to the porch swing—yes, her house is cute and cozy and in an older part of town, a quaint, clean neighborhood with huge trees and lots of chirping birds. Where there are porch swings and rosebushes in the immaculate front yards and sweet little wooden birdhouses tucked into the trees. It’s sweet and fits Amanda’s personality perfectly, and I’m sort of envious of this seemingly charmed life she leads. Though it’s really not charmed. Her ex cheated on her with her best friend. She quit the band, though clearly she misses it. And she has some weird twisted relationship thing going on with Tuttle that she’s not talking about with anyone. “You gonna sit with me or just stand there and stare?” Amanda asks when I don’t move. I sit next to her on the swing and she pushes off the ground with her feet, the swing gently swaying to and fro. She’s quiet and I realize she’s not going to spill as easily as I hoped, so I decide to break the ice.

“I thought Dustin was still in love with me,” I admit, my voice soft, my heart aching. “But I realized last night that he’s probably over me.” “Why would you say that?” I told her about us going in search of Em. How worried I was, how frantic I was feeling. How distracted Dustin had become the longer the night went on and that eventually Em texted like no big deal. I never got a thank-you, I never got an explanation on where she was either. I might never find out, and I guess I don’t really have the right to ask. Dustin dropped me off at my house with a distracted goodbye and I watched him drive away. Watched as he drove past his house and went…somewhere else. I have no idea where or with who. I had no right to ask either. Instead, I’d lain awake in bed for half the night, unable to sleep. “He went with you and helped you,” Amanda points out when I finish my story. “He still cares.” “But it’s not the same.” “So you want him sitting around waiting for you, caring about you while you’re interested in someone else? That’s not fair,” Amanda says. She’s right. I know she’s right. I tell her about Ryan seeing me at Dustin’s house and how mad he’d been. I mention that Tuttle was with him, and her expression shifts. Changes. She drops her head, staring at her hands where they’re curled in her lap, and I wonder what she’s thinking. “What’s going on between you two?” I ask when she still won’t say anything and I feel like I’m about to burst. “And don’t say nothing because I won’t believe you.” Amanda lifts her head, her expression pained. “I think…I think he likes me.” I frown. “Do you mean Tuttle? You think he likes you?” She nods. “And that’s a bad thing….why?” She waves a hand, her eyes a little wild. “He’s Jordan Tuttle. The most popular boy in school, the richest, the smartest, the best looking…I could go on and on.” “And…” I’m still not getting the problem here. “Why would he be interested in me? Why would he care about me? I’m just…a nobody. I don’t even have band anymore and that was my one pitiful extracurricular activity I was good at.” She pushes at the ground so hard we send the swing flying, her side moving faster than mine, making the chains twist as the wooden swing jerks around. “Come on, Amanda. You’re pretty and you’re smart. You’re nice and you’re funny,” I say softly, but she just laughs and shakes her head. “He’s out of my league.” “Yet he’s interested.” “We hooked up over the summer. At his house. In his room. On his bed.” She slaps her

hands over her face and gives a humiliated little cry. “Oh God, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.” I’m in shock. That was the absolute last thing I expected Amanda to say. “Wait a minute. You hooked up with Tuttle? Over the summer?” She nods, her hands still covering her face. “What about at his party when you said he slipped his hand between your legs?” “That really happened too.” Her voice is muffled because of her hands. “He’s very persistent.” “Have you two actually…done the deed?” “No!” She drops her hands, staring at me. Her eyes are glassy, like she’s this close to crying. “We just…messed around. Nothing serious. Well, I didn’t think it was anything serious. I was drunk and upset over finding my boyfriend with my best friend and Tuttle was kind enough to take care of me that night.” In more ways than one. I come this close to saying it, but I don’t want to make her mad. “He was being so sweet. I just…I let him kiss me. And we kept kissing. Until we started doing other stuff.” She covers her face once more. “This is so humiliating.” “Stop. We all do humiliating stuff. Like I have any room to judge.” I think of me and Ryan together before stupid Cannon rudely interrupted us. How I reacted afterward. What a mess that was. “He must really like you, Amanda, if he’s still trying to get with you. Tuttle doesn’t try to get with anyone.” “I think he likes that I resist him. I’m a challenge for him to conquer.” Her hands fall back into her lap. “I don’t want to be with him.” I try my best not to roll my eyes. “Come on.” “I’m serious. I don’t.” She turns to look at me, her expression telling me that she does not want to talk about this anymore. “What about you and Ryan?” I go on the immediate defensive. “What about him?” “What’s going on with you two? Do you really like him, or do you like Dustin?” When I don’t answer her right away, she continues, “I almost think you enjoy having both of them dangling on a string, fighting over you.” Her words make me flinch. “No, I don’t.” Do I? I’m not sure. Though I can’t deny the attention is…nice. I’ve never had two guys want to be with me before. I’ve never had any guy want to be with me before, except Dustin. I never planned on us hooking up. It happened almost…naturally, which sounds crazy. I knew deep in my heart I didn’t necessarily want to be with Dustin, not like that, but I also didn’t want to be alone either. Frowning, I drop my head, staring at the ground. God, what’s wrong with me? I’m such

a selfish bitch, and it’s like I never even realized it until now. “So who do you want to be with? Dustin or Ryan?” “Dustin and I are just friends.” I look up and she sends me a pointed look. “Friends who messed around a few times. Something that probably should’ve never happened.” “But it meant more to him.” I nod. It meant a lot to me too. I was willing to give him a chance despite my fear. Now that’s all ruined. “Yet you don’t want to be with him like that.” I nod again. It’s kind of the truth, kind of a lie. “Then maybe you should go to Ryan and tell him how you feel,” she says, her voice gentle. “Ha. So I should hop on my bike and pedal over to his big mansion, knock on his door and ask his butler if he’s in? Looking like this?” I wave a hand at myself. I’m in black cropped leggings, an oversized tank top that shows my black sports bra, and my hair is in the sloppiest ponytail ever. “I’m a mess.” “Does he really have a butler?” Amanda asks incredulously. “I don’t know! His house is huge and he’s loaded, so I wouldn’t doubt it.” I shrug, feeling stupid. Amanda sighs. “Well, never mind that. Go home, take a shower and text him that you want to get together tonight. Tell him how you feel.” “No way.” She makes it sound so easy. Too easy. “Then explain what happened with Em and why you were with Dustin.” She elbows me in the ribs. “Go to him. He’ll like it. He’s been sulking for a solid twenty-four hours. He needs to get over it.” “Maybe he’s already gotten over it—and me,” I say sullenly. “I doubt that.” “You shouldn’t. He moved from Em to me relatively quick,” I say. Her mouth drops open. “Seriously?” I forget that she doesn’t know all the dirty details. And that’s because I chose not to tell her. I don’t want her to hate me. Don’t want her to think I’m a boyfriend-thief either. A change of subject needs to happen and fast. “You should take some of your own advice and go talk to Tuttle,” I suggest. “No way,” she says too quickly. “I don’t like him. Remember?” I don’t bother arguing with her. She won’t admit she’s into him, so I’m not going to push the issue. Besides, I’m already considering taking Amanda’s advice and going to Ryan. It’s not

necessarily a bad idea. Better than sitting around worrying about him for the rest of my Sunday. “Go,” she says when I remain quiet. “Text him and let him know you want to talk.” “But I was hoping we could hang out.” I don’t want her to think I’d come over here just to ditch her for a guy. I want a friend. I need someone who’s honest with me, who’s real with me. I feel like I’m surrounded by people who are either fake or they send mixed messages. It’s exhausting. “I can’t. I have to go to my grandma’s house tonight for dinner. Sunday family thing, you know?” She smiles. No, I really don’t know. She’s so wholesome it’s unreal. “Okay. I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” “Monday is Labor Day,” she reminds me. “Oh, that’s right.” I totally forgot. “Okay, Tuesday then?” “Absolutely. I’ll come pick you up before school,” she suggests as we both rise from the swing. “That way you won’t have to walk and possibly run into someone you don’t want to.” “Like Dustin?” “Like Em.” Amanda embraces me, giving me a quick hug. “I’m glad you came over,” she says when she pulls away. “Me too,” I say with a little smile.

He’s waiting for me in my driveway. I see him standing there as I cruise on my bike along the sidewalk. I hit the brakes, coming to a skidding stop a few feet away from him, and he finally spots me, his familiar, warm smile not making its usual appearance. He just watches me, his expression solemn, the breeze blowing through his dark hair, ruffling it so it falls into his eyes before he brushes it away impatiently. “What are you doing here?” My voice is scratchy and my throat feels raw again. Just like it did last night. Dustin shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugs. “We should talk.” I hop off my bike and walk it up my driveway and into the garage. “What about?” I ask as I set the bike where it belongs. I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to face him. I’m so nervous about him wanting to talk that I’m trembling. “Liv.” I turn around when he says my name and my gaze meets his. “I can’t do this anymore. Pretend that we’re just friends when I want…more. I can’t go back.”

“Go back to what?” He runs his fingers through his hair, gripping it tight for a moment before he releases it. “Go back to us just hanging out, being there for each other. I thought I could. I thought I could be patient and wait you out, but…I can’t do it. It’s too hard.” Everything inside of me goes cold. “So you won’t even be my friend.” “I’ll never not be your friend, but I can’t spend so much time with you, like we did last night. Being with you like that drove me fucking crazy,” he admits, his gaze sliding away from mine so he can stare off into the distance. “All I wanted to do was kiss you, like, the entire time.” Would I have turned him away if he did? I was feeling weak last night and sad over Em’s disappearance. “What, until you got those text messages when we were at the club? Then you couldn’t wait to get rid of me.” That had hurt too. More than I wanted to admit. He frowns, his gaze meeting mine once more. “I went and hung out with friends, okay? It was no big deal. I needed to let off some steam and we met up and played basketball. I knew we were just running around chasing our tails looking for Em. It was a waste of our time, trying to find her.” “She’s our friend,” I start but he cuts me off. “Em doesn’t give a shit about us. She never really has. She uses you and she uses me and we both fall into line like trained monkeys, Livvy. It’s ridiculous. I’m over it. You should be over it too. You shouldn’t trust her.” His harsh words hit me like physical blows and I wince. He was the one who screwed around with Em while trying to pursue me. I can’t forget that. “Maybe I shouldn’t trust you either.” “You probably shouldn’t. You want a friend and all I can think about is ripping your clothes off,” he admits, his voice ragged. My heart does a flip. “Dustin…” He holds up a hand, his expression pained. “Don’t say it. Please. I’ll leave you alone.” He turns away from me, about to head back to his house, but I call his name again and he pauses, glancing over his shoulder at me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, wishing I could say more, but…what? I’m at a loss here. He looks like he is too. “Just be patient with me, Livvy. If I keep my distance from you for a while, let me do it, okay? Don’t pressure me and don’t think I hate you. I could never hate you, no matter how much I try. My problem is I need to figure out how to get over you.” He smiles, and it’s a cute, sweet Dustin smile. “See ya around?” I nod, barely able to hold back the tears. He turns and walks back toward his house. Walks right out of my life. And quietly breaks my heart.

“Hey.” Ryan opens his front door a little wider, his gaze roaming all over me, making my skin warm. “You look good.” “Thanks.” I’m glad he noticed. I have on my cutest floral print dress with the too-short skirt, the one I’m not allowed to wear to school anymore since it breaks dress code. I took my time doing my makeup after I got out of the shower, watching a YouTube tutorial on my phone as I sat in front of my mirror in my room. I’d wanted to look good for him tonight. Mom was working a night shift and that meant no one was at home waiting for me, watching the clock. Ready to bust me for breaking curfew. I could come and go as I pleased thanks to her taking that extra shift, and I was downright giddy over how adult it made me feel. “Come in,” he says, smiling at me as I enter the house, walking past him. He shuts the door as I stop in the foyer and gape at his home. It’s huge. Two stories, with soaring ceilings and so many huge windows, letting in the waning sunlight. The living room is massive, with blinding white couches and stark white walls, sleek silver end tables and a matching coffee table. A giant flat screen hangs on the wall and a stack of women’s magazines sits in a white basket nearby. The house is very clean, a burst of sunflowers in a tall silver vase sitting on a table by the entry, a tiny silver dish filled with loose change, a pack of gum and a set of keys next to it. Homey touches that make the room a little more comfortable, a little more real. Tuttle’s house looked like something out of a magazine, and way too perfect. Em’s house is big too, but I always felt comfortable there, considering we’d been friends for years. I was worried about Ryan’s place, but as he leads me into the kitchen, with its cream-colored cabinets and warm-toned granite countertops, I don’t feel as intimidated. Though it’s obvious he’s wealthy. Most everyone who goes to my school is wealthy. My house is one of the smaller ones in the neighborhood, and when my parents divorced, Dad took all of his wealth with him. Oh, he pays child support, which Mom grumbles about all the time since she feels he doesn’t pay enough, and he set up a college fund for me. But honestly, I think Mom misses being one of the ladies who lunch, who don’t have to work and don’t even have to clean their house, considering they have maids. They do nothing all day but get manicures and sit by the pool and gossip—according to Mom. She kicked Dad out and eventually had to put her old nursing degree to good use by getting a job. A job she resents sometimes. I know she does. She resents living in this neighborhood too, surrounded by people she used to consider friends. But she didn’t want

to leave, didn’t want to take me out of the school district, so she stuck around. Torturing herself. Torturing me sometimes too. “Want something to drink?” Ryan asks, his deep voice, pushing me out of my thoughts. I smile, reminding myself to focus on him. Tonight is all about him. And us. “Yeah, that would be great.” He goes to the large refrigerator with doors that match the cabinets and opens them, peering inside, the light from within bathing him in a silvery glow. Gilding his perfect features—the sharp point of his nose, the strong line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips. I stare, my insides twisting, my heart pumping, the blood rushing through my veins, making my skin tingle. He’s so gorgeous, like model beautiful, and I can’t believe I’m in his house. That he actually likes me. It’s so annoying that I still think like this. I don’t have the best self-esteem and sometimes I worry too much over why he’s interested in me. I tell myself I should be more confident, but it’s so hard. I texted him when I got home from Amanda’s, asking if we could get together, and he readily agreed, never once mentioning yesterday’s argument. I was relieved, not that I wanted to ignore what happened, but I’m not the best when it comes to dealing with confrontation. Though I’d been on a wild ride of confrontation since I came home from Oregon, that’s for sure. “Want a beer?” Ryan turns to look at me, his deep green eyes sparkling mischievously. “Are your parents home?” Did they let him drink beer with his friends? He slowly shakes his head, that spark in his gaze only intensifying. “My mom’s working tonight. My dad and my brother went out to dinner and then to the movies.” “So we’re all alone?” I should probably be nervous, but instead I’m… Excited. “Yeah, we are.” He pulls two beers out of the fridge and shuts the door with his bent arm. I go to him and take the one he offers me, cracking it open. “Want to see my room?” he asks. “Sure,” I say softly, ignoring the nerves bubbling in my stomach. He’s not wasting any time, is he? No one else around means no interruptions—just the two of us alone in this giant house. The night is suddenly filled with endless possibilities. He goes back to the fridge and grabs a couple more beers, and then I’m following Ryan up the sweeping staircase, admiring his broad shoulders and back, his lean torso, his butt. He’s got a nice body. He’s wearing black athletic shorts and a faded Nirvana T-shirt, his hair still damp, like he might’ve taken a shower before I came over. He smells good too, citrusy. Clean and crisp. “You’re lucky. I just cleaned my room yesterday,” he says as we stop in front of a closed door. “My parents were on my ass for weeks.”

“So you spent your Saturday cleaning your room?” That makes him sound so…normal. “Don’t you have a housekeeper?” They all do, I swear. “Yeah, but I’m not going to let her come in my room and go through my shit. There are things I’ve hidden I don’t want anyone to find.” He grins as he pushes open his door. “Drugs, weed, my condom stash. You know, the usual.” I laugh as he waggles his eyebrows then takes a sip of my beer, entering his bedroom, which is huge and done in typical teenage boy style, only on a grander scale. A dark blue comforter covers his king-sized bed. Awards and plaques and posters cover the sky-blue walls and a tower of folded T-shirts sit on an overstuffed chair. The faint lemony scent is a reminder that he really did clean his room yesterday, and I glance around, see the open door that leads to a walk-in closet that’s sort of a mess. Another open door that is his bathroom. His room is like a tiny studio apartment. I even spot a mini fridge in the corner. All he needs is a microwave and he’d never have to leave. “So you have a condom stash, huh?” I ask as I walk around his room, stopping at the dresser. I run my fingers along the smooth wooden edge, checking out the framed photos sitting there. One is of him and who I assume is his younger brother—they look a lot alike. Another one is of his entire family, his parents proud and standing tall, their smiles large and showcasing perfectly straight teeth. Yet another photo of him and a bunch of people I don’t recognize, most likely from his old school. Cute girls who smile up at Ryan adoringly as they surround him like he’s some sort of god. A reminder of his other life. “Wanna see my stash?” He drains his beer and tosses the empty can in a nearby wastebasket. “It’s impressive.” “Ew.” I giggle and shove his shoulder because I don’t know how else to react. He thinks his condom stash is impressive? What does that even mean? I almost don’t want to know. “What? I’m just saying I have the ‘ridged for her pleasure’ style, sized extra-large.” His voice drops a couple of octaves, becoming devastatingly low. “Always thinking of you, Livvy.” I swear he’s testing my mood, seeing if I’ll freak out or not. “Sounds interesting. Will you share your secret stash with me?” He looks shocked. A surge of power runs through me at the realization that yes, I can surprise Ryan Bennett every once in a while. “Yeah, I’ll definitely share. But you’ll have to promise me something first.” I smile up at him. “What?” “Promise that you’re not going to let anything ruin your mood tonight, okay?” He shifts closer to me, his hand going to my cheek, fingers drifting along my jaw. “We’ve been on this endless loop of misunderstandings lately.” Hmm, that’s one way to put it. “I’m sorry for what happened yesterday, with you seeing me at Dustin’s. It really was nothing—”

“I know,” Ryan says, interrupting me. “I’m over it.” “You are? Really?” I frown, remembering how angry he’d been. How Tuttle had seemed so amused over our little fight. “You just seemed so mad and I want to explain what happened.” “You don’t have to explain anything. Who am I to act like a jealous boyfriend, right? It’s not like we’re together or anything. We’ve flirted. We’ve kissed.” He shrugs those impressively broad shoulders and I stare at him, hating how this conversation has turned. “Okay.” I take a deep breath, my brain scrambling to come up with something, anything to change the subject, but then he’s right there. Standing directly in front of me, taking the beer out of my hand and setting it on the dresser. He cups my face, tilts my head back, and I meet his gaze, his eyes dark and full of intent. His mouth is on mine before I can say another word or draw another breath. His soft lips coax and tease, keeping the kiss light at first, then taking it deeper, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, his thumbs gently brushing over my cheeks. I sigh against his lips, my hands resting on his hips, hanging on to the hem of his T-shirt. He nudges me against the dresser, the sharp edge digging into my lower back, but I don’t feel the pain. All I can focus on is the texture and taste of Ryan’s lips, the hypnotic way they move against mine. He breaks the kiss, his mouth running along the length of my neck, at the top of my shoulder, lips hot against my throbbing pulse. My heart is racing and I keep my eyes tightly closed, reveling in the sensations of his mouth on my skin, his hands at my waist, stroking slowly up and down my sides, getting closer to my chest with every sweep. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmurs close to my ear, his warm breath making me tremble. “Stupid Cannon ruined everything Friday night.” I smile as he pulls away to watch me, his gaze locking with mine. “He never even said he was sorry.” “The guy is a selfish asshole.” Ryan studies my chest, my cleavage on display thanks to my pushup bra and the scooped neckline of my dress. He reaches out, his index finger skimming along the spot where dress meets skin, and goose bumps rise with his touch. “You like that?” His hot gaze meets mine. I nod, breathless. His finger dips below the fabric, tracing the lacy edge of my bra. “I really like your dress, but I’d rather see you with it off.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. Next thing I know I’m on the bed and he’s bent over me, his body caging mine in, our mouths fused, hands busy. His fingers move under my skirt, skimming up my thigh, and I spread my legs, sucking in a sharp breath when those same fingers brush the front of my panties. I clutch at his T-shirt, the fabric gathered tightly in my hands as he strokes me there. Back and forth. Up and down. Never dipping beneath my panties, he patiently teases me, driving me out of my mind so my hips lift, seeking more. He presses harder, drawing tight

circles, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing… He withdraws his hand, making me whimper. My eyes fly open to find him lifting away from me. “Take the dress off,” he says gruffly as he whips off his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. I stare at him, drinking in his broad chest, his rippling abs. He’s built perfectly, even more cut than Dustin… God. I banish Dustin from my head, pissed that I’d even make the comparison. Focusing on Ryan, I shift so I’m kneeling in the middle of the bed. Biting my lip, my gaze never leaving his, I grab my skirt and slowly pull it up, peeling my dress off until I’m in front of him wearing only my black pushup bra and matching black panties. Ryan’s gaze bounces everywhere, like he doesn’t know where to look first, and heat washes over my skin. He pounces, pressing me into the mattress, his smooth skin hot on mine, his wandering hands making me shiver as he kisses me hungrily. I touch him just as eagerly, slipping my fingers under his shorts, the elastic band of his boxer briefs. He groans against my mouth, pinning me in place so he can thrust his hips against mine, and oh God, I can feel him. He’s big. Hard. Driving me insane. We’re a writhing mess, his fingers sliding between my legs, mine diving beneath his underwear, our legs entwined. I’m panting, he’s panting, our kiss turns sloppy, all teeth and tongue and moans, and then I feel the heady rush sweep over me, making me shake, making me cry out. Making me forget everything. Ryan holds me close, one strong arm still slung around my waist, his mouth pressed against my forehead. I take deep breaths, desperate to calm my racing heart, and then he’s kissing me. Touching me again. Trying to take my panties the rest of the way off as he murmurs, “I need to dip into my condom stash.” “Wait.” I brace my hands against his sweat-dampened chest, stopping him. He lifts his head, his questioning gaze meeting mine. “I’ve—I haven’t done this before.” He frowns, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” “I’m a—I’m a virgin.” I press my lips together, waiting for his reaction. I didn’t mean to tell him this soon after…everything, but he wasn’t wasting any time. I had to put a stop to him before everything got out of hand. I’m willing to do this—mess around. But I’m not ready to make that next step yet. When he still hasn’t said anything I roll away from him, facing the wall, feeling stupid. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner. I just…it’s not an easy thing to talk about or bring up, you know? It feels weird, talking about it.” “Hey.” He touches my shoulder, gently tugging on it so I roll back around to face him. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m not mad or anything.” “You’re not?” He slowly shakes his head, smiling faintly. “I’m glad you told me. I want us to be honest with each other. I—I really like you, Livvy.”

My heart soars, I swear. Like it wants to fly out of my chest. “You do?” “Yeah.” He leans in and presses the softest, sweetest kiss to my lips before he murmurs, “I do. I know I’ve been shitty sometimes, but my feelings for you, they messed with my head.” I reach up to touch him, running my fingers through his silky soft hair. “What do you mean?” “I didn’t want to like you as much as I do.” He kisses me again, his lips lingering, teeth nipping lightly on my bottom lip and making me gasp. “But it’s too late. I’m totally into you.” “I’m totally into you too,” I whisper just before he greedily kisses me. He reaches for my hand, placing it in front of his underwear, and I can feel him. My fingers curl, learning the shape of him, and he rests his hand on top of my head. Gently. I know what he wants. And I’m going to give it to him.

“Oh my gosh, you’re freaking glowing!” Amanda yells from her open window, grinning at me as I approach her car. The birds are chirping and the breeze is cool as it washes over me. For some weird reason the start of the first full week of September has ushered in cooler weather, which is unusual for California. But it’s nice. It feels like change is in the air. And I feel changed—thanks to Ryan. I climb into Amanda’s car and slam the door shut before I turn to look at her, smiling. “Ryan and I are official.” I drop my backpack on the floorboard and lean back against the seat. Her mouth drops open. “What do you mean?” “We’re a couple!” I’m practically bouncing with excitement and I almost clap my hands together like I’m five. “We, um, we were together Sunday night and we spent all of Monday together too.” He invited me over to his house on Labor Day and we hung out with his parents and his little brother, who was sweet and clearly idolizes Ryan, though he treats Eli like shit. “What did you guys do exactly?” Amanda’s tone is sly as she puts her car into drive and pulls away from the curb. “Well, you can only imagine what happened Sunday night. No one came home ’til around midnight.” My cheeks go hot and I duck my head. I snuck out of the house just before his dad and brother came home so they wouldn’t catch us together. “Did you…” Amanda sends me a pointed look. “Did I…” I wave my hand. “What?” “Did you two have—sex?” She whispers the word, like it’s extra dirty and she can’t say it out loud. I burst out laughing. Amanda’s so silly. “Well, we did hook up. But we didn’t do the deed.” Yet. “Gotcha.” She nods, seeming to digest what I told her. “And what happened on Monday?” I told her all about it. The barbecue in Ryan’s backyard, hanging out with his family, swimming in his huge pool, his mother saying again and again how she was so happy Ryan had a new girlfriend. Though I wasn’t so sure how I felt about that particular statement.

“Wow, you guys do sound like you’re for real,” Amanda says with wonder when I stop talking. “That’s because we are for real.” I smile and stare out the passenger-side window. I sound smug because I am smug. I can’t help it. Right now, I’m on top of the freaking world, and it’s all because of Ryan. “He would’ve driven me to school but he had an early morning practice.” “Aw, that’s too cute. I’m happy for you, Liv.” Amanda’s voice is soft, almost sad. I quickly glance over at her to see that she even looks sad. “Just when we’re beginning to get close, you go and find yourself a boyfriend. I know you’ll ditch me and I shouldn’t say this, because it sounds selfish and I’m not selfish, I swear, but…” “Stop. I’m not going to ditch you,” I say, reaching out to briefly touch her arm. “You’re part of the crew now. We’ll all hang out together at lunch, after the games, whenever.” I’m making assumptions. I don’t even know if I’m part of the crew, whatever that means—the popular group? Do Amanda and I get to sit at their table in the quad during lunch? Will we all cruise over to Pac Out when we want to get off campus and eat giant cheeseburgers with extra salty fries? “The crew?” Amanda laughs. “I don’t think I’d fit in with that group.” “Tuttle wants you there.” She goes stiff at the mention of his name. Again, I’m making assumptions, but the guy has been chasing her since school began. “Why won’t you give him a chance?” “What are you even talking about? Like I said, Tuttle isn’t my type. I don’t fit in with his group and I definitely don’t fit with him,” she says, gripping the steering wheel tight. “I’m glad you and Ryan are together, but don’t try and pair me up with Tuttle. It’s never happening.” Her voice is firm and her expression is totally hostile. Guess she really means it. “Again,” I add quietly, just to be a brat. Reminding her that once upon a time, something did happen with her and Tuttle. The irritated noise she makes tells me I made my point. “Whatever,” she mumbles as she pulls her car into the senior parking lot.

For some magical, wonderful reason, Ryan’s waiting for me at my locker before first period starts, just like I’d secretly hoped he would be. His being there is a statement, one that everyone will notice. He’s staking his claim—as in he’s claiming me. And I couldn’t be more thrilled about it. The moment he spots me, sending me one of those chin-nod things boys do, I smile in return, hoping I don’t look too eager. It takes everything within me not to skip over to where he’s standing and throw myself at him.

He drops a quick kiss on my lips when I reach him, his gaze locked on mine. “Morning.” “Good morning,” I return, beaming like an idiot. Tuttle chooses that moment to pass by, with Dustin of all people. “Gag,” Tuttle mutters straight toward us, just before he and Dustin crack up. I watch as they walk away, frowning. I knew they were sort of friends, but they’d never been what I’d call close. Who does Tuttle ever really hang out with? Guys from the football team most of the time, or any boy who’s an athlete. So I guess that means Dustin counts. “Tuttle’s an asshole,” Ryan says as he watches them walk away too. “I thought you two were friends?” I glance up at him. He shrugs, irritation written all over his face. “He mostly keeps to himself—unless he wants to cause trouble.” Unease slips down my spine at his words and I turn to my locker, entering in the combination before opening it. “What do you mean, trouble?” “Trust me, you don’t want to know.” He presses a quick kiss to my cheek, making me smile. “But maybe you should tell your friend to keep away from him.” “Are you talking about Amanda?” I shove a couple of books in my locker before I slam it shut. “Why should she stay away from him?” “Like I said, you don’t want to know. Just—trust me, okay?” He wraps his arm around my shoulder and steers me so we head down the hall. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Trust your boyfriend?” I gaze up at him, staring into his dreamy green eyes. “Are you calling yourself my boyfriend?” “I thought we already established that?” He leans in for another kiss but then pulls away when he spots a scowling teacher nearby. “The anti-PDA rules suck.” Laughing, I lean into him, absorbing his warmth, his strength. Have I ever been this happy? Did I ever think things would turn out like this for Ryan and me? I might’ve wished for it, but I never thought this could be my reality. I’m practically floating on a cloud a few minutes later when I enter the girls’ bathroom. Ryan’s class is down another hall and I want to check on my makeup anyway. My eyeliner always seems to smudge off. The moment I enter the bathroom, one of the stall doors open and Em walks out, her expression sour, her lips a deep, rich red and her hair a mess. Her gaze meets mine and she rolls her eyes, her upper lip curling in disgust. “Where’s your boyfriend?” she singsongs. I have the worst luck. Why do I always run into her in the bathroom? “Why didn’t you ever call me this weekend?” She goes to the sink and starts washing her hands, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “What are you talking about?”

I go to stand next to her, running a finger under one eye, then the other. This is what I get for using cheap eyeliner. “You went missing, Em. My mom accused me of lying to her because she thought we were together. Like I was hiding you in my closet so your parents wouldn’t find you.” “Oh.” She shuts off the faucet and shakes her hands, little water droplets landing in the sink. “Sorry.” “That’s all you can say?” I’m incredulous—and pissed. “Dustin and I went looking for you everywhere on Saturday. I texted you about a million times, left you voicemails. We searched all over town for you!” “And I received every one of those million texts and voicemails.” The bored look she sends my way irritates me even further. It’s amazing how a simple look makes me want to punch her in the face. “Listen, I was going through some shit and I stayed away from home for a little while. My parents made it out into this big thing, when it totally wasn’t. I was at a—friend’s house. It was no big deal. I didn’t mean for you or Dustin to get involved.” Her explanation means nothing to me. “You’re not going to tell me what happened?” “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Ryan?” She raises a brow. I look away, taking a deep breath. I don’t want to talk to her about Ryan. “That’s what I thought,” she says smugly when I don’t answer. “See ya around.” “Wait a second.” I grab her arm before she can make her escape. I know the first bell is going to ring any minute. We’re probably going to be late to class, but for once I don’t give a shit. “Are you okay, Em? Really? You know you can still talk to me, if you ever need a friend.” “Please,” she scoffs. Literally scoffs. “What, are you going to be my guidance counselor now?” She jerks her arm out of my grip and shifts away from me. “Like you’d understand my problems when you have none.” “Seriously? I have problems. You know I do. My parents are divorced, my mom focuses all of her attention on me so I can’t catch a break, and we’re pretty much broke while you have it made.” “Give me a break.” She looks away, like she can’t bear to look at me. “You think I’m a total joke while you’re untouchable.” I gape at her, icy cold shock coursing through my veins. “What are you talking about? I don’t think I’m better than you.” Em faces me once more. “You get everything you ever want. Your life is perfect.” Laughter escapes me, though it’s not the humorous kind. “Are you serious? My life is far from perfect.” “Really? Let’s recount everything you have. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. Dustin’s madly in love with you, yet you chose Ryan over him. And somehow you worked your magic and now Ryan’s totally into you too.” Em counts off each item with her fingers, waggling them at me. “You two make a perfect couple.” Her voice oozes with sarcasm.

“Dustin’s not madly in love with me,” I say, though it sounds like a lie the moment the words pass my lips. The way Em’s looking at me, she knows it’s a lie too. We both know how Dustin feels about me. She knew, yet she messed around with him anyway, and that freaking hurts. Though I’m not bringing that up anymore. It’s fucked up our friendships enough. “Dustin is totally in love with you. He always has been. He’s so blinded by his feelings for you he can’t see anyone else. Not even me,” she adds morosely. I’m shocked, yet not. I had a feeling she had a thing for Dustin. The three of us sometimes felt too close. Like I was involved in a relationship with both Dustin and Em and I wasn’t sure whose role was what. It was suffocating. I had to get out. Break free from the both of them. I just didn’t mean for it to disintegrate so completely. “Maybe you two…” My voice drifts. I can barely get the words out. I don’t want her to be with Dustin. I don’t want him, but I don’t want her to have him either. Yes, I’m a total bitch, but I can’t help it. “No.” She smiles just as the bell rings, though she looks sad. Her eyes are glassy and her expression is pained. “He’s not interested, despite the fact that we actually had sex. He’s made that clear.” Her words make me flinch like she actually slapped me. It hurts all over again, hearing her say they had sex. Em starts to leave the bathroom and I call her name, stopping her. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “For…everything.” The most blanket apology I can give her, though I’m not really sure what exactly I’m sorry for. Or why I’m apologizing in the first place. “No you’re not,” she says with a slight shake of her head. “Not really. But that’s okay, because I forgive you.” She flashes me her trademark smile, a real one this time, and I catch a glimmer of my wild best friend. “You should come over after school. We can work on our tans.” Our tans. She’s funny. I don’t really tan. She knows this. “Maybe I will.” “You can bring your boyfriend. Ryan and I can reminisce.” She laughs and pushes open the door, exiting out into the hallway crush before I can answer her. “See ya, Livvy!” I remain in the bathroom for a minute longer, letting the anger wash over me, through me. I can’t believe she said that. I probably deserved it.

“I’m having a party,” Ryan murmurs in my ear just before he nibbles it. “This Saturday. For my birthday.” I shove at his shoulders, pushing him away so I can look at him. It’s Tuesday night, almost ten, which is my stupid curfew during school nights, and we’ve been kissing in his car in my driveway for the past twenty minutes. His hair is mussed from my fingers, his lips swollen, and he looks hotter than ever. “It’s your birthday this weekend?” “Well, it’s a week from today, but I’m celebrating this weekend. Eighteen, baby.” He grins, leaning in for another kiss, but I push him away again, shoving at his chest. He frowns. “What gives? You have to be in your house in like five minutes. We gotta make the most of this.” Less than five minutes, more like three, but I don’t correct him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I did tell you.” When I don’t say anything, he continues. “When I first met you at Em’s house. You kept asking me all of these questions and that was one of them. My birthday is the twenty-sixth.” “Oh.” How could I freaking forget? We’ve been going out for three weeks already. I’m officially the worst girlfriend ever. “So you’re having a big birthday bash?” “Yeah, my parents are going out of town this weekend for some business thing for my dad. I’m in charge of Eli. I told him if he breathes a word of this party to Mom and Dad, I’m going to slit his fucking throat.” I flinch at his choice of words. By the murderous glimmer in his eyes, I half believe he’d do it. “Who are you inviting?” “Everyone. We have an away game this Friday, which sucks.” He doesn’t like away games. They always seem to lose those, but they’ve played well at home lately, winning their last two games, which is a huge deal at school. “Wanna help me decorate on Saturday?” “What, like party decorations?” I wrinkle my nose. “Are you serious?” “Well, yeah.” He hauls me back into his arms, kissing me stupid, leaving me dizzy. “I need balloons and streamers. The housekeeper cleans on Thursday afternoons so the house should look good. But that also means we have to be careful. We can’t trash it.” “If you invite everyone, then the house will get trashed. I guarantee it.” The football players are the cliché bulls trapped in a china shop, smashing and breaking everything

even when they don’t mean to. Ryan starts kissing my neck, his mouth wet and hot on my skin, making me shiver. “You’ll help me clean then.” Like I really want to be part of his cleaning crew. But for my boyfriend, I’d do just about anything. “Maybe,” I tease. “Maybe? Aw, come on.” He kisses me hungrily, his tongue doing a thorough search of my mouth as his hand lands on my boob, his thumb rubbing back and forth. I break the kiss immediately, slapping his hand away. “Stop, Ryan. What if my mom catches us?” Mom catching Ryan feeling me up in his car sitting in the driveway isn’t how I want to end the night. “Give me a break, like she doesn’t know what we’re doing out here. Besides, she’s too busy getting busy with her boyfriend,” he says, laughing when he catches my disgusted expression. Ew. That is the last thing I want to think about. “I have to go.” I grab my purse and lean in to give him a brief kiss that somehow turns into another tongue-tangling session. I finally pull away, breathless, my head spinning and Ryan grinning like he knows exactly what he does to me. “See you in the morning?” “You’ll have to get a ride from Amanda,” he says, tapping the tip of my nose. “I have morning practice.” “Okay.” I climb out of his car, leaning over to peer inside to look at him one last time before I close the door. “Miss you.” “Send me a tit pic,” he says, grinning as he starts the car. I roll my eyes. He always wants tit pics. He’s such a perv. I’ve sent him a few, but they always make me nervous after I send them. That one-second option on Snapchat is a dream come true. I just have to hope Ryan doesn’t screenshot them. “No way. Maybe I’ll show them to you in person for your birthday.” “I’ve already seen them in person. You know what I want. I think it would make a great birthday present too.” I slam the door shut, cutting off his words. He waves at me and backs out of the driveway, pulling out onto the road and turning toward the direction of his house. I stand and watch until the lights of his car disappear before I walk into my house. I can’t stop turning over his words again and again. I know what he wants, what he thinks will be the perfect birthday present. My virginity. I’ve held tight to it for the last three weeks, since we’ve been officially together. We’ve done everything but have sex. We make out until I can’t see straight and my mouth is sore. He’s fingered me to orgasm multiple times. Gone down on me once—but I wasn’t that comfortable with it, so I made him stop. I’ve given him endless hand jobs and blowjobs, but we haven’t done the actual deed. I just…can’t. Not yet. And our last encounter, when it didn’t end the way he wanted, Ryan got frustrated.

And even a little pissed. “So you’ll put my dick in your mouth but you won’t let me stick it in your pussy?” he’d yelled as he paced around his room, wearing only a pair of athletic shorts and pitching a mighty big tent in the front of them. I hadn’t known how to answer his question without getting mad, so I took a deep breath. Then another. Then I’d told him I wasn’t ready and he stopped protesting after that. Of course he did. I gave him a blowjob and all was right in the world. But I’m not bitter about the blowjobs, I swear. I sort of get off giving them to him. He loves them so much and I like having that tiny bit of power over him. The knowledge that I’m the one who makes him lose control like that is pretty heady stuff. So I keep doing it, all while my virginity remains intact. Why I’m holding on to my virginity, I don’t know. I guess I’m scared that once we actually do have sex, he’ll…dump me. Which is crazy, I know it is, but I can’t help feeling that way. There are so many other girls at school who would love to snatch Ryan away from me. The possibility of losing him terrifies me. My entire life has changed since we got together. My social status has grown. I feel confident. Even…popular. I shouldn’t care about that stuff, but I can’t help it. I do. Hanging out with Amanda has helped me too. We’ve grown super close. She’s fun—a real friend who always has my back. And I have hers as well. I’m glad we have each other. Makes me feel like I’m more than just a girl who’s become someone because of her boyfriend. I need that. Desperately. Entering the house, I bypass the living room, which is dark save for the flickering light of the TV, and go straight for the kitchen. I know Mom and Fitch are watching a movie or one of their favorite shows and I don’t feel like talking to them. Besides, I’m pretty sure I have made out and rubbed against each other written all over me. I swear I can still smell Ryan’s cologne and soap clinging to my skin. I open the fridge and bend over to grab a bottled water from the very back before I shut the door and stand up straight. A little shriek escapes when I see who’s standing in front of me. “There you are.” Mom smiles pleasantly, but it’s false. It’s what I call her phony I’ve caught you smile. “Where have you been?” I twist off the bottle cap and take a drink. “With Ryan,” I say after I swallow. “Uh-huh.” She crosses her arms in front of her, leaning against the kitchen counter. She looks weary and old and tired of my bullshit. I’ve seen this look before, too many times. “I don’t know how I feel about you spending so much time with that boy.” “Too late, Mom. I’m spending time with him. Dating him. I really like Ryan and you

can’t stop me from seeing him,” I snap, hating how she tries to control my every little move. I’m practically an adult. I can’t freaking wait to get out of this house so I can be on my own. “I can stop you, especially when you don’t abide by my rules. This is my house and what I say, goes.” She steps closer and points a finger in my face. I’m tempted to slap it away. “If you’re late again, I’ll ground you. I’ll ban you from seeing him.” “Give me a break. I’m only a few minutes late, Mom.” “I don’t care. I don’t like that boy. I think he’s a bad influence.” I actually laugh. “Please.” “Don’t tempt me, Olivia. If I want to ban you from seeing him, I can make it happen,” Mom threatens. “You wouldn’t dare,” I breathe, my eyes going wide. But her expression doesn’t even flinch. Neither does her finger, which is still in my face. “Watch me,” she says, her voice low before she drops her hand, turns on her heel and bails out of the kitchen. I go to sit on one of the barstools that line our counter, my legs shaky, my mind spinning. Mom and I don’t really fight. We bicker on occasion, especially about my friends and boys and my stupid curfew and bad grades, but I never thought she’d use keeping me away from Ryan as a threat. I’m sort of blown away. I don’t know how long I sit there at the counter, recounting every word Mom said. I can’t believe she’d threaten me. I almost want to tell her to fuck off, but I’m scared she will take Ryan away from me. And I can’t let that happen. “Hey, what’s going on?” Fitch’s soft voice makes me lift my head, my gaze meeting his. His eyes are kind, his smile encouraging as he settles into the stool next to mine. “You all right?” “I’m fine.” I smile in return, shrugging. “Thanks for asking.” Fitch I don’t get. I’m not quite sure how to approach him yet. He seems like he’s on my side most of the time, but he could also turn on me quick and I wouldn’t be the wiser. Mom listens to everything he says. She told me recently that she values his opinion. While mine is total shit. That’s not what she said exactly, but it was implied. “You and your mom arguing again?” His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile grows. “She means well. She just doesn’t want to see you toss away your opportunities.” “What opportunities? I have none to throw away.” “Your college education for one. You’re going to apply to a lot of colleges soon, right? Isn’t the plan for you to get a scholarship to a good school? She doesn’t want you to throw it away, all for a boy.” “I would never do that. I’m not stupid,” I mutter, glancing down at the counter again.

“Does everyone have such little faith in me or what?” “Not me.” When I look up, I find he’s grinning at me. Like, full on grinning, as if it’s the happiest day on earth. “You’re smart and beautiful and you’ve got the world by its tail. Don’t ever let it go, baby.” I wrinkle my nose. “Did you really just call me baby?” “Figure of speech.” The smile fades and he waves a nonchalant hand, as if he calls every female he talks to baby. “I’m just trying to say don’t give up on your dreams. Or else you’ll be stuck in some shitty house, married to some shitty guy and taking care of his shitty kids while you’re barely making it and stretching out that pittance of a paycheck you earn, so you can pay the mortgage,” he says, his gaze getting that far-away look that happens with Fitch sometimes. What he just described, it sounds…fucking awful. I wonder if he’s talking about himself, about his life. Mom mentioned a while ago he’s divorced, and that he has a couple of kids he has partial custody of, but I don’t know the particulars. “And if I sound like a bitter old man, maybe I am,” Fitch continues. “But at least I’m with a woman I care about now, instead of that hateful bitch I was married to.” He practically spits out the words “hateful bitch.” She sounds lovely. “I have zero plans on getting married, especially after high school or college or whatever.” I seriously don’t want to talk about my future plans with Fitch. I don’t know if he’ll still be around when I graduate in June. “Life never happens like you believe it will. You think you have it all together, that you’ll never deviate from your plan, but it’ll happen. Forces beyond your control will come along and bam, everything changes,” he says with a little shrug. “Sometimes it’ll be a good change, sometimes it’s a bad one. You just gotta roll with the punches.” He leans in closer and punches me lightly on the shoulder, as if emphasizing his point. I stare into his eyes, smell the beer on his breath, and I recoil from him a little, hoping he doesn’t notice. Shit. The sneer curling his lips indicates he does. “Think you’re better than me, don’t you?” His voice is quiet. Chilling. “Think you can tell your mom that I’m no good for her and she’ll dump me? Well, she won’t. She’s in love with me and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” Weird. His entire demeanor has changed so fast. I blink rapidly, willing myself to get up, get the hell out of there, but it’s like I’m paralyzed. He grabs hold of my wrist, fingers clamping tight, and my entire body goes stiff. “Let me go,” I whisper. “No. You listen to me first. We can come to an agreement, don’t you think? Stay out of my business and I’ll stay out of yours. Quit trying to convince your mom I’m not good enough.” I have no idea what he’s referring to. I don’t talk about Fitch to Mom. She knows I’m not thrilled with their relationship, but it’s not like we sit around trading stories about our

boyfriends. Gross. “You can go ahead and spend all your time with your little boyfriend,” he murmurs, his gaze turning steely. I never noticed before how gray his eyes are, or how cold. “Just leave me alone.” Jerking out of his hold, I leap to my feet, the stool knocking to the ground with a clatter. I grab my bottle of water and get out of there, ignoring my mom when she calls out, “Is everything okay? Olivia? What’s going on?” I run down the hall, straight into my room, locking my door behind me. I flip the light switch on and glance around, my breath coming fast. Why does my room look…different? I swear to God someone’s rifling through my shit, looking for something. But what? Maybe I’m just being paranoid. A sharp knock sounds on my door, making me jump. “Who is it?” I ask shakily. “Who do you think it is?” Mom. She rattles the door handle. “Open the damn door right now.” Reluctantly, I unlock the door and she barges in just as I back up a few steps. “What’s wrong?” I ask her. God, if Fitch said something to her about our weird little talk… “What happened in the kitchen?” She shuts the door behind her before she turns to face me once more. “With Fitch? Were you two actually talking?” Oh God. This is my moment to tell her the truth—that her boyfriend is kind of a creeper who might or might not have a minor thing for me—or I can remain quiet and act like nothing is wrong. “Yeah.” I try to smile, but it’s like my lips won’t cooperate. “Um, he was offering me advice.” A skeptical brow shoots straight up. “What sort of advice?” Mom asks. “About life.” I shrug. “How things can change no matter how much I try to plan.” Well, that isn’t a total lie. “Huh.” She studies me, her gaze penetrating. I try not to squirm, since that’s a dead giveaway I’m uncomfortable. Instead I square my shoulders and stand up straight, pretend that nothing is bothering me. “You two are acting weird lately. If I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if you were both planning a birthday surprise for me.” Oh. That’s right. Her birthday is October 2nd, right after Ryan’s birthday. I couldn’t remember my own boyfriend’s birthday and I sure as hell wasn’t thinking about Mom’s either. “Why would you say that?” I ask innocently. She smiles. Out and out beams, really. “Okay. I can play along with this. But please, I have one request.” “What’s that?” I ask weakly. “No surprise parties. They’re the worst. And I don’t want an over the hill themed party

either. I’m turning forty—that’s not a death sentence.” “Whatever you say,” I call after her as she exits my bedroom. Mom flashes me a sly look before she shuts my door. I go to it, quietly turn the lock and then collapse on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. What a weird night.

“Thank you so much for coming over and helping me,” I say in greeting as I answer Ryan’s front door. Amanda sends me a begrudging look as she enters the house, stopping in the grand foyer. “I’m only doing this for you,” she mumbles, her head shooting back so she can take in the impressive soaring ceiling. “Wow.” “I know.” I shut the door and turn the lock. It’s early Saturday afternoon and the party doesn’t start until eight, but I’m not taking any chances. I don’t want someone busting into the house unannounced. “This place is ridiculous.” I follow Amanda deeper into the house, and she collapses on one of the giant white couches, smoothing her hand over the surface. “Love the couch. His mom has good taste.” “Could be his dad who came up with this.” I sit on the loveseat opposite Amanda. “Come on. His dad is some techy nerd who lives for video games. He wouldn’t care what the house looked like as long as he has the latest game systems and a giant screen TV.” She points to the flat screen hanging on the wall. “And he’s got that, so life is good.” “You know what’s weird? Ryan doesn’t play video games. At all.” I asked him if he did, and while he didn’t come out and actually say it, I do think he resents how much his father loves video games. It’s to the point where he doesn’t spend much time with his family. He’s always working. His little brother Eli loves them and plays with their dad every chance he can get, which isn’t often. “Typical. The boy who has every game at his fingertips isn’t interested. We always want what we can’t have.” She glances around the living room, taking in every perfect detail, no doubt. “Why am I here so early again? You wanted me to help you clean? This place is immaculate.” I roll my eyes. “We need to go shopping first, for party supplies.” Amanda makes a little face but remains quiet. “And then we’re coming back here and we’re going to decorate!” I clap my hands together excitedly, but her lackluster response tells me she’s not feeling the same way. I drop my hands and mock pout instead. “Come on, Amanda. It’ll be fun.” “Fun helping you put up cheesy decorations so your boyfriend will think it’s true love and I won’t get any credit? No thanks,” she mutters, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Ouch. Negative much? “I promise I’ll give you equal credit.”

“Right, and that’ll make all the difference to Ryan.” She leans her head back on the sofa, sinking into the plush cushion. “I can think of a lot better ways to spend my Saturday.” “Why are you being such a jerk?” I rise to my feet so I can quickly slap her thigh before I fall back into the loveseat. She glowers at me, rubbing her bare leg. That’s what she gets for wearing short shorts. Another heat wave has come through the Valley and it sucks. “You’re usually up for anything!” “Sorry.” She shakes her head, still absently stroking her thigh. My smack left a red mark on her skin and I feel bad. “It’s been a shitty week.” And I’ve been a shitty friend because I haven’t noticed. “Why? What’s going on?” Sighing, she starts plucking at a thread on the couch. “Since I quit band my parents have been on my back, especially my mom. She truly believed it would be my ticket to college.” “Playing in the band?” I don’t get how, but whatever. “Getting a music scholarship. My family isn’t like everyone else around here. They can’t afford to send me to the college of my choice. And though I’ve always been in honors classes, I’m not what you would call a well-rounded student. The only activity I ever participated in was band.” “I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing…” “The problem is it was the only thing. Now I’m not in band and it’s our senior year. My parents think I ruined my chances.” Her face crumples and I’m scared she’s going to cry. “They said since I have all of this free time now, I need to go find a job to help pay for my college expenses.” The tears start to flow down her face and I move so I’m sitting next to her, wrapping her up in an awkward hug, trying to pat her back, offer up some comfort. Mom won’t let me to get a part-time job. She says high school is my job and she wants me to focus on my schoolwork. I’m a decent student, though not in all honors classes like Amanda. While I would never get into an Ivy League university, I bet Amanda could. She’s super smart and ambitious. “What if you joined some clubs?” I suggest, still patting her shoulder. Amanda sniffs and lifts her head, our gazes meeting. “What sort of clubs? The Chess Club? Math Club? Space Club? Those are all for nerds.” I can’t believe she’d bash her own kind—and I mean that in the nicest way. I’ve always been middle of the road at school. Not totally unpopular, but not quite popular either. Amanda strays toward the nerd side and she’d never deny it. Quiet, studious, in band—she fit all the particulars. And she liked it there, had admitted to me recently that she felt comfortable there. Safe. Moving out of her regular social circle scared her. It scared me too. “There’s a Space Club?” I ask, wrinkling my nose. I know there’s one, but I’m trying to make her laugh. It doesn’t work.

She makes a noise of frustration and pulls away from me, swiping at her tear -stained cheeks. “There’s all sorts of clubs on campus, but they don’t count for shit when it comes to getting into a quality school. Unless maybe I can get on the yearbook staff—that would look good.” Another sniffle, but at least there’s no more tears. “Maybe you could help me with that?” “I can and I will. I already told you I would. Consider it done,” I say firmly. “Maybe you could talk to one of the guys on the football team too. See if they can help you.” “With what? How can they help me?” Amanda asks incredulously. “You never know. Maybe you could assist with games or whatever. Take stats. Everyone knows how much you love football.” I shrug, feeling dumb. “Hmm. Maybe I should do that for the basketball team. They have assistants who take stats for every game.” She taps a finger against her pursed lips. “That’s a good idea.” Basketball makes me think of Dustin and I immediately feel…I don’t know. Sad? Conflicted? I miss him. He’s kept his distance just like he said he would. He doesn’t talk to me, not really, but he’s not out and out rude either. We say hi in the one class we share and that’s about it. He’s spending lots of time with Tuttle lately, which is weird. Tuttle seems to have turned his back on pretty much everyone on the football team. It’s odd. But no one ever said Tuttle made much sense. The guy does whatever he wants and if anyone questions him, they can go fuck themselves. I know this is true because I witnessed him saying exactly that to Ryan once. “I still need to find a job, though,” Amanda says, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m going to start searching on Monday. I have a few prospects lined up.” “That sucks.” I feel bad for her and wish I had a solution. “Want me to help you?” “Only if you want to.” She shrugs. “I know there are financial aid options and student loans for college. I really don’t want to take on loans, though. Debt scares me. I don’t even know if I can get into the university of my choice. I mean, my SAT scores are good, but still.” Her mouth curves downward. “ I don’t want to be stuck going to the local community college for a couple of years.” Her face starts to crumple again, but I won’t let her cry. No way. This is a day for celebrating, not being sad. I leap to my feet and take her hands, dragging her along with me. “Come on. Let’s go eat lunch—my treat—and then we’ll go to Party City and pick out the silliest decorations we can find, okay? It’ll be awesome.” “Okay.” Amanda offers a watery smile and nods. “Okay.”



It’s much later in the afternoon and we’re stringing black and white streamers all over the living room, careful to only use tape for fear of putting holes in the wall with pushpins when Ryan enters the living room, accompanied by…Tuttle. For real. Amanda scowls from her perch on top of the step stool, the black and white streamers twisted around each other slipping from her hand and unraveling on the ground. “What the hell are you doing here?” Her question is clearly directed at Tuttle. We talked about him over lunch and she admitted how glad she was that Ryan and Tuttle weren’t really hanging out anymore. It meant she didn’t have to deal with him as much, and while I still didn’t quite understand what was going on with those two, I did get that she wanted nothing to do with Tuttle. He must’ve really hurt her feelings or did something stupid to make her act like this. Because I can admit this—though I would never say it in front of Ryan—Tuttle is smoking hot. But his intensity scares me, so I’m not tempted. Maybe all that intensity freaks Amanda out too. I’m not sure. “Love of my life.” Tuttle’s gaze is locked on Amanda as he rests his hand on his chest, just like always. “You wound me with your cruel and wicked tone.” “What’s the deal? Have you turned into Shakespeare?” I ask him, smiling as Ryan approaches me. I tilt my head back for his kiss and he doesn’t disappoint, his mouth moving lazily over mine, a quick swipe of tongue before he pulls away. “You have to admit she treats me like shit,” Tuttle says to me, pointing at Amanda. “When I’ve done nothing wrong.” Amanda snorts in response. “It’s true.” He turns to her. “You know how I feel. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away.” My ears perk up. Ah, now the conversation becomes super interesting. I’ve only ever heard Amanda’s side of the story… “Come with me,” Ryan murmurs close to my ear, his lips touching my skin and making me shiver. “I want to show you something.” Damn it. I want to eavesdrop, but I can’t say no to Ryan. So I follow after him, clutching his fingers tightly as he leads me through the house and outside where there are two giant kegs set up on the lawn near the pool. “Whatcha think?” He points at the kegs. I thought he was going to show me something romantic. Or say something romantic. Anything romantic. But he’s too excited by the prospect of all that beer for tonight. “Um, they’re awesome?” “Hell yeah, they are. Tuttle’s birthday present to me,” he says proudly. “How…thoughtful.” I make a little face, but it’s like he doesn’t even notice. He’s too enthralled with the kegs. In fact, he’s standing beside one now, running his hand over the top of it almost lovingly.

“I have good friends.” He lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. “And a great girlfriend.” He comes to me then, wrapping me up in his arms and lifting me off my feet. I squeal, my arms shooting around his neck and holding on tight. He’s laughing, and I’m laughing and I remember when I first met him, how intimidating he’d been, yet sexy. So incredibly sexy and a little edgy, a little intense… Ryan isn’t really like that now. He’s my boyfriend. We flirt and we have fun and he’s the best kisser and the best everything else, though I have to admit, he’s a little selfish. Where Dustin always wanted to make sure I was satisfied too, Ryan wasn’t as conscious of that. And I shouldn’t be thinking of Dustin right now. That’s totally wrong and unfair. Everyone’s different. Ryan is the perfect guy for me. His mouth finds mine once more, and I’m lost. Dizzy. His damp lips and hot tongue, his roaming hands and whispered words of promise for later. What would happen later. I plan on giving him everything he wanted tonight. I’m not even nervous. This night belongs to him. It will be perfect.

“You’re staying the night with me, right?” I glance to my right to find Ryan standing beside me, a red cup clutched in his hand, a loopy grin on his face. He’s drunk, but so am I, so I guess we make an excellent match. The party has been raging for a couple of hours. At one point there were so many people spilling out into the backyard, I was afraid the neighbors would report us and the cops would come break the party up. But I’m guessing Ryan has easygoing neighbors because we haven’t seen the police yet. “You want me to stay, right?” I bat my eyelashes, trying my best to give him a suggestive smile and his gaze heats, his brows shooting up. He taps his cup against the one I’m clutching in a silent toast and we both drink. I nearly choke when Amanda’s elbow digs into my side, reminding me that she’s standing right next to me. I was gossiping with her not one second before my boyfriend approached and asked me that silly question. My boyfriend. I loved thinking that. Saying it out loud. “You two are so disgustingly into each other, it’s gross,” Amanda mutters, shaking her head. Ryan glares while I swallow the rest of my beer. For some reason, he’s not digging Amanda tonight. It’s like he wants all of my attention and I’ve been giving it to him, but I finally needed a break. There’s only so much I can tolerate, listening to him drone on about football and stats and workouts and practices with his circle of friends. Amanda is better at listening to that stuff, but she’s staying away from Tuttle like he has a disease so I can’t count on her hanging out with us. Lots of people have brought Ryan gifts for his birthday, especially the jealous, pretty girls who act like they want to take him away from me. I’ve stood next to him for most of the night, clutching his arm and glaring at any female who dares cross his path. He doesn’t seem bothered by my possessiveness, though a few times he did tell me to lighten up after I gave the death stare to yet another group of giggling girls who wanted to wish him a happy birthday. “I’m going to hang out with Amanda for a little bit longer, okay?” I grab his hand and stand on tiptoe, kissing his cheek. He smells good, spicy and warm with a hint of beer. I run my lips along his strong jaw before they find his mouth. “Meet me in your room in an hour?” His hand settles on my butt, giving it a squeeze and making me yelp. “Midnight,” he

whispers. “You better be waiting.” Anticipation races through my veins as he sends me one last, meaningful look before he slips away. The crowd seems to embrace him, Cannon patting him on the back as Tuttle hands him yet another beer. “I saw Cannon kissing Emily earlier,” Amanda says after Ryan left. I nearly drop my beer. “Wait a second—my Em?” “Yep, your Em.” She nods, her lips quirking into a smirk. “I needed to use the bathroom and they must’ve forgot to lock the door. She was sitting on the counter and he was standing between her legs, and let me tell you, they were going at it like they were starved for each other.” “Em and Cannon?” I couldn’t imagine her with the big, muscular, blond, irritating Cannon. He was the complete opposite of the dark and moody Em. He was loud and obnoxious, and a total and complete player. “I don’t believe it.” “Believe it. I saw it with my own eyes.” Amanda giggles. “It was kind of disgusting. I saw Cannon’s tongue in her mouth.” We collapse against each other, giggling uncontrollably. We’re acting stupid, like we’re little kids but I’ve had way too many beers to worry about it. I’m trying to have fun and loosen up, not stress about giving my virginity to the one and only Ryan Bennett. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Amanda asks. My giggles disappear. “Yeah.” She reaches out and clasps my hand in hers. “You’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.” “Are you talking from all of your wild past sexual experiences?” I tease, and her expression turns serious. “I’ve had my moments,” she says mysteriously, her gaze not meeting mine. I almost don’t believe her, but she can be pretty mysterious when she wants, so… “What if I mess it up? What if I do or say something stupid?” Those are the least of my fears. I lower my voice, not wanting anyone else to hear me. “What if it…hurts? Like, really bad?” “You’ve done everything else right?” “Pretty much.” “Well, just make sure you’re good and—prepared before you actually do it.” She widens her eyes, reminding me of an owl. “You know what I mean?” “I guess.” I shrug. I mean, yeah, I’m not stupid, but it’s probably going to hurt no matter how much we prepare. “This is a night you’ll never forget,” Amanda says, gazing out at everyone milling about the backyard. The temperature is dropping and I’d rather go inside or find one of Ryan’s hoodies to keep me warm. But that would ruin my outfit and no way am I covering it up. I’m wearing a cropped floral long-sleeved shirt and a short black skirt I picked out

especially for tonight. Even with the long sleeves, I’m showing lots of skin and I know Ryan likes my outfit, what with the appreciative looks he’d been sending my way all night. “I know. I’m trying to make it perfect,” I tell her. “Forget perfect. Just try to focus on the good stuff. You care about him and he cares about you, right? You two are in looooove.” She draws out the word and starts giggling again, and I giggle too, though it’s really halfhearted. Am I in love with Ryan? I just…I can’t say it. Can’t even think it. I like him. I like him a lot. He makes me laugh and he makes me burn inside every time he touches me or kisses me. I like how I feel when I’m seen with him. When I walk down the hall at school, his arm around my shoulders. Running up to him after a football game when he looks so cute yet manly in his uniform. I probably could fall in love with him. Eventually. “Hey Amanda.” We both look over to see Tuttle approaching, his expression bland, though his eyes are only for Amanda, and they’re greedily eating her up. “Tuttle. Fancy seeing you here,” I tell him, my tone teasing. He doesn’t flinch, smile, nothing. “Can we talk?” he asks Amanda. She shrugs. “What about?” She’s just as bland, just as emotionless. His gaze slides to me for the briefest moment before he returns his attention to her. “Privately?” “I’ll leave you two alone,” I tell her, our gazes meeting. She looks a little freaked out. “Unless you don’t want me to leave?” “No, it’s okay.” She smiles weakly, a noticeable shiver running through her when Tuttle rests his hand at the small of her back. “Go ahead. We’ll catch up later?” “You have a way to get home?” “I’ll drive her home,” Tuttle says firmly, sending her a look when she opens her mouth to protest. “I will,” he tells her. “Don’t bother arguing.” I leave them be, heading into the house in the hopes I can warm up. A few people linger in the kitchen at the small table in the breakfast nook, and there is a group of guys sitting in the living room, all crowded around the big screen as they play video games. Thank God no one has made a huge mess. Ryan said if we directed everyone outside they would mostly stay outside. Guess he was right. “Livvy! Oh my God, there you are!” I turn to see Em running toward me, her mouth stretched wide in a grin, her arms thrown open as she tackle-hugs me. I grip her tight, afraid she might knock me over, and she laughs before giving me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

This feels very familiar. Almost comfortable…yet not. “I heard you were here,” I tell her, pulling away so I can take her in. She’s wearing skin-tight jeans that show off her long legs, along with a flowy white shirt with embroidered multi-colored flowers decorating the neckline. She looks great. “Who told you I was here?” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and guides me through the house, away from the living room and all the yelling boys. I swear I saw Cannon in there, but I can’t be too sure. “Amanda. She said she ran into you in the bathroom.” I send her a sly look, but she doesn’t even flinch. “Oh really?” She sounds bored. I poke her in the ribs. “Come on, Em. Fess up. You’re hooking up with Cannon.” “Shh!” She tugs on my arm and the next thing I know I’m in a bathroom. Probably the very same bathroom she was hooking up with Cannon in. “Why did you say that so loud?” “No one was listening to us,” I defend myself, but she keeps talking over me in that typical way of hers. “And we’re not really hooking up. Well, we have, but only once. Okay, a few times. But it was nothing. Nothing. He’s just…a scratch for my itch.” She lifts her chin, appearing perfectly content with that explanation. “A scratch to your itch?” That sounds awful. She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Listen, it’s happened, but the moment is always accidental. He’s very—persistent.” “Uh huh.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Stop giving me that judgmental tone. You’re the one who’s messing around with Ryan,” she points out. “Yeah, because he’s my boyfriend,” I remind her. I’m also reminded of the fact that Ryan supposedly took Em’s virginity too. Or did he? No one has ever really confirmed it and I know Em lies about all sorts of stuff. But if I think about the two of them together too hard, it’s kind of creepy. Okay, fine. It’s really creepy. So I shove it out of my brain, forcing it to the very darkest corner. “What’s wrong?” Em asks after no doubt seeing the dawning horror on my face. “You look like you just saw a ghost.” “It’s nothing.” I shake my head, trying to smile, but it’s shaky at best. “Just—I’m glad you’re here. And I’m glad you were honest with me about Cannon.” “Yeah, well don’t spread it around,” she mumbles. “I won’t.” But I can’t promise Amanda won’t say anything. “You look good.” “Thanks,” she says softly. “You do too. I like the shirt.” She touches my side, her

fingers streaking across the exposed skin above my skirt so lightly I shiver. “Lookin’ sexy, Liv. All for the birthday boy?” I remain quiet. What can I say? With a few words, this situation has turned all sorts of awkward. “You guys make a great couple,” she continues, her smile never fading as her gaze returns to mine once more. “I know you’re totally into Ryan, and that’s great. Just—keep tabs on your man.” I frown. Here we go again with the Ryan warnings. “What do you mean?” “He has wandering eyes.” She pauses, her eyes sparkling, like she’s enjoying this. “And wandering hands.” My stomach sinks to my toes and my mouth goes dry. “You’re just saying that.” “I’m trying to watch out for a friend,” she practically sneers. “Right, more like trying to ruin my relationship by telling me a bunch of lies.” I shove at her shoulders, so pissed I can barely see straight. She falls back against the counter, her eyes wide, her mouth dropped open in shock. Good. I’m glad I can surprise her. She loves setting off these little verbal bombs just before she runs away, and I’m sick of them. Sick of her. I don’t know why I put up with her shit for this long. “They’re not lies, at least not what I’m telling you. I can’t help it if you’re a stupid, naïve bitch who believes everything your lying boyfriend says,” Em taunts, straightening to her full height, which is about equal to mine. We stare each other down, neither of us looking away and I clench my fingers into tight fists. I’ve never been in a physical fight before. But I’m angry. Like, violently angry. I’ve never felt this mad in my life and I’m ready to throw down on her if I have to. Right here in the middle of Ryan’s guest bathroom during his birthday party—my timing isn’t the best, but screw it. I’m so sick of Em’s crap. “We keep doing this,” I tell her. “We’re friends, we’re not, we’re sort of friends, we’re sort of not. Which is it, Em?” “We definitely can’t go back to the old us,” she says, her gaze wavering. She looks down, looks to the side. She looks anywhere but at me. “Too much has happened.” “Like you messing around with Dustin.” “Like you messing around with Dustin,” she yells back, shockingly loud in the tiny bathroom. “Though that wasn’t enough for you, so you stole Ryan away from me. I had him first!” “He wasn’t interested in you, not like that.” Not like he’s interested in me. “Oh, is that what he told you? So I’m okay to mess around with all summer, but once you come along, forget it? He’s over me?” She thrusts a finger into the air, pointing it straight at me. “You came home from Oregon and both Ryan and Dustin didn’t care about me anymore. All they cared about is you.”

I’ve already heard this. I don’t need to go over it again. “We keep having this same stupid conversation,” I remind her. “It’s getting really old.” “No shit. So forget it. I’m done.” Em pushes past me, hitting my shoulder hard. She yanks open the bathroom door before she glances over her shoulder to glare at me. “You can have him. You can have both of them. I hope they make you miserable for the rest of your pitiful life.” “Fuck you!” I yell, but she slams the door before I can get the words out, effectively cutting me off. I pound my fist on the closed door once. Twice. I’m so angry I’m shaking, my teeth chattering, and I turn to the sink, flipping on the faucet so I can splash water on my flushed face and wash my hands. I stare at my reflection the entire time, Em’s words running on repeat in my head. “God, she’s such a bitch,” I mutter under my breath, turning off the water and grabbing a towel. I dry my hands, run my fingers through my hair, tell myself to calm down, but it’s no use. I’m jittery as hell. Slowly I open the bathroom door and make my exit, relieved to see there’s no one else around. I glance at the decorative clock hanging nearby and see it’s almost midnight. When I’m supposed to be waiting for Ryan in his room. Anger and other swirling, confusing emotions driving me, I run up the stairs and go to his room, searching through the overnight bag I brought with me. My phone is nestled deep inside and I check it, though luckily I have no messages. I dig some more until I find the sexy bra and panties I bought a few days ago. Hurriedly I change out of my clothes and shove them into the bag, before I slip on the lace thong and then the bra. I go to the mirror hanging above his dresser and take a few steps back, staring at my reflection. My cheeks are still flushed with anger and my boobs for some miraculous reason look pretty good. The bra and thong are lacy and white and I can see through both. Like…see everything. Whoa. Deciding the hell with it, I grab my phone and curl up in the middle of Ryan’s bed, tossing my hair over one shoulder as I work out a provocative pose. I do a couple of practice runs, holding my camera up high so my cleavage and everything else I’ve got is on prominent display. I’m already in the Snapchat app so I take a photo, a little smile curling my lips. I study the photo, surprised at the outcome. I look sexy. Like, really sexy. Smiling to myself, I type out one sentence before hitting send. Come and get it birthday boy.

The bedroom door crashes open so loudly I jump, a gasp escaping me. Ryan is standing in the doorway, his green eyes seeming to eat me up as he takes me in, poised in the middle of his bed in the skimpiest underwear I’ve ever worn. “Damn,” he breathes. I sit up straighter and thrust my shoulders back, giving him a good look. I don’t think even five minutes have passed since I sent that Snapchat. “Like your birthday present?” “I fucking love it,” he practically growls as he shuts and locks the door. He’s stalking toward the bed, tearing off his shirt, kicking off his shoes, tugging at the fly of his jeans. I’m breathless, weightless as I watch him, anticipation racing hot through my veins as he reaches me. Reaches for me, his hands curling around my face and tilting my head back. He stares into my eyes, lowering his head until his mouth hovers above mine. “Happy birthday,” I whisper. Ryan crushes my lips with his, the kiss hungry. Hot. Devouring. I rise up on my knees, reaching for him, my arms sliding around his neck, my hands diving into his hair as he slips one hand between us to touch my chest. His fingers claw at the lace, brush across my nipples, and I moan against his mouth, shocked at the heat that washes over me. God, I think that argument with Em somehow fueled me and…turned me on? I don’t know, I can’t explain it, but I was so mad earlier, I swear I’m running on pure adrenaline now. “You’re so hot, Livvy,” Ryan whispers against my neck as he kisses and licks me there. He reaches around my back and undoes the bra clasp, tearing the delicate fabric off until I’m completely bare, the scrap of lace fluttering to the floor. He cups my breasts in his hands before he pushes me backward. I’m lying on the bed and he’s above me, kneeling between my legs. I watch him, drinking in those smooth muscles as they flex, his biceps bulging as he reaches for the thin straps curved around my waist. He tugs off my panties, his mouth burning a path down my legs, his hands shoving them open just before he puts his mouth there, between my thighs. “Oh God,” I say on a gasp, panting as I tug his hair, desperate to push him away. But he persists, ignoring my protests, and soon I’m not complaining. I’m pulling him closer, spreading my legs wider, crying out when he thrusts his fingers inside me, and then I’m freaking lost. Wave after wave crashes over me, my entire body trembling. Consumed.

Overwhelmed. Lost to the sensation of this boy and his magical mouth, his magical tongue and fingers and everything else he’s using on me. “Damn, that was fast,” he murmurs, sounding surprised as he lifts away from me. I lay in the middle of his bed a trembling, shaky mess, watching as he reaches for the bedside table drawer. I lift up and reach for the fly of his jeans, pulling on the zipper and spreading the denim open. He strains against the black cotton of his boxer briefs and it doesn’t matter that I just came a few seconds ago. I want him. I want him right freaking now. “Slow down, baby,” he says as he leaps to his feet and shucks his jeans and underwear all in one tug. Until he’s gloriously naked in front of me and while we usually fumble around in the dark or I don’t look at him for too long before closing my eyes, this time around, I’m staring. Taking in every inch of him. And he’s got a lot of inches. He grins as he tears open the wrapper and rolls the condom on. I watch, my breathing so fast my chest hurts. Everything tingles and I fall back against the mattress as he moves over me, his mouth finding mine, his kiss lazy as his tongue tangles with mine. “So fucking sexy,” he murmurs after breaking the kiss, his mouth on my neck. “And all mine.” Yes, I want to say. All yours. But I don’t. I keep quiet and close my eyes, savoring the sensation of his hands igniting sparks as they slide all over my skin. I touch him in return, my fingers exploring, my breath coming in short little gasps, his ragged and labored. “You want this?” he asks as I feel him slowly thrust between my legs. “Livvy? Do you want me?” I hear the doubt in his voice. The vulnerability. He’s as raw and unsure about this moment as I am, and for some reason, that makes me feel more secure, more sure in my decision. “Yes.” I open my eyes to find he’s watching me and I smile faintly, touching his cheek with my fingers. “I want you, Ryan.” He turns his head, his mouth on my palm in a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Then he’s gathering me up in his arms, holding me close, kissing me again, and again as he slowly enters me. I wince, my entire body going tense, and he stops, breathing hard against my ear. “I’ll go slow.” His words, his voice, are a promise and I nod, pressing my lips together tight. He takes his time, whispering how I should relax, and I try yet it’s so difficult. But he’s also patient and after a few minutes of kissing and coaxing and touching, he’s finally inside me. Filling me up. And oh God, then it all happens so fast, so incredibly freaking fast, his hips pumping, pressing me into the mattress. He groans, his body shaking, and the next thing I know, he’s already coming. I’m laying there a gasping, shivery mess, still keyed up and anxious and

needing more, so much more. While he’s slumped over me, a giant smile on his face, a satisfied rumble deep within his chest as he nuzzles my neck. “Happy birthday to me,” he murmurs with a chuckle, his lips warm against my skin. I shiver and wrap my arms around him, holding him close, trying not to let the disappointment wash over me. He feels good surrounding me, his skin damp with sweat, his mouth still on my neck, one big hand sprawled across my breast. Like he owns it. Owns me. “Shouldn’t you, uh, get rid of the condom?” This is awkward, but… “Yeah.” He pulls away from me and drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I just wanted to hold you first.” I melt at his words. They make up for the disappointment I’m feeling over my first experience with actual sex. It wasn’t bad, not at all. I actually let him go down on me and that was pretty freaking amazing. I felt like a wild animal for those first frantic moments and I can admit, that was hot, letting go, not caring, just being a person with basic needs. But it happened so fast. He finished so fast. I thought he’d have more stamina than that. He drops another kiss on my lips before he crawls out of bed and saunters into the connecting bathroom. I hear the toilet flush, the faucet run. Then he’s back, scratching his chest and watching me as I tug the sheets and comforter up until they’re covering me just under my chin. “You’re cute when you’re modest,” he teases as he rejoins me in bed, hauling me into his arms. I nestle close, my cheek pressed against his chest. “Is the party still going on?” “There are a few people downstairs, but mostly just guys from the team. Eli is supervising,” he explains. “You’re trusting your brother to supervise your friends?” I’m shocked. “He can handle it.” Ryan tilts his chin down to smile at me. “Anyway, I’d rather be with you.” “Aw.” I lean up and kiss him, losing myself all over again in the taste of his lips, his persuasive tongue. “Did you like your birthday present?” “It was the best present I’ve ever had.” Another kiss, this one soft. Sweet. “Thank you, Livvy.” Before I can manage to answer, he kisses me long and deep. And just like that, we start all over again. Thank goodness Ryan has an entire pack of condoms in that bedside table.

I’m in the kitchen just after seven in the morning when a door opens from down the hall. I go stiff, unsure of who else could be in the house except for Ryan and me and Eli. Eli’s bedroom is upstairs, right next to Ryan’s. I know he’s in there because I heard him snoring as I crept by his door earlier. My body is sore from last night’s extracurricular activities and I’m sipping on a glass of orange juice, wearing one of Ryan’s old T-shirts and nothing else. My hair is a mess and my makeup is smeared all over my face, but I don’t care. I lost my virginity last night. I don’t necessarily feel different yet…somehow, I do. I can’t explain it, but it’s like I’m more mature. Crazy, I know. I nearly drop my glass of orange juice when I see who shuffles into the kitchen. “Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.” Amanda covers her face when she spots me. My mouth drops open. “What are you doing here?” She shakes her head, her hands still over her face. Her hair is a dark, riotous mess and she’s wearing a boy’s white T-shirt and nothing else too. I shuffle closer, sniffing the air, and I’d know that expensive cologne still lingering on the fabric anywhere. “You were with Tuttle last night, weren’t you?” I whisper-hiss at her. Amanda drops her hands, her expression pleading. “Please don’t say anything. I don’t think I can handle your judgment this early in the morning.” “Like I’m going to judge you. Look at me.” I wave a hand at myself. “Where did you guys sleep? Or was there any sleeping involved?” “In the downstairs guest room. It’s right next to the bathroom.” She stares at my orange juice glass. “Got any more of that?” “Yeah. I’ll get some for you.” I go about the kitchen and grab her a glass from the cabinet while she settles herself on the barstool at the counter. She runs a hand over her hair again and again, trying to tame the beast, and whispers “thank you” when I hand her the juice. “I want deets,” I say. She shakes her head, sipping on her juice. “I’m not giving them.” “Come on.” “No way. Unless you want to give me details.”

I make a face. “Not yet.” “Okay, right back at ya then.” We sit in companionable silence, sipping on our juices, checking our phones. There are Instagram photos from Ryan’s party last night and I appear in a few of them. I told Mom I was going to Ryan’s party and then spending the night at Amanda’s. She’ll never check up on me. She worked yesterday and was going out with Fitch last night. I’m covered. There are a bunch of Snapchat stories about the party too. Lots of them. Em posted all over both sites, even Twitter, and that irritates me. She makes it look like she’s the life of the party when I barely saw her last night. She was too busy getting busy with Cannon. Eventually I spot a photo of us. We’re not posing together, but she took a selfie and captured me in the background, her index finger pointing right at me with a sly expression on her face. I frown, staring at the photo. There’s hidden meaning here, but I can’t figure it out. What’s she trying to pull? Tuttle joins us in the kitchen minutes later, wearing jeans and nothing else, running a hand through his messy dark hair and making his abs ripple with the movement. I glance over at Amanda and she practically has to shove her tongue back in her mouth, her cheeks going up in flames. By the looks of it, she’s got it bad for him. “Aren’t you two adorable first thing in the morning?” Tuttle says with a sexy smile. I stick my tongue out at him and Amanda ducks her head. Poor girl. She seems embarrassed, not that I can blame her. She just spent the night with Jordan Tuttle and he’s strutting around the kitchen looking like a god. Life is weird sometimes. “Are we back to not talking?” Tuttle asks, stopping by Amanda’s side. She can barely look at him. “No, of course not.” “You act like you can’t look at me.” “Tuttle…” “Jordan,” he corrects. “Stop.” She shoves at his chest, but he grabs her wrist, keeping her hand there. The expression on his face is serious. Intense, as usual, and I slide off my stool, ready to get the hell out of the kitchen, when there’s a knock on the door. “Who can this be?” I mumble under my breath as I escape the rife with sexual tension kitchen and go to the door. Rising up on tiptoe, I check the peephole, icy cold shock coursing through me when I see who’s standing on the doorstep. “I know you’re in there, Olivia! Open the damn door!”

Oh. God. It’s Mom. I unlock the door and throw it open. “Uh, hey. What are you doing here?” I sound casual, but inside I’m a trembling wreck. Why is she here? How did she figure out that I was at Ryan’s house? “I should be asking you the same question.” She looks furious. Her hair is a mess, her face pale with dark circles under her eyes. I’m fairly certain she’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Meaning she’s stayed up all night…worried about me? “It’s not what it looks like,” I start but she doesn’t give me a chance to finish. “Go collect your things. We’re leaving.” Her voice is low. Firm. “Now.” Turning away from her, I don’t protest. I just do as she says, running into the kitchen to see Amanda and Tuttle still sitting at the counter, their barstools pulled close together. He’s tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and she’s looking up at him as if he just created the moon, the stars and the entire sky. “I have to go. My mom is here,” I tell them, my voice surprisingly normal despite how shaky I am. Amanda jerks away from Tuttle, her wide gaze meeting mine. “What?” I nod, glancing around, looking for a trace of my stuff before I remember it’s upstairs in Ryan’s room. God, Mom saw me in his T-shirt and nothing else. I’m sure she can figure out exactly what I was doing. It’s pretty obvious. “Does she know I’m here?” Amanda asks. “I told her I was with you, so…yeah. I assume so.” “Oh God. What if she called my parents?” She slaps her hands on her face, covering her eyes and yeah, I feel bad, but I’ve got more pressing things to take care of. “Hurry up before I come in there!” Mom yells, reminding me I need to get it together. I race up the stairs and barge into Ryan’s room. He sits up straight in bed, the sheet falling to pool into his lap. Pausing, I watch as he rubs his face, his hair a mess, his bare chest on tempting display. “What’s going on?” he mumbles, sounding sleepy. Damn it, I can’t be swayed by his morning adorableness. Tearing my gaze from him, I spot my clothes on the floor, the tiny backpack I brought right next to the pile. I hurriedly put on a pair of black leggings I was smart enough to pack before I search through the bag, finally spotting my phone. Whatever else I might leave here is no big deal. I need to look presentable and have my phone. That’s all that matters. “I have to leave.” I go to him and kiss his cheek. “My mom is here.”

Ryan jerks away from me. “Are you serious right now?” “Yeah.” I look around the room one more time before I give him another quick kiss. “Don’t come downstairs. I’m fine. I’ll text you later.” “Bye baby,” he says softly, his words making me want to melt. But I don’t have time to melt. Mom is waiting on the Bennett doorstep quietly seething. I hurry downstairs and go to the front door, which is still cracked open, Mom waiting on the front porch. I shut the door behind me, barely able to meet her gaze. “Ready?” she asks. Nodding, I fall into place beside her as we walk toward her car where it’s parked in the driveway. “I’m not going to talk to you about this right now,” she says, her voice deadly quiet. “I’m too angry. I’m afraid I might say something I don’t mean.” I remain silent too. No way am I going to protest. “You’re in a lot of trouble, Olivia. I can’t believe you would do this.” Again, I say nothing. My mind is racing. The same thing keeps repeating in my brain again and again. Who told my mom I was here? Who ratted me out?

The moment we walk through the front door of my house, Mom is on me like a fly on shit, in all her hovering, finger-wagging glory. I step away from her and do as she tells me, sitting in an old recliner that we keep in the living room since Mom doesn’t like to throw things away. The first thing she says is, “I saw the photos.” I frown. “What photos?” “From Ryan’s party. I saw them. You were hanging all over him and he had his hands all over you.” People take photos all the time. I’m so used to it half the time I don’t even notice. “How did you see these photos?” Her lips go thin. “Emily showed them to me.” What? That bitch. Why? How? I part my lips, ready to ask all of those questions but Mom beats me to the punch. “Why didn’t you tell me what was really going on?” she asks, standing above me like a giant, though really we’re the same height. “I called Amanda’s mom and she said Amanda

was supposed to be spending the night at our house. Tell me why you were lying, young lady, right now!” I tilt my head back and lean against the chair, hoping for calm. I’m furious about the photos but I can’t focus on that right now. “I can explain everything.” So she talked to Amanda’s mom too? Great. Amanda is most likely getting in trouble as well. Wish we could’ve talked first and got our stories straight. “You better start explaining now. Though I don’t think anything you say is going to sway my punishment plans,” she says menacingly. My heart sinks, but I forge on. “Ryan had his party last night, right? So one of the guys on his team gave him beer kegs as a birthday present.” “Who?” Mom asks, interrupting me. “I don’t know,” I lie. “Anyway, I—we drank. Amanda and I drank, okay? I’m sorry. But we were at a party in the neighborhood and I didn’t think you’d be too upset. We got a little drunk, though, and Amanda didn’t feel capable enough to drive. So we decided to stay there for a while and sober up.” “Okay.” Mom draws the word out, sounding skeptical, but not completely pissed off. Progress. “Right, so we hung out, drank a lot of water, ate some snacks. But eventually we fell asleep together and didn’t wake up until this morning! I don’t know how that happened, but we freaked out! And my phone was in my purse upstairs and I couldn’t find it at first, and Amanda couldn’t find hers and shit, Mom. It was a total mess and I’m so sorry we worried you. We never meant to worry anyone, I swear.” I start crying, semi-fake tears because I really will cry if she grounds me forever. She crosses her arms in front of her, that narrowed gaze still focused on me. “What’s the deal with you supposedly spending the night at her house and Amanda spending the night at ours?” I sniff, wipe at my eyes like I really have tears. “I honestly don’t know. Some sort of mix-up? The plan was always to come to here. Since we live in the same neighborhood as Ryan and all.” “Okay, so why didn’t you just walk home? Our neighborhood is perfectly safe.” “In the middle of the night? By myself, or with Amanda? Isn’t that too risky? You always tell me it’s better to be safe than sorry.” I chew on my lower lip, hoping I didn’t blow it. She’s quiet for a moment. So quiet I can hear the ticking on the clock hanging on the wall, the hum of the fridge in the kitchen. Otherwise, it’s silent in this house and I’m going to freak out if she doesn’t say something soon. This is not how I planned for this weekend to end. “I guess you do have a point,” she says reluctantly, and it takes everything I’ve got not to gloat.

I sit on my hands instead and tell myself to remain calm. “While I don’t approve of you not having your phone on you at all times—” I open my mouth to protest, but she shuts me down with a look. “And I’m definitely not thrilled with the idea of you drinking when you’re only seventeen, which is illegal, I might add.” I say nothing, just duck my head and act sad. I’m sadder that I got caught, which is the last thing Mom wants to hear. I wisely keep my mouth shut. “But I guess I can look at your and Amanda’s choice to stay at Ryan’s house versus driving as—the right decision,” Mom admits. Relief courses through me, leaving me weak. “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. You’re grounded.” “Mom—” “Hush. For a week, you can’t go out, can’t use your phone, nothing. You go to school and you come straight home. No football games, no hanging out with Amanda or Em or Dustin, no going on dates with Ryan.” “It’s Ryan’s actual birthday on Tuesday.” Okay, now I really am on the verge of tears. “His family is taking him out to dinner and he wanted me to go with them and I promised I would, Mom. Come on, please.” “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to make it,” she says softly, holding out her hand. “Give me the phone, Olivia.” Pulling the phone out of my bag, I rise to my feet and hand it over to her, knowing full well I can read all of my text messages on my dad’s old Mac Air laptop he gave me to use for school. But Mom doesn’t know that. The smile on her face is smug as she closes her fingers around my iPhone. “Next time something happens, maybe you’ll use your phone to text me, okay?” I want to yell at her that she’s ruining my life, but I’m scared if I say it, she’ll ground me for longer. Instead I go to my room, slamming the door behind me, wincing when I shut it harder than I meant. I hear her yell my name and I call out “sorry” before I drop my bag on the bed, looking around. Again I have that sense someone’s been in here recently—someone that’s not me. I search through my closet, run my hands along the top shelf, digging into the secret spot I have in the back against the wall and behind my shoes, where I smuggled a couple of Coronas a few weeks ago. They’re still there, untouched and nestled in an old tote bag. I go to my dresser, searching each drawer, pulling open my underwear drawer last. Wrinkling my nose, I push past my panties to the very back of the drawer where I keep an envelope of joints. Well, there’s only two. Dustin gave them to me when I first came home from Dad’s. I haven’t smoked them yet, hadn’t needed to, but I might need them to get through my week of imprisonment. But the joints aren’t there. The envelope is empty, save for a folded note.

That’s weird. With shaky hands I open it, staring at the unfamiliar handwriting scrawled across the paper. Thanks for the pick-me-up. I owe you two joints, cupcake. xo, Fitch “Cupcake”? Seriously? That he had the nerve to paw through my underwear—ew. “That asshole,” I mutter under my breath, disbelief and shock making me burst out laughing. I crumple the note in my hands and toss it into the nearby wastebasket, pleased when the balled up note lands inside. Seriously. My life couldn’t get any more surreal than this.

Mom is leaving me alone at the house to go out to dinner with Fitch. “I shouldn’t go,” she tells me as she paces the living room. I’m sitting on the couch watching a stupid Lifetime movie on TV, praying she won’t realize I still have my laptop and access to pretty much all social media, with the exception of Snapchat. “Not like I can make my escape,” I remind her, never taking my eyes off the TV. It’s a crazy story about a senior who impregnates two girls at the same time—his girlfriend and some random hookup from the summer. Talk about a nightmare. “I don’t have my phone so I can’t contact anyone. We don’t even have a house phone.” “Oh, but I’m sure you have your ways. All of your friends live in the neighborhood,” Mom points out as she goes to the mirror that hangs near the front door. I sneak a glance at her, watching as she applies copper-colored lipstick. I hate the shade but no way am I telling her that. “You’ll probably sneak out and go to Em’s the minute I leave.” “No way,” I say emphatically. “We’re on the outs.” So on the outs I’m unsure if we’ll ever get back in. “What about Dustin?” “He hates me.” That’s an exaggeration, but I’m still mad at him. Plus, I can’t call up my old best friend, my former hookup, the day after I have sex for the first time with the guy he got in a fight with. That’s all kinds of messed up. Mom turns to face me, clutching the lipstick in her fist. “Fitch told me I should trust you. That you wouldn’t dare do something to make me mad this soon.” “He’s right.” I don’t understand Fitch or his motives. I’m still puzzled by his sneaking into my room—and letting me know he snooped around by leaving that note. That he stole my weed isn’t even the point. He pawed through my things. Who knows what else he found? Looked at? I have old diaries in my desk. What if he read them? So embarrassing. And he went through my underwear, which is just…gross. I think I might do laundry tonight. Wash everything he might’ve touched. Mom blows out a harsh breath, her gaze meeting mine. “Fine. I’ll leave you here. But I’ll be back by ten. I need to go to bed early.” “Great,” I say weakly, calculating how much time I might have to see someone—Ryan

—before Mom comes home. “Be good.” She points a finger at me. “Don’t step foot out of this house.” “I won’t. I promise.” The minute she’s gone I run to my room and grab my laptop, bringing it out to the couch with me. I open up iMessage and immediately send a text to Ryan. OMG I miss you! My mom is such a tyrant. I wait for him to reply, chewing on my lip. He takes way too long. What if he’s with someone else? All I can think about, focus on, is Ryan, but he’s still free. He can do whatever he wants, with whoever he wants. That terrifies me. The familiar ding sounds, pushing me out of my head. Hey babe. Can you come over? I wish. No. I’m grounded for one week. :( You’re going to miss my birthday dinner? My heart cracks. I feel so bad. Sorry. Maybe I can convince my mom to let me go? You should try. I really want you there. I will. I promise. I hesitate, then decide to go for it. Can’t stop thinking about last night. His reply is immediate.

Best birthday present I ever got. :) I smile in return. He’s so sweet. I hate that I’m grounded, but last night was definitely worth getting in trouble for. What are you doing right now? Hanging out with Eli. It sucks. I should come over. Reenact last night. You can’t. My mom will kill me. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. We can’t take the chance. I don’t want to get in more trouble. Or give Mom more reason to hate Ryan. See you at school tomorrow then? :) Yeah. Miss you. <3 Miss you too babe. xoxo Aw, he sent me kisses and hugs. I love it. What I don’t love is knowing Em sent those photos to my mom. How messed up is that? Why would she sabotage me? Does she hate me that much? I’m starting to think she seriously hates my guts. A knock sounds, startling me. For a moment I wonder if it could be Em. Or maybe even Ryan. Standing, I quietly walk over to the front door and look through the peephole, then open the door. “Amanda!” I grab her hand and pull her inside, slamming and locking the door behind her. “What are you doing here?” “Thanks for the enthusiastic greeting.” She smiles at me and goes to the couch, her gaze zeroing in on the TV. “Oh, I’ve seen this movie before! It’s a juicy one.” “Almost as juicy as our lives,” I tell her as I sit next to her on the couch. It feels like I haven’t seen her in forever, even though it’s only been a few hours. “What’s going on? Why are you here? Didn’t you get in trouble with your parents?” “For some reason, they totally believed the story I gave them. I said we were too drunk and I didn’t want to drive so we stayed the night at Ryan’s house.” Amanda’s expression is solemn. “It was the right thing to do.” Her good girl act is perfection. “Wow, our stories were pretty similar.” I’m impressed. “I tried that and my mom was still pissed.”

“Yeah well, you’re her only child. My parents have already been through this sort of thing with my brother. I look like a saint compared to him. I think they’re just relieved I made it home and didn’t land in jail.” She sends me a look. “How bad is your punishment? I figured your mom took away your phone since you never replied to my texts.” “She took it away, but I have iMessage on this.” I tap the laptop that’s sitting on the couch. “I never got your messages though. Sometimes it glitches.” Amanda shrugs. “It’s no big deal. I was just checking on you.” I fill Amanda in on everything that happened, including how Fitch stole the joints. “You had joints in your underwear drawer?” Amanda asks incredulously. “That’s not the point.” I shake my head. “He went through my panties. He actually touched them.” I shivered. “That’s freaky.” Amanda makes a face. “He’s freaky!” Yeah. No denying that. I don’t know what to do about him. Then I tell her about my text conversation with Ryan. “Do you think he’ll wait for me while I’m grounded for a week?” I ask her, nibbling on my thumbnail. The boy has turned me into a self-conscious idiot, I swear. Amanda sends me a look. “He’ll live. It’s only seven days. Plus you’ll see each other at school. If he ditches you for someone else, then he’s a total douche and you’re better off without him.” I almost want to tell her to stop insulting my boyfriend but I keep my mouth shut. “I just hate that she grounded me. I don’t worry so much about Ryan. I worry more about the bitches who’ll try to steal Ryan from me.” “If he’s truly into you, he won’t notice those other girls. I promise.” She smiles, leaning over to slap the top of my thigh. She hits me so hard it stings. “That’s for smacking me yesterday.” “Ouch.” I rub my leg, glaring at her before we start laughing. It’s time for me to ask the real question. “So. What’s going on with you and Tuttle?” Her laughter dies, and she gets that dreamy look in her eyes. The one I recognize from before when she thought about Jordan Tuttle. “I think he really likes me.” “Well, duh,” I start but she shakes her head. “No, I mean he seriously likes me. At first, I was just a game for him, but now I think he’s sincere. He said he’s liked me for a long time. That we could make this work if I would just give him a chance.” Her voice is soft, her eyes a little glazed over. “So did you give him a chance by getting naked with him last night?” I ask innocently. She grabs a throw pillow and smacks me on the head with it. “Of course not! I’m not that easy. It’s not like he’s my boyfriend.”

“You two have been dancing around each other for a while. I would never hold it against you if you let him slip it in.” I can barely hold back my laughter at the horrified expression on her face. “But remember, just the tip.” “Stop.” Her cheeks are bright red. Poor girl. “You’re being so incredibly gross.” A giggle slips past her lips, and I’m guessing she doesn’t think it’s so gross, getting naked with Tuttle. “Sorry.” I’m not that sorry though. I love giving Amanda a hard time. She makes it so easy. Besides, anything to cheer me up, you know? “I’m excited for you two.” One of her trademark dazzling smiles appears on her face. “I’m excited too. I just hope he means it.” I frown. “Why wouldn’t he?” She shrugs. “I don’t know. He’s Jordan Tuttle and I’m…me. We’re from totally different worlds. I still don’t really get why he wants to be with me.” “Because he likes you.” I reach over and touch her knee, giving it a squeeze. “You’re sweet, cute, smart and fun. Why wouldn’t he want to be with you?” Amanda smiles in return. “Thanks, friend. I guess…he just makes me nervous.” “He makes everyone nervous.” I squeeze her knee one more time before I let go. “I hate to be a jerk but you should go. I only pulled you into my house because I was afraid Mom has neighborhood spies.” “If she does, you look bad because you pulled me into the house.” Amanda stands. “But I get it. I should go anyway. I told my parents I was going for a bike ride. They probably expect me home soon.” I have Amanda go out the backdoor because I’m paranoid. Even though her bike is leaning against the front of the house and anyone who passes by could see it. Whatever. If Mom somehow found out, I’d tell her Amanda came by to check on me, which is the truth. Better to tell the truth than a lie, right? I go back inside and settle on the couch, picking up my laptop. I should prep for the SAT test coming up next weekend but that sounds boring as hell. My score was decent last year, though I should take it again and try to bring it up. Or I could finish watching the cheesy movie even if it is pretty awful. Instead, I bring up Ryan’s Instagram feed on the laptop. Boring. The boy hardly ever posts, like most boys. Next I check out Dustin’s. He hasn’t posted since the end of summer. Sheesh. I look at Amanda’s, which is mostly full of photos of kids from band since she hasn’t posted much lately. There are a few cute photos of her with that ex-boyfriend of hers, Thad. He’s not a bad looking dude. I can’t believe he cheated on her. Jerk.

Bracing myself, knowing this was the feed I wanted to check when I started this search, I go to Em’s next. And it feels like my jaw hits the floor. There they are. The photo is in black and white. I can’t tell when it was taken. She posted it twenty minutes ago. It could’ve happened twenty minutes ago for all I know. It’s a selfie. Em is sitting on—Ryan’s lap. He’s laughing, his eyes practically closed, his hands spread wide across her bare midriff as he clutches her close. Tuttle is next to them, his arm slung around a girl’s shoulders, half of his face buried in the crook of her neck. I recognize the girl. She was in the kitchen, when Amanda and I went to Tuttle’s party for the first time together. The girl who said she gave him a blowjob yet he couldn’t remember her name. Oh. My. God. I read the caption below the photo and it reminds me of the first time I saw Ryan in Em’s Instagram feed. Bored with love. Need more lust. Wallow in hate. #justfriends #relationships #lies #heartbreak #bullshit #TuttleSucks #SoDoesRyan #SoDoIAllNightLong The words blur from my tears. My stomach is in knots. Not only is Ryan a total douche, so is Tuttle. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The minute we’re not around, they’re finding our replacements. Pushing the laptop away, I run into the bathroom. And promptly puke my guts out.

I’m lying in bed with my ear buds in, listening to depressing music through my laptop. I never ate dinner. Mom came home around nine-thirty and asked me a bunch of questions I gave monotone answers to. When she asked me what was wrong I said I was feeling sick. She muttered I was probably hung over but mostly let it go and left me alone. Whatever. My bedside lamp is still on, casting the room in a weird glow. I should go to bed for real but I know I won’t be able to sleep. All I can think about is Ryan with Em. I screenshot that stupid photo just in case she deleted it from her feed and now I have it forever so I can look at it whenever I want. I don’t think I can possibly stomach looking at that photo again.

Tearing the ear buds out, I toss them on my bedside table, then close my laptop and lean it against the wall near my bed. I miss my phone. I miss my friends. I miss Ryan. Stupid, disloyal, can’t-keep-his-dick-in-his-pants Ryan. A little ping sounds against my window and I go still. Then it happens again. And again. I quietly crawl out of bed and make my way to the window, peeling back the blinds to see a familiar lone figure standing out in my yard, throwing tiny pebbles at my window. Dustin. I tug the blinds up before I open the window and wave him closer. “What are you doing here?” He stops in front of my window, concern written all over his face. “I wanted to check on you.” We got rid of the window screen a long time ago, after he or Em tore it from sneaking in and out of my room. We used to do that sort of thing all the time when we were younger, when life was simpler. Now it’s just a screwed up mess. “Can I come in?” he asks when I don’t say anything and I nod in answer, taking a step back so he can crawl through my window. Once he’s in my room, it’s like his presence fills the entire space. I can smell him. Reach out and touch him. I’m tempted. So tempted. But that would be me taking my revenge out on Ryan by using Dustin. And that’s not fair to either of them. “Why are you checking on me anyway?” I ask as I go sit down on the edge of my bed. He sits down next to me, though keeping a respectable distance. “I heard what Em did to you.” “How?” I ask incredulously. “She sent the photos from Ryan’s party to me and said she showed your mom. Like she thought I’d be proud of her getting you in trouble or something,” Dustin explains, glancing over at me so our eyes meet. “But I’m not. I told her what she did was wrong.” “But she doesn’t care.” It takes everything within me not to mention her latest photo. I refuse to bring it up. Refuse to give Dustin a reason to say, “I told you so,” about Ryan. “Why is she so determined to screw me over?” “She’s mad about…us. That I like you more.” Dustin sighs and runs both hands through his hair, nearly making it stand straight up. “I hate what I did, Livvy. I should’ve never let it happen.” “Between us?” I ask, confused. “No.” He drops his hands so they land on his thighs. “Between me and Em. I don’t like her like that. I never really have. She was just…there. And by me getting with her, I ruined everything between us. It sucks.” He looks over at me, his gaze imploring. “I fucking miss you, Liv. I miss us.”

My heart is breaking. It would be so easy to fall into his arms and tell him I miss him too. To let him kiss my pain away so I can forget what Ryan did. But that’s not right. I can’t be like the rest of them. I should rise above the mess. Maybe the photo could be explained. I don’t know. “I miss you too.” I pick up his hand and interlace our fingers. His touch is comforting. Just what I need after the disaster that was today. “I want us to be friends, Dustin. But you told me that wouldn’t work for you.” “I was wrong. It’s hard…not being able to spend time with you. Seeing you with Ryan.” He blows out a harsh breath. “You’ll still be my friend, even after what I did?” When I nod, he squeezes my hand. “I don’t deserve you, Livvy.” I say nothing. Just smile faintly and continue to hold his hand. “Are you happy with him?” he asks after we’re silent for a few minutes. Not right now. The words are stuck in my throat and I drop my head, staring at my lap. “I don’t know,” I mumble. I can’t get that photo out of my mind. Ryan’s hands all over Em. The smug look on her face. The way she’s sitting in his lap, like they belong together. God, the ache deep inside me keeps growing, spreading throughout my body. I need…I need something. I need Dustin. “Just know that if you were mine, I would do everything possible to make you happy, Livvy,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening around mine. “He doesn’t deserve you either.” Slowly I turn to face him, our hands still linked, my knee brushing against his thigh. He’s wearing a faded blue T-shirt and a pair of baggy basketball shorts. He looks so familiar, so much like my beloved Dustin… I launch myself toward him, my mouth somehow finding his with ease, my hands going to his nape, fingers diving into his soft hair. He holds me close, his arms wrapped around my waist, his hands sliding up and down my back before they slip beneath my shirt. I’m not wearing a bra and I don’t stop him when his hands wander everywhere. Along my sides, across my stomach, counting my ribs until he’s actually touching my breasts— “You feel so good,” he whispers against my neck just before he kisses it. Licks it. His hands are still on my chest. “You need to know I didn’t come only for this. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” “Stop talking,” I tell him, not caring if I sound rude. I tug on his hair, bring his mouth back to mine and then I’m falling backward onto my bed, Dustin on top of me, our mouths locked, his tongue tangling with mine. I’m shoving at his shirt just like he’s shoving at mine, and our legs are wrapped around each other, my foot driving up his hairy calf, my hand diving past the waistband of his shorts. And then he’s gone. He pulls away from me and is standing next to the bed, his breath coming in short pants, his eyes wild as he watches me. I sit up, tugging my shirt down,

smoothing out my hair. My body still aches but for different reasons now. “Is this how it’s going to be?” he asks between harsh breaths. “You hit a rough patch with Ryan and you use me to make yourself feel better? To remind yourself that I’m always going to be there for you?” “You told me you were always going to be there for me,” I point out, confused by this entire mess. I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I’m a total tease and I don’t even mean to be. Which means I’m an awful, terrible person. “You need to make up your mind who you want, Olivia.” I watch him warily as he moves about my room so casually it’s like he belongs here. “You can’t have us both.” With that final statement, he goes to the window and opens it up, crawling through it. I hear his feet hit the ground, hear the slide of the window as he pulls it shut. He’s gone. I flop backwards on the bed, pissed at myself. Dustin is right. I totally used him because I’m angry with Ryan. I can’t deny that I have feelings for Dustin, but my feelings are stronger for Ryan. I need to focus on him—no one else but him. If Ryan hasn’t already moved on from me.







I’m cruising on my bike, contemplating everything Livvy just told me. How her mom was so mad when she discovered Livvy had spent the night at Ryan’s house, she grounded her and took away her phone. Livvy is seriously going to lose her mind being grounded for so long, unable to see Ryan unless we’re at school. That won’t be enough for her. When it comes to Ryan, it feels like nothing is ever enough for her. At least I’m not in trouble like she is. Liv’s going to stress out over Ryan, though. Over those hours when she’s not with him and he could possibly be up to no good. She worries about him all the time. I get it—sort of. He seems to play games, and that must get exhausting. Truthfully, I wouldn’t put up with that crap. But I’m not Livvy. Thank goodness. The wind blows through my hair as I make a right into my neighborhood, turning the wild strands into a tangled mess. Not that I care. There’s no one I’m hoping to impress. It’ll just be Sunday night dinner with the family, as usual. I’m not even sure if they’re home yet. Dad mentioned something about going to Home Depot to pick out fall flowers for the yard, and Mom said something about shower curtains and Bed, Bath & Beyond. Bleh. I’m glad I made my escape when I did. My house slowly comes into view and I smile to myself. I might not live in a giant mansion in a fancy neighborhood like my new so-called friends, but our house is nice. Small and on the older side, but it’s cute, with a pretty front yard and a big porch with a white swing… Oh. Crap. There’s someone sitting on the swing. His arms are spread out along the back of the wooden frame, his gaze locked directly on me, like he knew I was going to appear at any second. It’s Jordan Tuttle. My heart is racing as I press gently on the brakes, taking him in, my gaze roving over every single tiny feature that makes him Jordan. I want to slow down the moment, revel in the anticipation of finding him waiting for me. He rises to his feet, runs a hand over his thick, perfect hair almost nervously, and a shuddery breath leaves me.

The memory hits me, socks me in the stomach and leaves me aching. I remember what it felt like, having those hands on me just last night. His mouth on mine, the words he whispered in my ear. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t something I made up inside my head, because seriously, I was starting to wonder if I really was losing my mind when it came to Jordan Tuttle. But no. Jordan is real. He’s in my life because he wants to be here for some crazy reason. And now he’s waiting for me, his hands on his hips, the faintest smile on his face as he continues to watch me. “What are you doing here?” I ask as I make my approach, hopping off my bike so I can roll it up the front walkway. We meet in the middle, Jordan stopping just in front of me. “Nice way to greet me.” I frown, worried I was doing everything wrong. He had a way of making me feel like that. “How should I greet you?” “Like this.” His hand is suddenly curled around my nape when he pulls me in for a tooquick yet somehow lingering kiss. My lips tingle when he pulls away, and by the smug expression on his face, I know he knows the effect he has on me. “Jordan,” I chastise, stepping away from him and nearly tripping over my stupid bike. Luckily enough, he catches me by the elbow, steadying me before I fall over like an idiot. “What if my parents are inside?” “They’re not.” He grabs the bike from me, nudges the kickstand down and sets it in place on the sidewalk a few feet away from us. “Where’ve you been?” His confidence makes me crazy. He’s so sure of himself, and I wish I had even an ounce of his self-assuredness. I don’t. Not even close. He lives in another realm. I’m just a lowly peon compared to His Majesty, Lord Jordan Tuttle. “I went over to Livvy’s,” I tell him when I realize he’s waiting for my answer. As usual, my mind wanders when I’m in his presence. “I wanted to make sure she’s okay.” Jordan frowns. “She is, right?” “Oh yeah, her mom just grounded her for life.” When he sends me a come on face, I readjust. “Fine, she’s grounded for a couple weeks. No phone. No Ryan.” “It might do her some good, the no Ryan thing,” he mutters. I say nothing. I don’t understand the relationship he has with Ryan. They’re friends. Then they’re not. They’re teammates always, and that’s something Jordan has to deal with no matter what. “What are you up to right now?” I ask, hoping to change the subject. He smiles. Reaches out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. I feel that innocent touch all the way down to my toes, which are currently curling in my battered white Converse. “I want to take you out.” My mouth drops open. “In public?”

The frown is back. It’s not fair, how attractive he still is despite the scowl he’s currently wearing. “Of course in public. What the hell, Mandy.” I shrug, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “We haven’t actually been seen together.” He grabs my hand and pulls me in close. My body immediately goes hot and I wonder if he has some sort of powerful force field I can’t resist. “I want to change that.” My gaze meets his and I can’t look away. He’s so sincere. So serious. “What happened between us last night was…” “Real.” He kisses me again. Another brief brush of lips on lips, yet I’m decimated. Shaky all over when he pulls away. When my ex Thad kissed me, I never felt like this. Ever. Never. Ever. Never. “Maybe we were just caught up in a moment?” I ask tentatively. It’s like I’m always waiting for the bomb to drop. For the joke to be on me. No one in a million years would ever match me with Jordan Tuttle. Not even me. So what’s his deal? Why is he so persistent? I don’t get it. I like it, but he also scares me. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want my heart to be broken. “Every time I’m near you, I get caught up in a moment.” One side of his perfect mouth tips up in this semi-smile that is absolutely adorable. I wish I had my phone out so I could snap a pic of him. “Maybe we need to give this a try and see if all we ever experience together is one giant moment.” “That’s impossible.” The words are out before I can stop them and I slap my hand over my mouth, my eyes wide as I stare up at him. Jordan actually laughs, shaking his head. It’s a rare sound, but wow, is it amazing. “Nothing’s impossible if you want it bad enough.” I drop my hand, gaping up at him. “So are you saying that you want—me?” “Yes.” He dips his head, his mouth hovering above mine. “I do.”

He takes me to a coffee shop that’s tucked into a corner of a strip mall, an elegantly trendy place that looks totally out of place considering its location. He’s not the only one who’s heard of the place, though. It’s so crowded I practically have to fight someone to snag a suddenly empty table.

“Your mocha.” Jordan sets it on the table and drops into the chair across from me, scooting it in so his knees bump against mine. “Thank you.” I turn my legs to the side, not necessarily wanting to touch his legs. Then again, I sort of want to tangle them up together. Preferably with no clothes on. My cheeks go hot, betraying my thoughts, and the slow smile that curves Tuttle’s perfect lips tells me he has suspicions. “We could go back to my house if you want,” he suggests in that velvety smooth voice of his. I swear it ripples across my skin and settles into my bones, staying there. Reminding me that he exists. Like I could forget. “No way.” I shake my head quickly, bringing the cup to my lips and taking a careful sip. It’s not too hot. In fact, it’s perfect, much like the guy who’s sitting with me, and I sort of hate this stupid mocha for its perfection. But I can’t hate my drink for too long because it tastes so good. “Why not?” He reaches across the table, his fingers dancing across the top of my hand for the briefest moment. “No one’s home.” That’s the problem. I don’t do well in Tuttle’s presence, especially when we’re alone. I tend to become careless. Reckless. I do things that I would never do otherwise. That sort of behavior is completely unlikely me. And dangerous to my well-being. “I have to be home by dinnertime.” I sit up straighter, my fingers clutched around the smooth, hot paper cup that holds my coffee. “No matter what, I can’t escape our Sunday family dinner.” A dark brow rises. “You have dinner with your family every Sunday?” I nod, a little embarrassed. “It’s the only time we’re together, you know? There’s always something going on. Soccer practice, volleyball practice, band—” I clamp my lips shut for a brief moment, mentally crossing band practice off the list. It’s hard to break the habit when you’ve been going to band practice for the last five years of your life. “Either my mom is working or Dad’s working, and Sunday evening is the only time we’re all under the same roof.” He stares at me like I’m a rare, exotic animal that he’s only noticing for the first time. Wonder, confusion, maybe even the faintest hint of disgust crosses his face. Like he can’t believe that we’d be such a close family. Is family time a foreign concept to him? I wouldn’t doubt it. “Sounds like something out of a movie,” he mutters with a shake of his head before he takes a long drink from his cup. “My family is close.” I shrug, not willing to offer up any more explanation. He doesn’t reveal too much to me any more, so why should I open up to him? “We’re weird, I know.” “I never said you were weird.” His gaze lingers on my lips for a beat too long, and I

wonder if he’s thinking about kissing me. I know I’m thinking about kissing him. So much that my lips are tingling. “Most everyone I know has shitty parents.” He’s right. Most everyone I know has bad parents too. “Guess I lucked out?” Jordan nods, his gaze meeting mine once more. “Guess so.” I change the subject and we talk about school. Homecoming is happening this week and king and queen nominations are tomorrow. Nominees will be announced Tuesday morning and lots of activities are held throughout the week, including way too many pep rallies, a parade and finally the big game Friday night, followed by the annual homecoming dance. “You’ll be nominated,” I say with all the assurance I feel, because come on. It’s Jordan. He makes a face. “I don’t want to be.” “Please.” He has to be full of crap. “You love it.” “Not really.” He waves a dismissive hand as if he can make the subject magically disappear. “Are you playing in the powder puff game?” It’s my turn to make a face. “Um, I don’t think so.” “Why not?” He tilts his head to the side, appearing thoroughly confused. And thoroughly adorable. “You should.” “No thanks.” Only the popular girls play. It’s the female version of the big homecoming game, and all the girls wear the football players’ jerseys, paint their faces and basically run around on the field like idiots trying to catch a ball. All while the football players wear the cheerleaders’ uniforms and too much makeup, jumping up and down while risking junk exposure. “It’s totally sexist.” “You really think so?” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the table before he blows out a breath. “And to think I was going to let you wear my jersey.” I’m gaping. I can feel my mouth hanging open and I’m sure I look ridiculous, so I do my best to force it shut. “You were not.” “I totally would. All you have to do is ask.” I sort of hate how he throws it into my court. Shouldn’t he offer? Why do I have to ask? “You never let a girl wear your jersey,” I whisper, not knowing if that’s really true but guessing it must be. My chest suddenly feels heavy, and it’s like I can’t breathe. He puts too much on me, too much importance on this—thing between us. And it is so equally terrifying and wonderful all at once, I’m tempted to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. “Yeah, well, I’ve never found someone worthy before.” He drains his coffee, crumples the cup between his fingers and turns around, tossing it into a trashcan with ease. “And I’m worthy.” My voice is full of sarcasm. “Amanda, you’ve been worthy for months. You’ve just been fighting it.” His gaze meets mine, deep blue and deadly serious.

I can’t think of anything else to say, sooo… “I should go home.” “No way I can convince you to come back to my house?” His expression is completely neutral, but I see a faint glimmer in his gaze—and it reminds me of hopefulness. Surely I must be seeing things. “I can’t,” I say regretfully. “But maybe you should come with me to my house. Have dinner with my family.” Mom would be mad that I’m bringing an unexpected guest, but she’d get over it. I would love for my parents to meet Jordan. He’s so good-looking and smart and rich and… My stomach sinks. He’s too smart. And too rich. He’d take one look at our shabby house with the ratty old couch and the walls that need paint and the kitchen that needs updating and he’d know. He’d know I’m really not worthy of him. And then he’d leave me in the dust. Jordan makes a face as he stands, reaching across the table to grab my empty cup. “No thanks. I’m not the bring-home-to-family-dinner type.” I say nothing as he tosses my cup in the trash. Instead, I follow beside him quietly, letting him guide me out of the shop with his hand pressed against my lower back. No way can I react to his touch or his closeness. He makes me feel vulnerable and unsure and I constantly second guess myself in his presence. In fact, the entire ride back to my house we remain quiet, the music playing softly, and I wish it could drown out my thoughts. But it doesn’t. Instead I keep sneaking looks at Jordan while telling myself what we’re doing together is nothing. We’re nothing. I sit up straighter and think of the many ways I can tell him that whatever the heck we’re doing, it’s never going to work. Maybe if I keep coming up with excuses, I’ll eventually believe them. The moment he stops the Range Rover in front of my house, I open my mouth, ready to throw some lame this-won’t-work line at him. But he doesn’t even give me a chance. Instead, he’s eagerly reaching for me, like he knows I’m about to drop some it’s-not-youit’s-me bomb. He pulls me into his muscular arms and presses his mouth to mine, silencing any and all protests I was about to unleash on him. I lose approximately two hundred brain cells in the ninety seconds he thoroughly kisses me, and when he finally pulls away from my lips, I open my eyes and stare at him as if in a daze. His lips are damp and his hair is a mess—I think I might’ve done that, I have no clue—and his eyes are extra bright as he watches me. He even nods, like he’s pleased with his kissing results, and his smile is soft as he slowly releases his hold on me. “See you tomorrow, Mandy.” I practically collapse against the passenger door. “Okay,” I squeak, blindly reaching for the handle so I can open the door. I stumble out of the SUV and slam the door, turning to smile and wave at him as he starts to pull away. Maybe we can make this work. Maybe we can be a real couple. Amanda and Jordan. Jordan and Amanda.

Hmm, Amanda Tuttle does have a nice ring to it… I frown. Okay, now I’m getting just a little out of control.

“Oh, God. You don’t know anything, do you?” Livvy says as she slips into my car, slamming the door so hard I wince. She turns in her seat so she’s facing me fully. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re so oblivious.” “I’m oblivious to what exactly?” I can admit I’m in a Tuttle-induced haze. I sat through dinner last night staring off into space, which infuriated my father for some reason. Probably because I wasn’t talking much, and I’m usually the one they beg to shut up. When the family dinner ordeal was finally over, I locked myself away in my room and ransacked my closet, trying to find something cute to wear to school tomorrow. Something to make a certain boy drool… But then I remembered it was Homecoming Week, which meant there were themed days where we dressed up. I couldn’t remember what Monday’s theme was and I couldn’t be bothered to look it up or ask anyone, so I chose a pair of my favorite jeans that make my butt look pretty good and a navy blue T-shirt—our school colors are blue and white— with a low V-neck. Maybe Tuttle would stare at my chest when he saw me wearing it. I mean Jordan. Jordan might stare at my chest. And that would be awesome. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” Livvy says, her voice breaking through my thoughts and reminding me something awful is about to go down. I meet her gaze, noting the sympathetic look she’s sending me. And I also notice her eyes are rimmed with red and her cheeks are blotchy. Like she’s been crying. Uh oh. “What’s going on?” I ask when she still hasn’t said anything. I don’t like how she’s looking at me. Or the way she’s sniffing. This can’t be good. “I figured you’d already seen it.” “Seen what?” Now she’s just irritating me, and I think she knows it. “Um, can I show you something?” She tilts her head toward the center console where my phone is sitting. I almost forgot her mom took her phone away, so I grab mine, enter the password and then hand it to her. This is such a major show of trust, letting her into my phone. Crap, I wouldn’t even let Tara, my ex-best friend, into my phone, and I’d known her forever. But Liv and I have become especially close since school started, and I’m so grateful for her friendship. Without her I’d be lost, and I think she feels exactly the same about me. Livvy bends her head, nibbling on her lower lip as she opens the Instagram app and

starts scrolling. “My mom didn’t take away my laptop and she forgets I can still text and see Instagram on there.” I glance at the clock on my dash, worried if we sit here for too much longer we’ll be late for first period. When she hands me my phone and I stare at the photo she pulled up for me to see, I realize in an instant I don’t care if I’m late for school. My stomach pitches and rolls almost violently, and I slap my hand over my mouth, frightened for a moment that I might throw up all over my lap and my phone. It’s a photo of Ryan—Livvy’s boyfriend—and Tuttle, along with Em and a girl I remember Tuttle talking to one night at a party he was having. The one who’s name he couldn’t remember, yet he knew she’d given him a blowjob, which is the epitome of tacky. All four of them are close to each other. Em is in Ryan’s lap. Tuttle and the skank are wrapped around each other, all of them smiling at the camera, which I think Em is holding, snapping a selfie to immortalize forever. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I mumble, causing Livvy to snatch my phone out of my hands before she’s shoving at my shoulder. “Get out of the car! Puke on the lawn! Hurry!” Her suggestion is totally valid. I scramble out of the car and bend over, resting my hands on my knees as I wait to throw up my toast and coffee breakfast all over the strip of dying lawn that divides Livvy’s house from her neighbor’s. But nothing comes up and I realize the longer I stare at the yellow lawn, the more unfocused my vision gets. God, this is so incredibly disappointing. And that’s the worst thing. I’m furious at myself for actually believing I had a chance with Jordan Tuttle. Clearly I was delusional. “I didn’t want to tell you like this!” Livvy is yelling from the car. I stand up straight and watch her warily, noting the sadness in her eyes, how her face looks ready to crumple at any given moment. “I was kind of hoping you would’ve caught the photo on Em’s feed, though honestly, I don’t know which way to find out is worse.” “Em posted this?” Oh. My. God. That bitch. “Yeah.” Livvy nods and sniffs. “Last night.” My blood is immediately boiling. Whenever there’s something bad happening, Em always seems to be behind it. The girl is toxic. Poison. She’s also Livvy’s former best friend. I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her. “I was with Tuttle yesterday,” I say as I get back into the car, my mind going over everything that happened yesterday. What time he dropped me off at my house—around five—which gave him plenty of time to go somewhere else with Ryan and end up with the girls. “For how long?” When I tell her, her mouth turns grim. “He could’ve left you and

ended up with Ryan and Em and whatever her name is…” I want to believe he would never do that to me. Every tiny molecule that makes me into who I am literally aches for that to be the truth. But maybe…maybe it’s not. Maybe he did leave my house to go meet another girl. He is a known player. Who am I to him, really? He says a bunch of stuff, and it all sounds good, but maybe he says the same thing to lots of girls. “The photo looks recent. Not like her and Ryan have known each other that long, but you know what I mean. Maybe it’s from another time when they were together?” she asks almost hopefully. “Please. This was taken last night.” I’m going with that. It’s almost easier to believe the absolute worst right from the start. Gets the painful part over with, you know? “You really think so?” Glancing in Livvy’s direction, I see the shock etched all over her face. She doesn’t want this to be true. She’d rather believe it was an old photo and Ryan is innocent. Of course she feels that way. He’s her boyfriend. She just recently gave up her V-card to that guy. He’s sort of a douche, but a hot douche, so I can kind of understand her attraction. Sort of like how Tuttle’s a hot douche too. Disgusted with my Tuttle-filled thoughts, I hit the button to shut off my phone’s screen and drop it into the center console cup holder. “If this didn’t happen last night, then they were probably together very, very recently.” Liv says nothing and I stare out the windshield, my fingers curled tight around the steering wheel. I need to start the car and drive to school, but it’s like I’m paralyzed. Going to school means facing Tuttle, and he’s suddenly become the last person I want to see. “What are we going to do?” Livvy whispers hoarsely. “I don’t know what to say to Ryan. I don’t want to look like the jealous girlfriend—he hates that sort of thing. But I don’t know how else to handle this without confronting him.” Ugh. Proof again that Ryan is a total jerk. He runs hot and cold with Liv, especially before they officially got together. “You’re allowed to be the jealous girlfriend. He has his hands all over Em, yet you’re supposed to be his girlfriend,” I remind her, heavy on the sarcasm. “They’ve hooked up before,” Livvy says. “Who cares? He’s with you now. Or at least he’s supposed to be.” I turn the key in the ignition almost violently, pressing my foot on the gas so the car’s engine revs up, loud and rumbling. I thought hearing it would bring me some satisfaction but so far, no go. Livvy is watching me in shock, with her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide. “Um, are you okay?” “Of course I’m not okay,” I bite out as I put the car into reverse, glance over my shoulder and back out of the driveway. I do it so fast that when I put the car into drive, my tires squeal as I pull away from Livvy’s house.

I don’t want to go to school. I don’t want to face the whispers and the rumors and stupid Tuttle’s handsome face. He’ll tell me it was all a misunderstanding, and if I stare into his eyes for too long, I’ll probably agree with him. Forgive him. Forget all about that girl cozied up next to him. How I wish I could go back to yesterday. Sitting with him at the coffee shop, listening to his sweet words and not savoring them enough. Oh, and I can’t forget that amazing kiss in front of my house. For all the time we’ve spent together these last few months, we’ve never really taken it very far. The most we ever did was the night I discovered my now exboyfriend having sex with my now ex-best friend… My entire body goes warm at the memory. We hooked up that night and took it pretty far, but not too far. I didn’t give him every piece of me. Thank goodness. That’s what I keep telling myself. Thank goodness.

The bell rings and I shoot out of my class as fast as I can, staring straight ahead as I exit the doorway and turn left when I normally turn right. I’m moving against the crowd, since everyone’s either making their way toward the cafeteria or the parking lot, and I do my best not to make eye contact. No one pays me any attention anyway, which is a good thing. But then again it infuriates me. It’s like I don’t even rate, and I’ve been with the most popular boy at school, not that anyone really knew this. Though I’m sure if anyone did see me with Tuttle they probably thought we were working together on a class project or whatever. No way could he see anything in me. Ugh. I’m actually pissed people aren’t noticing me when I don’t want them to notice me. I make no sense. I blame it all on Tuttle. The crowd thins as I make my way farther down the hall and that’s when I spot her. Liv is standing close to Ryan, laughing up at him after he leans in close to her ear and whispers something. My stomach twists and I fight the disappointment that wants to take over me. I knew she’d cave fast. “Amanda!” she shouts when she spots me, and she waves me over after we make eye contact. I approach them slowly, my feet feeling like they’re encased in cement instead of my worn-out Converse. “Hey, you,” she says cheerily when I stop in front of them. Ryan flicks his chin at me in that boy way that’s supposed to be a greeting. I say nothing in return, just send him a withering look. Like she can sense what I’m about to do —say something rude to him—Liv grabs hold of my arm before I say something ugly and

leads me away from her boyfriend. “Please don’t give me any crap,” she starts, and I shake my head, cutting her off. “So you believed him.” My voice is flat and I send her an accusatory glare. Livvy sighs as we stop on the opposite end of the lockers. “I believe him because he’s telling me the truth. The photo was taken at a party late last summer. Before I came back from my dad’s, and when he was with…” Her voice fades and she wrinkles her nose. She doesn’t want to say the same so I supply it for her. “Em?” I raise both brows and she rolls her eyes. “Yes. Em. It’s an old photo. He swore up and down he was being one hundred percent honest. He hasn’t been near Em since we’ve been together.” She leans in close, her voice dropping. “You should believe Tuttle too. That photo is old. And I know he’s totally into you.” I hate how my body reacts just hearing someone else say his last name. I’m pretty sure it’s not normal. “Why should I believe him? So he can go out and do something like this again? Because it’ll happen, I can almost guarantee it. Some other girl will come out of the woodwork full of half-truths and make him look bad, and I won’t be able to trust him. Or worse, he’ll cheat on me. Remember, he doesn’t do relationships.” “Is that what you really believe?” I whirl around, my heart dropping when I see Tuttle standing in front of me looking stupid gorgeous clad in dark jeans and his football jersey. He also looks really angry and… hurt? No way. “That girls will always be a problem for you?” For us? “Yes.” “You don’t think I can be faithful to you.” He’s not asking a question. He’s just stating the obvious. “You’ve never had a girlfriend before.” I lift my chin, trying my best to appear strong. I don’t like having him so close. Temptation sweeps over me, urging me to take another step forward and wrap my arms around him. But I fight the impulse and win. “I’m guessing there’s a reason for that.” “Right, because I fuck every girl I see. I can’t control myself.” The lack of emotion in his voice and on his face is unnerving. When he crosses his arms, he looks intimidating. I take a step back. “I never said that,” I start, but Ryan speaks over me. “Come on, Amanda. Are you really going to be such a bitch?” I turn on him, ready to tell him where to shove it, but I don’t have to. Tuttle is on him in an instant, his hand curled into the front of Ryan’s shirt, pinning him against the metal lockers. The locks rattle and shake when Tuttle shoves him again, stepping closer so they’re in each other’s faces.

“I don’t ever want to hear you call Amanda that again.” He twists Ryan’s shirt tighter and Ryan curses under his breath. “Tell her you’re sorry.” “Jesus, she’s treating you like crap, and you still act like this?” The locks rattle once more as Tuttle pushes Ryan yet again, and his gaze meets mine. “Fine, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Tuttle lets him go with one last shove and then turns to face me. His handsome face is a mask of ferociousness, and his eyes are so hot I swear they singe my skin when he looks at me. “You can think whatever you want,” he says between clenched teeth. “Believe what you want. You know how I feel.” “No, I really don’t know,” I throw back at him, my voice shaky. I’m not one for violence, but watching Jordan push Ryan against the lockers in defense of me was all kinds of hot. My entire body is tingling and the urge to throw myself at him for a job well done must be some sort of instinctual reaction. “You’ve never told me.” Our gazes lock. Never waver. Ryan and Liv slink away. A few people pass by us, but Tuttle doesn’t even notice. Neither do I. “I thought I showed you. I thought that was good enough.” He takes a deep breath. Exhales loudly. “Guess not.” That’s the last thing he says before he brushes past me, his shoulder bumping into mine as he goes by. I turn to watch him walk away, shocked and annoyed that he left me wanting more. Left me feeling bad, like I should chase after him, full of apologies. But I don’t. I refuse to play his head games. He’ll only end up hurting me. Better to stay safe and alone versus getting burned.

Liv stayed after school to watch Ryan practice—gag. I’m so disappointed in her. She forgave Ryan way too easily, but she did point out yet again that maybe I was the one being stubborn. Maybe she’s right. I don’t know, nor do I care. My decision is made. Ever since Tuttle pushed his way into my life, things haven’t been right. I know I’m the one who sort of fell on him at his party last summer after the Thad and Tara fiasco, and that really my life was thrown into complete turmoil after that unpleasant incident. Yet he’s the one who continues to confuse me. Brings drama into my life. Drama I don’t want or need. After lunch I have AP English with Tuttle, and I sit in my usual spot at the front of the class, refusing to look back at him. My neck remains warm the entire period. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me, staring at my nape. I totally regret wearing my hair in a high ponytail. When the bell rings, I bolt out of class so fast I run into the edge of a desk on my way out. That probably caused a major bruise. But at least I didn’t have to talk to Tuttle. See his face. Look into his eyes. Instead of driving straight home after school like I normally would, I go in search of a job. It’s time for me to grab hold of my life and control it. I need money. Lots of it—and all for college. Working a part-time job after school and during the weekends wouldn’t make me much, but it’s a start. I pull into a shopping center parking lot and walk from store to store, asking if they were hiring. Asking for applications. Most of them told me to apply online, especially the chain stores, and I knew I’d never hear back from them. I need to find a local store, a place that’s run by the actual owners versus a management crew hired by corporate. But those types of businesses are getting harder to find. So when I stop in front of Yo Town, a relatively new frozen yogurt place located at the far end of the shopping center, I’m thinking it might have strong possibilities. Pushing open the door, I walk into the chilly shop, noting how clean it looks. A vaguely familiar teenage boy sits on a stool behind the counter with his back against the brightly painted wall, his head buried in a book. So buried, I really can’t see his face at all, just a shock of light brown hair sticks up above the open book, his lanky body hunched over as he reads. “Um, hi?” I say after I clear my throat. He startles, nearly dropping the book to the floor, but he catches it just in time. I

recognize him immediately. Blake Stephens. He’s a senior. Quiet. Studious. He’s in most of my advanced classes, just like Tuttle. I’ve maybe spoken ten words to him the entirety of our high school life. “You’re Amanda Winters,” he says after an uncomfortable moment of silence. “That’s me.” Lame, lame. Yikes. “So, hey. Are you by chance hiring right now?” I ask. Blake jumps to his feet, coming to stand directly across from me behind the cash register. “We are. I can put in a good word for you, too.” I laugh nervously, noting how closely he examines me. His rapt attention is kind of creepy. “That’s awesome. Can I have an application, please?” “Yeah, sure.” He reaches beneath the counter and hands over a standard job application. I take it from him with a faint smile, thank him for the pen and clipboard he also hands me then go sit at one of the small table so I can start filling out the application. I’m concentrating so hard on making sure all of my answers on the application are correct, I don’t notice at first what’s playing on the flat screen TV hanging on the nearby wall. But then it slowly dawns on me that he’s watching a kid movie on the Disney Channel. He must’ve seen me stare at the TV because he says, “My parents keep it on Disney so the kids are entertained.” I turn to look at him. “Your parents own this place?” “Yeah.” He ducks his head and shuffles his feet. “I hate frozen yogurt.” This time my laugh is for real, and there’s not a hint of nervousness in it. “So why do you work here?” “Because they make me?” I laugh some more and he joins in with a low chuckle. “Seriously, you don’t want to work here?” “Oh yes I do.” My gaze returns to the application and I work on it some more, wishing I’d prepared better. It’s hard to come up with a list of references on the spot. I grab my phone and start scrolling through my contacts, stopping when I find my grandma’s address. She’s a great reference, though maybe I should tell her not to say she’s my grandma. “I need a job.” “Not this one.”’ “Yes, this one would be perfect.” The more he talks about me not wanting it, makes me want it even more. “What’s so bad about working here?” “Cleaning the place. The machines, the toppings bar, the bathrooms, the floor.” He makes a disgusted face. “It’s awful.” “I don’t mind cleaning.” I really don’t. Mom runs a tight ship. We’re always cleaning around the house every weekend, sometimes even after school. Mom always says, “Idle hands lead to idle minds,” and I hate that quote, probably because it’s true.

Not that I’m really sure, considering I don’t keep myself idle for too long. “Then you’re crazy,” he tells me with all the assuredness of someone who doesn’t have to worry about his job, considering his parents owned the place. He was guaranteed a job for the rest of his life. Granted, no one wants to work at Yo Town when they’re forty, but I’m sure Blake knows he can always work at the yogurt shop if he has to. I’m almost done filling out the application when a buzzer sounds, alerting that someone’s walked into the shop. I glance up to see a pleasant-looking older woman stop at the register to talk to Blake. Their features are similar and I’d bet money it was his mom. I drop my head when she catches me looking, concentrating instead on my application and hoping she doesn’t think I’m a creeper. “Are you applying for a job?” the woman asks a few moments later. I glance back up to find her standing on the other side of the little table I’m sitting at. “I am. Blake said you were hiring?” The woman’s smile grows. “You know Blake?” “We go to school together,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t ask for any more details. I don’t really know Blake at all. “Mom, stop questioning her,” Blake says from behind the counter. She glances at him over her shoulder. “I have to question her if she wants to work for me.” She returns her attention to me with a pleasant smile on her face. “Do you have a few minutes to chat?” Excitement and nerves bubble inside my stomach. “Sure.” Blake’s mom introduces herself as Sonja, and after a few minutes of chit-chat, questions about my (lacking) experience and inquiring exactly how I know her son, I’ve got the job. That was way too easy. “Can you start tomorrow after school?” she asks after letting me know I’ll average 15 hours a week and the starting pay is minimum wage. I’m shocked she’d offer the job so quickly and want me here so fast, but I recover quickly. “Yeah, definitely.” I smile as we both stand, and shake her offered hand. “Thank you so much for taking a chance on me.” Considering I’ve never had a job before, she was doing me a huge favor. “I think we both lucked out.” Sonja smiles warmly. “See you tomorrow, Amanda.” I check my phone as I’m walking back to my car and see that Liv has texted me what feels like five million times. Deciding I don’t have the time to text back, I call her instead. “Why are you calling?” she practically shrieks into the phone as her greeting. “We never talk on the phone.” “You sent me a thousand texts. I thought it would be easier to call,” I say as I make my way to my car.

“Did you read my texts?” “No.” They were full of emojis and exclamation points so who knows what she’s losing it over now. “Oh my God.” She sighs and it sounds shaky. “You’ll never guess who Dustin is taking to the homecoming dance.” “Em,” I say just to freak her out. “Ew, no! He would never do that. Well, I don’t think he would.” She pauses for dramatic effect, and it works. “He’s taking Brianne Brown.” Huh. “Is that really a surprise?” She hesitates. “I guess, considering he snuck into my room last night and we made out.” “What?” Now I’m the one shrieking. “Are you freaking serious? What about Ryan?” “I was mad.” Her voice is small and I know she knows she messed up. “I just saw that photo Em posted. I couldn’t believe it. I was so hurt and confused. And then Dustin showed up. Next thing I know we’re kissing on my bed.” “Olivia.” My voice is stern and I glance around, thankful when I find a bench in front of Old Navy. I sit and keep my head bent, hoping I don’t see anyone from school. “You get mad at Ryan for being a supposed cheater when you’re the one who—” “Don’t say it!” she pleads, cutting me off. “Please. You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m a total hypocrite, but I was so furious at Ryan and Em. The minute Dustin left, I cried. I felt so bad for using him, but I was still angry at Ryan too, you know? I’ve ruined everything with Dustin. And Em. Maybe even Ryan.” “You always jump to conclusions.” She’s way too spontaneous. I plan everything so her spontaneity blows my mind on a regular basis. “So did you,” she points out. “Now you won’t even talk to Tuttle and he practically beat up my boyfriend in defense of you.” “Right, because your boyfriend called me a bitch,” I remind her. “I’m sooo sorry he said that.” Liv sighs. “This is all a total mess.” “I know. That’s why I’m staying out of the drama. No more boys. I just got a part-time job. Between school, yearbook, filling out college applications and working at Yo Town, I’ll be too busy for boys,” I say, desperate to believe every word I say. “Wait a minute. You got a job? At Yo Town? What’s that?” “A frozen yogurt shop,” I explain. “Blake Stephens’ parents own it.” “Who?” Of course she doesn’t know who Blake is. Poor dude. He pretty much keeps to himself. “He goes to school with us. He’s in our class.” She’s already forgotten about him. “I love frozen yogurt. Can you get me a discount?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask about that.” Sometimes my friend can be a tad selfish. “When do you start working there?” “Tomorrow after school. I’ll also work this Friday night and Saturday afternoon.” “Friday night? But you’ll miss the homecoming game and dance! Can’t you tell them you already have plans?” Like I want to go to the homecoming game and dance now. Not when I know it’ll just be one big Tuttle fest. I love football. I love how our team is slowly turning themselves around—and a lot of that is because of Tuttle. Ugh, stupid Tuttle and his gorgeous face and perfect lips and irritating, smug personality. He is nothing but trouble. Trouble I don’t need. I always thought he was gorgeous, but he’s just a mythical creature. Someone who was in my advanced classes these last three years, though I never really talked to him. Someone I watched play out on the field while I sat in the stands wearing hideous, itchy polyester and an awful hat with a feather plume. He wasn’t real. Well, now he is. And he’s ruined everything. I can’t watch football anymore, not if I have to work every Friday night. No more band, no more football and no homecoming dance. There are worse things to deal with in life. Or so I tell myself. “I already said I’d work the Friday night shift,” I explain. “I can’t back out now. I need this job.” “I’m going to miss you, Amanda. Who will I sit with during the game?” My friend is so wrapped up in her own drama, all she can ever think about is herself. She really needs to work on that. Become a more thoughtful person. “You’ll find someone,” I reassure her. “I’m sure you’ll survive without me.”

“Hey Amanda.” I brace myself, my shoulders tight, my entire body tense. I’m afraid to turn and see who just said those two words. It could be anybody. Worse, it could be Tuttle. Considering I’m in English and he’s in this class with me, I almost expect it to be him. Pushing his luck. Pushing himself on me. I don’t know if I have the strength to make him stop. But here’s the thing: when you want something bad enough, you start to believe it can be true. Like having Tuttle talk to you—you start to believe it’s going to actually happen, even though you claim you don’t want it to. I know Jordan’s dreamy voice anywhere, and the voice that just said my name was definitely not Jordan Tuttle. Turning, I blink in shock when I realize it’s Blake Stephens standing in front of me. He’s never approached me before in class. Ever. I don’t even think we’ve ever locked eyes before, let alone said hi. “Hi,” I say, offering him a tiny smile. “How’s it going?” “Pretty good.” He ducks his head and his shaggy hair hides his eyes for a moment before he flicks his head. “Thought I’d say hi, considering now we’re coworkers.” “Right. Coworkers.” I nod and continue to smile, kicking it up a notch when I spot Tuttle slip in through the door and head for one of the desks in the back row of the classroom. “My first official shift starts after school.” “You excited?” Blake raises his brows. Um, not the way I’d phrase it, but close. “I guess so.” “It’s going to be a thrill a minute.” His expression betrays nothing, so I’m not exactly sure if he’s joking or not. “You really think so?” “Nah, I’m just kidding with you.” He nudges my arm with his elbow and I laugh. He watches me, pleased with my reaction or whatever, but then the smile slowly dies. I glance in the same direction he’s looking to find Tuttle glaring at us from where he sits, his fingers gripping the edge of his desk. Wait a minute. Is he…jealous? Of Blake freaking Stephens? No. Way. “Are you working after school?” I ask after I tear my attention away from Tuttle. I take

a step closer to Blake, because yes. I’m a total bitch who wants to make a boy jealous. I’m petty and awful but I also sort of don’t care. Truthfully, it feels kind of awesome, knowing that talking to Blake is driving Tuttle insane. Most of the time Tuttle drives me absolutely insane and I’m certain he doesn’t have a clue. “Yeah, I’ll be training you.” Blake nods, his cheeks turning ruddy, as if he’s embarrassed. “Thought I’d warn you now.” “It won’t be so bad,” I say, my voice soft. I don’t want him to feel awkward or weird around me. Blake has always been quiet and shy. Crap, I’ve always been quiet and shy too. Blake is more my type of person than Tuttle could ever be. I need to remember that. “Hopefully I’ll catch on quickly.” “I’m sure you will. During the weekends, my mom will probably schedule us together a lot, since it can get pretty busy,” he explains, making a little face. “Hope you don’t mind.” “I don’t. I like staying busy. Makes the time go by faster,” I tell him just as the bell rings. Blake smiles, taking a few backward steps until he turns on his heel and settles into his seat. I return my attention to the front of the classroom, resting my linked hands on top of my desk, determined to get into attentive student mode. Mrs. Meyer starts talking and I try my best to pay attention, but I can’t focus. All I can think about is Jordan Tuttle sitting behind me. Watching me. What is he thinking? Does he hate me for cutting him out of my life? Probably. I doubt that happens to him much. He’s the type of guy who gets what he wants, whenever he wants it. “…and what that means is you’ll be working on a group project together! Won’t that be fun?” Mrs. Meyer ignores the groans that sound throughout the room. “Oh, come on, guys! This will be great. It’ll be in teams of two, so the workload must be shared fiftyfifty.” Great. A group project. I hate them, mostly because I always end up doing all the work. I can be a bit of a perfectionist and a control freak, which means I’m super annoying to everyone I end up working with. “Now, I normally would pair you up myself, but considering you’re seniors and should be able to figure who you like to work with on your own, I’m going to suggest you choose your partners. Don’t leave anyone out! And don’t fight over each other,” Mrs. Meyer calls over the commotion that starts at her announcement. I turn and watch everyone scramble around in frantic search of a partner when I meet Blake’s gaze. “You want to be my partner?” he asks, pointing a thumb at his chest. I part my lips, ready to say yes, when I hear someone speak from behind me. “She’s with me.” Slowly I turn to find Tuttle standing there, looking intimidating as crap with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest and a glower on his face that could slay a thousand

dragons. I try not to let him affect me, but I swear I feel my toes tremble in my shoes. “How exactly am I with you?” His gaze lingers on mine, and damn it, I can’t look away. “You’re my partner.” “But you never asked me,” I point out. He looks ready to roll his eyes. Or walk away. He does neither. “Would you like to be my partner, Mandy?” I hate it when anyone calls me Mandy…with the exception of him. He somehow gets away with it. “I don’t think so.” Now he does roll his eyes. The desk beside me is empty and he drops his perfect body into the seat, tipping the desk onto its two front legs so he can lean as close as possible in my direction. “You’re being ridiculous.” “No, you’re being ridiculous, assuming I want to be your partner for this project.” I hesitate, quickly looking away like a coward. “I don’t,” I say to the wall. He’s quiet for a moment, and amidst the growing noise and chaos of the room, his silence is completely unnerving. “I mean it.” I look his way when he still hasn’t said anything. “I don’t want to be your partner.” “Even after everything we’ve done together?” he asks, his voice deadly soft. Of course, his question reminds me of all the things we’ve done together. And they are a lot. Mostly having to do with touching. And kissing. The boy can kiss like no other. He has this way of making me forget everything the moment his lips touch mine… “Especially after everything we’ve done together,” I say firmly. “This isn’t going to work.” “Oh, this is fabulous. You two are going to be great partners together!” Mrs. Meyers exclaims when she stops in front of the both of us. She clasps her hands together, a giant smile on her face. “I love it!” “He’s not my partner,” I start, but Tuttle sends me a look that renders me silent. My protest doesn’t matter anyway because Mrs. Meyer is already gone, moving on to talk to someone else. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.” The smug smile stretching Jordan Tuttle’s perfect lips makes me want to slug him.

I show up at Yo Town promptly at four. Sonja is there to greet me and leads me into the

tiny office in the back of the building, where she has me fill out a bunch of paperwork, hands over my official Yo Town T-shirt, telling me she has to go, but that she’s leaving me in good hands. Then she sends me back out into the shop so I can be trained. By Blake. “This job is pretty easy,” he tells me as he has me run through a few practice transactions on the register. I pick it up pretty fast, which fills me with relief. The scariest thing to me was the cash register, but it’s fairly simple. “Then why do you hate it so much?” My Yo Town T-shirt is pale pink and Blake’s is black. I notice those are the theme colors of the store. There’s pink and black everywhere, including the cups people use to get their frozen yogurt. And see, that’s the easy part of this job. I don’t have to dispense the yogurt. Or put on the toppings. The customers do it themselves and bring their yogurt to us, where we weigh it and collect the money. Easy peasy. How hard can this job be? “Because my parents make me work here.” He smiles faintly, though he’s not looking at me. “When you’re forced to do something, you always end up hating it, you know?” Right. For example, how I’m forced to be Tuttle’s partner in English. I hate it. Well, I’m supposed to hate it. “You ended up finding a partner for the project in English, right?” I ask him. “Oh yeah.” He nods. “Celeste Marshall. I’ve worked with her before. She’s really smart. Not that you’re not smart, but Tuttle snagged you up first, so…” His voice drifts and I slam the register’s cash door shut, startling him. I hate that he brought Tuttle up, yet I also feel responsible for it. I’m the one who opened my big mouth. “I’m sorry about that. I really wanted to be your partner,” I reassure him gently. Blake shrugs, his cheeks coloring. “It’s no big deal. Next time, right?” I hope there’s a next time. I feel like I need to make it up to him. Once we’re finished with the cash register lesson—including me ringing up a real pair of customers who came into the shop—he brings me to the toppings bar. Pointing out what everything is, he explains I need to make sure to keep everything well stocked. Replenishing the toppings as often as I can is crucial to keeping the toppings bar in good shape. The more they pile on their frozen yogurt, the heavier their cup weighs, and the more we can charge them. Though summer is dwindling, which causes the frozen yogurt business to slow down—at least according to Blake. “Hours will eventually be cut by mid next month, if not sooner,” Blake explains as we walk back to the storage room. “Business drops once summer is really over, and by the end of football season, it really dies off.” “Why is that?” “It’s too cold to eat frozen yogurt,” he says, his voice definitely carrying a duh vibe.

“You can still eat it inside,” I point out. “It’s never too cold to eat delicious frozen yogurt.” Blake studies me like I’m crazy. I sort of am, but frozen yogurt really is delicious and my stomach is growling, which is embarrassing. “If you can convince people of that and increase business during the winter months, my mom might kiss you.” I make a face. “I’m not into that sort of thing.” Blake’s cheeks blaze up. His face is so red I feel instantly sorry for him. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters. “I know. I was just teasing.” Could I be more awkward? Reaching out, I touch his arm and smile at him but he won’t even look my way. The buzzer indicating someone just walked into the shop goes off and he’s gone in an instant, not looking back at me once as he scurries out of there. Guess he was just saved by the bell. Smoothing a hand over my hair, I walk back out into the front of the store, my mouth dropping open when I see who’s standing in front of the frozen yogurt machines, contemplating the flavors. “Oh. Hey,” Emily Griffith says distractedly, barely glancing in my direction. White-hot rage rises inside of me as I walk over to join Blake behind the counter. I want to sock her in the mouth. Punch her in the stomach. Slap her face as hard as I can. And I’m not one prone to violence, but this chick makes my blood boil. Worse? She doesn’t even realize it. “You don’t have salted caramel anymore?” Em whines at Blake. “We’ll get it back soon,” Blake reassures her with a friendly smile. All she does is make a face as she shoves her cup under the nozzle and adds birthday cake flavored frozen yogurt to it. I watch as she examines the toppings bar, then dumps chocolate chips, M&Ms and chocolate sprinkles on top of her yogurt before bringing it to the counter. Blake never moves away from the cash register, and I scowl at him. “Let me ring her up,” I say. “I’ve got it.” He never takes his eyes away from Em as she stands in front of us looking positively bored. She even yawns. Doesn’t bother covering her mouth either. Again, I want to punch her. And I promise I’m not a violent person. “I need the practice on the register.” I hip-check him and bump him out of the way, flashing an extra big smile at Em. My mom always said to kill them with kindness, so I’m going for that approach. Besides, she has no idea what she did to Tuttle and me. Or does she? “Will that be all?” I ask Em with a sickeningly sweet voice. “Looks like it, don’t you think?” she says sarcastically.

Gritting my teeth, I set her yogurt cup on the scale, stick an orange spoon in it since orange is my least favorite of the plastic spoon colors available, and I punch in the price. She hands me a five and I hand back her change, telling her to have a nice day. For the first time since she walked in here, she actually meets my gaze and recognition dawns, the dollar bill and loose change spilling from her hand and landing on the counter. “Amanda Winters.” “Emily Griffith,” I return. “So. How’s Tuttle?” She smirks. “I wouldn’t know, considering I really don’t talk to him,” I say coolly, lying through my still gritted teeth. “Funny, I heard you two were sort of an item. But maybe that was only in your imagination?” She raises her brows. I imagine leaping over the counter and taking her down to the ground. Wrapping my fingers around her neck and choking her out, Blake cheering me on. I glance over at him, see the lust and adoration in his gaze as he stares at Em, and I know he’s a lost cause. “Funny, I heard you were passed around the locker room after the last home game. But maybe that was the truth?” I raise my brows just like she did. The flicker of hurt on her face, in her eyes, is there and then gone in a flash. She swipes her yogurt from the counter and stomps out of Yo Town, leaving her change behind on the counter. “Put it in the tip jar,” Blake suggests, completely unfazed. Did he not just hear the awful things we said to each other? A heavy sigh escapes me. I should’ve never said that to Em. It was mean and ugly and I sort of lost myself in the moment. Now I feel guilty as crap. “Go ahead. Do you mind if I take a break?” “Sure. You get fifteen minutes.” That’s just enough time to drown my sorrows in a giant cup of watermelon sorbet.

Livvy jumps into my car the next morning, fully decked out in a PINK sweatshirt with matching leggings, her makeup perfect and her long, dark red hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She looks great. “I thought it was pajama day,” I say once she shuts the door and drops her backpack at her feet. Every day has a theme for homecoming week and I decided to have some spirit. Who wants to turn down the chance to wear pajamas all day? “It is.” She grins. “I wear this to sleep all the time.” “You do not.” Her outfit looks expensive and brand new. I’m lucky to snag a PINK shirt at a thrift shop, though there was that one time last Christmas when my grandma scored me one of those special holiday only T-shirts Victoria’s Secret puts out that’s more on the cheap side. “I do! Well, maybe not this exact outfit.” Her grin fades as she takes me in. “You look…” “Comfortable?” I offer hopefully. I’m wearing my favorite plaid flannel pajama bottoms I bought at our local Rite Aid because they’re in our school’s colors and a dark gray hoodie that’s covering an old T-shirt my brother gave me after he cleaned out his closet before he left for college. It’s soft and cozy, just like the hoodie, and I wear them all the time. “Definitely comfortable.” Livvy flashes me a bright smile. “You look cute. I like the braids.” I put my hair in two French braids because it was still wet from my shower and I didn’t feel like blow-drying it. “Thanks.” I chew on my lip, yesterday’s moment with Em still weighing heavy on my mind. “How was work?” Livvy asks as I pull my car onto the street and head for school. Taking a deep breath, I tell her everything. How awkward Blake and I were working together, how Em came into the store and I said awful things to her. When I finish, Livvy looks… Impressed? “I can’t believe you said that to her!” Liv shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “She sort of deserved it.” “I’ve never heard that rumor, though,” I stress. “I made it up. Just to hurt her.”

Liv shrugs. “It might be true. You never know.” I’m sort of incredulous. This is her former best friend—and it wasn’t that long ago that they were actual best friends. Sort of like me and Tara, though our falling out happened even before Em’s and Livvy’s. I haven’t talked to Tara in what feels like forever, and sometimes I still miss her. And that’s part of the reason I’m dealing with all this guilt over what I said to Em yesterday. “I should’ve never said such awful things to her, Liv. I don’t care what she’s done or how she’s hurt you or even me. And I said it in front of Blake. I don’t really know him, and I definitely don’t trust him. What if he tells a friend what happened, and then the friend tells someone else, and then it spreads like wildfire all over campus?” My worst nightmare, knowing I was the instigator of a horrible, untrue rumor. “That won’t happen.” Livvy waves a hand, dismissing my concern. “There are so many rumors swirling around Em right now anyway, it’s just another one to add to the list.” I pull the car over on the side of the road, put it in park and turn to stare at my new friend. We might’ve known each other for years, but these last few weeks are the first time we’ve spent any amount of time together. I’m unsure if I can trust her either. “I don’t know if you’ve always been like this, but no wonder you and Em aren’t friends anymore. It’s like you don’t even care about her.” Livvy’s expression turns hard and her eyes narrow. “I did. I do care about her. There’s just…so much that’s happened between us. I don’t know if I can ever forgive her.” “She probably feels the same way.” Liv’s jaw drops. “What do you mean? She’s the one who had sex with Dustin.” “And you’re the one who keeps fooling around with Dustin on the side,” I point out. “Even a few nights ago you did, Liv. Since when is it okay to toy with his heart?” “Toy with his heart? Are you serious right now? I think you’ve read too many romance novels.” I blink at her words. That was sort of rude. “Don’t forget Ryan in all of this. You’ve been dishonest with him too.” “I overreacted to that stupid picture Em posted, you know this!” The words explode out of Livvy like she’s been holding them in for years. “I know it was wrong, what I did with Dustin. What do you want me to do? Tell Ryan?” She stares off into the distance, crossing her arms, and she’s blinking rapidly. Like she’s trying to fight off tears. “Maybe you should be honest with him,” I start, but she turns to glare at me, her eyes shiny and her lips tight. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like, dealing with toxic relationships,” she practically snarls. “Ha! Are you kidding me right now? I caught my best friend with my boyfriend and they were actually having sex. Naked, penis-in-vagina sex. I saw it with my own two eyes, Olivia! I know exactly what it’s like! I’m way too familiar with it,” I say bitterly. “My situation is different,” she says, but I shake my head and she goes silent.

“Not really. All three of you have this messed up friendship. You do realize that, right? Sneaking around behind each other’s backs, messing around with each other. You were never honest with Dustin or Em and they weren’t honest with you either.” I hesitate, then decide to go for it. “From the way I see it, you’re all equally guilty.” Now Livvy won’t even look at me. “Shouldn’t we get to school before the first bell rings?” Sighing loudly, I put the Toyota in drive and pull back onto the road. We remain silent the rest of the car ride and when we arrive at school a few minutes later, Livvy climbs out of my car without a backward glance, slamming the door so hard the entire car rattles. Great. Now I’ve pissed off the only friend I have left. But I had to say it. Had to point out that what she’d done with Dustin was just as bad as what Em did with Dustin. They’re all guilty, especially Dustin, yet the girls are so mad at each other. Why didn’t they see the part he played in this? Contemplating the entire situation was better than focusing on my own problems, so I wallowed in the Livvy/Dustin/Em/Ryan love triangle/square as I walked through the parking lot, weaving through the cars, ignoring everyone I passed by. Not that they paid me any attention. Though I swear I hear a low whistle and when I glance over my shoulder, I see Tuttle following a considerable distance behind me. Ugh. I glare at him, wishing I had laser eyes—a wish my younger brother Trent makes on an almost daily basis—before I turn and practically run into the senior building. I dash into the first girls’ bathroom I see to hide from Tuttle and compose myself. Of course, there’s Brianne Brown and Em staring at their reflections in the hazy mirror, both of them glossing up their lips so thick I wrinkle my nose, imagining how sticky that must feel. “Oh look, here’s Little Miss Perfect,” Em says, turning to face me wearing a smirk. “Where’s your best buddy?” “You mean your best buddy?” I say pointedly. Brianne sends me a withering look in the mirror’s reflection. “Give it a rest, flute player.” Her face brightens. “Hey, does that give you an advantage with blowjobs, sucking on a flute all those years?” Both girls laugh and I go to the empty sink next to them to wash my now shaky hands. Man, I hate drama. I’m the least confrontational person on the planet, yet I keep running finding myself mired in it. “For your information, I didn’t play a flute, I played the clarinet.” They’re still giggling and rolling their eyes. “There’s a difference?” Em asks innocently. I should be the bigger person and do what I’ve wanted since our run in. “Hey Em, I wanted to apologize for what I said to you yesterday.” Em’s mouth pops open into this almost comical O shape. I turn off the faucet and dry my hands, waiting for her to say something, but she remains quiet for so long, Brianne

nudges her in the side with her elbow. “What the hell are you talking about anyway?” Brianne asks me. “That’s between Em and I,” I say solemnly. Brianne rolls her eyes, but Em watches me carefully, like she’s waiting for me to give her the punch line. “You actually mean it, don’t you,” Em finally says. I nod and stand a little straighter. “I’m owning my shit. And that was a shitty thing I said to you yesterday.” “It was.” “And I totally made it up.” “I figured.” Now I’m quiet, waiting for her to apologize for that stupid picture she posted, but instead she hooks her arm through Brianne’s and leads her out of the bathroom without saying a word. I deflate the second the door swings shut, bracing my hands on the edge of the sink and staring at my reflection. That was…hard. I don’t like confrontation. But I apologized and I didn’t melt while doing it either. I’m going to be okay. Maybe, eventually, we’ll all be okay.

I’m hiding out in the back of the library during lunch, munching on baby carrots dipped in ranch while reading my American Government and Institutions notes in prep for the quiz later this afternoon when I suddenly feel someone standing beside my table, looking right at me. Glancing up, I fully expect to find Livvy there, contrite and full of apologies, but it’s not Livvy. It’s Em. “Hey,” she says, her voice soft. She tucks a chin-length strand of highlighted golden blonde hair behind her ear and looks around before her gaze meets mine once more. “Um, can I sit down?” I shrug and she pulls the empty chair next to mine out, plopping her skinny butt on it. I continue eating my carrots, pointing at the open snack bag as an invitation and she takes one, dips it into the tiny plastic cup full of ranch dressing and pops it into her mouth, chewing loudly. Something you can’t avoid when you eat baby carrots. They have major crunch.

“Ms. Donahue is going to be pissed if she catches you eating in her library,” Em says once she swallows. Ms. Donahue has run the school library probably longer than all of us have been alive. She’s terrifying. “I’m not scared.” “Rebel,” she says, nudging my shoulder with hers. Blowing out a loud breath, I turn to look at her. “What’s up?” There’s no reason for her to sit by me in the library. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Emily Griffith in the school library even once. “I wanted to thank you, for the apology,” she whispers, glancing around as if she wants to make sure no one is near. “That, uh—meant a lot to me.” “I felt awful all last night, thinking about what I said to you,” I admit. Em raises her eyebrows in real surprise. How I can tell, I’m not sure, but I can. “Really?” I nod my answer. “Well, I guess I appreciate you feeling bad?” “I’m not normally a mean girl,” I tell her. “Seriously. This is so not my style. I’m quiet. No one pays attention to me at school. Not usually.” “Right. But maybe you have a secret. That maybe under the good girl exterior is a bad girl on the side who goes by the street name Stella in the House?” I burst out laughing, clamping a hand over my mouth when I hear Ms. Donahue reprimand me with a low, “Quiet!” The front desk is nowhere near where we’re sitting, but Ms. Donahue has no qualms in silencing people wherever they’re at. “Stella in the House?” I ask Em, still wanting to laugh, but Ms. Donahue will probably kick me out. Em shrugs. “I thought it sounded good.” “You are so weird.” “So are you. Hiding out in here when you could be hanging out in the quad with Jordan Tuttle.” She sighs and shakes her head. Why oh why does everyone mention his name to me? We’re nothing. “He doesn’t want me hanging out in the quad with him.” “You sure about that? He’s always looking around like he lost something. I’m starting to believe he’s always looking for you,” Em says. My heart trips over itself at her words then I tell myself to get over it. “Give me a break.” “I’m totally serious.” She looks totally serious too. “Well, he’s not interested in me like that.” I look away, wishing I wasn’t interested in

him like that either. “His loss.” She grabs another baby carrot and pops it into her mouth, crunching loudly. “Nominations are announced today in fifth period,” she says once she swallows. Great. That’s right after lunch, and Tuttle’s in that class with me. Is he going to be in a celebratory mode once he hears he’s been nominated? Because he so has. It doesn’t matter how much he denies it’ll happen, it’s happening. “Think you’ll get nominated?” she asks. “Me?” I actually scoff. “No freaking way. That’s for the popular girls.” I pause, studying her. “You might get nominated.” “Yeah, right. For biggest school slut? Definitely.” Em laughs, but there’s no humor in the sound. “Hey, I need to go. But can you, um, tell Livvy hi from me? And that I miss her?” Aw. This makes me feel bad, especially after all the horrible things Livvy said about Em. “Sure.” Depends on if she’s still talking to me or not, considering I probably made her super pissed with our earlier conversation. “You’re lucky,” Em says, her gaze becoming unfocused. Distant. As if she can see something I can’t. “You still have Livvy. Hopefully she doesn’t burn you too hard.” Her cryptic message makes me want to ask Em lots of questions. Questions she might not want to answer. “Okay, gotta go.” Em takes yet another baby carrot before she turns and starts to walk away. “See ya later, Stella!” she yells, making Ms. Donahue offer up an almost desperate “shush” in answer. I say nothing. Decide it’s best to savor the moment rather than pick it apart and end up driving myself crazy with all the what ifs spiraling through my head.

I walk into English like I’m about to face a firing squad. Slow and reluctant and ready to duck and run at the first opportunity. The relief that hits me when I realize Tuttle isn’t in the classroom almost makes me sag to the floor, I’m so grateful. I fall into my chair, drop my backpack at my feet and smile at Mrs. Meyer when she makes her appearance at the front of the class. The next fifty minutes should pass fairly easy without Tuttle around to distract me. When the bell rings, Mrs. Meyer immediately starts talking about our group projects. “Okay, guys, this is going to be so much fun! Here’s what we’re going to do. I want each of you to create diary entries in the voice of famous literature characters,” she explains. “These characters need to have an established relationship. Whether it’s mother and son, close friends, bitter enemies, or even lovers.” And with that last word, all the boys go, “Ooooh.” They’re so mature. “I want you to really get into the feelings these characters are experiencing. Their deepest, darkest thoughts and secrets, I want to see it all on the page. I don’t want to influence your choices, but I’d love to see a variety of relationships portrayed.” Mrs. Meyer starts passing out a sheet of paper to each of us. “This is a list of famous literary characters for inspiration. You can choose someone from the list, or you can come up with your own. I just need to approve each couple first before you can proceed with the project.” Great. My partner isn’t even here. How are we going to choose our characters? Maybe I could do it on my own and not even give Tuttle the choice. He’d deserve it for not showing up today. I glance over the list, smiling when I see Moby Dick and Captain Ahab. “Do you seriously want us to write diary entries in the point of view of a whale?” someone asks incredulously. Mrs. Meyer laughs. “I thought it might be interesting.” My gaze snags on one particular couple and I bite my lower lip, contemplating the idea. Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers at their finest. A tale of passion and sadness and lust and loyalty and, overall, young, tragic love. That could be…exciting. But would it be smart to work on a romantic project with Tuttle? Or would that only end up driving me crazy?

The classroom door suddenly opens, and I know it’s him. I can literally feel his eyes on me, seeking me out. “Ah, Mr. Tuttle. So glad you decided to join us today,” Mrs. Meyer says, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Please sit down.” I want to look back at him. I want to ask him where he’s been. But I can’t. I don’t have the right. Plus, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead I stare straight ahead, trying my best to calm my nerves because I know what’s coming next. “All right everyone, get together with your partner and discuss who you want as your couple. You’ll need to run your choice by me before you can start, so make sure you let me know who you’re going to use. No one can have the same couple, so the results will be varied.” She rubs her hands together, looking pleased. “This is going to be so much fun! I can’t wait!” Within minutes everyone’s rearranged themselves and we’re all sitting with our group partners, including Tuttle and me. He settles into the empty desk next to mine, his gaze sweeping over me, taking in every detail, and I practically squirm in my seat, the longer he studies me. “Cute outfit,” he finally drawls, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. “Are you just saying that?” I don’t look cute. I look sloppy and comfortable. The longer the day goes, the more comfortable I look too. I’m kind of a wreck, but I don’t care. “I know I look like I just rolled out of bed.” “Well, you just kicked my imagination into overdrive.” “Stop.” I shove at his rock hard shoulder, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall. “You really wear all that to bed?” It’s the way he says the word bed that reminds me of the night at Ryan’s house. Just last weekend we spent the night together. Jordan and I in a giant yet cozy bed, our bodies wrapped all around each other, my head nestled against his broad shoulder. We talked a little. Kissed a little. Touched a little. And then we eventually fell asleep. We really didn’t do much at all, but somehow it had become one of the most intimate moments of my life. And then it was ruined by that photo and my insecurities—insecurities that I’m thinking are actually valid. “Minus the hoodie, but yeah.” My voice is husky and I clear my throat. Wishing I could clear out this awkward moment between us. “Don’t you get hot?” His fingers trail over my thigh, smoothing over the thin flannel fabric of my sleep pants, and I jerk my leg away from his hand. It was as if he touched my bare skin. “I sleep in boxers. Gets too hot, wearing clothes.” “Jordan.” My voice is firm, my gaze direct. I will not think of him wearing a pair of black boxer briefs—my imagination goes to that image because I know for a fact he wears black boxer briefs—and nothing else. I can’t. “Why are we talking about what we wear to bed?” “You’re the one who started it, wearing your pajamas to school.” He’s wearing jeans

and a T-shirt. He’s not one to participate in school activities. “Remember a few nights ago when we slept togeth—” I slap my hand over his mouth to shut him up and I swear I can feel him smile behind the wall of my fingers. Worse, his teeth graze my skin—lightly yet with just enough force that I feel it pulsate all the way through me. I immediately drop my hand from his face as if I were burned. “You need to stop,” I tell him quietly. I’m tempted to beg him to stop but that might be overkill. “And we need to pick out our couple for the English project.” He frowns. “What are you talking about?” I explain the project details to him and hand over the list. He scans it thoughtfully, and I remain quiet. Impassive. I don’t want him to think I’m excited about any one choice. I want him to make with his own decision. “You want to work on one of these in particular?” he asks, lifting his gaze to mine. My breath catches at the gleam in his pretty blue eyes. He has such long, thick lashes. It’s kind of ridiculous. “Not sure yet.” I hesitate. “Do you?” “Mmm.” He glances over the list again. “Is she serious with the Moby Dick thing?” I nod, barely able to keep a straight face. “You can take on Ahab and I’ll take on Moby Dick.” “No.” His voice is firm, but his eyes are sparkling with amusement when they meet mine. “I’m thinking something a little more complex than that.” “How much more complex do you need to get? There’s a whale and a man in a power struggle. I would say that’s a little odd.” “True.” He taps a pencil against his slightly pursed lips, his gaze still trained on the paper. This gives me time to look at him, and look I do. My eyes are like greedy little addicts as they trail over him, lingering on his dark hair, that firm, sexy line of his jaw I might’ve kissed once or twice in the not so distant past. His thick brows are slightly furrowed and he’s squinting a little bit as he keeps skimming that list. Yet this all works for him. Or maybe I’m just unnaturally fascinated and can’t stop looking at him ever. “I want to do Romeo and Juliet,” he finally says, lifting his gaze to mine. He waits, ready for me to challenge him, and I wonder at his choice and his motives behind it. I wonder if he chose them for the same reason I did. Lifting my chin, I say, “I think that’s a good idea.” Surprise crosses his face, but then it’s gone. “I’ll be Juliet.” “No, you won’t.” I nudge him with my elbow and he tugs on one of my braids. I sort of melt inside. “We need to run this by Mrs. Meyer. Make sure no one else has chosen them.” My arm shoots up into the air and Mrs. Meyer is standing by our desks within a minute. “What’s going on? You know who you want to do your project on?” she asks

pleasantly, her gaze drifting between the two of us. “We’d like to choose Romeo and Juliet as our literary couple,” I tell her, and she smiles in response, looking pleased. “I think that’s an excellent choice, especially considering my sneaking suspicion that you, Jordan Tuttle, are a closet romantic.” His cheeks actually turn the faintest shade of red. It’s fascinating. Did Mrs. Meyer just embarrass him? “Bring out the best in each other with these diary entries.” Mrs. Meyer turns to me. “Share them with each other as you work on the project. Maybe even have your characters respond to each other, as if you’re having a written conversation. What do you think?” “Sounds good,” Tuttle says with ease. “Okay,” I add weakly. Great. Our assignment just turned into the two of us basically writing love letters to each other. “Ready to be my Juliet?” he asks the moment Mrs. Meyer walks away from us. He leans across his desk, his fingers going to the end of my braid again. They brush against my chest and I feel that touch through my hoodie, my T-shirt, all the way down to my skin. And it burns. Tingles. Makes me want more. “Stop pulling on my braid,” I tell him, ignoring his question. I don’t want to be his Juliet. I don’t want to be his anything. Liar. “What? Am I bothering you?” He tugs again, gently this time, before letting my braid go. He trails a finger along my plaited hair. “I think you look cute.” I say nothing. I can’t. It feels like my vocal cords are paralyzed. “Your hair is so soft,” he murmurs. “Does it get wavy when you wear your hair in braids all day?” I give the barest nod in answer. “Maybe someday you’ll let me undo them for you.” His intense stare makes my mouth go dry and I part my lips, ready to come up with some lame answer. But then the bell rings, and I grab my backpack and bolt out of the room before I say something stupid.

After school I head toward the senior parking lot when I sense someone falling into step beside me.

Livvy. “Where’ve you been all day?” she asks nonchalantly, like we didn’t have a big blow up this morning. “I could ask you the same question,” I say coolly. Best to confront the issue and get it over with. “I thought you were mad at me.” She stops me with a light hand on my forearm and we turn to face each other, people rushing past us to get to their cars and make their escape. “I thought you were mad at me too! You were just so…awful this morning.” “Honest,” I correct her. “I was honest. And sometimes we don’t want to hear the truth.” I can so relate to this statement. The truth can hurt. “Once you bailed, I figured you were ignoring me.” “I—wasn’t. I was spending time with Ryan, which you have to admit, you pushed me to do.” She studies me, nibbling on her lower lip. “Want to come with me and watch them practice?” Yes. The word hovers on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down. Going to see Tuttle for the pure joy of watching him play football is not allowed anymore. “I can’t,” I tell her, looking away, hating that I have to deny myself this tiny pleasure. What would it matter if he saw me watching him? It’s no big deal, right? I’m being ridiculous. If I want to watch our football team practice, I should be able to. He’s not the only boy on the team. But he’s the only boy I’m interested in on the team. I can’t deny it, even though I’m trying my hardest. “Oh, do you have to go to work?” Livvy offers up a weak smile. “I’m so happy for you, that you got the job, but I hate how it’s going to tie up your schedule.” “I don’t work today,” I start, and Livvy squeals, launching into this weird little dance before she loops her arm through mine. “Well then, let’s go watch them practice together! It’ll be fun. Like old times.” Old times? That was only a few weeks ago. Back when I went to watch them practice almost every day after school, claiming I missed being with the band, which was a halftruth. More like I wanted to watch Tuttle without judgment. He’s such a great player and his body is…a work of masculine art. God. I sound so cheesy in my head. It wasn’t just watching him play, though. It was being a part of his life. Seeing him, remembering all the moments we shared, reliving them. He’d become such a huge part of my life in a short amount of time, and I didn’t know what to do about it. He’s overwhelming in both the best and most awful ways imaginable. I try to cut him off, push him out of my life, yet he figures out how to worm his way back in every single time. It’s so annoying. And exhilarating. I want him close. I want him

gone. I want to touch him. I want to shove him away. Clearly I’m confused. “I shouldn’t,” I protest, but Livvy drags me forward, surprisingly strong. I didn’t know she had it in her. “Come on. Please?” She bats her eyelashes at me, and I laugh. And I also give in. Because I’m weak and I want to see if Tuttle will wear that cropped jersey the boys like to put on when they practice on a warm day, his perfect, flat belly on display. Sometimes, at the end of practice, when it’s so hot and he’s worked so hard, there’s a light sheen of sweat on his skin that—oh my God—makes me want to rub myself all over his damp, warm body. Yes, clearly I’ve turned into a cat in heat. I try my best to push all thoughts of a sweaty Tuttle out of my head and focus on the other reason I’m hanging out with Livvy and watching the team practice. I can use this time to talk to Livvy about Em. Those girls have too much history between them for their friendship to fall apart so easily—and over a boy. “What do you think of the homecoming nominations?” Livvy asks as we walk toward the football field. “Not surprising.” The announcement had come the period after English, and I was glad I wasn’t with Tuttle, having to hear them say his name over the speaker. I bet he smirked and acted like it was no big deal while the rest of the class erupted in cheers. That’s how it always is with Tuttle. “My win prediction is Tuttle and Lauren Mancini. Or—” Livvy’s nose wrinkles. “Or maybe even Brianne Brown. Ew.” “Dustin’s date?” Oh, I’m mean, but I had to say it. She needs to remember Dustin’s already moved on and she supposedly has too. “They’ve been hanging out together a lot this week. I see them everywhere,” Livvy says almost bitterly. “At least he’s leaving you alone, right?” It’s so much easier to focus on her issues with Dustin rather than think about Tuttle being homecoming king and Lauren Mancini possibly as his queen. Ugh. They’re my prediction to win too, though I have to admit it. Those two are a perfect match. Me and Tuttle? We are most definitely not. Once we’re settled on the bleachers, the mid-afternoon sun shining down upon us and warming my skin since I finally took the hoodie off, I turn to Livvy and spill about my interactions with Emily. “Wait a minute. You apologized to her?” Livvy shakes her head. “Why?” “Because what I said to her was wrong. It bothered me all night. I had to tell her I was sorry.” “You’re too nice.” She’s still shaking her head.

And maybe you’re not nice enough, I almost tell her, but I don’t. That’s opening up a whole new bag of trouble. “Don’t you miss your best friend? She misses you. She wanted me to tell you hi. From her.” Livvy sighs, her gaze glued to the field. The boys are running through drills and I’m struggling not to seek out Tuttle. But of course I do. He’s like a magnet and I’m steel and I’ll be forever drawn to him. What a depressing thought. “I do miss her,” she finally admits, turning to look at me. “But after everything that’s happened, how can we get our friendship back?” “It’s not like it’s gone forever,” I say gently. “You still talk to Dustin and he’s betrayed you just as much as Em has. Maybe even more so.” Oh yes, I dared to go there. Livvy’s eyes flare and I see the anger. Is it anger at me for reminding her of Dustin’s part in all of this? She shouldn’t forget. Forgiving him is somehow easy, but forgiving Em isn’t? “I’ve known him longer,” she murmurs. “It’s harder to let him go.” Because she wants him, though she’d never admit it to me. She wants both boys, but that would never work. I’m not going to say that to her. She needs to figure it out on her own. “It should be hard to let Em go, too, Liv. I think she’s suffering without your friendship.” Something tells me she’s been suffering for a while, and it has nothing to do with Livvy or Ryan or Dustin. “I’m suffering too. We’re all suffering.” “Then be the bigger person and make it better. Reach out to your friend. Tell her you miss her. Try your best to forgive her.” “It’s not that easy.” Livvy frowns and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look sadder. All the anger is gone. She just looks…defeated. “I’m scared,” she whispers. “Em knows all of my strengths and weaknesses. She knows how to hurt me with a look, a few chosen words, a deliberate move. And since I’ve come back home from my dad’s, she’s hurt me over and over, and she doesn’t seem to care. I don’t know if I can trust her again.” “Then take it slow.” I nudge her side with my own. “Ease into it. But don’t just shut her out. I think she’s hurting more than she’ll ever admit.” “Don’t forget how she tried to sabotage our relationships, Amanda. That photo she posted on Instagram was aimed at us. She’s jealous.” Liv shakes her head. “And she ratted me out to my mom about Ryan’s party. You might’ve not got in trouble, but I was grounded for a week! That’s all Em’s fault.” “Maybe if you guys can talk it out, it won’t happen again,” I suggest, trying to sound positive. Don’t know how long I can maintain it, though. “Please,” Livvy mutters, shaking her head. She’s quiet for a while and so I remain quiet too. I watch the boys play, the constant

whistle blowing from Coach Halsey making me wince. He’s running them especially hard this week, what with this Friday’s homecoming game. And there’s nothing worse than losing that game. You not only disappoint the entire school, you let down the alumni as well. Tuttle’s on fire, though. He throws the ball with expert precision, a spiral in the sky, I can almost hear the whoosh as it flies through the air. I have to admit Ryan catches just about every one of those passes and does his damnedest to run it into the end zone. He’s a great player. Together they seem almost unstoppable. “Okay, I’ll try to talk to Em,” Livvy finally says minutes later, a long sigh escaping her. “I’m probably making a huge mistake, but I’ll reach out to her for you, okay?” “Good.” I smile and nod, feeling like I actually accomplished something. But Livvy’s giving me a weird look, and my smile instantly fades. “What’s wrong?” “I don’t know why you’re trying to heal my friendship with Em or whatever. The two of us became friends because I’m not really hanging out with her anymore.” “Can’t we all be friends?” Nerves bubble in my stomach. I never thought of it that way. What if Em and Livvy really do reconcile and cut me out of the relationship altogether? I would have no one to blame for that happening but myself. “I want us to,” Livvy says slowly. “But sometimes…Em can be really possessive.” “Well, she’s just going to have to learn how to share,” I say with a faint smile. Livvy nods, returning a similar almost-smile before she resumes staring at the field. “Oh my God, Ryan is so awesome.” “Yeah,” I say distractedly. Worry nags at me for the rest of the time we sit on the bleachers, though. What if it’s not that simple? But when is any of this ever simple?

Friday night. I’m working. I’m not at the homecoming game. The rally right before school ended was a study in torture. All of the homecoming nominees were brought out to the center of the gymnasium and Lauren Mancini stood next to Tuttle, beaming like a beauty queen and adorable in her cheer uniform, her ponytail bobbing as she smiled and waved at everyone. Tuttle just stood there, stoic and handsome in his jersey and jeans, his gaze scanning the crowd as if he was searching for someone before he gave up. It’s too arrogant on my part to think he was looking for me. After a few minutes of the homecoming court nonsense, he looked ready to bail. They dragged him back out when they talked about the game and only then did his lips curve when Coach Halsey patted his back and announced, “We’re going to kill them!” The entire gym erupted in cheers and the band started to play, the sounds so loud, Livvy and I both put our hands over our ears, laughing. When my gaze returned to the center of the gym, I saw Ryan nudge Tuttle and point at Livvy and me. Tuttle’s gaze met mine and he smiled, ever so faintly. It’s almost a warrior’s smile, one I imagine some long-ago Viking offering up right before he charged into battle and slayed everyone. I looked away, frustrated by my wandering yet vivid imagination. After school let out, I rushed to Yo Town, skipping the homecoming parade, the game, all of it. Livvy promised me she’d let me know what the score was in live time, and she did. She sent me Snapchat updates and the occasional photo. Including a few from halftime, when the homecoming king and queen were announced. The photo of Tuttle and Lauren standing together with their arms looped almost made me want to vomit. Thankfully, business is brisk tonight at Yo Town. Time passes quickly, and after a while I can hardly think about what I’m missing. All I can focus on is the shop. Blake and I are running around like crazy, trading off working behind the register so one of us can keep the store clean and maintain the toppings bar. At one point I’m so busy ringing up customer after customer that I don’t notice the big group that comes into the shop at first. It’s just been one continuous group after another, you know? No big deal. Until the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and my skin prickles with goose bumps. Someone is watching me. It’s like I can literally feel their eyes sweeping over my body. Slowly I glance up, look to my right and discover it’s…

Tuttle. And he’s with a girl. Not just any girl either. He’s with Lauren Mancini. My heart feels like it shrivels to half its size and all the air lodges in my chest. Our gazes meet and my breath catches. He’s devastatingly handsome wearing a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black pants and a cheap-ass crown on his head. The same cheap-ass crown he was wearing in that photo Livvy sent me. I’m half tempted to go rip it off his head, but I contain myself. He tears his gaze away from mine when Lauren curls her arm through his, batting her eyelashes up at him as she tucks herself in close. As close as she can get without embarrassing herself and climbing him like a tree. I stare in shocked disbelief as she clings to him like they were made for each other. And let’s be real, they sort of were. They’re a stunning couple, him so tall and dark and her so slight and fair and freaking beautiful. I hate her. She’s wearing a gorgeous black dress that makes her boobs look amazing and she has a sparkling tiara on her head. Lauren is the perfect queen to Tuttle’s handsome king. “Hey.” Someone taps on the scale in front of me and I startle, turning to find a guy waiting for me to weigh his frozen yogurt. It’s piled high in the cup and covered with every topping imaginable. So gross. “You giving it away for free tonight, or what?” The guy starts laughing and so do his friends. I glare at him as I ring him up, trying my best not to pay attention to Tuttle. But it’s so hard. I watch as he walks down the row of machines beside Lauren—at least she’s not hanging on him anymore—a patient look on his face as she whines about calories and how we don’t have her favorite flavor and what sort of toppings should she dump on her frozen yogurt because oh my God—and I quote—she loves them all. He never says a word. Just nods in all the right places and occasionally looks my way. I occasionally look his way too, so our eyes meet far too much. And I sort of hate myself for it. I shouldn’t look at him. I should forget all about him and focus on my job. On my life. He’s a distraction I don’t need. “Aren’t you having any frozen yogurt, Jordan?” Lauren asks sweetly, her voice carrying through the shop despite the noise level. Her voice also makes me feel stabby. Oh, and it’s like a knife to the heart, how casually she calls him Jordan. I swear I see irritation flash in his blue eyes, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he wants her to call him Jordan because she’s earned the right and I lost it. They’ve become close. Homecoming king and queen close—maybe even kissing close. Maybe she’s the only one who gets to call him Jordan now.

The realization makes me sick to my stomach. “I don’t want any,” he starts, but Lauren practically leaps on him, she’s such a rabid Yo Town fan. “Oh, but you really, really should. It’s so delicious and besides, you need to celebrate your team’s win tonight. And your own win. Our win,” she tells him with a dazzling smile. “Come on. Pick something out.” He glances at me and without missing a beat he asks, “What flavor do you recommend?” My mouth drops open. Is he seriously drawing me into their conversation right now? What the hell? “Um…what flavors do you usually like?” Tuttle shrugs those impossibly broad shoulders, his gaze never wavering from mine. It’s like everything else in the room fades away, and it’s just me and him. “I like lots of flavors.” “Okay,” I say slowly, my brain scrambling for a better answer. “Such as?” “I like fruit flavors, like peachy skin and cherry lips. Oh, and dark chocolate eyes.” His gaze slowly sweeps over me and I’ve never felt so self-conscious in my life. I look like hell in my battered jeans and Yo Town T-shirt smeared with frozen yogurt and melted candy, my hair a haphazard mess despite being in a bun. All while he looks like a god. Figures. “I also like pretty girls who bust my balls and make me feel like a jackass every time I so much as look at them.” My cheeks are on fire because he is so talking about me. He’s with Lauren-the-mostpopular-girl-in-high-school-Mancini yet he’s flirting with me. “Sounds like you need to leave those types alone,” I say, my voice firm. Lauren is watching us, her head swiveling from Tuttle to me and back to Tuttle again. Like we’re playing some sort of game, volleying the ball back and forth to each other. But someone calls her name, one of her friends, one of the princesses of the homecoming court, and Lauren darts off to see what she wants. So it’s just me and Tuttle. “Maybe I don’t want to leave her alone.” He stops directly in front of me with only the counter separating us, and presses his hands against the counter. “Maybe I just need to work a little harder to get her to believe we’re meant to be together,” he murmurs in that low, rumbly voice that makes my stomach twist and turn. Meant to be together. He shouldn’t say such romantic, swoony things. He doesn’t believe that, and neither do I. I’m not sure why he continues to bother with it. “Stop,” I whisper, flicking my head in Lauren’s direction. I rest my palms against the counter and lean over it a little, my face practically in Tuttle’s. “Go be with your girlfriend.” “She’s not my girlfriend,” he whispers back, his hands coming dangerously close to mine.

“She’s your queen.” I snatch my hands away from the counter and point at his crown. “Congrats on winning.” His face betrays nothing and he doesn’t bother acknowledging my statement. “When did you start working here?” I lift my chin, trying for determined and cool and collected. Most likely failing miserably. “A few days ago.” “You like it?” I shrug. “It’s a job. I need the money.” Tuttle studies me closely, like he can see right through me, and I want to take my words back. Somehow, he knows I’m lying. Well, I’m not really lying, but I am sad I wasn’t able to go to the game tonight. I love football. I love watching our boys play, and they’ve gotten so much better this year. They have a real chance to make it to the playoffs, and that’s incredible. But I won’t get to experience any of it. I’ll be too busy working every Friday night, making approximately fifty dollars for my time served. “You’ll be missed,” he finally says, his voice still low. Intimate. Like we’re sharing a deep, dark secret. “I liked seeing you in the stands at every game.” I raise a brow, in full on skepticism mode. I can’t help it. He says things like that and I don’t believe him. Yet some part of me deep down inside does believe him. It’s incredibly confusing. “You didn’t even notice me.” “I always noticed you, even when you were in band.” He pauses. “I’ve told you that before. Why don’t you believe me?” The sincerity in his tone almost makes me want to laugh. Or throw myself at him. I’m not sure which option is worse. I brace my hands on the counter once more, mimicking his position. “I always feel like you’re yanking my chain, Tuttle.” He smirks, and it’s adorable. Sexy. “Right back at you, Winters.” And then he does the most incredible thing. Without saying a word, without any indication of what he was about to do, he scoots his hand closer to mine, reaching out to graze the top of my hand with just his pinky finger. I feel that touch all the way down to my toes. It’s like he electrified me. Reminded me that I’m alive. And he’s the only one who can make me feel like that. The only one.



“Does it always take this long to clean up on a Friday night?” I stuff the mop into the yellow bucket and wring it out, frowning when I notice all the dark brown water floating inside. It’s disgusting. The entire shop was disgusting once we cleared everyone out. “Nah. Tonight was an exception, with the homecoming game and all. Though it’s always pretty busy when there’s a home game,” Blake says as he finishes cleaning up the toppings station. He made a huge deal about it earlier, like his taking on that particular task was some sort of favor to me, but I don’t know. Mopping definitely sucks. We closed over thirty minutes ago and we’re still cleaning. When I finally finish mopping, I guide the bucket out through the back door, dumping the dirty water in the nearby drain. The air is cool, tinged with the faint biting hint of autumn, and my gaze snags on the black Range Rover sitting in the mostly empty lot. No. It can’t be. But I think it…might be. I’m incredulous. Seriously? Really? I’m tempted to march out to that car, knock on the window and demand that he leave, but who am I to do that? It’s a public parking lot. And maybe it isn’t him. There are a lot of black Range Rovers in the world. I’m just fixated on him so I think he’s everywhere. Like I’m some sort of obsessed psycho. Pushing all thoughts of him out of my brain, I go back into the shop and head straight to the bathroom, taking out all of my frustration and disbelief on the toilet and sink counter. I scrub the hell out of that bathroom, and by the time I’m finished my forehead is sweaty and wayward strands of hair stick to my cheeks. In other words, I look awful, but I don’t care. My body’s tired and my muscles ache. I’m ready to go straight home and collapse into bed. At least I can sleep in tomorrow. My next shift doesn’t start until noon. “You ready?” Blake asks after I put away the cleaning supplies in the small closet. Turning, I nod. “Yeah, let’s go.” I gather up my things and head outside with Blake, watching as he locks the front door before shoving the keys into his front pocket. He offers me a faint smile as we start for the parking lot. “You did good tonight, Amanda.” “Thanks.” I walk right beside him, headed toward our cars, which are parked relatively close to each other far out in the lot. I see the Range Rover out of the corner of my eye, but I ignore it. I refuse to acknowledge him. Acknowledging means I accept what he’s doing, and I don’t. “You kept up and tonight was like a trial by fire. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it that busy since we first opened,” he continues. “Guess I proved my worth then.” I smile at him and he gives me that somber Blake look, with a hint of wonder in his gaze. Like he can’t believe I’m walking with him.

I can feel his pain. I really can. “Yeah, you did. I’ll have to tell my mom.” His cheeks go red and I almost think it’s cute. Until I remember that a certain someone is lurking in the parking lot like a stalker. “That’s my car,” I tell Blake, pointing at my Toyota. Blake nods, waves goodbye and practically sprints to his older Nissan truck. He hops in it, fires up the engine and pulls out of the parking lot without any hesitation whatsoever. “What a jackass.” Whirling around, I spot Tuttle leaning against the side of his SUV, looking as casual as he pleases with his hands shoved into the front pockets of his black pants. He’s still wearing the same clothes from earlier, though he looks a little more mussed. Wrinkled. Cuter. Argh. I hate my thoughts sometimes. “Are you talking about yourself?” I ask with raised brows. He inclines his head, a silent acknowledgement, I guess. “He didn’t even bother waiting to see if your car started.” “It’ll start,” I tell him, sounding more confident than I feel. Sometimes my car won’t start. Back when my older brother was still in high school and drove the car that eventually became mine, he’d always leave the lights on and drain the battery. I try my best to never do that, but sometimes other things happen. The car is almost as old as me. So I can’t always count on it. “He should’ve waited.” I ignore his statement. This isn’t about Blake ditching me. It’s about Tuttle lurking in the parking lot waiting for me. “Why are you even here?” “Thank God I am. Otherwise you could’ve been left stranded.” Again he avoids my question. He’s really good at that. “I’m not stranded. My car will start.” “Prove it.” Heaving an exasperated sigh, I unlock my door and climb in, pushing my key into the ignition with a little more force than necessary. Whispering “sorry” under my breath— because yes, I do talk to my car sometimes, thank you very much—I turn the key and the engine starts right up. I roll down my window and smile triumphantly, not surprised to see him approaching my car. “See? Told you so.” He looks like he’s been socked in the chest as hard as possible. Weird. Did he really think my car wouldn’t start? What would he do then? Gloat? “Good. Now get out of here.” My scowl feels extra scowly and I aim it right at him. “Why aren’t you with your girlfriend?”

His frown is almost comical. “Who are you talking about?” “Are you dense?” I roll my eyes, immediately feeling guilty for insulting him. “Lauren Mancini.” “There’s nothing between Lauren and I.” “Right.” “I’m serious.” Roll up the window, Amanda. Put the car in drive and get the hell out of here. Now. Before you do something stupid. But I don’t. I just stare at him from where I sit, and he stares at me. He grips the top of the car, his torso filling the empty window space, and I blink up at him, hyper aware of just how close he is. How we’re the only two people in this parking lot. How it feels like we’re the only two people on this entire planet. “I wanted you there tonight,” he says, his voice dangerously low. Everything about him is dangerous, even his stupid eyelashes because they’re long and thick and lush and sexy, and it’s just not fair that he has eyelashes like that. “Why? So you could rub it into my face when you won homecoming king and Lauren won queen? We both know I’d never have a shot,” I say bitterly. I hate that I just said that. I don’t care about that stuff. I never have. Before this school year, I knew where I stood socially and I still do. Sort of. The hierarchy is pretty straightforward and I was right in the middle of it. Now, I feel lost. Untethered. I have no group, no one to belong to. And I say silly things I don’t mean. “I like it when you’re there. You’re like my good luck charm.” He hesitates and I wonder if I should be insulted that he called me a charm. “I play better when you’re at my games.” Ugh. I shouldn’t react like what he said was sweet. “You don’t really believe that.” “I do.” “Well, now Lauren can be your good luck charm.” The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. “And your dance partner.” Supposedly he never goes to dances. Supposedly he hosts one of his big parties after every home game. It’s a tradition. So why isn’t he at his house now, having one of his blow-out bashes? “I didn’t go to that stupid dance with Lauren,” he tells me. “That was never the plan.” “I don’t even care what your plan is,” I retort, and I mean it. Sort of. As best as I can. “Good night, Tuttle.” I’m about to roll up the window, but he just stands there, looking as if he’s struggling to say something else. He looks…unsure. That’s a look I’ve never seen him wear before. “So that’s it. You’re never going to call me Jordan anymore?” he finally asks.

I glare at him. “Isn’t that Lauren’s privilege now?” He takes a step back as if I slapped him and I take my opportunity, rolling up the window, putting the car into drive before I pull out of the parking lot. My eyes stay glued to the rearview mirror the entire time. He never moves from the spot where I left him, not even a twitch or a flick of his hand. I watch him until he finally fades into the black. Fades into nothingness.

The moment I open my locker door Monday morning, the note falls out, fluttering to the floor. I dive down and grab it, holding the precisely folded square of paper clutched against my palm, the sharp edges of paper cutting into my skin. I shove a couple of books in my locker and then glance around, making sure no one else is nearby who might want to know what the note says. Like Livvy. She’s nosy like that, but I’d be the same way if someone were leaving her mysterious notes in her locker, so who am I to judge? Carefully I unfold the paper, letting the open locker door be my shield. It’s typed out, not handwritten, like the sender wanted to be anonymous. Who could it be? God, what if it’s Blake? He acts a little awestruck when he’s around me, and I wonder if he has a crush. I hope not. He’s a nice guy, but the feelings aren’t reciprocated. Once I start reading the note, though, I know exactly who sent it. The torture is slowly killing me. That I can be around her, yet not have her, is twisting me up inside. She is forbidden. Untouchable. Off limits. But she is everything to me. She is the sun and the moon and the stars—everything bright and shiny and unstoppable. But she is also the threatening calm before the storm, the wind that howls with anger, the rain that pounds the ground. She is love and light and sweetness and darkness and anger and passion. She is all I could ever want. “What do you think?” I jump about a mile at hearing Tuttle’s question so close to my ear, and I turn to glare at him after slamming my locker door shut. “You wrote this?” I try to sound surprised, but I knew it was him once I started reading. The tortured Romeo to my Juliet. He looks offended. “Of course, I wrote it. As Romeo.” “You could’ve sent it to me in an email.” I start to walk and good Lord, he follows me. The crowd parts for us, but that’s because of him. He’s their god, walking among mere mortals. “Who uses email anymore?” Says the guy who typed it out and used a printer. Talk about old-fashioned.

“Then you could’ve texted it to me.” I hurry my steps, but that doesn’t faze him. His legs are long and his strides are too, so I’m huffing and puffing trying to outpace him while he practically glides through the halls. So frustrating. “I thought this way was more creative.” I glance over at him, and he’s smirking. He’s both adorable and annoying when he smirks. “Did you like it?” I stop at the end of the hall and so does he. He stands in front of me, his body like a shield, as if he wants to protect me from everyone rushing past us. Someone jostles him as they pass by and he takes advantage, stepping closer, and I shift. Press my back against the wall while he rests his hand on the wall above my head. To the casual observer, we look like we’re a couple. Clearly together. Having an intimate conversation. But we’re not. I need to remember that. The way he’s watching me, waiting for my answer, it’s as if he’s seeking my approval. And I can’t help but find that endearing, even though I’m still pissed about the homecoming crap, the way he lurked around the Yo Town parking lot Friday night in the guise of protecting me. Deep down inside, I liked it. It felt like he made an undeclared choice with that gesture. He doesn’t want Lauren Mancini. He wants me. But I’m probably reading too much into it, so I push that thought out of my head. “When did you write it?” I ask him, tilting my head back so I can look into his eyes. Big mistake. His gaze meets mine, and it’s like he’s actually touching me. I can read all of his thoughts and they’re focused on me. “Last night.” “I—I like it. It’s short but thoughtful and just the tiniest bit sad. I could really feel Romeo’s yearning for Juliet.” He stares at me, silent for so long I want to dash away. “Um, I need to get to class, so—” I try to duck under his arm. Jordan grabs hold of me, keeping me in place. Keeping me close. His fingers gently squeeze my arm as he says, “It’s your turn.” “What?” “Now you need to write from Juliet’s perspective. About her feelings toward Romeo.” He raises a brow. “That’s what Mrs. Meyer wanted, right?” I nod, unable to speak. He’s still holding onto me. And I don’t want him to let me go. Stupid boy. Stupid hormones. “Text me your entry tonight.” His voice drops, low and sexy and crazy making. “You know where to find me.” And then he’s gone. “Thought you said there’s nothing going on between you two.”

I shake my head, shake myself out of my daze, and turn to find Em next to me. “There’s not.” My voice is shaky. A dead giveaway that he affects me and I’m nervous that Em heard it. Saw that. She could use it against me. I don’t trust her. I believe the stories Livvy tells me. I may feel sorry for Em, but I also know she’s manipulative. For all I know, she’s manipulating me. I wouldn’t put it past her. “Whatever. He looked totally into you. And he’s never into anyone.” I start walking and she follows. “So, um, did you talk to Livvy? About me?” I’m surprised she’s asking. She’s not one for forthright and truthful. “We talked about you on…Wednesday, I think it was? Maybe Thursday.” “Oh.” Her face falls. “I haven’t heard from her.” “Give her time. She’s trying to work up the courage to reach out to you.” I don’t know if that’s the case. It sounds bogus, especially because Livvy’s been on lockdown for the last week. Her mom relented and let her go to the homecoming game, but she wouldn’t let Livvy go to the dance, which crushed her. But she got her phone back this morning and all restrictions are lifted, so hopefully she’ll be in a better mood. Girl was grouchy this weekend. “I thought she was just busy with Ryan,” Em mutters under her breath. Her expression brightens when she catches me looking at her. “I went to the dance and Livvy wasn’t there. Neither were you.” “I was working. Liv was grounded.” “Oh.” Em’s cheeks color and I hope she’s remembering that she was the reason Livvy was grounded. She ratted Liv out to her mother that we were staying the night at Ryan’s house the weekend of his birthday party, unsupervised. When Livvy’s mom showed up to take her home, I wanted to die. All I could think about was my mom or dad finding me like that—a disheveled mess after sleeping in the same bed with Jordan and wearing only his T-shirt. My skin warms at the memory. “Tuttle didn’t even have his homecoming after party. It was so weird.” Em sends me a look. “Were you two together or what?” “We weren’t together.” I shake my head. “I know nothing about a party.” “I figured you and Tuttle might’ve become the party,” Em says, grinning. “Or had your own intimate party.” “Ha. Funny,” I say with full on sarcasm as I slow to a stop in front of my homeroom door. Em stops with me. “Listen, you have a lot to make up for too, you know. You’ve done some shitty things, and Liv’s hurt. I know she’s done some awful things too, but the both of you can’t go on damaging each other like this.” Em scowls, clearly irritated. “Who died and made you peacemaker?” I roll my eyes and start to head into my class. I don’t need to put up with this.

Em chases me inside, coming to a halt directly in front of Cannon Whittaker’s desk. “Oh. Hey.” “Hey.” He hardly looks at her. The best linebacker at our school, Cannon is a huge guy who barely fits behind the desk he’s currently sitting in. He has a player reputation like all the other guys on the football team, but he’s never been anything but nice to me. Not that we’re in a lot of classes together or that he’s ever shown any interest, but still. “Well.” Em turns, flashing me a bright, almost manic smile. Her eyes are wide and unblinking and I wonder at the quick transformation. “Thanks for the advice, Amanda. You’re such a big help, as always.” She wags her fingers in Cannon’s direction. “Bye,” she says before she runs out of my homeroom. My gaze meets Cannon’s. “Are you guys friends?” He snorts and shakes his head. “No.” His cheeks go red. So does his neck. Hmmm. The day drags. I blame it on being a Monday. There’s a pop quiz in my government class, but I think I mostly ace it. Lunch turns into a nightmare. An unexpected heat wave has made people cranky—myself included—and all the seniors decide to grab food off campus. I planned on getting something quick at a drive thru somewhere by myself but decide I don’t want to deal with the traffic jam headache. I’m making my way out of the parking lot when Jordan Tuttle’s Range Rover pulls up alongside me. The tinted window rolls down, revealing there’s no one else in the car. Just Jordan. “Where you going?” He’s wearing sunglasses, but he shoves them on top of his head so I can see those pretty eyes of his. “Back to the quad.” He makes a face. “It’s hot as hell outside. Come with me.” I shake my head. I don’t want to get in his car. I’ll say something dumb. Or worse, I’ll do something dumb. Something I’ll regret. “Come on, Mandy. I’ll buy you lunch.” My stomach growls at the word lunch, but I shake my head again. “We can work on our project together,” he suggests, like that’s going to tempt me. “I’m not going to write Juliet’s diary entry in front of you,” I snap, surprised he’d even suggest it. Now he’s frowning. “Get in the car.” I hear the doors unlock and he studies me with that quiet yet powerful look he’s perfected. The one that says, do as I say. Heaving a big sigh, I round the front of the car and open the passenger side door, plopping my butt into the seat. “There.” I turn to look at him after I shut the door. “Happy?” “Very.” He pulls his sunglasses back on, puts the vehicle in drive and off we go,

speeding through the parking lot and pulling out through the entrance-only side and onto the street. “Jordan!” I did not mean to say his name out loud, but jeez. He’s gonna get in trouble for pulling a stunt like that. He grins at me and presses the gas hard, speeding down the road toward the restaurants all of us students frequent during lunchtime and after school. “Loosen up, Winters. You only have one life. Learn how to live it.” My hands ball into fists in my lap. I can’t believe he just said that. He’s so infuriating sometimes. “Are you saying I don’t know how to live my life?” He doesn’t even know me. Not really. Not well enough to give me that sort of advice. “No.” He keeps his eyes trained on the road before him. “I’m just saying you shouldn’t be scared. You need to learn how to take more risks.” I’ve taken more risks these past few months than I ever have in my entire life. “I’m a planner. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Tuttle says nothing, implying there’s everything wrong with that, but whatever. “Were you really going to lunch by yourself?” I finally ask. “I didn’t want to. I was taking a risk and hoping I could find you.” I sag against my soft leather seat. He’s exhausting. Now it’s my turn to not have a response. “Do you want anything in particular?” Shaking my head, I tell him, “You decide,” and he doesn’t argue with me. He pulls into In-N-Out, goes straight to the drive thru and lets me make my own order at the speaker. “You mind eating in the car?” he asks after we finish ordering. “Not if you don’t. Though I can’t guarantee I won’t spill anything.” He smiles, and it’s breathtaking. He just doesn’t do it enough, I swear. “I’m not scared.” I bet he’s not. Jordan pays and grabs our food, handing me the bags and my drink. I take a sip and set it in the drink holder in the center console, quiet as he pulls out of the parking lot and starts driving farther away from school. I don’t know where he’s taking us, and I don’t want to ask. I also don’t want to freak out, but the farther we get, the longer it’ll take for us to return to campus. And I don’t want to be late to fifth period. Finally, he pulls into a parking lot of a small neighborhood park. It’s been around for a while, you can tell by all the tall trees and the worn out playground, but it’s quiet and mostly empty. He parks the car in the shade and shuts off the engine, the sound of the satellite radio playing softly in the background. I divvy out the food, giving him his burger and fries, trying to keep myself busy. I’m nervous. My hands are shaking and my appetite left me the moment I took hold of those

bags, despite the delicious smell wafting from them. With grim determination I pull out my burger and stare at it, wondering how I’m going to choke this down. It’s so frustrating, how he affects me. How I let him affect me. I shouldn’t give him so much power. “It won’t bite you,” he says softly, and I jerk my head toward him, the amused look on his face making me feel dumb. “I thought you were hungry.” “I told you I wasn’t hungry.” Well, I didn’t actually say it out loud. I only shook my head. “I heard your stomach growl.” Ugh. My cheeks grow hot. “I’m not hungry anymore,” I mutter. “Why not?” He takes a bite of his cheeseburger, and I don’t know how he does it, but he makes even that sexy. What can I say to him? Can I tell him the truth? You make me nervous. You make me self-conscious. What if I get sauce on my chin? What if I drip ketchup on my shirt? What if I take a drink of my Coke and slurp on the straw by accident? What if you watch me eat and think it’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever seen in your life? These are the silly things that go through my head in Tuttle’s presence. “Hey.” My eyes snap up to meet his and I realize he’s holding a fry in front of my face. “Eat this.” And then he feeds it to me. I open my mouth like a baby bird and he drops the fry inside, his thumb brushing against my lower lip. His eyes smolder and he goes still as I slowly chew the fry and swallow it. The tension grows between us, until it feels like a living, breathing thing sitting in the car with us. All over a fry. All over his thumb barely grazing my lip. He’s staring at my mouth now as he sips from his drink, and of course my gaze goes to his lips wrapped around that straw. All of a sudden I’m ravenous. I grab my burger and bite into it, not caring if I look like a slob or not. The burger tastes delicious and I take another bite, catching him watching me out of the corner of my eye. “What?” I ask when he doesn’t look away. “Why do we keep doing this?” I take a sip of my drink. “Doing what?” “Playing this game. Pretending we hate each other when we don’t.” “I don’t hate you.” “I definitely don’t hate you either.” “But I don’t want to be with you.” He raises a brow. Remains quiet.

Ugh. “I don’t,” I reiterate. Somehow the brow rises higher. How does he do that? He said about a billion words with that one gesture. “It won’t work.” I look away from him. It’ll be easier to say these things if I don’t have to see his gorgeous face. “You’re you and I’m me and we’re not a match. I’ll be insecure and you’ll get tired of my clingy ways and break up with me immediately. Then I’ll be devastated and pissed at myself because I knew it was a bad idea, being with you.” “You’re not clingy.” I whirl on him, irritated that he…actually complimented me. “How do you know?” “I just know.” “How?” I ask again. “You don’t know me. We’ve never really gone out. We go to a few of the same parties and always end up together, but we’re never really doing anything.” “Oh, we’ve done a few things.” His suggestive tone makes my entire body go hot. With irritation. With…hmmm…desire? Is that the right word? I also want to hit him. Seriously. What is up with me lately with the violent tendencies? “Nothing serious,” I mumble, keeping my head bent. I need to stick with the don’tlook-at-Tuttle plan. It’s easier to say things when I don’t have to see him. I should’ve never gotten into his car. He exhales loudly and resumes eating. I can tell because every few seconds his hand rustles around in the bag, grabbing fries. Or he takes a sip of his drink. Eventually I start eating too, and we remain quiet. It’s not a comfortable silence, though. Not even close. It’s tension-filled and edgy and it makes me uneasy. I can feel the irritation and frustration radiating from his body, and I decide to talk about something safe. “I heard you played a really great game Friday.” Tuttle pauses mid-chew and then swallows before he answers. “I did all right. It was really the team. Ryan, he ran in three touchdown passes.” “He’s a great player.” “He is.” “So are you.” I get a shrug as an answer. “I hate that I missed the game.” “I know you love football.” “Sucks that I have to work every Friday night.” “You should tell them you’re busy.” I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, that’ll go over real well with my new boss. ‘Sorry I can’t work Friday nights. I gotta watch the football game.’ She won’t go for that.” He’s quiet. Contemplative. “What if I could give you a valid excuse?”

“An excuse for what?” “To come to every football game.” “How are you going to do that?” Tuttle grins. Full on grins so broadly, I’m slightly taken aback. “Watch and see.”

“They’re in a relationship. Like boyfriend and girlfriend already. He’s probably had sex with her.” Livvy shudders, her gaze locked on what’s unfolding on the other side of the quad during lunch. It’s the day after Tuttle took me to In-N-Out and now I’m back to eating lunch at school. The temporary heat wave has passed and it actually feels like fall today. “So?” I sound bored because I am bored. She needs to stop focusing her energy on Dustin and Brianne Brown and instead pay attention to Ryan. He’s totally into her. Like, he acts the fool around her all the time and she thinks it’s adorable. I find him annoying, but that’s me. “He took her to the homecoming dance, they went out Saturday and Sunday. And they’ve spent every free moment at school together,” Liv continues. “How do you know all of this? And I thought you were over Dustin.” We should stop talking about him. Ryan could appear at any moment. She rolls her eyes. “I promise, I’m trying my hardest to get over him, but it’s—difficult. I still miss him. He was a daily part of my life for so long, and now he’s gone. Poof. Like our friendship never existed.” A pained expression crosses her face. “Gross, he just kissed her. I think I saw tongue.” Dustin and Brianne Brown were bound to happen. The girl has been working him over since the school year started. Actually, she’d been after him for years, according to Liv. Dustin had just been so wrapped up in Livvy, hoping he had a chance with her. Until he blew it. And she blew it. Oh, and Em blew it too. Literally. Ha ha. Bad joke. “They wouldn’t be doing the tongue tango on the quad,” I reassure Liv just as Ryan sits down next to her, plopping his tray full of food on the table. He’s laughing, his gaze meeting mine. “Who’s doing the tongue tango?” he asks. “Brianne Brown and Du—” “Hey, baby.” Livvy cuts me off and flashes Ryan a seductive smile as she strokes a hand down his chest. Guess she doesn’t want to look like she’s spying on Dustin in front of Ryan. Smart move. “What did you get for lunch?”

He points it all out, offering her some, but she shakes her head and holds up the prepackaged salad she brought from home. I’m munching on carrot sticks again and guzzling water. Ryan is eating pizza and a hamburger and a salad, plus he has a brownie that he claims his mom made. Right before Livvy bursts into a giggle fit. I’m thinking it might be a pot brownie, but what do I know. “Hey.” I glance up at the sound of the familiar voice, the sun so bright I can’t make out the face of who’s standing by our table, but I recognize his shape. It’s Tuttle. And he doesn’t wait for an invitation, he just sits down next to me, lifting his brows as he shows me the Subway bag he’s carrying. “Want to split a sandwich?” Before I can ask him when he found the time to go to the Subway down the street, he’s unwrapping the sandwich and giving me half. “What’s on it?” “Turkey with everything except tomatoes, pickles and peppers.” “Onions?” I wrinkle my nose. I don’t want onion breath around him. He nods. “Oh yeah.” “I don’t know…” I start, but he silences me with a look. “Eat it.” I dutifully pick up the sandwich, take a bite and almost moan at how good it tastes. I didn’t realize how burnt out I am on baby carrots and ranch until this very moment. “Thank you,” I say once I swallow. “I have good news,” he says casually, facing Ryan and Liv. Making me think the good news is for either Ryan or Liv. “What is it?” Ryan asks. Tuttle turns to look at me. “You’re our new team water girl.” I’m packing up my carrots and ranch, and I pause, meeting Tuttle’s gaze. “Are you talking about me?” He nods. Takes another bite of his sandwich. There’s a tiny gob of mustard stuck in the corner of his mouth and I’m tempted to wipe it off with my finger. Or my tongue. My cheeks go hot at the mere thought. “But I can’t do it. I work on Friday nights.” He licks the mustard from his mouth and I feel a little weak at the sight of his tongue. What’s up with all the tongues today? “Find someone to cover you.” “I can’t do it this week.” No way. “Maybe I can work next week’s game.” “But we need you this week. It’s an away game, and that’s when we need our water girls the most.” The water girl title is so undignified. “What happened to your previous water girl?” “Turns out she’s allergic to the grass on the field and can’t do it anymore. I told Coach

about you and he knows how much you love the game and our team. He said he wanted no one else. Just you.” The smug look of satisfaction on Tuttle’s face was more than obvious. And sort of annoying. “You can’t just volunteer me up for a job when I’m not sure if I can do it,” I tell him. “When do you next work?” “This afternoon.” Tuttle frowns. “A closing shift?” I bite my lip and nod. Then I open up my sandwich and pick off all the onions, one by one. I am not risking onion breath while I’m around him. “By yourself? Or with that drippy guy?” I’m offended on Blake’s behalf. “Don’t call Blake drippy.” I put my sandwich back together and take a bite. “He seems sorta drippy.” “Aw, look, Ryan. They’re having a lovers’ quarrel,” Livvy teases as she nudges her boyfriend right before they both start cracking up. I send them a withering stare before I resume my conversation with Tuttle. “Don’t be so mean. Just because he’s not some big, sexy jock like you.” Oh, the look he sends me is priceless. “You think I’m a big, sexy jock?” “You know you’re a big, sexy jock. Everyone thinks so.” “I only care what you think,” he says as he leans in close, his voice low. Too low. Sexy low. There he goes again, saying dangerous things. “You shouldn’t.” “Too late.” He resumes eating like the conversation is over. I push his shoulder out of irritation, and because I want to touch him. Shoving him when you’re me is pointless considering he’s a solid wall of muscle. “I can’t ask my boss for every Friday off. I just started there.” “Just through the football season, Amanda.” Oh. He said my name. He doesn’t say it very often, but it sounds nice falling from his lips. His perfectly kissable lips. “Maybe until mid November, but that’s it. Then you can work every Friday night for the rest of your life if you want to.” I’m tempted. I think he knows it too because I see the light catch in his eyes and the warm way he studies me is enough to make me want to squirm. “Just ask,” he says, his voice soft. He sends a quick glance in Ryan and Livvy’s direction, but they’re too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to us. “The worst she can say is no.” “I’ll ask,” I say, my voice as soft as his. “Promise?”

I nod. “I’ll let you know what she says.” We both eat for a while before he asks another question. “You’re really closing by yourself tonight?” “Yeah. It’s my first time.” I swallow past the sudden nervousness that swamps me. “Blake said I could call him if I need help.” “Please.” Tuttle scoffs. “Like that guy can help you.” “I mean, with like the register or whatever. The money I have to put in the safe in the back before I leave. There’s this whole closing up procedure I have to follow and I don’t want to mess it up.” Jordan studies me, the concern in his eyes obvious. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone there at night.” “I’m a big girl.” I smile but it feels fake, so I let it fade. “I’ll be fine.” “Uh huh.” He reaches out and brushes the corner of my lips with his thumb. “Mustard,” he tells me. Just before he sticks his thumb in his mouth and licks it off.

Tuesday night at Yo Town is pretty boring. The shop is located in a busy shopping center, but once it hits about eight o’clock, business dies. The last hour would’ve dragged if I hadn’t prepped for closing during that time. I’m confident closing will be a breeze, but I can’t help but feel a little nervous after Tuttle showed so much concern about my being alone. If he never would’ve acted like that, I’d be fine. He put too many dark thoughts in my head. He’s pretty good at that. My phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans and I pull it out to find a text from Blake. You doing okay? Have any questions? I text him back. I’m fine. Last hour has been dead but that gave me time to clean up a lot.

That’s what I usually do too. Call me if you need anything. Will do! :) I put my phone away and start to cover the toppings that can stay out overnight. I’ll put the ones that need to be refrigerated in the back after I lock the front door. I check the clock. 8:47. Thirteen minutes ’til closing time. I’ve got my back toward the door when I hear the buzzer indicating someone entering the building. I whirl around, a strangled sound leaving me when I see who’s standing there. Tuttle. Of course. “Why are you here?” I ask once I find my voice. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you alone. Thought I’d come be with you. Make sure you’re okay.” He approaches the counter, walking with that unmistakable Tuttle swagger. He looks windblown—his hair is ruffled and his cheeks are red. A storm is coming in, nothing serious, but enough to drop the temps and kick up a gusty wind. He’s wearing a school hoodie and dark gray sweatpants. I have never in my life thought sweatpants were sexy before. At this very moment, they are the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. “Oh.” I stand up a little bit straighter. “I can handle it.” “I know you can. I just don’t like thinking about you here. All by yourself. Anyone can see that you’re alone.” He waves at the giant windows that line the front of the store, then turns to meet my gaze. “The parking lot isn’t safe either. Who knows who’s out there?” I fight the shiver that wants to take over me at his words. Talk about putting fear in me. “I’m parked pretty close.” “Not close enough,” he retorts. “Tuttle…” My voice drifts and the glare he sends me cuts like a knife. “Don’t call me that,” he snaps. I take a step back at the anger in his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He comes around the counter until he’s standing right in front of me. Blocking everything out so all I can see is him. “I told you before—call me by my first name.” “Okay.” I nod, trying to ignore my racing heart at his nearness. He’s moody tonight. A little restless. I wonder why? “Jordan.” The tension eases out of him and he relaxes. “You’ve got the braids in again.” He reaches out and touches one, tugs on the end like he’s six and a pain in my butt. “You look cute.” He always tells me I look cute. I want him to think I’m beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning.

All those pretty words boys say to girls. Boyfriends say to girlfriends. Oh my God, now I’m the one whose acting like she’s six. “Thanks.” I glance around, trying to look anywhere but at him. Why, I don’t know. It’s like all the awkwardness of this entire situation has just hit me full force and I feel silly. Lacking. Which is dumb. He’s never done or said anything to make me feel less than in comparison to him. But he doesn’t have to. He’s just…him. And I’m only me. “Amanda.” I look him in the eyes when he says my name. “Do you need my help or anything?” “Can you sit out here while I do some stuff in the back?” “Yeah.” He reaches out and brushes stray strands of hair away from my forehead, his fingers skimming my skin, making my blood hum. “Can I buy some yogurt first?” I burst out laughing. “Absolutely.” Once I ring him up, I start putting away the toppings in the refrigerator, then I make sure the bathroom is clean. I wipe down the yogurt machines, run a quick broom over the floor since I already mopped, then turn off the “open” light and lock the door. “It’s only 8:59,” Tuttle reminds me. He’s sitting at one of the tiny tables, eating his frozen yogurt like he has all the time in the world as he checks his phone. I’m instantly curious. Who texts him? Snapchats him? He has an Instagram profile but barely uses it, though he has tons of followers, including myself. “I’m a minute early. So what?” I smile at him and he doesn’t return it, which makes me a little sad. “You talk to your boss?” I frown. “What do you mean?” “About Fridays.” “Oh!” I brighten. How could I forget? I was so worried about closing I guess I shoved it out of my mind. “I did talk to her. She said that was fine, mentioned that she could cover this Friday’s shift if I was needed that badly, which I assured her I was. I made it sound like I tried to line up the water girl job before I started at Yo Town and she was totally cool with it.” “So you’re our new water girl.” I nod, pleased with the happy expression on his face. “Thank you for arranging this for me.” “I’m glad.” He offers up a smile. “Really glad you’ll be at all the games, Mandy.” “Me too,” I murmur. “You work on Juliet’s diary entry yet?” I frown at his change of subject. “Um, not yet.”

He sends me a look, one I can’t decipher. “Better get to it.” “I’ll work on it tonight.” “You’ll text it to me?” “Sure.” I don’t know if I want to do that. Talk about taking a chance. What if he shares the entry with his friends? That would be humiliating. He’ll probably make it sound like I wrote that to him, not Juliet to Romeo. Yeah. I am so not sending him the entry via text. Forget that. I slip behind the counter and work on closing out the cash register. Once I’m done, I go to the back and stash the money in the safe, then lock it and the office as well. Turning off all the lights, I come out into the store to find Jordan leaning against the counter and typing on his phone, a scowl on his face as he stares at the screen. “All done,” I tell him weakly. Why does he look so mad? What’s going on? Who’s he talking to? I kinda lift up on tiptoe to see his phone screen and I can tell he’s texting. But with who? “Ready to go?” He clicks his phone screen off and shoves it in the front pocket of his sweats, waiting for me. “Yeah. Let’s go out the front door.” He heads toward it and I shut off the rest of the lights, then follow him, walking through the door he holds open for me. I pull the door shut and lock it with the set of keys Sonja left with me earlier this afternoon, then shove them into my front pocket. “I did it.” “Yeah, you did.” He glances around before he takes my arm and leads me out into the parking lot and toward my car. I hurry to keep up with him, shivering when the cold wind hits me. I’m only in my Yo Town T-shirt and jeans. I didn’t bring a sweater because I came straight from school and earlier in the day it had been warm. “Your teeth are chattering,” he says when we reach my car. “Here.” I watch in mute fascination when he tugs his hoodie off, his T-shirt catching on it for a brief moment and riding up, revealing his perfect, flat stomach. Oh God. I feel faint. I’ve touched that stomach before. Not enough times, though. I’d give anything to touch him again. Totally dumb, but true. Next thing I know, he’s tugging the hoodie over my head and I shove my arms into the sleeves, smiling when the hoodie hits me at about mid thigh. It’s warm from his body heat and smells like soap and spice and Jordan Tuttle. Which means it smells freaking amazing. “That better?” He tucks the sweatshirt around my neck, his fingers brushing against my sensitive skin, and a soft gasp escapes me, making him frown. “Mandy? You all right?” I finally do it. I give in. I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist, soaking up his solid warmth, the shape of him, the thin fabric of his T-shirt, the thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat against my ear. Oh God, I could hold onto him forever like this. And when he puts his arms around me, pulling me even closer, I snuggle in and close my eyes.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my throat scratchy. Raw. “For everything.” I need him to know how much I appreciate what he’s doing for me. How he’s watching out for me. Protecting me. It’s sweet. Thoughtful. “You’re welcome.” He presses his lips to my hair and I clutch him tighter. I want more. More of Jordan’s lips on my skin, on my lips. But I don’t get it. And I don’t ask for it. I’m too scared. Apparently so is he, because eventually he lets go of me and I let go of him with a bashful smile. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” “Yeah. I’ll wait until the car starts, okay?” “Okay.” I unlock my car and climb in, then start the engine, sending him a thumbs-up. He nods and then goes to his car, which is parked near mine, and when I pull out of the parking lot a few minutes later, he follows me. All the way home.

When there are away games, the school doesn’t hold rallies. If that was the case, we’d be having rallies every Friday and nothing would ever get done. Not that anything much happens on a Friday at our high school. Though drama always seems to break out on a Friday. Or a Monday, or a Tuesday. Pretty much any day that ends in “y.” I’ve been on edge all day, worrying about how I’m supposed to get to the game tonight. I don’t want to drive, not in my crap car, considering we’re playing a town over forty miles away. Plus, I don’t want to spend the money on gas. I’m trying to save every dime I’m making right now to put away toward college. So when I spot Coach Halsey hovering by the quad near the end of lunch, I approach him with all the courage I can muster. Why am I such a coward sometimes? God, I hate it. I need to get a backbone, damn it. “Hey Coach.” He smiles when he sees it’s me. “Amanda Winters. Very excited about having you as our new water girl.” We’ve talked about it briefly, but he’s been busy and so I’m a little freaked I might not be the best water girl in the world. But if he has faith in me, I need to have faith in myself. “Thanks again for the chance. I really do appreciate it.” I pause. Lick my lips. Fight the nerves. “Um, what time do I have to be at the game tonight?” “Bus leaves at four, JV game starts at five.” I frown. “Wait a minute. You want me to ride the team bus?” His frown matches mine. “You are on the team now, correct?” “Um, I guess so…” “The team rides together for away games on the bus. The cheerleaders go too.” Great. Lauren Mancini will be there. Can’t wait. “The bus leaves promptly at four.” “Okay. Cool.” “Don’t be late. You don’t want the bus to leave you behind.” He smiles and starts to walk away. “See you tonight, Miss Winters,” he calls over his shoulder. “Why is he seeing you tonight?” I turn at the snide tone, surprised to find Lauren Mancini standing in front of me,

looking perfect in her cheer uniform. The sleeveless top shows off her perfect toned and tanned arms, and it fits her tight across the chest so her boobs look amazing. The skirt is short, revealing her long, thin legs. She has curves, unlike me, and a beautiful face, beautiful hair…beautiful everything. She knows it too. “Um, I’m the new water girl for the JV and varsity football teams,” I tell her. Lauren sneers, but she still manages to look pretty. “Really? Are you so desperate to get Tuttle’s attention you’ll do anything, even hand him over a water bottle during the game?” Ouch. “I’m not trying to get Tuttle’s attention.” I’ve already got it. “Oh, really? Could’ve fooled me.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, plumping up her stupid perfect boobs, and I try not to glance down at my own imperfect, very flat chest. “I don’t want to fight with you, Lauren,” I say wearily, just before I turn and start to walk away. But she follows after me, so close I can practically feel her breathing down my neck. “You’re not his type, so stop chasing after him. You look desperate. And pitiful.” I hear a few snickers, and I realize I’m not only being followed by the captain of the cheer squad—there are other cheerleaders trailing after her. Like I’m being chased by Lauren and her cheer posse. Best not to acknowledge them. “I’m serious, Amanda.” Lauren grabs hold of my arm and stops me from entering the building. I turn to face her, jerking out of her hold when I find myself surrounded by a group of five cheerleaders, including Lauren. “Give up on Jordan Tuttle. He’s mine.” “I don’t see your name stamped on his ass.” I stand up straight and shake my hair back, trying for the you-don’t-scare-me look, but I’m not sure if it’s working. Lauren’s mouth pops open as the other girls titter nervously. The glare she sends them shuts them up before she turns it on me. “You should watch what you say. Your words might get you in trouble.” “Oh my God, Lauren. Stop being such a bitch and leave her alone.” Em magically appears by my side like my long-lost guardian angel. “Go on, find someone else to terrorize.” She waves her hands at the girls, like they’re annoying bugs she swats away. Lauren sends me one last long look before she turns and leaves, her little posse following her. The moment they’re out of earshot, Em turns to me and rolls her eyes. “You sounded like you were holding your own, but she’s a total bully. I had to step in.” “Thank you.” I offer up a shaky smile. “Seriously. She was sort of freaking me out.” “Don’t let her bother you. She’s just jealous because Tuttle pays attention to you and not her,” Em says. “You really think she’s jealous of me?” I’m incredulous. Both at the idea of Lauren

Mancini being envious of me, and that Em actually helped me out instead of making the situation worse. Em laughs and shakes her head. “Duh. Of course, she’s jealous of you. You have what she wants—Jordan Tuttle.” “I don’t really have him,” I mumble, dropping my head so I can stare at my feet. It’s true. I don’t have him have him, but I guess I sort of do? He has been paying attention to me a lot lately. Even after I pushed him away. Even after I hurt his feelings and told him I didn’t want to be with him because I didn’t believe he could be faithful. Which was…stupid. I don’t know him, not really. But I never claimed to be smart when it comes to relationships. My experience is limited. The only real boyfriend I ever had was Thad, and look where that ended up. “Please. He’s totally into you.” Em leans in close, her mouth at my ear. “He’s watching you right now. In fact—oh shit—he’s headed this way.” I glance up to see Tuttle walking toward us, his expression grim. My heart starts to thump wildly and I take a deep breath, remind myself to calm down. “Hey,” he says to Em before his gaze settles on me. “What did Lauren want from you?” “Nothing.” I smile, trying to communicate with Em with just my eyes. I can see she wants to say something. Tell Tuttle the truth. But I don’t want her to. I don’t need to burden him with my so-called troubles. I can handle Lauren Mancini on my own. “Really?” He sounds doubtful. “She can be kind of a—” “Bitch?” Em supplies helpfully, a giant smile on her face. “So accurate.” “Em. Stop.” I don’t know why I’m scolding her. Do I really want to defend Lauren Mancini? I don’t think so. I decide to change tactics. “Excited for tonight’s game?” I ask Jordan. He shrugs. “The team we’re playing is number one in the league right now.” “Oh.” Yikes. That might prove to be a challenge. “You guys will do great,” Em says cheerfully. “Yeah,” Jordan says, returning his attention to me. Not that it’s ever really left. He won’t stop looking at me and I’m suddenly self-conscious. I run a hand over my hair, touch the corner of my mouth in case there’s a crumb lingering. Nothing. I drag my finger under one eye, then the other, picking up bits of stray mascara, and I wish I could slick on some lip-gloss. Anything to look prettier. “You look good.” I blink up at him. “What?” “You’re fidgeting. Stop worrying.” He reaches out and slides his fingers through my hair. Gently touches the corner of my mouth. Glides his index finger under my left eye, his gaze locked with mine. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs as he trails his finger along my cheek. I’m also breathless. How does he do that?

Em clearing her throat breaks me free of the trance Jordan just lulled me into. “Guys, I feel like I’m interrupting something, so I’m out. Good luck on tonight’s game, Tuttle. I’m sure you’ll kill ’em.” She flees before we can say anything else. “You’re friends with her?” he asks once Em’s gone. “Sort of.” I don’t know how to explain my relationship with Em, so I don’t. “Her and Livvy were best friends.” “I know. But now they’re having…trouble.” I wrinkle my nose. No need to go into the details. I think Jordan knows a few of them anyway. “And you’re wanting to help them out?” He whistles low. “You’re a good friend.” I laugh softly. “Probably too good of a friend. I’ve let too many people take advantage of me.” “Like who?” “Like Tara.” When he frowns I remind him, “My former best friend. The one who was…” “Screwing your boyfriend at my house? Yeah. She sucks.” “So does he.” “Nah, he’s just an idiot.” “What do you mean?” “Letting a girl like you go? He didn’t know how good he had it.” He tilts his head to the side, contemplating me while I digest what he just said. Yet again, he renders me silent. “You never did send me your diary entry.” “For Juliet?” I wrote it late last night, when I couldn’t sleep. Might’ve poured my heart into it too, reliving the hug in the parking lot moment over and over, like I’m twelve. “Yeah. Where is it?” “I’ll show you in class.” “I want to see it now.” “No, in class.” He grabs my waist, holding me in place, and I look up at him, surprised to see the amusement in his eyes. “What are you doing?” “Looking for any excuse to touch you?” He raises his brows and I blush. My cheeks go warm and he squeezes me, his thumbs sneaking under the hem of my T-shirt to touch my bare skin. “For once, you’re not fighting me.” “Jordan.” My voice is a warning, but I don’t want him to stop. “Public displays of affection are strictly prohibited on campus grounds.” I sound like I’m reciting from the school code handbook. “Not like I’m trying to kiss you.” His gaze drops to my lips, and it actually feels like he did just kiss me. “I’ll save that for later.”

Um. “What are you talking about?” “You’ll see.” The bell rings and he curves one arm around my waist, guiding me so I’m walking beside him and into the building. “Need to go to your locker?” I nod, dumbfounded that we’re walking down the hall and Jordan has his arm around me. Like we’re a bona fide couple. Meaning I’m having a surreal moment. He doesn’t do this sort of thing. He never has. So I don’t get why all of a sudden he’s choosing me. Jordan stops directly in front of my locker and leans against the one next to mine, waiting for me as I fumble with the lock. It takes me three tries before I can get it open, and once I do, he’s right there, offering to hold my backpack, asking if I have everything I need before he shuts the locker door for me. “You need to go to yours?” I ask as he slings my backpack over his shoulder. I walk beside him, trying my best to ignore the stares, the whispers that grow into low murmurs, a few snippets of conversation caught as we pass people by. “Who is she?” “Why is Tuttle walking with her?” “Are they—together?” But the worst moment is when I glance up to find Lauren Mancini headed straight for us, the scowl on her face right out of my nightmares. She looks furious, her eyes going from Jordan to me back to Jordan again. I watch as she switches it on, that beaming, perky cheerleader smile aimed right at him. “Jordan! Ready for tonight’s game?” She stops directly in front of him but he dodges her, grabbing my hand and pulling me along with him. “Yeah,” he says, not even looking in her direction. He laces our fingers together, giving mine a squeeze, and I just want to die on the spot. Somehow I keep moving, keep walking straight like a normal person, though deep inside I’m warm and fuzzy and tempted to launch myself at him. “I’ll see you tonight!” Lauren shrieks from behind us, but he doesn’t even give her a second glance. Instead he looks at me with an intimate smile, like we share this big secret. It’s my most favorite Jordan Tuttle smile ever. By the time we walk into the classroom, the bell is ringing. I let go of his hand and scramble for my seat. Jordan ambles over to his like he has all the time in the world, and I turn around to watch him, letting all of my inhibitions go. Not caring what anyone else thinks. We just walked down the hall together. First with his arm around me, then holding hands. I can look at him all I want. “Let’s not waste any time,” Mrs. Meyer says after she takes attendance. “Get with your group partner and work on your projects, please. You should at least have one diary entry each, maybe even two.” I immediately feel behind. Panicked. The guy who sits next to me moves out of his

desk to go join his partner and Jordan is there, easing into the desk and scooting it toward me. We’re so close our arms practically touch. “You look freaked out.” Leaning in closer, I whisper, “Did you hear Mrs. Meyer? She said we should have at least two entries done each. We only have one.” He’s so close I might be able to count every single eyelash that lines his eyes. There is the faintest bit of stubble on his cheeks and I want to touch it. “Maybe I’ve already finished my two entries,” he murmurs, his eyes sparkling. I suck in a breath. “You have not.” “I have.” He flicks his chin in my direction. “Let me read your first entry.” Nerves assail me and I swallow hard. I don’t want him to read it right in front of me. But how else can this go down? “Um…” My voice trails off. “Hand it over.” Ugh. He can be so bossy sometimes. I grab my backpack and unzip it, randomly digging around even though I know exactly where the paper is. Jordan leans back in his desk with a bored expression on his face, like he knows I’m trying to fake him out, and I give up. I reach for the thin folder, pull the sheet of paper out of it, and hand it over, just like he asked. Then I lay my head down on the desk and wait quietly for the humiliation to be over.



Amanda hands me the fluttery piece of paper and I realize her hands are shaking. She’s nervous, those big brown eyes staring at me, her teeth sinking into her plump bottom lip. I want to lean in and suck on that lip so damn bad it’s killing me. Killing. Me. She lays her head on top of the desk and buries her face against her arm while I start to read her Juliet diary entry. It is so very difficult, to want what you cannot have. To love who you fear you’ve already lost. They say we’re too young to know what real love is. They say we’re foolish and reckless and stupid, that we can’t make our own choices. We don’t make a proper match, they remind us. We’re too different. But when he looks at me, I don’t feel foolish or reckless or stupid. I feel beautiful. Special. Loved. So loved. We are not so different after all. When we are together, we are one and the same. We are like a puzzle, each of us made up of so many varied pieces. And those pieces only make sense when we come together. They say we can’t make our own choices, but they’re wrong. I choose him. I stare at the paper for so long the words start to blur together. It doesn’t feel like she’s talking about Juliet and her feelings for Romeo. It feels like Mandy is talking about her feelings for me. She’s my missing puzzle pieces. She’s the only one I need. “You hate it.” Her flat voice makes me jerk my head up to find she’s watching me, her eyes full of worry. She’d be a terrible poker player. She wears her every emotion on her face, with her body language, even the tone of her voice.

“I definitely don’t hate it.” I glance over the words again, sticking on one sentence. I choose him. Does she choose me? Most of the time she acts like she’s running away from me. “Do you think the puzzle analogy is bad? I don’t know if they had puzzles during Shakespeare’s time, so maybe it’s inaccurate. Maybe I should ask Mrs. Meyer.” Amanda raises her hand into the air. I immediately pull it down, my fingers circling around her wrist. I can feel her pulse and it seems a little fast. Did I do that to her? I smooth my thumb along the inside of her wrist to calm her down. “Don’t ask her. Not right now.” She frowns. “Why not?” “I don’t want her to interrupt us.” I gently squeeze her wrist before letting her go. “Oh.” She visibly swallows. “By the way, I, um, didn’t mean anything by those love references. Just to let you know.” “I understand.” I pause. “You were just—getting into character.” “Right.” She nods. Flips her hair behind her shoulder, reaches up to twist the tiny pearl earring in her ear. She fidgets when she’s nervous. I’ve noticed that about her. I’ve noticed lots of things about her. I let my gaze roam over her face, drinking in every tiny detail. Her pretty dark brown eyes and smooth cheeks and perfect, sexy lips. I’m kissing her tonight. I don’t care what happens or how she acts toward me, it’s been too long and nothing is going to stop me. I’m kissing her. And I’m going to kiss her for a long time. Until we’re both out of breath and our mouths are sore and she’s probably late for her curfew but she doesn’t care. I won’t care either. Yeah. That is definitely going to happen. “Where’s your next diary entry?” she asks, her sweet voice knocking me out of my thoughts. “You wanna read it?” She rolls her eyes, a big smile on her face. “Yes, I do.” I make a production out of pulling it out of my backpack, then glance over it real quick, frowning when I realize just how…needy this thing sounds. I wrote it last night, thinking about that hug in the parking lot. I sort of poured all of my own feelings into Romeo’s diary entry and now I’m having second thoughts about her reading it. “You can’t back out now.” She tries to snatch the paper out of my hands, but I lift it up, away from her grasping fingers. “Hey! That’s not fair. I let you read mine.” “After I already let you read mine,” I remind her. “That you shoved into my locker like some sort of love note.” She blushes. I love that I can make her do that. If she’d give me half a chance, I can do a lot of things to her that

would make her blush. And I’d get to see if that same pretty shade of pink blooms all over her body. “Maybe it was a love note,” I say as I set the paper on my desk face down. Her blush deepens. “To Juliet from Romeo.” “Whatever.” She shoves me and I grab her hand, linking our fingers together. I rub my thumb against her fingers, her soft, soft skin. Her nails are painted a pale pink and cut short. She wears a ring on the index finger of her right hand and I touch it. Trace it. It’s a braided silver ring, thin and delicate, old and worn. “Where’d you get this?” If she says that dick ex-boyfriend gave it to her, I will rip it off her finger and crush it. “It was my grandma’s.” She meets my gaze and smiles, but it’s sad. “We were really close. She died when I was thirteen.” “I’m sorry.” I have no idea what that’s like, losing someone I love. I honestly feel like I’ve never really loved… Anyone. “She gave this to me right before she died of cancer. Said her dad gave it to her when she was little. My mom tried to take it and put it away for safe keeping after Grandma passed, but I told her no. Grandma wanted me to have it.” She studies the ring and I touch it again, tracing it all the way around her finger. “A family heirloom,” I tell her. Amanda nods but doesn’t say anything. If she cries, I’m gonna lose it. “How’d you get this scar?” I touch a jagged one across the top of her hand, between her thumb and index finger. “My cat Stubbs. He was super feisty when he was a kitten.” The sadness is gone, replaced with a faint smile. “Did it hurt?” “Not really.” I hate the thought of her in pain. Which means—holy shit—I’ve got it bad for this girl. Really bad. “How’s it coming, kids?” Amanda jumps in her seat and rips her hand from mine, looking up at Mrs. Meyer. She watches us with full on amusement in her face, like she knows exactly what we’ve been up to. “We’re sharing our entries with each other,” Amanda says. “Well, I did. Jordan hasn’t yet.” Mrs. Meyer looks at me. “And why is that, Mr. Tuttle?” She is the only teacher who adds the mister to the front of my last name. Everyone else just calls me Tuttle. No one ever calls me Jordan.

Except for Amanda. Oh, and Lauren Mancini when she thinks she can get something out of me. “I’m still working on mine. Amanda’s is so good, I want to make sure my next one is too,” I say smoothly. Amanda glares. Mrs. Meyer smiles. “Well, that sounds like a compliment. Don’t you agree, Amanda?” She mumbles, “I guess,” and then Mrs. Meyer is gone, moving on to the next group project. “She saw us holding hands,” Amanda says. “So?” “I’m surprised we didn’t get in trouble.” “Mrs. Meyer doesn’t care. Besides, we can tell her we’re getting into our parts.” I reach for her hand again, but she snatches it away. “You’re going to deprive me?” “Stop.” She sends me a look. “You aren’t going to let me read it?” “I’ll let you read when I have something to read from you,” I remind her. “Sounds like a fair deal, right?” “I guess.” “Hey.” I slip my fingers beneath her chin and tilt her face up. I could kiss her right now. We are in perfect position. But I’m not going to let it happen in the middle of Honors English. “You’ll sit with me on the bus?” She frowns. “Tonight? To the game?” I nod, releasing my hold on her chin. “I want to sit with you.” “What about your friends?” None of those guys are my friends. Not really. Ryan is the closest thing to it, and I cultivate that friendship out of needing his trust on the field. “They can live without me.” “Jordan.” She rests her hand on my forearm. “You’re their quarterback. Their leader. You can’t ditch them. You need to spend time with them and get them pumped up, so you’ll get pumped up.” Amanda has a valid point. “I’ll sit with you on the ride back home then.” She nods. “Okay.” No other girl would’ve suggested what she just did. They all want a piece of me. And don’t want to share with anyone else. I’m willing to give my all to this girl, yet she wants to make sure I’m taking care of everyone else in my life. She’s unreal. And soon she’s going to be all mine.



I’ve been on the football field plenty of times in my life, but always as a band member. Always as one of the girls in her scratchy polyester blend uniform, trying her best to run as fast as possible while playing the clarinet. Working hard to keep up with the coordinated moves and praying my too large hat doesn’t fall off my head and trip the person running behind me. But tonight, I’m on the sidelines, keeping my boys hydrated. Running around with the other water girl as we try to keep up with the boys as they come off the field. We help tape them up too, Coach Halsey barking at us when a player needs help. Most of the boys try to refuse us but Kyla, the other water girl, is a force to be reckoned with. She won’t take no for an answer. “Don’t let those boys boss you around,” she told me as we sat on the bench in between the JV and varsity game, trying to rest up. “If Coach says they need to be taped up, do it. If we need to spray their knuckles with Neosporin or whatever, do that too. Don’t let them whine at you and tell you they’re fine.” The look she sent me made me laugh a little. “They’re usually not.” Our little conversation was interrupted by the reappearance of Coach Halsey, who clapped his hands together and demanded we get ready for the boys to come out onto the field. I watched in awe as they jogged out, the visitor section filled with parents and fans from our school cheering loudly. It was exciting. Exhilarating. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. I wish I could’ve discovered this water girl job a lot sooner. Livvy came to the game. She got a ride with one of the other football player’s girlfriend and they’re both up in the visitor stands, their boyfriends’ jersey numbers written on their cheeks in blue and white face paint. They yell and scream and Livvy goes especially crazy when Ryan scores a touchdown, and it’s super hard for me to keep my crap together. I’m envious of their jumping around. I want to be able to jump around for my favorite player too. But I can barely talk to him, let alone act like a crazed fan. Jordan is kept busy the entire game, going over plays, in the huddle with his team, playing out on the field, sitting on the bench, or taking one of the many water bottles I hand him. He always gives me a nod of acknowledgement, but I know he’s so incredibly focused on the game, he’s

barely registering it’s me. Just a few minutes ago he was shaking off Coach Halsey when he suggested they put in the backup guy for a little bit, just to give Jordan a rest. “Fuck that, Halsey,” I heard Tuttle mutter, and I know he meant business. So did the coach, considering he didn’t reprimand him for foul language. Jordan is so edgy, so freaking intense while playing football. It’s kind of scary. It’s also really sexy. So I remain cool. Calm. And busy. Incredibly busy because I sort of know what I’m doing, but then again I don’t. Kyla is the calm in the storm and I hope after a few games I’m like her, efficient and organized. I’m almost thankful when Cannon Whittaker sits with me for a few minutes right before halftime while I tape up both of his hands. He’s shredded his knuckles and while it looks painful, he keeps brushing me off like it’s no big deal. But I persist and he eventually lets me tape him, all the while giving me some tips and asking a few personal questions—though nothing too personal. He may act like a total dog with the girls, but he’s actually kind of sweet. And he’s also very passionate about football. And Jordan? He acts like his normal untouchable self. He paces the sidelines, growls at the defense. Oh, and he also growls at his offensive line too, because he’s an equal opportunity growler. He tosses water bottles and slaps guys on the back or the butt and he never, ever wants anyone to step in for him when it’s his turn out on the field. You’d think the coach would get this by now. I don’t bother trying to talk to him because that wall is up so high, there’s no way I’m penetrating it. Not right now. The score has remained close through all three quarters. Now we’re in the fourth and final quarter and I’m nervous as crap, bouncing my leg so hard I’m making the entire bench vibrate. The cheerleaders start up a chant about holding that line and I hate to tell them, but they’re off—we’re currently playing offense. They probably wouldn’t appreciate my correction. It’s hard not to cover my eyes while watching Jordan play. Not that he’s awful—he’s the farthest thing from it. It’s more that I’m totally nervous. He throws the ball and I’m terrified someone from the opposing team will intercept it. Or one of our players will drop it. We need this last touchdown. It will most likely ensure our win. But the home team’s crowd is roaring loudly, trying to distract us. They don’t want their team to lose. Though guess what? We don’t want our team to lose either. I perch on the edge of the bench as Jordan drives the ball down the field. Coach Halsey is eerily calm as he watches, his expression blank, his gaze never leaving that field. I nibble on my thumb, fighting the nerves that threaten to overload me. Kyla’s pacing, looking at a loss, but that’s because no one wants to be hydrated right now. Everyone’s too tense.

When Ryan catches the pass and runs it into the end zone, I leap from the bench, bouncing up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs. I can hear everyone in the visitor stands behind me yelling and cheering. The cheerleaders are squealing and chanting Ryan’s name. Jordan runs up to Ryan and they high five, then Jordan slaps his hand against the back of Ryan’s helmet and pulls him in close, knocking their helmets together. I can tell he’s saying something, but what? I wish I knew. The kicker comes out and they line up to go for that point, and of course they get it. The lead is solid and with what time remains on the clock, the game is essentially over. Our boys won. I hand out water as the boys pass by and a few of them take the bottles, squirting the water all over their heads after they take the helmets off. They’re in good spirits and I congratulate them all, laughing when they say something funny. They’ve been nice to me, every one of them, and even Ryan comes up to me and tells me, “Good job,” before he slaps me on the back and jogs off. When I see Jordan approach, I busy myself with cleaning up the portable water station, stashing the empty water bottles in their carriers, doing what Kyla tells me to. I feel him drawing closer, but I won’t look up. Not yet. My entire body prickles with awareness and I go completely still. “So, what did you think?” Glancing up, I meet his gaze. He’s a sweaty, dirty mess. He’s clutching his helmet in one hand and his hair is standing up on end. The black lines under his eyes are smudged and there’s a giant grass stain streaked across his chest from when he got tackled earlier. He’d fallen hard and I’d leapt to my feet when it first happened, my heart racing so fast I thought it would gallop right out of my chest. “You played great,” I tell him, offering him a tiny smile. “Congratulations on the win.” He grabs my hand and pulls me closer, his gaze unwavering. “I played for you.” His voice is achingly sincere, and I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. “Jordan…” He cuts off my protest with a kiss. It’s soft and sweet and so fast, I almost think it didn’t happen, but the satisfied gleam in his eyes tells me it did. “You need to wear my number next time.” “Huh?” I’m in a daze over his lips connecting with mine. We’ve kissed plenty of times in the past, but it’s been a while. And his lips have always had a way of rendering me senseless. He points to the number eight on his chest. “I can give you an old jersey if you want.” “I’m supposed to wear this.” I point at the navy blue polo that Kyla gave me to wear. She has on a matching one. “I want to see my number on you.” The possessive gleam in his eyes sort of turns me on.

“But—“ Without warning he tugs me in close, his mouth at my ear, his breath so hot I shiver. “Stop pretending this isn’t happening, Amanda. I’m tired of fighting it.” He kisses my ear, the sensitive spot just behind it, and I sag against him. He’s right. I’m tired of fighting it. I’m ready to give in.

The bus ride to the game had been loud and chaotic. The cheerleaders were obnoxious, squealing and yelling and shooting lusty glances in the players’ directions. Coach Halsey kept trying to give the boys “let’s get pumped up” speeches, and they worked. They sounded like roaring beasts ready to unleash and conquer by the time we pulled into the opposing school’s parking lot. I even had the fleeting thought that I needed to bring my ear buds next week so I could avoid the noise and listen to music. The ride home is completely different. It’s quiet and dark in the bus. Most everyone is worn out and there’s not much talking. I do see a lot of faces illuminated by the glow of their phones. I sit with Jordan, his legs spread wide in that way boys like to sit, taking up all the space, but with him, I don’t mind. His knee is pressed against mine and he has his arm slung over my shoulders casually, his big hand lightly gripping my upper arm. I feel… owned. He’s declaring to everyone on this bus that he wants to be with me, and I bask in his attention. “Yo, Tuttle.” It’s Ryan. Jordan leans his head against the wall of the bus for a moment, closing his eyes. “What?” He sounds irritated. “You having a party at your house?” Oh. Is he? I can’t remember the last time he had one. It’s been a few weeks. I turn to watch him, noting how thick his eyelashes are when his eyes are closed. He is too pretty for words. I can’t help the little sigh that escapes me. He cracks his eyes open. “You don’t want me to have them over, do you.” It’s a statement, not a question. I want him all to myself, but I can’t say that out loud. Can I? “Only if you want to.” “No party tonight,” he calls out, and they answer him with groans and protests. But he ignores them. He just focuses on me, pulling me in closer so I’m snug against him. His lips press against my forehead and I close my eyes, sitting with him, soaking him up. His scent, his warmth, his strength. “Are you sure?” I finally ask, my voice soft and only for him.

“I want to be alone with you.” My heart drops, then picks up speed again. We’ve been alone plenty of times, but usually with other people in the house. Namely Livvy, who I could always text and say, get me out of here, and she would rescue me every single time. I pull away from him so I can look into his eyes. “Are your parents home?” He makes a face. “When are they ever home?” Never. I know they’re busy and they work a lot, but they’re never around for their son. Ever. “I don’t know…” “I’ll have you home by your curfew,” he murmurs. “Promise. Just say yes.” “Yes,” I tell him, and his eyes light up, though he doesn’t smile. He kisses me gently on the lips instead. So gentle, my entire body tingles in anticipation. I know what that mouth can do. I know what his hands can do as well. Not that we’ve taken it too terribly far, but we’ve done a few things. I’ve let him touch me in certain places. But I’d always push him off if we got too carried away, scared he’d use me and leave me. Like he does to all the other girls. The rest of the ride home we’re quiet, and I get lost in my thoughts. I’m excited and scared for what might happen next. Will he take me to his room? Or will we watch TV? A movie? Maybe hang out outside? The Tuttle backyard is amazing. I don’t know what we’ll do, but I will soon find out. Once we arrive on campus, we unload in the school parking lot, Jordan taking my hand the moment we’re off the bus. “I have to drop off my equipment in the locker room before I leave.” He glances around the lot. “Where’s your car?” “My dad brought me. My brother had to borrow my car tonight. He’s home for the weekend.” I’m terrified he’ll try and take it back with him to college and then I’ll be out of a car for good. I can’t afford for that to happen. I need the car to get to my job. I can’t rely on the kindness of strangers to always give me a ride. “Is he going to pick you up?” Jordan frowns. “No, I texted him and let him know I had a ride.” I smile and poke him in the ribs. “That would be you.” He grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He leaves before I can say anything else. I lean against a nearby ledge and check my phone, though I don’t have any text messages. There are a few random Snapchats, including one from Livvy that’s part of her story. A photo of her kissing Ryan’s cheek out on the football field right after the game, it’s captioned “my boo,” accompanied by a bunch of heart-eyes emojis. It makes me happy to see her acknowledging Ryan and not stressing over Dustin. “You really think he likes her?”

I lift my head when I hear the question, though I don’t see anyone else around. “Of course not. It’s just a phase. Like she’s worthy of Tuttle. Have you ever really looked at her? She’s so plain and boring.” “They looked pretty cozy on the bus. He had his arm around her. I saw him kiss her too.” “Please. I don’t know why he’s doing this. Maybe he’s slumming it? Oh!” Lauren Mancini and her gang suddenly appear, Brianne Brown one of them. The shocked look on Lauren’s face is totally fake. She knew I was close by. She made sure to say all of those mean things on purpose. And I can’t deny hearing them talk about me cut like a knife. I cross my arms and glare at her, but otherwise don’t say a word. “Oops. Guess you overheard us, huh?” Lauren giggles, and so do the rest of her friends. I remain quiet. What can I say? They’ll tear me apart no matter what. I can’t win with this group. “What, can’t bother to defend yourself since deep down inside, you know we’re speaking the truth?” Lauren’s perfectly arched brows rise. “Whatever you’re doing with Jordan Tuttle, it’s going to end badly. For you.” She’s right. I’m sure she’s right. It’s why I avoided him in the first place. Why I pushed him away when he tried to take it further. Here I go again, allowing him to get closer, yet I still don’t know much about him. He’s so secretive. Not much of a talker. I think I want to know more, but do I really? Why should I bother if all it’s going to get me is grief and heartache? A car pulls up and Livvy leaps out of the passenger side, running toward me with a big smile on her face. She skids to a stop when she spots Lauren and the rest of her gang and the smile fades. “Am I interrupting something?” she asks. “Nothing important.” Lauren beams. “Gearing up to give Ryan an extra good blowjob for winning tonight, huh? I’m sure that’s his favorite way to see you—on your knees.” They all start cracking up. Livvy glares, her eyes lingering on Brianne Brown. Of course. “At least I have a gorgeous boyfriend who wants me to suck his dick, unlike you,” she says to Lauren. The sharp gasps that ring through the air make Liv laugh. She takes my hand. “Come on, Amanda. Let’s ditch these bitches.” I let Livvy pull me away from Lauren and her mean girls, but I start dragging my feet when she doesn’t stop. “I can’t leave. I promised Jordan.” “Are you two getting together tonight?” Livvy sucks in a surprised breath. “How exciting! Are you gonna hang out? Go to dinner or something?” “We’re going back to his place,” I mumble.

Livvy’s face falls. “Oh. Don’t tell me you’re going to watch a movie.” I frown. “Why do you ask?” He hasn’t mentioned exactly what we’ll be doing, and I hadn’t thought to question him. “It’s just that…” Her voice drifts and she clears her throat. “I’m going to be honest with you, Amanda. And I’m not saying this to be mean like Lauren, but I want you to know the truth.” “The truth about what? Come on, Liv. You’re scaring me.” “Okay.” She takes a deep breath, like she needs to prepare herself. “Whenever Tuttle takes a girl into the theater room at his house, that’s basically code for, ‘Give me a blowjob now.’ That’s all he ever wants from girls. Blowjobs. That’s it. He’s a total BJ whore.” Livvy’s expression is full of sympathy. “You don’t think that’s all he wants from you, do you?” “I don’t know. I didn’t think so.” But what do I know? Look what happened with Thad. I didn’t give it up to him quick enough, and he screwed my old best friend instead. Maybe I’m too much of a prude. Maybe guys give up so easily on me because I don’t put out. Maybe that’s what I need to do—put out for Jordan Tuttle. Get on my knees and… I wince. I have no idea how to do something like that. I’d probably make a fool of myself and do something wrong. And then Tuttle wouldn’t like me anymore. It would be over. He probably prefers a girl with experience, and I am not that girl. Dumped because I can’t give a blowjob. Or even a hand job. That would be awful. Humiliating. “Don’t do anything you’re not ready to do,” Livvy says firmly. “I’m serious. Don’t let him pressure you.” Turning away from her, I blow out a harsh breath. “What’s it like anyway?” “What’s what like?” I turn back around to face her. “Giving a blowjob. Or a hand job—like, what does it feel like, touching his…” Livvy looks like she wants to smile, but she’s doing her best to keep a straight face. “Touching his—penis?” “Well, yeah.” We both dissolve into giggles. I’m not used to saying the word penis. I’m guessing she’s not big on it either. “I don’t know if I can have this conversation right now,” Livvy finally says once she’s composed herself. “I need to have, like, three drinks in and be at a party. We can’t talk about dicks here in front of the school.” “Who’s talking about dicks now?” Ryan rushes up behind Livvy and wraps his arms around her, lifting her up off her feet and twirling her around. Livvy squeals and struggles against his hold, but I can tell she’s loving every minute. I guess there goes our dick talk.

“You are,” Livvy says in between peals of laughter as he swings her around. “Now put me down!” He does as she says, but not before he lays one on her. The kiss is long and tonguefilled. I know this because I see actual tongue. Ew. I avert my eyes, feeling like an intruder. When Ryan finally breaks the kiss, Livvy is wobbly on her feet and she shoots me a lopsided smile. “Um, we’ll have to talk some other time.” “I’m holding you to it,” I tell her, pointing a finger in her direction. She laughs and stumbles into Ryan, who tugs her close. “We’ll wait with you until Tuttle comes out,” he says to me. My chest goes warm. How sweet. “Thanks, Ryan.” “No prob.” He shrugs. “Tuttle said I couldn’t leave you, so…” So he didn’t do it out of the kindness of his heart. Figures. “I’ll be all right alone.” “No way.” Ryan shakes his head. “If Tuttle knew I left you alone, he’d kill me.” I doubt that, but whatever. Within minutes Jordan approaches and the four of us chitchat until he takes my hand and asks me, “Are you ready?” I nod, pressing my lips together. “Yeah.” “We should double date sometime,” Livvy says, like she’s trying to gauge what Tuttle’s intentions are. “We should,” he agrees, though his expression is reluctant. He lets go of my hand, and I immediately miss his touch. “Us girls will have to plan something soon.” She grins at him before pulling me into a tight hug. “Remember what I said,” she whispers into my ear. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. If he’s a good guy, he won’t pressure you.” “Okay. Thanks for the advice,” I whisper back. I squeeze her and she squeezes me in return. “Have fun tonight,” I say as we pull away from each other. “Mama’s not home until late, so we have the house to ourselves,” Liv says with a big grin. “She went to a concert with her gross boyfriend.” “Fitch?” I’ve met him. He’s sort of a creeper. Liv shudders when I say his name. “Please. Don’t ruin my good mood.” We say our goodbyes and I turn to look at Jordan, see the impatience written all over his face. “Come on.” Jordan takes my hand once more and leads me toward his Range Rover. He opens the passenger side door for me and I climb inside, breathing deep the leather scent that lingers once he closes the door. My heart thumps wildly and I rest a hand over

my chest, telling myself I need to get a grip. I’m in control of my destiny. What I say, goes. I know he won’t push me to do anything I don’t want to do. But what if I get caught up in the moment and want to do…everything? Guess I’ll figure it out as we go.

We walk inside the quiet, dark house and the second the door is shut, Jordan gathers me in his arms and pushes me up against the wall just before he kisses me. I open my mouth in shocked surprise and his tongue is there, sweeping inside my mouth, circling my tongue, making me gasp. I clutch at him, my arms going around his neck, my hands sliding into his thick, soft hair. He presses into me and I can feel his hard, hot body. When we’ve kissed before, it’s always been different. Lighter. More explorative. This is nothing like that. It’s urgent and edgy and full of passion. I break away from the kiss first so I can catch my breath, and he dives for my neck, his damp mouth blazing a trail of hot kisses along my throat. “I’ve been dying to kiss you like that for hours,” he murmurs against my skin. “Days. Weeks.” I squirm from the sensation of his breath on my skin. “You’re tickling me.” “Mmm, not the reaction I had in mind.” He cups my face and tilts my head back so our gazes meet. “I liked having you on the sidelines.” I smile tremulously, my nerves coming at me full force. “Why were you talking to Whittaker?” It takes me a moment to figure out who he’s talking about. “You mean Cannon? I was taping his knuckles.” “Hopefully that’s all you were doing.” His eyes narrow and I swear his nostrils just flared. “Wait a minute.” I think about tugging out of his grip, but it’s nice having his hands cup my cheeks like this. The way he absently rubs my skin with his thumbs feels amazing. “Are you—jealous of Cannon Whittaker? Because he talked to me?” He says nothing. Just keeps watching me with those narrowed eyes and the still flaring nostrils, his breathing a little heavier than normal. “Jordan.” I stare into his eyes. He needs to know I’m serious. I may be setting myself up for a torturous heartbreak, but he needs to know how I feel. “I don’t notice anyone else. Just you.” The faintest smile curls his lips and he kisses me. This time it’s softer, a little more controlled, and I fall into the kiss, twirling my tongue around his, savoring the taste of him, the feel of his hands cradling my face.

“I need to take a shower,” he says once he breaks away from my lips. He presses his forehead against mine. “Wanna join me?” I freeze. My body screams yes! But my mind says absolutely not. The struggle is real. “Um…” “I was kidding.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “But you should come upstairs and wait in my room for me.” So I do. It’s sort of weird and awkward sitting on his bed and looking around his room, because I’ve never waited for a boy while he takes a shower—in that huge, gorgeous bathroom, I might add. All I can think about as I hear the water running is of Jordan. Naked. With hot, steamy water pouring down his body, making his skin all slick and shiny. I’d help him soap up. I’d wash his hair. I’d rinse him off. I’d grab his… The water shuts off, and I leap to my feet and wander aimlessly around the gigantic room. I stop at his dresser and study the few photos that are on display. One is of him and other football players, I’m guessing from last year? They’re all smiling except for Tuttle. His expression is serious. Always so serious. The other photo is old. I think it might be him as a little boy with his parents, and maybe that’s his sister? He looks like he’s barely two, dressed in a miniature suit that matches the man’s. The girl I assume is his sister is your typical sullen teenager forced to pose. The parents look stern-faced and solemn. No one looks happy. It makes me sad. The door opens and I whirl around like I just got caught stealing his underwear. He stands in the open doorway, steam billowing out of the bathroom, his hair wet and slicked back from his face, and clad in only a towel. Only. A. Towel. I clutch the edge of the dresser, praying I don’t go down in a heap of melted bones. The towel is white and thick and hangs dangerously low on his hips. One wrong move and that sucker will fall right off. “Snooping?” He magically produces another towel out of thin air and dries his hair with it, his biceps bulging. He has really nice arms. He has really nice everything. “No.” Sort of. “Just looking at the photos on your dresser.” His expression turns grim and he drops the towel he held in his hands on the floor before he makes his approach. “Which one?” “Both of them.” I point. Hold my breath when he comes to stand directly beside me. He is naked. Naked under that towel. And he smells amazing. All clean and fresh and delicious. “That’s my parents.” He picks up the photo of the stone-faced family. I wonder why he’d keep such a depressing photo of them in his room, but maybe he doesn’t even notice

it anymore. “And my sister.” “I figured.” “I was two. Already a non-believer in the fairytale.” He sets the photo back down and then opens one of the drawers, pulling out a pair of neatly folded gray boxer briefs. “Do you mind?” “Do I mind what?” I back away from him slowly. “If I get dressed?” He waves the underwear in my direction and I want to die. “Turn around if you can’t handle it. I’m about to drop the towel.” “Jordan!” I spin away from him just as I hear the towel hit the floor with a wet plop. I keep my back to him. Hear the rustling of clothing being pulled on, the sound of another drawer being opened and closed. My mind is running in circles, imagining all the things I’m missing because of my prudish ways. “It’s safe to look now,” he drawls, and I turn around slowly, relief and disappointment hitting me when I see he’s clothed. But not fully clothed. He’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants and that’s it. They’re slightly fitted, and they cling to his thighs, ride perilously low on his hips. I swear his chest is still damp and his stomach is utterly lickable and… Oh my God, my thoughts are all over the place. “What time do you have to be home?” he asks, his extra low voice knocking me out of my thoughts. “Midnight.” He glances at the clock on the bedside table. “Little less than two hours then.” “And it takes at least fifteen, twenty minutes to get to my house from yours,” I remind him. “So we have about ninety minutes.” I nod. Wondering what he’s going to suggest we do. “You should take off your sweater.” My shocked gaze meets his. “Aren’t you hot?” It is a little warm in here. I shrug out of my oversized cardigan and leave it on top of his dresser. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” I cringe the moment the words leave my mouth. I didn’t mean to sound like every other girl he’s been with. Or maybe he’s the one who suggests they watch a movie. I don’t know how this works. I feel so…stupid. Inept. “I’d rather just get into bed with you and hang out.” I must look totally freaked out, so he feels the need to clarify. “I just want to relax, Amanda. I’m beat after tonight’s game. Figured we could talk or whatever.” It’s the or whatever that has me curious. But at least he didn’t suggest the theater room.

“That’s fine,” I say with a shrug, like I’m cool. Like I’ve done this a million times. “Mandy.” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “We’ve done this before. A few times. Remember?” He’s right. We really have done this sort of thing before. It’s just that tonight, it feels like there are all of these expectations riding on me. Though I’m just putting unnecessary pressure on myself, which is dumb. I watch as he goes to his bed and pulls the comforter and sheets back, then plumps up the pillows. We may have cuddled together on a bed before, but never under the covers. That somehow feels more intimate. “Come here.” He pats the empty spot, then looks up at me. I go to him, take his offered hand, and let him pull me down so I’m sitting in his lap. “You look scared,” he whispers, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my skin. “This feels different with you tonight.” I rest my head in that spot between his neck and shoulder. I breathe in his scent and close my eyes, savoring the quiet, the stillness, his steady breathing the only sound. “I don’t want you scared of me.” “I was more scared you’d suggest we go watch a movie in that fancy theater of yours,” I admit, feeling bolder now that I’m not looking directly in his eyes. He sighs. “The number of blowjobs I’ve received in that theater room is vastly exaggerated.” I sit straight up, startled he’d even mention it. “But it is true. That you get—serviced in the theater room?” Jordan looks away, and has the decency to appear faintly embarrassed. “I can’t lie and say I’ve been a saint, Mandy. I’ve done stuff with a few girls. But not as many as the rumors say I have. My actual number is surprisingly low.” He wouldn’t lie to me, would he? Or is he trying to save my delicate feelings? “I really don’t want to talk actual numbers.” “We don’t have to. None of those other girls matter anyway.” He gathers me in his arms and stands, making me squeal and cling to him. Gently he sets me down on the bed, then climbs in beside me, pulling the sheet and comforter up so we’re facing each other, covered to our chins. I start to giggle. I can’t help it. He looks so cute with the covers pulled up, his hair still damp, his eyes sleepy and that tiny smile curving his lips. “What’s so funny?” “You.” I slap my hand over my mouth to contain the giggles. I’m tired too. “You look cute.” “Cute?” He yawns, quickly covers his mouth. “Really?”

“Really.” I reach for his wrist and slowly move his hand away from his face. “You’re adorable.” Jordan grimaces. “You make me sound like a baby.” “You are definitely not a baby.” I shift closer, my hand skimming his stomach before I wrap my arm around his waist. “You have too many muscles.” He pulls me in until our legs are tangled and my head is resting on his chest. “You’re wearing too much clothing,” he murmurs against my hair. I go still. “What do you want me to do? Strip?” Next thing I know I’m flat on my back and he’s hovering above me, his hand at the front of my jeans, his fingers toying with the button. “I could take these off for you.” “I don’t know…” Nerves make my stomach clench and I tell myself he’ll only take it as far as I’ll let him. And it isn’t very comfortable, lying in bed with him wearing my jeans. “Only if you want,” he whispers against my lips just before he kisses me. “I don’t want to make you nervous.” He touches my stomach, brushes his knuckles across my skin, and I suck in a soft breath, closing my eyes. It feels so good. His hand pauses over the front of my jeans again and I open my eyes to find him watching me carefully. I give a little nod, my silent permission for him to continue, and he undoes the snap. Slowly pulls down the zipper, his fingers spreading open the denim and exposing my panties. “I want to see you,” he whispers, and I close my eyes again, turning my head so I can bury my face into the pillow. “Come on, Mandy. Don’t be shy.” I shift so I’m facing him once more and thrust out my arm, pushing the covers off the both of us. He immediately looks down, his gaze locked on my spread open jeans and the front of my gray-and-burgundy striped panties. He almost reverently traces the waistband of my underwear, his fingers barely touching my skin, and I hold my breath, waiting for his fingers to dive beneath the thin fabric. But he doesn’t do that. Instead he grabs hold of my jeans and starts to tug them down, pulling them to about mid-thigh before I take over and shimmy them down my legs, kicking them off and onto the floor. He shoves the covers back even farther, until they’re bunched behind me and we’re both completely exposed. “You have the longest legs.” He caresses the outside of my thigh. “I hated them when I was twelve. I looked ridiculous.” I was taller than most of the boys in seventh grade, even Tuttle, until about midway through. He shot up, way past me, but his height did me no favors. I was still one of the tallest people in class, and my long legs just made me look gawky and weird. “You were cute.” He smiles. “Adorable.” “Stop.” I shove at his bare chest, letting my fingers explore all of that exposed skin. His shoulders and pecs, the spot in between them where the faintest bit of dark hair grows. His ridged stomach and the mysterious trail of dark hair that leads from the bottom of his

navel and into his sweatpants. I still want to follow that trail with my tongue. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the nerve to do it. “You should take off your pants,” I suggest, and he shakes his head, the smirk on his face warning me he’s going to say something wicked. “Take off your shirt and then I’ll take off my pants,” he murmurs. Before I lose my nerve I sit up and whip off my shirt, then grab the covers and pull them over me. My least favorite body part is my boobs. I’m flat chested. I mostly wear a padded B cup when really I’m more of an A cup, though tonight’s bra choice is new and chosen just for Jordan. Unfortunately, I just…never got boobs. My mom isn’t gifted in the chest department either, so I was doomed. And boys like Tuttle like boobs. The bigger the better. He may approve of my long legs, but he’ll be disappointed in my chest. “Why you gotta go and cover yourself up?” He reaches for the comforter but I clutch it tighter, keeping it close. “Let me see.” I shake my head. “No way.” “You’re being ridiculous.” “I don’t want to see the disappointment on your face.” When he frowns, I explain, “My boobs are really, really small.” “I don’t care, Amanda. I don’t like you for your boobs.” He grins, and the sight of that smile steals my breath. All my brain cells too. “I like you for your legs.” I nudge his shin with my foot. “Jerk.” “Come on.” His smile fades and his expression turns sincere. “Let me look at you.” “Fine.” I let him tug the comforter away from me and I close my eyes. I can feel his gaze on me, drinking me in, and he’s so quiet for so long I start to freak out. “Is it so bad that you’ll never be able to speak again?” He chuckles. And when he touches my chest, his fingers tracing the edge of my burgundy lace bra, I nearly jump out of my skin. “You’re beautiful.” The words I’ve longed to hear. I open my eyes and then he’s there, kissing me, devouring me. His hands are on my breasts, his thumbs brushing back and forth across the lace and driving me crazy. I pull him in closer and pour all of my feelings for him into that one kiss. I need him to know how much I like him. How much I’ve been holding back. “Your skin is so soft.” His fingers fumble over the front clasp of my sheer lace bra— well, they call it a bralette because there’s nothing to it—and then it springs open. He pulls away so he can look down at my chest, carefully pushing away the thin lace so he can really see me. I sling my arm over my eyes so I can’t see his reaction. “So pretty,” he murmurs as he touches me. “God, Amanda, I’ve dreamed of this.” “You have?” I drop my arm away from my eyes so I can look at him.

He nods, but he’s too busy concentrating on my chest. “Endless dreams. Always like this. With us in my bed and you letting me touch you.” “I…” I hesitate. Decide to go for it. “I want to touch you too.” He pulls away from me and kicks off his sweatpants, until he’s almost as naked as I am. I’m only in my panties. He’s just in his boxer briefs. I can feel him straining against the front and it seems…big. Extra large. I don’t think I can deal with that tonight. And then we’re kissing. It’s so much easier when we’re kissing. When we’re so wrapped up in each other, it feels natural to touch and explore and test barriers. He seems to have none, but I have a few. I’m scared and excited and want more, yet I don’t. It’s confusing, the rush of emotions that fill me. I end the kiss and my lips travel the length of his neck, nibbling on his skin and making him actually growl. I touch his stomach, tease the waistband of his boxer briefs, briefly skim my fingers along the front of them, and I feel his full body shudder to the very depths of my soul. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t say a word. Just lets me touch him and he touches me, and when he kisses my neck, my collarbone, then moves his way down to my chest, I throw my head back against the pillow, moaning so loudly I put my hand over my mouth. We keep this up for a while. Until I’m lost in his touch and his lips. Until I’m anxious and needy and straining toward something I can’t quite find. Jordan slips his knee between my legs and I press closer, a sharp inhale leaving me when he bumps a particular spot. I want more of that. It’s like he knows and he keeps pressing his knee against me, his mouth fused with mine. The kiss turns sloppy and unpracticed and out of control and I love it. He’s losing control with me. And I can’t help the thrill that comes with the realization. I grind against his knee, not caring what he thinks or how I might look or what I might say. I lose all of my insecurities at that very moment when his touch, his mouth, his freaking knee sends me flying right off that ledge. And straight into bliss.

“Amanda. Are you even listening to me?” I glance up to find Mom watching me with a concerned expression on her face. “You were talking to me?” I ask weakly. My thoughts are filled with Jordan and what we did last night. That one particular moment was a first for me, and it had been perfect. Thad definitely never made me feel like that either. I’m glad it happened with Jordan Tuttle. Jordan drove me home and thoroughly kissed me in the Range Rover before he said good night. I stumbled up the walkway and barged into the house, thankful my parents weren’t up to see me. My little brother Trent snickers before shoving an overflowing spoonful of Lucky Charms into his mouth. “She’s been talking to you for the past five minutes, dingus.” “Don’t call your sister a dingus,” Mom says irritably as Trent cracks himself up. He’s twelve and a complete nuisance. “What did you say?” I ask, ignoring Trent, who’s still muttering the word dingus under his breath. “I wanted to make sure you’re going to take the SAT next Saturday.” She catches my eye roll and scowls. “You should. It wouldn’t hurt to try and up your score.” “My score is a 1300.” They changed the scoring of the SATs this past year and a 1300 is solid. “Yes, but you could do better. You need as much advantage as you can get, since you dropped out of band.” The disappointment still rings in her voice. My parents are never going to let that go. “I’m on the yearbook staff.” Though all I do is help with page layout so far, which is fun. It’ll look good on college applications. Oh, and now I can add water girl too, which shows I’m responsible. Right? I hope so. “And that’s great, it really is,” Mom says as she sits across from me. “But is it enough?” “I’m out.” Trent grabs his bowl and leaves it in the sink before he exits the kitchen. “That boy,” Mom mutters under her breath, shaking her head, her gaze shrewd when it lands on me. “So. Where were you last night?”

Her quick change of subject has me floundering. “Uh, at the football game?” “The game doesn’t last until midnight, Amanda. What did you do after the game?” Got naked with Jordan Tuttle? I can’t tell her that. Can you imagine? “I hung out with Livvy.” Sort of the truth. Not really. “Oh, that’s nice.” Mom pauses. “What’s going on with Tara? You’re never together anymore. I miss having her around the house.” Mom has no idea that Thad and Tara cheated on me with each other. I never told her. I couldn’t. I was too humiliated. I just said I broke up with Thad and had a falling out with Tara. She never put two and two together. “That friendship is over and done with,” I say firmly. She sighs and shakes her head. “After all those years and all that history between the two of you. Please don’t tell me it was all over a boy, Amanda. I’ve often wondered if it was because of Thad.” “Actually Mom, it was because of Thad. I caught them together. Together together,” I emphasize. She frowns. “Kissing?” “Worse.” I decide to go for it. “They were naked together. As in, having sex.” “What?” Her mouth drops open. “And you caught them like that? Where?” She sounds positively scandalized. “At—at Jordan Tuttle’s house.” Any excuse to mention him, huh? “He goes to my school.” “They were having sex at another student’s house? Who is this Jordan Tuttle?” Hopefully he’s my boyfriend. I know for sure he’s the boy who took my bra off last night. The boy I was wrapped around like a pretzel only a few hours ago. The boy who is slowly but surely stealing my heart and making it his. “He’s a good guy, Mom. I promise. He’s, like, the most popular boy in school,” I tell her. “And they’re usually the ones who cause the most trouble, especially if other kids are having sex at his house. Where are his parents anyway?” She sounds absolutely disgusted. I have opened the most giant can of worms in the universe. Mom and Dad are pretty strict. They are firm believers in no sex before marriage and they would flip out if they knew I went to parties and drank on occasion. The thing is, I never went to parties and definitely didn’t drink ever the first three years of my high school life. Tara and I were pretty much scared of everything. We weren’t part of the popular kids’ social circle, so I don’t know exactly how this happened but… I’ve done a one-eighty compared to last year’s version of Amanda Winters. A different

set of friends, a different extracurricular activity, and I sort of have a boyfriend. My parents would hardly believe it. And if they knew I was with Jordan last night all by myself, pretty much naked in his bed with his hands all over me? Forget it. I’d be grounded for life. “I’ll take the SAT again next Saturday,” I tell her, desperate to change the subject. “Maybe I can up my score.” “Oh, I think that’s a really smart idea.” The relief on her face is evident. “Your father feels the same way. We know you can do it, honey.” “Thanks.” The overachiever in me knows I should study all week and prepare. But that sounds so boring. I’d rather spend my time with Jordan, if he wants to spend time with me. I work this afternoon from noon to six but don’t work Sunday. Maybe we could get together then… “I have something else I want to talk to you about,” Mom says. Oh. She sounds serious. “What’s up?” “Your brother needs to take your car back to school with him.” She holds up a hand when I open my mouth, ready to protest. “I know you need that car to get to work, but he needs it more to get to his new job, sweetheart. I hope you understand.” I don’t. Yeah, I so don’t. “How am I supposed to get to my job? The job you made me get in the first place?” “We did not make you get that job.” “You so did! You told me I didn’t have a choice. That you didn’t have enough money to pay for my college education so I better start saving my money.” I stand, my blood boiling. “Now I’m going to have to quit!” “You will not quit,” she says, calming studying me. “We’ll figure out a way to get you there. You can ask your friends. I’m sure they’ll help you.” “Not like I have a ton of friends to ask, Mom.” Ugh. My older brother is the biggest pain in the ass ever. He always gets what he wants, no matter what. Our parents always give in. “Tell George thanks a lot for ruining my life,” I toss out as I stalk out of the kitchen. “Quit being so dramatic,” Mom yells after me, but I ignore her. Instead I go to my room and slam the door, falling onto the bed with a huff. It’s barely nine o’clock. I could go back to bed and sleep until eleven. Then take a shower, get ready and go to Yo Town— I frown. If I even have a car to drive to Yo Town. I’m sure George is already gone, headed back to college with the car, firmly believing it was always his so he deserves it. Whatever. My phone dings from my bedside table and I grab it, melting when I see who the text is from.

Jordan. I can’t stop thinking about you. My smile can’t be contained as I read his text over and over. How should I respond? I need to say something cute. Something flirty. But my mind is drawing a total blank. I can’t stop thinking about you either. Not incredibly original, but it’s true. He immediately starts to text me back. I see the gray bubble and wait, sliding under the covers and rolling on my side, my gaze never leaving my phone screen as I wait for his response. You work today? Nibbling on my lip, I answer. From noon to six. What are you doing after? Hanging out with you? :) He doesn’t respond right away and I wonder if I screwed up. Ugh. I’m still not confident with this dating thing, especially the dating Jordan thing. A few minutes later he finally responds. Want to go out to dinner? I am giddy with excitement. It’s like a real date. I have to contain myself not to answer with a thousand exclamation points. I go for calm and collected instead. That sounds good.

My phone buzzes with a text from Livvy as I wait for Jordan’s response. Tell me you were with Tuttle last night after the game. I smile. I was with Tuttle last night after the game. Yay!!!!!!! OMG!!!! What happened?????? I want deets!!!! There’s nothing much to tell. Meaning there is no way I’m telling her what happened between us last night. Forget that. You’re being a tease. Are you two getting together tonight too? I think so. Let’s double date! I bet Ryan would be up for it. I can ask him. I don’t know… We’re doing it. Let’s go to dinner together or something. It’ll be fun! Huh. Will he think it’s fun, to hang out with Liv and Ryan tonight instead of just the two of us? I don’t know. I need to ask him first. I already asked Ryan and he’s totally up for it. Man, she’s fast.

Chewing on my lower lip, I go to text Jordan. Want to go to dinner with Ryan and Livvy? No. I’d rather be alone with you. We can’t always be alone, Jordan. Why not? That’s the way I like you. R&L will be a distraction. I want to be alone with you. I’m seriously blushing right now, and no one’s around to see it, so this is stupid. What if I got hungry? I’d always feed you. Thirsty? I’d bring you whatever you want to drink. You’re being silly. The phone rings, startling me. It’s Jordan. “Why are you calling?” “I needed to hear your voice.” Everything inside of me goes warm at his admission. “You really don’t want to go out with Ryan and Livvy tonight, huh.” He sighs, the sound rough and slightly disappointed. “Can’t we do that next weekend?” “Come on, Jordan. What’s the big deal?” He’s quiet for a moment and I worry I might’ve made him mad. My phone is dinging in my ear with new text alerts and I know they’re all from Livvy, but I can’t answer her. “I’d rather go out with them another time,” he says quietly “I just—I want to get to

know you better, Amanda. I want to spend time with just you and no one else.” “Okay.” My heart is turning to mush. How can I make him go on a double date when all he wants is to spend time with me? I can’t. “What time are you done with work again?” “Not until six.” Realization dawns. “I don’t even have a ride to work.” “I’ll take you.” “What? No, you don’t have to do that.” Panic makes my heart race. “I want to. I’ll pick you up at your house.” “Jordan…” “What?” “My parents don’t know we’re—seeing each other.” “Okay.” “So they’ll be here.” “Do you not want me to meet them?” I don’t know how I feel about that. Mom freaked out when I mentioned Jordan and the party and all that craziness. Then he’s the boy who comes to pick me up to take me to work? Talk about awkward. “They sort of freak out when I date guys.” That’s not too far from the truth. They weren’t thrilled when I started dating Thad. But I’m seventeen—I can’t live like a nun my entire life. “I’ll probably scare the hell out of them,” he says with a warm chuckle. “You probably would,” I agree. “How about I just pick you up? You can call me a friend,” he suggests. “You are my friend.” “Really?” His voice deepens. “Is that all you think of me?” “Oh, you’re definitely more than a friend,” I tease. I hope he feels the same way.

“Whose car is that sitting out in front of our house?” Mom asks as she ducks and peers through the living room window. I glance outside. Jordan’s black Range Rover is sitting there, idling by the curb. Within seconds of spotting him, my phone buzzes with a text. I’m here. You ready? “It’s my friend. He’s giving me a ride to work,” I say nervously as I type out my reply. Give me a minute. I’ll meet you out there. Mom, of course, picks up on my nerves. She studies me carefully, so carefully she freaks me out and I drop my phone on the hardwood floor with a loud clatter. “A male friend?” I nod, scooping up my phone and checking it for damage. Thankfully, there isn’t any. “He’s in a few of my classes. We’re working on a project together. For English. It’s focused on great literary couples.” Hitting her with boring stuff proves to be the distraction she needs. “English, hmmm? That’s nice, dear. His car looks very expensive.” “I guess it is?” I know it is, but playing dumb sometimes works too. “Very nice of him to drive you to work. I knew you could round some friends to help you.” And with that, she drifts out of the living room and heads to the kitchen. I nearly sag with relief. But I don’t have time to sag or be relieved. Or be annoyed she basically said, “I told you so,” without saying those words at all. I can’t worry about that. Instead, I gotta go to work. Grabbing the backpack I use for overnight stays—I packed clothes to change into after work—I sling it over my shoulder, calling out a, “Bye Mom, see you later!” before I slam the front door and dart down the walkway toward Jordan’s car. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

I skid to a stop and turn to see my dad approaching. He’s dressed in ratty, faded black cargo pants and a white T-shirt that’s seen better days. He’s been working in the yard all morning and he’s filthy. But he loves it. He’s why our yard looks so good. “Um, work?” “He’s taking you?” Dad flicks his chin at the Range Rover. I nod and smile at him. “Yeah. He’s just a friend.” I hate that I’m downplaying what Jordan means to me, but I can’t make a big deal about him. Not right now. Mom would start questioning me and it would end up being a huge mess. “Some friend. Must be loaded.” “I guess so.” Okay, this conversation is awkward. Why are my parents so focused on his car? “What’s his name?” I sigh. “Do you want to meet him, Dad?” He grins. “Yes, Amanda. I’d love to.” Trying my best to shoot meaningful looks in Jordan’s direction, I lead my dad to the driver’s side of the car. I thought Jordan would roll down the window to talk to us, but instead he opens his door and hops out, his expression earnest, maybe even a little nervous. It’s so…cute. I smile at him and turn to look at my dad. “Dad, this is Jordan Tuttle. Jordan, this is my dad, Rick. “Hello, Mr. Winters.” Jordan holds out his hand and Dad shakes it. “Great to meet you.” “Nice to meet you too, son. Your family is a part of Tuttle International?” Jordan’s jaw goes tight and his eyes turn cold. “Yes,” he bites out. But Dad doesn’t even notice. “How exactly do you know my daughter?” “Uh.” Jordan sticks his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, clearly uncomfortable. “We’ve gone to school together since kindergarten.” “Really?” Dad sounds surprised. “She’s never mentioned you before.” This is true. There’s no point in talking about Jordan Tuttle to my parents, when I never had a chance with him. Now, though, there’s a chance. And I guess I should’ve been talking about him. “Jordan’s always been in my honors classes, Dad,” I interject. “He’s also our varsity team’s quarterback.” Dad’s eyebrows rise. “Impressive. I’ve heard about you.” “Hope it was all good,” Jordan jokes. And he never jokes. My dad says nothing. I decide to speak up and end this conversation. I turn to face

Jordan. “We gotta get going. I need to be at work in less than fifteen minutes.” “Then let’s go,” Jordan murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine. “So,” my dad says, and I wince, waiting for the bomb to drop. I can tell just by the way he’s taking. “Are you two dating, or what?” Oh, God. I just want to evaporate into thin air at Dad’s question. He’s so nosy. But then Jordan says the craziest thing. “We are, sir.” He flashes me a sweet smile. “Why haven’t we met you until now?” Dad’s demeanor changes in an instant. He’s standing up straighter, his gaze questioning as he checks Jordan out like he’s some sort of criminal. “We’ve only just started dating.” Jordan’s gaze locks with mine, his mouth curved in this intimate smile that makes me tingle. “But I really like her. A lot.” “Good,” Dad says gruffly, nodding. “Treat her with respect and we shouldn’t have a problem. Am I making myself clear?” “Dad.” I’m whining, but I don’t care. This conversation has made a mortifying turn. “I gotta go or I’ll be late.” I shift closer to my father and kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll see you later tonight, okay?” “Have a good afternoon, Amanda.” He smiles but then turns his icy gaze on Tuttle. “Nice meeting you, Jordan.” “Nice meeting you, too, Mr. Winters. Bye.” I walk over to the passenger side of the Range Rover and Jordan keeps pace, opening the car door for me. I climb inside and he shuts the door, rounds the front of the car and then he’s sitting behind the steering wheel, starting the car and smiling at me like we’re in on a private joke together. “What’s so funny?” I mutter. That conversation had been all sorts of awkward. “Your dad seems—nice.” “He can be very nice.” I pause. “But also very protective.” Jordan pulls onto the road. “I can tell. I’d be protective of you if you were my daughter too, I guess. Wouldn’t want some sleazebag kid who drives a Range Rover and plays football trying to feel up my daughter.” “Jordan.” He described my father to perfection. I’m sure that’s exactly what Dad’s thinking. “When you put it like that…” “Yeah, I know. I sound like an asshole.” He glances over at me. “But it’s probably the truth, right? That’s what your dad’s thinking?” I nod. “Maybe?” “I’ve never met a girl’s dad before,” he says conversationally, though I notice how he’s

gripping the steering wheel extra tight. Did that encounter make him nervous? “You haven’t?” He shakes his head. “Always figured it was pointless. Would put too many ideas in a girl’s head.” “What sort of ideas?” “That I was serious about her.” He won’t look in my direction and I wonder why. “Are you saying that you’re—serious about me?” My heart starts pounding and I swear my palms are sweating. Why does that question and his answer freak me out so much? He gives me a trademark Tuttle smirk. “What do you think?” That is not a real answer. I’m about to question him further, but I decide against it and clamp my mouth shut. Maybe I don’t want to know the answer to that particular question. Maybe it’s best I leave well enough alone. We get to Yo Town less than ten minutes later and I’m about to hop out of the car when Jordan grabs my hand and stops me from leaving. “What?” I ask when I see the expectant look on his face. “You want me to pick you up at six, right?” He slowly slides his palm against mine, interlocking our fingers, his thumb rubbing my hand. A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm at the intimate touch. “Please. If you don’t mind.” I smile at him, but he acts like he’s not going to let me go any time soon. “I need to get inside, Jordan. I’m going to be late.” He tugs on my hand and pulls me closer. Then he kisses me, a soft yet lingering kiss, the both of us leaning over the center console. It’s sweet and romantic, and I tell myself I shouldn’t read too much into it. But I do. I can’t help it. “I definitely don’t mind,” he murmurs against my lips. “See ya later.” He gives me one last kiss and I almost fall out of the Range Rover when I climb out of it seconds later, I’m so dazzled by his talented lips. I practically float into Yo Town, like a girl with a major crush on the hottest boy in school. That description isn’t too far off the mark.

“My parents want you to come over for dinner,” I tell Jordan over the phone, then mentally brace myself in anticipation of his answer. I tried to talk them out of it, but when I walked through the door last night at exactly 11:59 p.m., I found my parents sitting in the living room waiting up for me. “Were you with that boy?” Mom asked. “The one with the Range Rover?” “His name is Jordan Tuttle, sweetheart,” Dad told her. “Oh.” Mom’s face fell and I knew she remembered what I told her. “That boy who has the sex parties?” And that comment blows up the entire conversation—to the point where I felt like I was being questioned by the cops. “Are you two serious?” “Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?” “How long has this been going on?” “Have you met his parents?” “Been to his house?” “Why didn’t you tell us about him before?” “Are you in love with him?” “Is he in love with you?” “He is worth a lot of money, Amanda. More money than we could ever make in our lives.” They hit me with one question after another, until I wanted to run screaming from the house. Then Mom said I had to invite him over for dinner. “So. We can get to know him better.” Uh huh. They wanted to drill him like they drilled me last night. “When?” he finally asks, knocking me from my thoughts. “Um, tonight?” My voice squeaks and I clear my throat, hoping he doesn’t catch on to my nervousness. “You sound worried.” So much for that.

“I’m not worried,” I reassure him. “It’s just that…I’m pretty sure you’re not going to say yes.” “What makes you think so?” “You just told me you didn’t like to meet parents because it gives the girls false hope,” I remind him. “Well, I happen to like you, Amanda. There’s a difference.” He hesitates before he adds, “A big difference.” He says a few choice words and I want to melt into a puddle. “Will you come over for dinner, then?” “Do you want me to?” I sigh. “We should get this over with if you want to continue dating me.” “Is that what you’re calling it? What we’re doing?” “Dating?” Did I use the wrong word? Are we just an endless string of hook ups to him? I hope not. God, I really, really hope not, because I feel like a fool if that’s the case. A total and complete fool— “Yeah.” His voice deepens. “We are.” “Is that okay?” I ask carefully. “What do you think?” “I asked first.” “Well, when it comes to answering, I’m going with ladies first.” I can hear the amusement in his tone and it makes me laugh. “Whatever.” I hesitate. “Let’s say it together. At the same time.” “What exactly are we saying?” “You can say we’re dating, we’re hooking up or…” My mind searches for another word for what we’re doing. “Or we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.” “So serious,” he murmurs. “Stop. Okay.” I exhale loudly. “On the count of three.” “I never said I was down for this.” “Come on, Jordan,” I plead, laying it on thick. “Just go along with me. Please?” “Let’s do it.” He pauses. “One.” My stomach twists and I take a deep breath. “Two.” What am I going to say? What should I say? “Three,” Jordan says, pauses, then blurts out, “Girlfriend.” Right when I blurt out, “Dating.”

We both go silent. “Did you just call me your girlfriend?” I’m incredulous. “Did you just say we’re only dating?” “Well…” My voice drifts. “I didn’t want to push.” We’re quiet for a moment before he finally speaks again. “Are you scared of me, Mandy?” “It’s too early in the morning to have this serious of a conversation,” I tell him, trying to make a joke out of it. Even though it really is too early to have a serious conversation. It’s barely ten on a Sunday. “Are you?” I sigh. “No.” Ha. “Maybe.” Be honest. “Okay, yes. Just a little, though.” It’s his turn to sigh. “I don’t want to scare you.” “You don’t. Not really.” “I’m coming for dinner tonight,” he says firmly, like he just made up his mind right then. “What time should I be there?” “Oh, uh, we usually eat Sunday dinner around six.” “Do I need to bring anything? Dress a certain way?” “Just bring yourself. And dress how you usually dress to—school.” “You want me to wear sweats and an old hoodie?” Now he’s the one who’s teasing. “You don’t always dress like that.” “When it gets colder in the mornings I do.” “Dress nice,” I tell him. “But not too nice.” “I can probably manage that.” “You should probably come around five-thirty.” “This is an event, huh.” “It’s a nice way for us to be together and talk about stuff. Otherwise, we rarely all sit down to eat dinner together.” “I hope they don’t hate me,” he says, sounding the tiniest bit nervous. I hope they don’t either.”

I’m trying to decide between a dress or a sweater and jeans combo when my little

brother knocks on my door. “Your boyfriend is here,” Trent sing-songs. My stomach plummets and I check my phone. It’s not even five-thirty. He’s early. “Aren’t you gonna come kiss him hello?” Trent asks when I don’t answer. “Go away!” I shout at the door like I’m twelve. Screw the dress. I don’t have time to primp. Instead I slip on my favorite jeans, the ones that make my butt look curvy, and then I pull on my new sweater. It’s cream-colored, made out of a thin material, and it splits in the back, exposing my lower back. Hmmm. I should probably wear a tank with it. Mom will probably throw a fit. Ask me to change. After putting on a white tank, I go to the full length mirror hanging on the back of my closet door and check myself out. I look good. I’m having a good hair day and I’m wearing a good bra. I look almost as good as Miss Perfect, AKA Lauren Mancini. Seriously, I need to stop comparing myself to Lauren Mancini. “Amanda! Your guest is here!” Ugh, my mom could shout down the rooftop, she yells so loud. “Coming!” I yell back, tucking my hair behind my ears. Yeah, that doesn’t look good, so I untuck it, spritz on some body spray and then calmly walk out to greet Jordan. I stop in my tracks when I spot him in the living room. He’s talking with my dad as they stand in front of the TV, most likely about football. Jordan’s wearing dark rinse jeans, a blue plaid shirt and black Vans, and ohmigod, he looks adorable. Like, I want to run and tackle him adorable, but I’m guessing my parents won’t appreciate that. So I calm myself, take a deep breath and make my presence known. “Jordan, hi.” He turns his appreciative gaze on me, and those beautiful eyes somehow warm even more when he takes me in. “Hey. Amanda. You look…pretty.” I wonder if he’s almost afraid to give me a compliment in front of my dad. “Thanks. You look good too.” I go toward him and give him a hug, feel his lips briefly press against my forehead. He wraps his arms around my waist and his hand presses flat against my bare lower back. I wonder if that surprised him. “I’m glad you made it,” I murmur against his chest before I pull away. Dad clears his throat and I glance his way, not missing the amused look on his face. “Glad you could join us, Amanda.” I make a face at him and look around the room. “Where’s Mom?” “In the kitchen finding a vase for the flowers Jordan brought her,” Dad says. I turn to look at Jordan. “You brought my mom flowers?” He shrugs, looking embarrassed. I notice he’s wearing a white T-shirt beneath the plaid shirt, and that just makes him look even cuter. “My mom always taught me you should

bring your host a gift. Sorry I didn’t get you anything, Mr. Winters.” “Making my wife happy is gift enough,” Dad assures him. I’m still stuck on the casual way Jordan mentioned his mom. He never talks about his parents. Ever. It’s like they don’t even exist, though I know they do, because otherwise he wouldn’t exist. But still. He does not bring them up in normal conversation. Until now. “The flowers look lovely on the table, Jordan.” Mom joins us in the living room, her smile brittle, her gaze sweeping over me before she returns her attention to him. “Thank you again.” “You’re welcome.” He smiles sheepishly and I feel suddenly awkward. Something’s up with Mom. She’s probably remembering all those things I told her about Jordan and is now seeing how he measures up. I don’t want her judging him for what happened with Thad and Tara having sex at his house. That was completely out of his control. Of course, the Thad and Tara incident only confirms her suspicions everything that happens at his house is out of control. Meaning, he can’t win this argument. Dad offers Jordan a seat and we all sit down in the living room, making small talk, mostly about football. Dad’s bombarding him with all sorts of questions and I’m listening closely, curious to hear how Jordan answers about where he wants to go to college. Not that I want to follow him to his college of choice or anything. That would be ridiculous. He’s so smart, and talented on the football field. Plus he’s rich, so he could go to whatever college he wants. I fight the jealousy that wants to sweep over me. I wish I had it that easy. His life seems like a piece of cake. Yeah, he might have crappy parents, but he has all the money he could ever want, and his crappy parents let him do whatever he wants. He’s lucky. “He is the boy who had that party, right?” Mom asks me, her voice low, just for me to hear. “Mom.” I send her a look. “He couldn’t stop that from happening. Don’t blame him for it.” “I just wonder what sort of parties he has if things like that happen. You shouldn’t go to parties like that. They’re demeaning. What if—” Mom lowers her voice to almost a whisper. “—what if something like that happened to you? Against your will?” I roll my eyes. “He’s very protective of me, Mother. Jordan would never let something like that happen.” Mom checks him out before she returns her attention to me. “He’s very good looking.” I feel my cheeks go hot. “I know.” “He seems popular too.” “He is.”

She studies me carefully. “I’m not trying to be rude, dear. But what exactly does he see in you?” My mouth drops open. I’m at a complete loss for words. Parents are supposed to be your backup, right? The people who think you’re perfect no matter what, no matter if you screw up on a regular basis, they’re there to pick you up when you’re about to fall. I feel like my mom just kicked me in the stomach and stole my breath with just a few words. “I think your daughter is smart,” Jordan says, and I whip my head in his direction, my eyes going wide. Crap, he heard what my mom said. “And she’s kind. She makes me laugh, and not many people can do that.” My heart aches a little at that statement. “She’s beautiful.” His voice, his gaze is solemn as he watches me. “And she’s fun. Her smile brightens my day.” I unleash a big one at him and he smiles in return. “And I just really care about your daughter. A lot.” His gaze never leaves mine with that last statement. Again, I want to throw myself at him and kiss him senseless. But I remain where I’m sitting, hoping he can see all the affection shining in my eyes directed straight at him. Does he see it? Does he know how fast I’m falling for him? The more days that go by, the less anxious I feel when I’m with him. I was always waiting for that bomb to drop. Always waiting for the punch line, when Jordan—or someone else—would yell out, SURPRISE! Joke’s on you. I don’t think that’s going to happen anymore. I really believe that Jordan is into me. “Aw.” Mom looks ready to cry when her gaze meets mine. “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” And that, folks, is how Jordan Tuttle wins over my parents.



I feel like I’m in a freaking dream. At the very least, I’m sitting on the set of a TV sitcom, appearing on some over the top show about a sweet family who loves each other so much they gather around the dinner table every Sunday night to break bread. This shit is usually something I mock. Who does this? Definitely not me. I don’t remember the last time I ate a meal with my parents, especially at our house. We just don’t give a damn anymore. But as I sit in the small dining room just off the kitchen in the Winters’ house, I feel… warm. Cozy. Like I belong here. Though really? I don’t. The dad is nice. Likes to talk football, and I’ll always talk football. Our conversation is easy and it’s a relief because Amanda’s father is interested. Genuinely interested in my opinion, in what I tell him, and he doesn’t criticize. My father only wants to tell me what I do wrong when I play. Or he’ll remind me what I need to keep doing in order to move on to the college of my dreams. More like the college of his dreams. I have no real dreams. I just go through the motions. I have all the right traits to get what I want and I use them when I need to, but I don’t give a piece of myself to anyone. Not a soul. My gaze drifts to the girl sitting across from me. The one who’s scowling at her little brother after he teases her about her hair or what she ate or maybe there’s something in her teeth. I didn’t catch what it was. I do know this—even when she’s irritated, she’s gorgeous. Her hair, her face, those eyes, her mouth…all of her is perfection. I’d give her every piece of me. All she has to do is say the word and I’m hers. Crazy, right? I don’t do this. And if I think about it too much, I’ll panic and back away from her. Because that’s what I do. Commitment is a dirty word in my vocabulary. I never wanted it before. Yet I want it with Amanda. Proving the point that you always want what you can’t have. More like what I don’t deserve.

And I don’t deserve her. She’s too good for me. She snaps at her brother, Trent, and her mom scolds them both, but gently. Everything is gentle in this house. No one yells, no one snaps, no one drinks, no one accuses anyone of any wrongdoing. It’s actually a pretty pleasant atmosphere, despite Amanda’s mom dissing her earlier, which had been weird. I honestly didn’t think this life could exist. I’m wondering now if they’re on their best behavior and the minute I’m gone and the curtain drops, they’ll all go back to their mean selves. “Do you want something more to eat?” the mother asks me, a concerned look on her face. I could tell she didn’t like me at first. She was sizing me up, examining me closely. I can’t blame her. She should kick me out and tell me to stay the hell away from her daughter. After what Amanda and I did… Yeah. We didn’t take it too far last night. But I did have my hands up Amanda’s shirt when we made out in the back seat of my Rover. I tried to take her back to my house, but she wouldn’t do it. So we parked. Like we didn’t have a choice. That’s okay, though. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy. See her smile. Kiss her lips. Touch her body— “Jordan?” the mother asks me again, and I snap out of my dirty thoughts, smiling at her. “No thanks.” She made a pot roast and potatoes and vegetables that she cooked all in one pot—along with the roast. I’ve never had anything like it before and it was good. “I’m stuffed.” “Not too stuffed that you’ll have to turn away dessert, I hope.” I’m intrigued. “Dessert?” Mrs. Winters smiles. “Homemade cheesecake.” “It is the best cheesecake you’ll ever have,” Mr. Winters adds. “It’s really good,” Amanda says with a shy smile. My whole body goes tight at seeing that smile. She makes me fucking crazy with her sweet smiles and bashful ways tonight. I can’t wait to get her alone and kiss her until she’s begging me to touch her. She did that last night. Begged. Whispered in my ear, pleading with me to put my hands on her. Slip my fingers under her shirt and touch her. Just a little bit, though. Never too much, yet I push every time we’re together. Push a little harder. Push a little more. “Amanda, will you help me clear the table?” Mrs. Winters says as she starts to stand. But I stand instead, my gaze locked on Amanda’s. “I’ll help her clean up, Mrs. Winters.” “Oh, but you’re our guest—” “I insist,” I say firmly, softening my tone with a smile aimed right at Amanda’s mom.

She smiles back, looking pleased. “Well then. If you insist…” Amanda doesn’t say a word. Just sends me a cute little smirk as she starts to help me clear the table. I follow her cues since I’ve never cleaned up a table before in my entire life, and we walk into the kitchen, setting the dishes on the counter next to the sink. “You’re going to help me wash them too?” She flashes a smile at me over her shoulder. “Whatever you need,” I say easily, fighting the urge to grab her and push her hair away from her nape so I can kiss her neck. My gaze drops to all the exposed skin of her lower back and my fingers literally itch to touch her. The moment she sets her dishes on the counter, I’m on her. I rest my hands on her back, sliding them to her waist, and I grip her there, standing directly behind her, my nose buried in her fragrant hair. “Jordan…” “Give me a minute,” I murmur. “I need to touch you.” She goes still. I swear she’s not even breathing. But then I reach up and brush her hair away from her nape, just like I envisioned and she gasps softly. Her thick, dark hair drapes over her shoulder, exposing her neck, and I lean in, pressing my mouth just below her ear. A shuddery breath leaves her and she melts into me, turning her head more to the right. “You should stop,” she says shakily. “What if my parents catch us?” “One more kiss.” I slide my hands along her waist, kissing her neck, her ear, tasting her skin. “Okay.” She sounds breathless. “But hurry.” I kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear, “You wore this sweater to drive me crazy, didn’t you?” “I almost wore a dress.” “A dress?” I think of all the things I could do to Amanda if she wore a dress. “I like easy access.” “Stop.” She pulls out of my grip and turns to face me with a stern look on her face. “Now you’re trying to drive me crazy.” I grin. I can’t help myself. That’s what she does to me. She makes me smile too much. Like I have a problem or something. “We should go clear the rest of the table.” She sends me a look. One that tells me she’s going to ask a question. “I was wondering. Have you ever helped clear a table before, Jordan?” I slowly shake my head. Her eyes fill with surprise, but she recovers quickly. “What about washing dishes? Have you ever done that?” Again, another slow shake of my head. “Seriously?” Her voice squeaks. “Well, I’m going to teach you.”

I frown. “What about the cheesecake?” Amanda laughs and it’s the best sound. I don’t need alcohol or weed or whatever when I have her around to fill me up with her laughter. “We’ll finish gathering the dirty dishes and then we’ll have cheesecake. After cheesecake, we’ll wash the dishes. Deal?” I pull her into my arms and give her a quick kiss, wishing I could give her more. “Deal.”



“He came over to your house for dinner?” Livvy sounds shocked. Not that I can blame her. I’m still fairly shocked too. I’d been so nervous yesterday, but the moment Jordan showed up with flowers for my mom and I saw how naturally he talked to my dad like they were old friends, I couldn’t believe how easy the night became. Jordan enjoyed the meal—Mom was super nervous about that—he laughed when my brother told him stupid jokes and he gave Dad the scoop about the football team and what their chances are to go all the way to the state championship. I loved watching them talk about football. I got my love for the game from Dad, who has been a Raiders fanatic forever. They’re not the best team, but Dad doesn’t care. He’s loyal to a fault, and while George never showed much interest in football and Trent gave up playing league football last year, I’m the one who’ll sit with Dad and watch the games. Listen to him rattle off stats and explain what’s happening and why certain players make certain plays. “You two are getting serious,” Livvy says, pulling me out of my thoughts. We’re hanging out in her mom’s car in the senior lot before the first bell rings. It’s drizzling outside and windy. We don’t want to get out of the car and Liv has texted Ryan multiple times, asking if he’d meet us with an umbrella in the next five minutes. So far, no response. “I guess so.” I don’t want to say anything more for fear I might jinx myself—and us. And when I say us, I mean me and Jordan. “What did your parents think? About Tuttle?” “They liked him a lot. He brought my mom flowers.” A beautiful arrangement of fall flowers, including sunflowers, which are my favorite. I was jealous of that stupid bouquet too. He hasn’t brought me flowers, yet he gave some to my mom? Life isn’t fair sometimes. “Wow, slick. He’s good with parents then. No surprise.” Livvy whistles, making me laugh. “I’m serious! The most Ryan has brought my mom is trouble.” We start laughing

even more. “Your mom doesn’t like Ryan?” I already know the answer. Liv’s mom wasn’t thrilled she spent the night at Ryan’s house for his birthday party, so he has a mark against him. And that’s a pretty big mark. “She’s getting better. Fitch seems to like him.” Liv makes a face. Fitch is the guy her mom is dating. Liv hates him, says he gives her the creeps. I’ve been around him a couple of times, and I have to agree. “Did Ryan ever get back to you about the umbrella or whatever?” I glance out the window. The rain is now coming down hard, and the parking lot always fills up with major puddles when a good rain comes through. I’m going to get soaked and look terrible for the entire day if I have to walk outside even a few feet without an umbrella. And the main building is more than a few feet away from my car. Grabbing my phone, I send off a quick text to Jordan. Rescue me from the rain and I’ll be yours forever. I get an immediate reply. Was that a line from a Juliet entry or what? Very poetic. :) He actually sent me a smiley face. No. I’m being serious. Rescue us from Liv’s mom’s car. It’s raining so hard and I don’t want to walk in it. Neither does Liv. We’re in a newer silver Accord. You want me to come to your rescue. Yes. And you’ll be mine forever if I do. I chew on my thumbnail before I answer him. Yes. So I can do whatever I want to you and you have to agree.

My skin goes warm. What kind of question is that? Depends on what you’re talking about. You won’t be disappointed. Promise. Within seconds I hear tires screeching and there’s Jordan parking right alongside Livvy’s car. Get your stuff and get in my car. Tell Livvy to stay put. “Jordan is giving us a ride to the front building,” I say to Livvy. She turns to look at me with a frown. “What are you talking about?” “He’s right there.” I indicate his parked car with a wave of my hand. “I’m going to jump in his car but stay put. He’ll drive around to your side of the car in a minute.” I grab my backpack and bail out of the car, hopping into the passenger side of the Range Rover within seconds and only the tiniest bit damp. He smiles at me, leans over to give me a little kiss, then throws the car into drive and wheels it around to the driver’s side of Liv’s mom’s car. Livvy goes through the same process, and after she climbs into the Rover, Jordan takes her keys and hits the remote to lock it before rolling up his window. “You’re my hero!” Liv says from the backseat of the car. She reaches forward and gives Jordan a playful shove on the shoulder. “Better than Ryan. He hasn’t even bothered to text me back.” “You’re welcome,” Jordan says with a hint of sarcasm, which makes me smile. He returns the gesture with one of those secretive smiles only for me, the ones that say, I’ve had you nearly naked in my bed and I’m going to do it again. A shiver moves through me at the possibility. He drives the Range Rover to the front of the main building and Liv hops out the moment he puts the car in park, not even bothering to look back or ask me to come with her. We watch her go and then I turn to look at Jordan, ready to offer him a thank you. But he’s watching me with the most intense look in his gaze. All thoughts, all words, disappear in an instant. “I did what you asked of me,” he says softly. “I came to your rescue and now you’re mine.” He pauses. “Forever.” Oh. That’s right. I forgot I said that. Sort of. “I was just kidding.”

“I take all requests from you seriously.” He waves a hand toward the building before us. “Like rescuing you from the rain.” “I still need to go back out in it to get in the building.” I glance behind me, checking out the backseat. This of course, reminds me that a few nights ago, I’d been rolling around in that very backseat and it had been awesome. “Want my hoodie?” He starts to take his off and I grab his arm to prevent him from taking it any further. “No, stop. It’s okay. I have my own.” I’m dressed pretty sloppily today, with the weather spurring my choices. I have on a school hoodie, leggings and a pair of shiny black designer rain boots I found on clearance at the Nordstrom Rack this past spring. I put zero effort into my outfit, yet here I sit with Jordan in his fancy car and he’s wearing fancy clothes and fancy cologne he most likely bought at a high-end department store. A place I probably can’t even afford to walk into, let alone actually buy something. Uh oh. I’m having one of those moments where I feel inferior yet again. “Thank you for rescuing me,” I murmur. “You’re welcome. I’ll expect full reimbursement this afternoon. After practice.” “What are you talking about?” He smiles and kisses me again, his lips lingering, his voice so deep, so low, I swear it vibrates within my soul. “You’ll see.”

He takes me to his house after practice. I text my mom saying I won’t be home for dinner, that I have to work on my English project with Jordan. When she asks where we’re working on it, I make up a lie and tell her we’re going to the school library, then to a mutual friend’s house, implying a bunch of us are working on this project together. There’s no working on the project. The project is long forgotten. He’s keyed up after a particularly intense football practice played out in the rain. I hung out with Kyla while he took a shower, and when he came to get me after he was finished, I lost all train of thought at first sight of him. He glowered, his muscular body practically vibrating with frustration. There were no friendly greetings, no acknowledgement of Kyla. He just looked at me and said, “Let’s go.” Now we’re hanging out in the kitchen and he’s given me a Coke to drink. He has a beer. Odd choice for a Monday afternoon, but I don’t question him. He seems tense. Annoyed. And I don’t know why. He won’t talk to me. “Are you okay?” I finally ask. “Tough practice today.” He looks away, staring out the giant window that sits above the

sink. “Really, it was the talk afterward that was tough.” “Why?” His gaze meets mine. “We were talking about our futures.” “Do you not have a plan?” I figured he would. We’re all supposed to have one. My plan includes taking the SAT this upcoming Saturday. I should study for it. I will later. He shrugs. “I have a plan. My father’s plan.” I frown. “Is it what you want to do though?” “I’ve never really thought about it.” I catch a flicker of emotion in his eyes that tells me he’s…holding back. I set my drink on the marble counter and approach him. “What does your dad want you to do?” “Go to the same college he went to.” “And where’s that?” “University of Oregon.” “He’s a Duck?” Jordan cracks a smile, but his eyes are still dark. Full of anger. “Yeah.” “And you don’t want to be a Duck.” Another shrug, but no words are said. They don’t need to be said. He doesn’t want to go there. He’s only going along with that plan to please his father. An ache tugs at my heart and I set my hands on his chest. “What do you want to do, Jordan?” “Stay here in California. Go to UC Berkeley or USC.” He blows out a harsh breath. “They both have excellent football teams. Excellent academics. But my father doesn’t believe they’re good enough in his eyes. He wants me to follow in his footsteps. He doesn’t care what I think or what I want.” I can’t help but wonder if his father doesn’t think Jordan is good enough either. “I don’t want to talk about this.” His voice is hard, as is the look on his face. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in closer to him. “Let’s do something else.” “Like what?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer me with words. He kisses me instead. It’s an aggressive kiss. Hungry. Possessive. No gentle brushing of lips, no tender explorations. He’s consuming me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, his hands gripping my hips. I let him, because it feels good. The kiss is raw and full of untethered emotion and that’s what I want from him. I want Jordan to lose control.

Out of nowhere he lifts me up and sets me on the kitchen counter, the marble cold beneath my butt. He pushes my legs open and steps in between them, devouring my mouth once more, his hands slipping under my hoodie, the hem of my T-shirt, to touch bare skin. His hands are big and warm, and they slide over my stomach, shift up to touch my bra, and then he’s breaking the kiss to pull off my hoodie. He’s so frantic, it feels like he’s trying to pull off my head. “Jordan.” I want him to slow down, but it’s like he can’t. “Hey.” I touch his cheek and he lifts his gaze to mine. “Are you okay?” “I don’t want to talk,” he murmurs. “Please.” “All ri—” He cuts off my words with his lips and I lose myself in his kiss. He seems almost desperate, like he’s trying to chase after something he can never catch, and I try to calm him down. Soothe him. I run my hands over his shoulders, down his chest. I try to slow the tempo of the kiss. But he won’t have it. He just keeps pushing, becoming bolder. I’m not scared—he doesn’t scare me, I know he would never hurt me. I am confused, though. And worried. This has nothing to do with me. He’s upset about something else. Something he’s not really telling me. “Really, Jordan? In my kitchen? You could at least take her to the theater room.” An unfamiliar female voice makes me jerk away from him. He doesn’t move, though. Just stands there right next to me, his hands still on my hips, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. A woman stands in the doorway of the kitchen. She’s elegantly dressed in a pale gray sweater and black pants. Her blonde hair is swept back into a ponytail and giant diamonds dot each ear. “What are you doing here?” Jordan snaps. The woman enters the kitchen, not ruffled by Jordan’s hostile tone in the least. “I came home early.” He mutters a curse under his breath and lifts me off the kitchen counter, setting me on my feet. “We’ll leave then.” “Don’t go on my account.” The brittle smile the woman offers me looks downright painful. Like she’d rather be anywhere else than dealing with me. “Are you Jordan’s friend?” She has to be his mother. I see a familiarity in her features, a fleeting expression that reminds me of Jordan, but otherwise I wouldn’t say he got his looks from his mother. He must resemble his father. She’s a beautiful woman, though. Her skin is smooth and not a wrinkle in sight. Her lips are full and shiny with nude gloss. Was she a teen mom or what? “This is Amanda,” Jordan says gruffly.

Her smile fades. “I’ve heard about you.” What? “Um, hi.” I run a hand over my hair, wishing yet not wishing I had a mirror to check myself out. I look like absolute hell. On Monday mornings I lack motivation to put together a cute outfit, and with this morning’s rain, I really took the slacker’s route. She must think I’m an absolute bum, especially compared to how well put together she is. “We’re in English together,” he tells his mother. “We’ve been working on a project.” “Some project.” Amusement tinges her voice and I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “You should take her to the library then. You two can work on your project there.” There’s a library in this house? I had no idea. How many rooms do they have anyway? Jordan’s hand is still on my waist but I slide out of his grip. I grab my hoodie from the floor where he dropped it only minutes ago. “It was nice meeting you,” I tell his mother. “Likewise.” Her mouth twists into what I think is a smile, but looks more like a grimace. He doesn’t say a word. Just tugs on my hand and leads me out of the kitchen. We walk right past her, but he doesn’t acknowledge her. She just watches us coolly, her expression betraying no emotion. I’ve seen that look before. She reminds me of Jordan. We end up in his room, not the library. He shuts and locks the door, leaning against it while watching me go to the mirror that sits over his dresser. “I look terrible,” I moan as I stare at my reflection. My mascara is smudged under my eyes. I’m wearing an old T-shirt I never planned on anyone seeing and my legs look like black legging-covered sticks. He walks over so he’s standing directly behind me, our gazes meeting in the mirror. “I think you look beautiful.” My heart leaps at the compliment, but he must be blinded by our earlier kisses. “Your mom must think I’m a scrub.” He chuckles, then leans in and nuzzles my neck. “I don’t care what she thinks about you.” “Well, I do. I want to make a good first impression, like you did with my parents.” I elbow him in the ribs and he lifts his head, glaring at me, though there’s no real anger there. “You didn’t even tell me her name.” “It’s Celeste.” He resumes kissing my neck, his lips lingering. “Celeste Tuttle the ice queen.” His tone and his words make me sad. “You don’t get along with her.” “She’s rarely home, and when she is, she’s either drinking or high on pills,” he explains with a weary sigh. “She needs them to cope.” “Cope with what?”

“Life.” He lightly bites my neck, making me shiver. “I don’t want to talk about all this shit, Mandy. I’ve had a bad day.” He wraps his arms around my waist and I rest my hands on top of his. “You never really want to talk to about anything.” “Because there’s nothing really good in my life that I ever want to talk about,” he says, his voice soft, his gaze locked with mine in the mirror. “The only thing that’s good in my life right now is you.” “Oh, Jordan.” He’s breaking my heart. I don’t know what else to say to him, don’t know how to make him feel better. “It’s true,” he whispers against my cheek just before he kisses it. “How I feel about you scares the hell out of me.” His confession should make me feel good. I know it should. But it doesn’t.

The rest of the week buzzes by. I studied for the SAT when I could and didn’t even go out with Jordan Friday night because of it. Mom wouldn’t let me, claiming I needed to work on my future. When I went and took the test, there were so many other people there, including Em and Livvy and Ryan and Cannon Whittaker and Brianne Brown and Dustin, too. No Jordan, though. He told me his score was good enough—no surprise—and he even applied early at a few colleges. I totally bombed the SAT. My mom is going to be so disappointed. I worked from three to seven at Yo Town, and Livvy agreed to pick me up. She’s helping me get ready for our double date tonight with her and Ryan. Somehow I convinced Jordan we should go out with them tonight and he reluctantly agreed. We stopped by my house and grabbed a few things before we went back to hers, where I took a quick shower and then Livvy did my hair and makeup. I’m both excited and nervous about tonight. I like having Jordan all to myself, but I don’t like how he isolates himself all the time. His explanation makes perfect sense— everyone wants a piece of him and he doesn’t have enough pieces to give. I get it. Sort of. “It looks so pretty curled,” Livvy says as she lightly sprays the ends of my hair with hairspray. “You should curl it more often.” “Takes too much time.” I’m sitting on a stool in the bathroom with my back to the mirror because Livvy doesn’t want me to see myself until she’s finished. I’ve never let a friend give me a makeover before and I can tell she loves every minute of it. Me? I’m apprehensive about the date. Jordan texted me earlier about what time he made the reservation for and where—some fancy place I could never afford. I told him I’d meet him at the restaurant and he seemed okay with it. But it’s kind of weird how I’m hitching a ride with Ryan and Livvy. When she starts layering on the makeup, I tell her not to put on too much. “I don’t want to look totally different.” “I’ll just emphasize what you have.” She grabs hold of my chin and contemplates my face like a doctor. “You have really good skin and your eyes are beautiful.” I roll those supposed beautiful eyes. “They’re brown and boring.” “No, they’re not! They’re so dark. Full of mysterious depths.” Livvy giggles. “And you

have great eyebrows. Can I pluck them?” She whips out a pair of tweezers and I dodge them when she waves them close to my face. “Why? I thought they were great!” “You need to clean them up a little bit.” When I shake my head, she mock pouts. “Come on, please? What I plan on doing will really make them pop.” I glance at my phone to check the time. “It’s getting late.” “Stop worrying. Just let me work my magic.” She grabs hold of my shoulders and gives me a little shake. “Trust me.” My nod is reluctant and she gets to work, plucking my eyebrows with those tweezers like she’s wielding some sort of torturous device. I keep jerking every time she pulls out a tiny hair and she practically stabs me with the tweezers at least three times. “Keep still!” she reprimands like she’s my mom. “And never forget these words— beauty is pain.” “What?” That sounds crazy. “I’m serious. My mom used to always say that to me. Beauty is pain, pain is beauty, it’s all the same. To look good, we have to make sacrifices. And sometimes, those sacrifices hurt.” Livvy smiles mysteriously. “It’s a small price to look your absolute best, but trust me, it’s worth it.” “You keep telling me to trust you, but all you’re doing is hurting me,” I point out, hoping she’ll see the logic and stop with the tweezing already. Liv rolls her eyes. “You are such a baby.” Once she’s done with my hair and makeup, she grabs the dress she picked out for me to wear and I tug it on, nearly jumping out of my skin when she yells at me to watch out for my hair. It’s this cute black-and-white striped T-shirt dress I bought on a whim last spring when I found it on a clearance rack. I’ve never worn it, though. Dresses, skirts—they’re not my thing. I feel weird in them and a lot of the time they show too much leg because they’re always too short on me. “He is going to die when he sees you,” Livvy breathes as she stares at me. I tug at the fabric of the dress. “It’s too clingy.” “It’s perfect. You’re so thin you can carry it off.” She shakes her head, but she’s beaming. “You look so amazing!” “Oh my gosh, stop. You’re gushing.” I whirl around, my eyes widening when I catch myself in the mirror. Livvy’s right. I do look pretty damn amazing, if I do say so myself. My hair has these sexy “beach waves,” as Livvy calls them, loose and touchable despite all the hairspray she used. My makeup is subtle, not too overdone, though my eyes are intensely dark. I like them. I’ll never be able to duplicate this look on my own, but I don’t care. For one night, I’ll feel like a princess.

“What do you think?” Livvy practically squeals when I remain too quiet for too long. “Do you like it?” “I like it.” I turn to smile at her. “I really do. Thank you.” “So. Excited!” She tugs me into a hug then pushes me away, frowning. “Don’t want to mess up your hair.” “When is Ryan getting here?” I ask nervously. Now I wish Jordan were picking me up. I’m both scared and excited to see his reaction to my new look. Will he like it? Or will he think I’m trying to be something I’m not? What about the dress? I take a step away from the mirror, trying to catch my legs in the reflection. They look like long, pale sticks, almost too skinny. Ugh, I need to stop being so critical of myself. “He’ll be here in about fifteen minutes,” Livvy reassures me. I can’t stop staring at my reflection in the mirror. And the longer I look, the more nervous I get. Jordan might not like the new me. Or he might like it, I don’t know. I hate feeling so unsure. “What shoes are you going to wear?” Livvy asks. “I brought some flat sandals.” “You don’t think you should wear heels?” “I’d probably twist my ankle if I wore them.” “But men love high heels! It makes them think about sex.” When I send her an incredulous look, she explains further. “I saw it in a movie once.” “Just because you saw it in a movie doesn’t mean it happens for real,” I tell her. “I hope men aren’t that shallow.” And while I wouldn’t mind looking sexy for Jordan, I don’t want his mind to automatically go to sex when he sees me. Though maybe it already does, I don’t know. My cheeks go warm at the thought. Livvy actually snorts. “Have you met the guys we spend time with? They’re all shallow.” Her words fill me with sadness. Does she really believe that? I don’t. Jordan definitely has substance. “So you and Jordan are for real, huh?” Livvy asks. I shrug, my cheeks going even hotter. “Yeah, we are. Though I don’t want to push him too hard.” He’s the type of guy who’ll run if he feels cornered, so I do my best to give him space. “He always wants to hang out with you. I take that as a good sign. Though I understand not wanting to push too hard.” Livvy smiles. “But I think you two are on the right track.” “Thanks,” I murmur, feeling weird. I like talking about Jordan, but then again, I don’t.

She wants more details. I can see it in her eyes. Everything Jordan and I do together is so private. I don’t want to share it with the rest of the world. It feels like I’m breaking some major rule if I tell Livvy what’s happening between Jordan and I these last few weeks. I want to savor the moment, keep it to myself. It’s my secret with Jordan. I’m excited to see him tonight. Will he give me one of those knowing smiles? “What’s he like?” “What? Who?” “Tuttle. What’s he like, when it’s just the two of you alone? He’s always so closed off and acts like we’re all bugging him most of the time. I’m guessing he’s already opened up to you?” “Sort of.” I shrug, feeling inadequate. Has he really opened up to me? I don’t think so. A little bit but not much. “We’re taking it one day at a time.” “So no juicy details yet?” The crestfallen expression on her face tells me she was hoping for something more. “Sorry to disappoint you,” I say with a shake of my head. Within a few minutes Ryan shows up at Livvy’s house, ever the gentleman as he speaks with Fitch, Livvy’s mom’s boyfriend. They make idle chitchat while Livvy and I lurk in the hall, watching them. “I don’t know why he’s so nice to Fitch,” Livvy says irritably. “That guy is creepy.” “Is he still giving off bad vibes?” She’s complained to me about him before. “Totally. I don’t get my mom’s relationship with him. I really just don’t get Fitch. He’s odd, but I can’t put my finger on exactly why,” Livvy explains. “Olivia!” Fitch yells from the living room, making both of us wince. “Your boyfriend is waiting for you!” We both enter the living room together, Livvy going straight for Ryan while I stand there awkwardly waiting for them. “You look amazing,” Ryan whispers as he rests his hands on her hips, pulling her in for a quick kiss. Fitch scowls. I’m guessing he doesn’t like public displays of affection. His gaze slides to mine, and he smiles, though there’s something almost sinister about it. I offer him a faint smile in return and he looks me up and down, like he’s totally checking me out. Ew. “Come on, let’s go. I don’t want to leave Tuttle waiting at the restaurant,” Livvy urges, taking Ryan’s hand and leading him toward the front door. I follow after them. “Bye, Fitch,” she yells as she opens the door. “Be back by one,” he tells her just as she slams the door in his face, making Ryan chuckle. “You’re so rude to him Livvy,” he teases as he leads us toward his car parked in front

of Liv’s house. “He’s gross. Look at how he acts like he’s my dad! It’s ridiculous.” Liv shakes her head. “Where’s your mom?” Ryan asks her as he opens both doors on the passenger side of his sleek white BMW. I climb into the back seat and he shuts the door for me, then does the same for Livvy. I smooth my hands over my dress and tug the skirt down, trying to cover my thighs. I feel totally overexposed, which is silly since I wear shorts all the time. Livvy doesn’t answer until Ryan is sitting behind the steering wheel. “She’s working until nine. Some weird shift change she had. So Fitch said he’d supervise me until I left. Then he’s going to go pick her up from the hospital.” She mock shudders. “I wish they’d just break up already.” I remain quiet for the entire drive, listening to Ryan and Liv’s conversation. They talk about football and the restaurant and Ryan tells her how hot she looks in her dress. She’s wearing a light gray T-shirt dress, though hers fits a little looser. My phone buzzes and I check it. I’m at the restaurant. Where are you? We’re almost there. Good. I tuck my phone back into the small purse I brought, letting that warm, fuzzy feeling wash over me. I can feel his frustration even through those few words he texted. He likes me. He wants to be with me. I’ve spent a lot of time with him lately, and I even met his mom. That has to count for something, right? We arrive at the restaurant and Ryan turns his car keys over to the valet before walking us inside. Jordan’s sitting in the lobby waiting for us and he rises to his feet when he sees me, his eyes going wide as he slowly approaches. “You put our name in already?” Ryan asks him. Jordan never takes his gaze away from me. “Yeah. Table will be ready in a few minutes.” And then his hands are on my waist, pulling me into him. “You look gorgeous,” he whispers just before he kisses me lightly on the lips. I’m thankful he’s holding onto me. Otherwise I probably would’ve slipped to the floor in a boneless heap at his very public claiming of me.

“So, Tuttle. You like her makeover?” Livvy asks Jordan, amusement lacing her tone. She’s loving every minute of this. “I do,” he tells her before he leans in and murmurs in my ear, “Though I think you’re even more beautiful when you’re wearing sweats and no makeup on.” “Stop.” I lightly smack his chest, my entire body flushing hot. “Just stating the truth.” He kisses my cheek before we both turn to find Ryan and Livvy watching us with surprise etched across their faces. “What?” he asks crossly. They both stand up straight, their expressions going neutral. “Not used to seeing you like this, bro,” Ryan says. “You pretty much hate everyone,” Livvy adds. Jordan slips his arm around my waist. “I don’t hate everyone,” he drawls. “I’m just picky.” What a way to put it. So is he saying that I should feel special because he picked me? The hostess calls Jordan’s name and we follow after her as she escorts us to our table. The restaurant is small and intimate, with dark walls and low lighting, candles burning on every table. Colorful fall bouquets sit next to lit votives in the center and the tables are draped in white cloth. It’s all very elegant and fancy and I’m not used to this sort of place whatsoever. Thad never took me to fancy dinners the few times we actually went out on a date. And my family doesn’t come to places like this. The fanciest we get is Applebee’s or Chili’s. I know that sounds lame, but it’s true. I pick up my menu and flip it over. It’s only printed on one side and I frown, reading over the small list of appetizers and entrees they serve. “The chef changes the menu every few weeks, and themes it by whatever’s in season,” Jordan explains to me, like he can sense my confusion. “Oh.” I scan it, unease slipping through me. None of it sounds that great, though mostly that’s due to me never eating this kind of food. I’m not an adventurous eater. I’m not much of an adventurous anything. Glancing around the table, I see Livvy smiling over at Ryan as he says something flirtatious. She’s not worried about ordering, so I shouldn’t be either. “You want me to order for you?” Jordan offers, his voice low and only for me to hear. “What looks good to you?” There’s not one item with chicken in it, and that would’ve been my go-to. There’s some strange ravioli thing that sounds sweet and kind of odd. There’s also steak on the menu, but I’m not that crazy about red meat. “I guess,” I finally say to him with a tiny shrug, keeping my gaze fixed on the menu. I’m feeling helpless and stupid, and that is one of the worst feelings in the world. The server appears, a guy who’s not much older than we are, and his gaze fixes on Jordan like he knows exactly who he is. Which he just might. Jordan doesn’t acknowledge him in a friendly manner, though. He orders a goat cheese appetizer that makes me

wrinkle my nose, and the waiter jots everything down before offering a dazzling smile and saying, “Your father is dining with us tonight.” Jordan frowns at the server. “Are you talking to me?” “Yes.” He bobs his head up and down in some strange display of manic behavior. “Perhaps you would like to join him?” “Perhaps another time,” Jordan says coolly, glaring at the waiter until he finally slinks off. “What the hell was that about?” Ryan asks once the server’s out of earshot. “I don’t think I’ve seen your dad ever.” “You haven’t known him very long,” Liv says just before she turns to Jordan. “Though I haven’t seen your father much either, and I’ve known you for what feels like forever.” She’s right. I’ve gone to school with Jordan Tuttle since the dawn of time and I’ve yet to see his dad materialize anywhere. Not at open houses or back to school nights. Not at evening plays or holiday programs. Not at any of his football games, not at honor roll assemblies, not at any of it. “He’s out of town a lot,” Jordan says through clenched teeth. I see a tic in his firm jaw, his eyes so dark they almost look black. He’s angry. I can feel the emotion radiating off of his tense body in giant waves. “Not big on family time.” I want to reach out and touch him, offer some comfort, but he looks like he might shatter if I so much as say something, let alone touch him. The next few minutes are agony. Liv and I try to make small talk, but it’s uncomfortable. Ryan has completely checked out and focuses on his phone. Jordan sits as still as a statue, only his eyes scanning the room every few minutes, like he’s trying to prepare for that excruciating moment when his dad will pop out of the background and terrorize all of us. When the waiter returns with our appetizer, Jordan places my order as well as his own, offering me a tight smile after he finishes. The moment the server dashes off, Liv is setting her napkin on the table and sending me a look. “I need to use the ladies,” she sing-songs. “Want to come with, Amanda?” Nodding, I push out of my chair and set the cloth napkin on my chair before I follow Livvy to the back of the restaurant, where the bathrooms are. The moment we slip inside, Livvy zooms over to the giant mirror, checking her reflection before pulling a MAC Lip Glass out of her tiny purse and applying the gloss to her lips. “Your boy got super tense,” she says, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. I go to the spot next to her and wash my hands. “I don’t know what to do about it.” “Clearly he has daddy issues.” The knowing look she sends me makes my blood simmer. I don’t answer. Her comment is rude. She totally has daddy issues, so who is she to talk? Or judge?

Maybe going on a double date with Ryan and Livvy was a big mistake.



I wish I had a drink. No mixed drink either. I need something strong, straight up. I don’t care what kind of alcohol, I need something to take the edge off. Soften me up. Instead I’m tense as hell, clutching my water glass so tight I bet it could shatter if I squeezed just a little more tighter. Ryan is trying his best to make conversation with me, but my terse responses—or worse, lack of response—is crapping him right out. To the point he’d rather pay attention to his phone while we wait for the girls to come back from the restroom. Talking about me, I’d bet. Wondering at my reaction. My over-the-top behavior. I can hear Livvy now, wondering why I’m so cranky. I can hear Amanda too, defending me, saying I must be upset. She would be correct. My father is here, in this very restaurant on a Saturday night, when he should be home with my mother. His wife. Meaning he’s in town, with someone else instead of coming home—something he does a lot. I haven’t seen him in weeks. And the last time we actually made real eye contact, he was on his way out of the house as I was walking in. When he caught sight of me, his eyebrows had risen and he’d appeared surprised. Like he forgot I even existed. My biggest dream is to forget his existence, but it never works. The rat bastard always pops up in the most inconvenient places. Like this stupid restaurant while I’m on this stupid double date, when I wish I could be at home alone with Amanda. I think of her and she magically appears. I watch as she and Livvy make their way back to our table. Heads turn as both girls pass, and I clutch my right hand into a fist, feeling protective. Primitive. I never feel that way about anyone, least of all some girl. But she’s not just some girl. She’s Amanda Winters. I’ve had a ridiculous crush on her for years. Not just for her beauty—and she’s pretty, don’t get me wrong—but it’s her mind that I’m attracted to. She’s smart. And funny. She makes me smile and she makes me think. She challenges me. Half the time I think she doesn’t like me and that is a fucking challenge like no other. These last few weeks we’ve spent a lot of time together, and I am determined to make her fall in love with me.

Though what will that get us? Get her? Pain? Unhappiness? I don’t believe in love, not really. So why would I torture her—and myself? I tell myself I don’t need her. But the more time we spend together, the more I’m starting to believe that’s not true. They draw closer and I watch Mandy walk, her hips swaying gently. The dress she wears clings to her like a second skin, turning her body into long lines and subtle curves. I remember the times I’ve touched that body. How responsive she always is. The sounds she makes. I need to quit reminiscing or I’ll be sporting a major boner soon. But I can’t stop thinking about her, about having her in my house, my room, my bed… Makes me want to keep doing it. Keep her. Which is ridiculous. That sort of thing is what fucks up your life. Falling for someone, needing someone—you’ll only end up getting hurt. I’ll be hurt. She will be too. This won’t end well. Yet I can’t stop it. She settles into the chair next to mine and I can smell her fragrance, delicate and sweet and infinitely Amanda. She smiles at me, her eyes full of fear, and I know I’ve acted like an asshole since I heard my father is here, but I can’t help myself. I won’t be able to ease the edge until I see him. Or the edge will get sharper. More painful. “Try the appetizer,” I tell Amanda when she just keeps staring at me with those big brown eyes. She looks like she wants to either comfort me or run screaming from the building. I’d advise her to do the latter, but I’m selfish. I want to keep her near me. “Is it good?” She sounds, looks unsure. I take a thin cracker from the plate and dip it into the goat cheese and jalapeno jelly mix, then hold the cracker in front of her lush mouth. “Try it.” Her lips slowly part and I feed her the cracker. She chews thoughtfully, the tension slowly leaving her expressive face just before she swallows. “That was delicious.” “Told you.” I turn away from her and point at the appetizer, saying to Ryan and Livvy, “Eat up.” They do as I ask like puppets on a string. But I can tell they’re enjoying the food. And they only jumped at my command because they know I’m a pissed off ball of rage. “Jordan.” Amanda’s soft whisper curls through my blood, settles in my balls because as mad as I am, I still want her. “Are you all right?” “Never better.” I give her the best smile I can muster, but it’s more like a baring of teeth. “Why would anything be wrong with me?” “You can be honest with me.” She rests her hand on my thigh and her touch burns in

the best way possible. “If you need to talk…” “I’m good.” I settle my hand over hers and give it a squeeze, then remove mine. She frowns, like she wanted me to keep holding her hand, but I can’t. Looking happy with my father nearby would be a sign of weakness. He’ll see it and drive a stake right into my heart. Or Amanda’s. And I refuse to let that happen. “Are you sure?” She moves her hand from my leg and I immediately miss her touch. “I said I was fine.” My voice is clipped and the hurt on her face is undeniable. To anyone else—to Amanda—I look like I’m overacting. So what if my father is here tonight? Who cares? But I care. I have my sneaking suspicions, and if he makes an appearance, if he comes out of that private back room I know he requests so he can dine in private and bring his special dinner “guests”—mistresses, sluts, whores, whatever you want to call them—I might take all of my rage out on him. Let him know exactly how I feel. You’d think the old man would already know, but I’m not too sure about that. I think Mom has hidden my animosity toward my father for a long time as a way to—what? Protect him? Whatever. That guy doesn’t deserve any protection. Minutes later our salads are brought out and I pick at mine. I quietly offer the waiter two hundred bucks to bring all of us mixed drinks, preferably heavy on the whiskey, but he wavers too long so I snatch the offer back. Screw this guy if he can’t meet a simple request. “Son. What are you doing here this evening?” I slowly lift my head to find him standing by our table, with a hot blonde who doesn’t look much older than us hanging on his arm. Emerson Tuttle, in the flesh. An older version of me, which I hate. I look just like him. When I’m older I will be his mirror image. I will have the same dignified silver at my temples and the broad shoulders, and I will wear an expensive designer suit because I’m a Tuttle and we’re expected to do no less. “Who’s your friend, Dad?” My voice is falsely cheerful and he knows it. The smile on his face is tight, though his eyes are cold as ice. Eyes the same color as mine, though I swear his are colder. “I could ask the same of you, Jordan.” Huh. I’m surprised he even remembers my name. “I asked first.” “She’s a co-worker,” he starts but I laugh. The sound is unpleasant, harsh in the silence that has taken over our table. I quiet immediately, sending him a disbelieving look. “Give me a break, Dad. We know what’s going on here,” I say bitterly.

His smile cracks. Fades into nothingness. “Don’t disrespect me in public.” “Why not? You’re disrespecting Mom in public right now. At least I don’t put my whores on display for everyone to see.” The woman gasps, my father growls, but I don’t give a shit. I’m done. I push out of the chair, toss my cloth napkin on my salad plate and glare at my father. “Have a great evening.” I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, peel off a few one hundred dollar bills and let them flutter to the table. “Sorry,” I mutter to my friends at the table before I walk out of the restaurant. I’m halfway to my car when I hear someone call my name. Turning, I watch as Amanda comes running toward me. She stops a few feet away, like she’s afraid to get too close. Her expressive face is full of concern, her eyes full of pain— for me. And that touches my heart more than I’d want to admit. “Are you okay?” “Don’t worry about me. You should go home with them,” I tell her. Her expression falls and she does nothing to cover it up. She is the most openly honest person I’ve ever known. “You want to be alone tonight?” I struggle with my answer. I should be alone. I’m angry and I won’t be good company. Mom is home and she’ll take one look at my face and know something bad happened. Then she’ll probably want to talk, while bombed out on pills, and maybe she’s already a few drinks in. My life is a fucking disaster. I shouldn’t let Amanda witness any of it. I should push her away. But I remain silent. She approaches me cautiously, like someone might approach a wild animal. No sudden movements, no words said. And then she’s there, directly in front of me, so close I can feel her body heat radiating toward me. A tentative hand rests on my chest, curls into the front placket of my button front shirt, and then she’s tugging me close. Resting her head on my shoulder and wrapping her arms around me. Wrapping me up in her. “My parents think I’m spending the night at Liv’s,” she says, her words like a promise. I can keep her with me all night. “I won’t be good company,” I admit, hating the shame I hear in my voice. I should have nothing to be ashamed of. Yet I am. “I’ll take care of you,” she whispers against my neck. “I want to. Let me. Please.” Those are the only words I need to hear.



He sneaks me into his house like we’re doing something naughty, which we are, because his mother is home and he doesn’t want her to know I’m here. I can hear my own mom’s voice droning in my head as Jordan leads me up the back staircase, reminding me I am worth more. No boy should treat me like I’m a secret. No matter how fun or illicit it sounds, he’s probably hiding me because he’s ashamed. Of me. I don’t really believe that’s the case with Jordan, but either way, I don’t care tonight. He’s hurting and I don’t like it. I want to take care of him. Make him feel better. Make him forget how angry his father just made him. Maybe, just maybe, I can get him to open up and talk to me. He pulls me into his bedroom and shuts the door behind us, holding his finger to his lips before he starts to speak. “I need to go downstairs and talk to her.” “Your mom?” I frown. “Yeah. I’m sure he’s already called her.” My frown deepens. “You’re talking about your dad, right?” When he nods, I continue. “Really? Why would he do that?” It doesn’t make any sense. I’m not used to manipulative people tricking each other, and I feel like that’s all I’ve been dealing with since I became friends with Livvy. Since I let Jordan Tuttle feel me up in his bedroom on a hot June night. Just after I caught my boyfriend cheating on me with my best friend. Ugh. I’m stuck on repeat. I need to get over myself, and all the bad crap that’s happened to me. If I’m going to live in this new world of mine, I need to own it. Rise above it. “My father is doing damage control. He talks to her first and manipulates the conversation. He can say whatever he wants and she’ll believe him. And I know he’ll make me out to be the bad guy,” Jordan explains. “I’m the one who caused a public spectacle in a full restaurant on a Saturday night, right?”

Well, he’s right. Meaning his father is right, too, which I hate to think. But Jordan is the one, after all, who called the woman with his father a whore. But there was so much animosity and anger bubbling just beneath the surface when those two locked eyes at the restaurant. It had been almost unbearable. The history, the pain, is long and buried deep, and I could feel it. Seeping its way into me, into everyone. I can’t judge. I don’t want to judge. I want to be here for him as bet as I can. “Go ahead,” I tell him softly. “Talk to her.” I’m still not sure if he really wants me here. He doesn’t even bother to kiss me before he exits his bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. I flop onto his neatly made bed and stare up at the dark ceiling. The starry ceiling that I remember from the summer. It’s velvety black, just like a night sky and when it’s powered on, tiny pinpricks of light shine among the velvet. He never turns on the lights anymore though, and I wonder why. I wonder about a lot of things. He’s quiet. Closed off, even. We talk, and just when I get him to admit a few small things, he retreats. I wish I knew more. I’m going all in with this relationship, yet he’s pushing me away. Makes me worry I’m going to get hurt, just like with Thad. Only worse. What I felt for Thad doesn’t even come close to what I feel for Jordan. My phone buzzes and I grab it to find a text message from Livvy. Are you okay? Ryan said he would come pick you up if you don’t want to stay the night at Tuttle’s or if you’re uncomfortable. We’re both worried about you. Aw. Just when I think those two are completely wrapped up in each other and don’t care about anyone else, they go and do something like this. I’m touched. I’m good so far. But I hope the offer stands for the next few hours? Just in case… You got it babe. Text anytime. xoxo I send her some x’s and o’s back along with some kissy faced emojis and then start scrolling through my phone. Instagram—boring. Facebook—I don’t even bother checking because, what? I’ll see photos from my mom’s friends and video recipes and crap? No thanks. I open up Snapchat to check out people’s stories and see Brianne Brown posted endless photos of her and Dustin kissing. I swear I see shiny pink tongues in a few of the shots. Gross. Hope Liv steers clear of Snapchat tonight. Somehow I am still following Lauren Mancini and she’s following me. It was all innocent good fun when we first became friends on Snapchat. I did it because I know her brother Sam. He was in band with me and is generally a nice person—unlike his older

sister. I liked seeing all of her photos. Her life seemed so glamorous and far-reaching to me. As in, I could never reach it. The photo I see that she’s included as part of her story sets my heart to pounding—and not in a good way either. It’s her and Jordan in their homecoming court regalia. Her sparkling tiara on her head, his cheap ass crown tilted to the side on his. They’re dancing. Someone else took the photo and must’ve sent it to her. The caption on the photo is completely ridiculous. #tbt but not Thursday so maybe just #tb? King & Queen never looked so good. #bestnighteverrrrr #homecoming #seniors #jordanandlauren She is freaking unbelievable. It’s the Jordan and Lauren hashtag that makes me want to tear her hair out like a jealous wench. Worse, though? I have zero reason to be jealous. Who’s the one spending so much time with Jordan these last few weeks? Who’s the one who’s lying on Jordan’s bed at this very moment? Me. I sit up and glance around, trying to find something obvious, that will clue people into the fact that I’m in Jordan’s bedroom. He doesn’t have many personal items in his room. In fact, it’s pretty bare and impersonal, which as always, makes me sad. The two photos on his dresser are actually lying facedown and I wonder when he did that. It’s a total invasion of privacy, but I end up wandering around his room. I peek in drawers and immediately shut them because it’s wrong, what I’m doing. I enter his closet and am overwhelmed by the sheer size of it. How much clothing does a guy need? I guess Jordan Tuttle needs a lot. When I find some of his jerseys hanging on the bottom rung, I pull one off the hanger and hold it up in front of me. It’s huge. Going on pure instinct, I kick off my sandals and then shuck off my dress, pulling the navy-and-white jersey over my head, not surprised when the hem falls to the top of my thighs. An idea is brewing in my head. A bad one, but I want to go through with it. I’m feeling vindictive and rotten and evil. What I’m doing is ridiculous, and Jordan might not like it at all. But I don’t care. I cut through his bedroom, swipe my phone off the bed where I left it, and head into the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, I run my fingers through my hair until it’s a tousled and possibly sexy mess, and then I pose, snapping a photo with the camera. Looking at the photo, I realize it’s not good enough. The message isn’t quite clear. So I take a few more, then turn around so my back is to the camera. Tuttle is emblazoned across my shoulders, the number eight covering almost my entire back.

Tuttle’s number. I’m looking over my shoulder, see that my butt is almost showing, and I realize right then, this is the photo I need to capture. I open up Snapchat and take at least twenty selfies, deleting every single one of them until I finally settle on the one that works the best. Before I lose my nerve, I caption it quickly: How I’m spending my Saturday night. #seniors #8isgreat #propertyof #CuddlewithTuttle And then send to all of my friends. He’s probably going to kill me.

“Mandy.” Someone shakes my shoulder. “Hey. Come on. Wake up.” I sit up straight, blinking my eyes open to find Jordan perched on the edge of the bed, an indescribable look on his too gorgeous face. His eyes are still dark and he looks tired. There’s this dangerous air around him, like he’s simmering just below the surface and about to blow. I push my hair out of my face and rub my eyes with my fists before remembering I still have lots of makeup on. Great. Now I probably look like a raccoon. “What time is it?” I ask groggily. “Almost eleven. Sorry that took so long.” He doesn’t look sorry, though. He still looks angry. Maybe even angrier than before. Unease trickles down my spine. “Should I go?” “Do you want to?” His hostile tone is too much for sleepy me to deal with at the moment. “I can, yeah. Clearly you don’t want me here.” I realize I’m lying under the covers. And I’m still in his jersey, which is going to be super-awkward in about two seconds, but screw it. I throw the covers off and climb out of his bed, note the shock on his face when he catches sight of me in his jersey and nothing else, but I ignore it. I need to find my shoes, put my dress back on, grab my purse and get the hell out of here. “You’re really going to leave?” he asks incredulously. “I probably should, don’t you think?” I call over my shoulder as I make my way to his

closet. My dress is still in a heap on the floor, and my sandals are in there too. I grab the dress, ready to change, but he’s standing in the doorway, watching me. “Um, do you mind?” “Do I mind what?” “I want to change.” I hold the dress up. He leans against the doorjamb, his arms crossed. “Go ahead.” “Privately?” I wave him away, but he doesn’t budge. “Why are you wearing my jersey anyway?” he asks, sounding genuinely confused. I shrug, my cheeks hot. “I wanted to wear something to bed.” “You should’ve just taken off your dress.” “I’m not going to lie in your bed half naked while you’re talking to your mom downstairs.” He drops his arms and takes a step into the closet. “You’ve done it before.” “When your mom wasn’t here.” Jordan shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I saw your Snapchat.” Oh. Crap. “Yeah?” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. “Cuddle with Tuttle?” He raises a brow. My entire body flushes hot. I am such an idiot. Seriously. “Uh…” “And hashtag ‘property of’? Really, Mandy?” He’s now standing directly in front of me, handsome as ever in that pale blue button down shirt I want to slowly unbutton myself. God, being in his presence leaves me feeling so weak, when I should be mad at him. Mad at the way he acted tonight, how he ignored me. How his parents almost ruined everything for us. He’s still angry, and because I’m a sick, sick pervert, his anger only turns me on. Leaves me weak and flushed and my blood runs hot. I’m restless and needy and there’s a deep, low throbbing between my legs that makes me want to attack him. Clearly I have issues. “Please don’t be mad,” I whisper. “I can explain.” “You think I’m mad?” “I know you’ve had a bad night,” I start, and he laughs, though there is not one ounce of amusement in the sound. “And my night hasn’t been that great either.” “Is that my fault?” I shake my head, not wanting to blame anyone. Okay, fine. I want to blame Lauren Mancini for that stupid photo she posted, like she has the right to post shit like that about the boy I am currently with. The boy who I’d like to think is really mine.

“I did the Snapchat thing because of Lauren Mancini,” I finally admit, feeling so incredibly lame. Jordan frowns. “Lauren Mancini? What does she have to do with this?” “She posted a photo of you and her at the Homecoming dance, dancing in each other’s arms and wearing your stupid crowns,” I mutter, shaking my head. “She’s trying to make it seem like you two are a real couple. She even hashtagged the photo ‘Jordan and Lauren’.” “And…what?” He almost looks amused. “You fell for her trick? Who am I with right now? Isn’t that the most important thing?” I ignore his question. “I got—mad.” And jealous. I have no photos of Jordan and me together. None. And in this social media driven world we live in, if there’s no photographic proof, then it didn’t happen. “I danced with her because I had to. The homecoming king and queen always have to dance together after they’re crowned. It’s tradition. The second the song was done, I was out,” he explains. “Until you showed up at Yo Town with her.” “It was a group of us getting frozen yogurt. I just went along with it.” He shrugs. Jordan Tuttle is not one to go “along with it”. So why did he? “Did you know I was working at Yo Town when you went there?” He looks the slightest bit contrite. “Maybe.” “Oh. My. God!” I shove at his chest, wishing I could pull him in closer to me. But I’m still mad at him. Sort of. “You were spying on me,” I say when he remains quiet. And he still remains quiet, which makes me uneasy. “Were you trying to make me jealous?” “Never. I just.” He hesitates, his gaze locking on mine. “I just wanted to see you.” Now it’s my turn to remain quiet. He’s stunned me silent. He has this way of making me feel special with just a look, a few choice words. And we’re having this crazy conversation-slash-argument in his giant closet, with me still wearing only his jersey and my dress clutched in my hand. I just need to get dressed and get out of here. But where would I go? Who would drive me? I guess Jordan could take me home, but then I’d have to explain why I wasn’t spending the night at Liv’s. I could go back to Liv’s house, but I don’t think she’s home. She’s still with Ryan most likely. And no way am I going to Ryan’s house. They’re probably banging at this very moment. The pang of envy deep inside me doesn’t go unnoticed. “So Amanda.” Jordan’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I meet his gaze once more. “Yeah?”

“Got anything else on under my jersey?” he asks. Oh. I lift my chin, hoping for confident. Probably failing miserably. What’s the point of arguing when we’re just going to end up tangled together anyway? That’s what I want. I think he wants it too. “Maybe you should do a little exploring and find out for yourself.” His expression turns thunderous and he grabs hold of my waist just as I try to get away from him. He pulls me in, his hands immediately diving beneath the hem of his jersey and grabbing hold of my butt. “Still got your panties on,” he murmurs as those big hands grab hold of both cheeks and gives them a squeeze. A shuddery sigh escapes me, and when he slips his hands underneath my panties and touches bare skin, I close my eyes. Press my lips together to contain the moan that wants to spill out. “Jordan,” I whisper, but he kisses me silent. It’s an aggressive kiss, full of tongue and heat and we’re only a few seconds in before he breaks away from my eager lips and hauls me over his shoulder, carrying me caveman-style out of his closet and straight for his bed. Now I’m yelling his name in protest. Pounding on his back with my fists. He ignores me, his hand coming up to smack me lightly on the butt, and I hiss out a breath, nearly fainting at the way he gently caresses my backside right after he slapped it. This is getting weird. He tosses me on the bed and follows me down, so he’s hovering above me, his face in mine, my back flat on the mattress. “You’re loud,” he tells me. “My mom might hear you.” My eyes go wide. I would die if she barged in here to see what was going on. Just… die. “I-I’m sorry.” “Gonna have keep your mouth covered if you can’t keep quiet,” he says with a smirk, those expert hands of his tunneling up the inside of the jersey, touching me in all the right places. I close my eyes, a little moan escaping me when he traces my lacy bra, and he lightly clamps his hand across my mouth, silencing me. My eyes flash open to find him watching me carefully. “Shhh,” he whispers, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. “Quiet, baby.” I melt at him calling me baby. This entire situation is weird yet hot. He’s using a little force on me—just enough to scare me, but not enough to make me run screaming from his room. I try my best to calm my breathing, my racing heart, our gazes never straying from each other’s. When he slowly lifts his hand away from my face, he leans in and kisses me. Surprisingly, it’s gentle. A mere brushing of lips on lips, and I feel that simple kiss all the way to my curled toes. He keeps kissing me, and it’s nice, more than nice. But I want more. I become restless. I lift my hips against his knee and he shifts away, breaking the kiss to slowly shake his head. “No grinding on my knee tonight. I want to touch you.”

My insides tremble. I want him to touch me too. Jordan shifts away from me and takes off the jersey I’m wearing, his fingers sliding over my stomach, between my breasts, along my collarbone. When he undoes the front clasp of my bra, he takes it off, sliding the scrap of lace down my arms and tossing it on the floor. And then he’s kissing my chest, cupping my breasts, stroking and sucking and doing all sorts of wondrous things that make me want to scream. I must get close to screaming because his hand is back on my mouth, keeping me mute. I let him keep it there, closing my eyes when his other hand drifts down, caressing my stomach, smoothing over one hipbone, then the other, just before he dives his fingers down the front of my panties. And that’s almost all it takes. He touches me there, so carefully at first, so tentatively that I almost want to shout at him more. But I remain quiet, his hand still loosely covering the lower half of my face, his other hand in my panties. I squirm against his touch, spreading my thighs, inviting him in, and he takes the invitation. Stroking me, testing me, slipping one thick finger inside me… “Oh God.” The words are muffled behind his hand and he removes it, kissing me again, before he slides his lips down to my throat, behind my ear. I wince when his fingers fumble, a distressed noise leaving me, and he pauses. Goes completely still. “Did I hurt you?” He sounds worried. I shake my head. Shift my hips. “Not really.” His mouth is at my ear. “Tell me what you like.” I absolutely cannot answer that. Please. I am way too new at this sex thing and he is Jordan Tuttle, the sex god. “Tell me, Mandy.” He kisses my ear. Nibbles it. Makes me squirm again. “I want to know what you like.” “I don’t know,” I finally tell him, mumbling so low I hope he doesn’t hear me. Which is dumb, but I’m feeling so inept. So inexperienced compared to him. He’s been with so many girls. A countless list of girls I don’t want to think about. They’ve been with him like this, wrapped up in his arms like this, his mouth on theirs, his hands…everywhere. I hate to think about it. So I push all of those negative thoughts out of my head and focus on right now. Jordan is persistent. He touches me in different spots, asking if I like it. And when he touches one spot in particular that makes me see a few sparkly stars in my peripheral vision, I tell him don’t stop. I might’ve even begged him. He increases his pace and, with his other hand, tugs my panties down past my hips, to my thighs, until I’m helping him and kicking them off myself. I am completely naked with Jordan in his bed, his fingers between my thighs, and I am so close to exploding I’m afraid I might fall completely apart. I’ve never felt so alive.



Amanda clings to me, her long legs tangled with mine, her arms wrapped around my neck as she breathes hard. My head rests on her chest and the wild thump, thump of her beating heart calms me. Reminds me that this moment is happening. That what I just did to her is one hundred percent real. Being with her is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and it’s…terrifying. That quick encounter with my father tonight reminded me that spending time with her is wrong. Stringing her along, stringing myself along. Pretending I believe in relationships and that what Amanda and I could have could ever be healthy and strong. It’s all lies. We won’t work out. Something—me—will screw it up. I am my father’s son. And I am my mother’s son too. That conversation with my mother earlier had been downright painful. She’d been drinking, and after popping a few anti-anxiety pills, that combination always sends her into near hysterics. She ranted on and on about her cheating husband. How I should turn my heart to stone to prevent it from ever being broken. She claimed I have a more sensitive heart, that I’m more like her than my father, who’s cold and calculating and flat out heartless. Maybe she’s right after all. I’ve been trying to convince myself otherwise for years. I’m not sensitive. I don’t care about anyone. I don’t have real friends and I definitely don’t need a relationship. Girls are nothing but trouble. Amanda changed everything. Even when I was twelve, she scared me. And not in a bad way—more like in a good way. It scared the shit out of me how much I actually liked her. And the more time I spent watching her, listening to her, seeing her every day in various classes over the years, the more I liked her. The more I eventually knew I had to make her mine. And now here she is. Lying in my arms completely naked. I just made her come and damn, she is beautiful when that happens. I don’t think I could ever get tired of making her come again and again. “I want to touch you,” she murmurs into my neck. She shifts closer to me, her naked body brushing against mine, and I smooth my hand along her hip, trying to keep myself under control.

“You’re tired.” “Not too tired to keep this going.” She kisses my jaw once. Twice. Three times. Sweet little kisses that bring her lips closer and closer to mine. “It’s your turn.” I turn my head and kiss her fully, effectively shutting her up. When I pull away she’s watching me with flushed cheeks and stars in her eyes. “This is ridiculous. I’m completely naked and you’re completely clothed.” “I like you this way.” I squeeze her ass because it’s perfect and I can’t stop touching it. “Don’t worry about me.” “I want to worry about you.” She reaches for the front of my shirt and starts unbuttoning it. “This moment rates high in my fantasies.” “You have fantasies? About me?” That’s intriguing. Wonder if she’ll tell me them someday. I have a few I could share with her too. She bats at my chest. “Stripping you of your clothes is a pretty fine fantasy to have, don’t you think?” “As long as I’m the one benefitting from this fantasy, then hell yes.” Her fingers brush against my skin with every button she slips undone, and then my shirt is open and she’s spreading the fabric away from my chest, trying her best to tug it completely off. I sit up and get rid of it, tossing the shirt on the floor before I rejoin her. “Not good enough.” She’s reaching for the fly of my jeans and it’s my turn to bat her hands away. She accidentally brushes her fingers against my dick, and I’m done for. I’ll probably come in my jeans and that would be all sorts of messed up. “It’s either we do this or talk about your dad,” she tells me, sincerity glowing in her pretty brown eyes. And there goes my erection. I fall onto the mattress right next to her, exhaling loudly. “You want to talk about my dad right now?” She shrugs and pulls the comforter over us, then snuggles in close to me. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I know that what happened at the restaurant wasn’t—pleasant for you.” The mildest way she could’ve put it. I’d barely looked at the man and became enraged. My behavior was completely over the top. But my family is pretty fucking ridiculous, so… “I’m here for you, Jordan, if you ever need to talk. Or even if you don’t want to talk, you know?” She hugs me. Kisses my chest with those lush, beautiful lips. I say nothing. How can I answer her? I love that she wants to be there for me, but I can’t rely on her. I can’t rely on anyone. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” she whispers against my chest before she lifts her gaze to mine. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Mess what up?” She shifts so she’s now kissing my stomach. Again and again, her lips soft and damp and making me shiver. Her fingers fumble over the front of my jeans and she hesitates. “Do you want this?” Fuck yes, I want to shout, but I remain calm. Neutral. I don’t need to act like a crazy man when I’m with her. But Amanda makes me want to lose my mind. She starts undoing the front of my jeans and I help until I’m as naked as her. Her slender fingers slip around my erection and I close my eyes. Grit my teeth. Tell myself I need to keep my shit together. “Tell me what you like,” she whispers, a direct copy of what I asked her earlier. “I want to make you feel good, Jordan. Tell me. Show me.” So I tell her. I show her. And she’s hesitant at first. A little puzzled yet fascinated, and it’s the fascination that gets me. She just wants to make me happy. She’s not using me for my money or my status. Amanda likes me. And I don’t get why. I don’t. When she puts her mouth on me, it’s nothing like those other times. With those other girls, girls whose names I forget, girls who meant nothing to me. It’s so much better with Amanda. Everything’s better as long as she’s part of it. And that’s the scariest part of all.

“We need to talk.” The four worst words in the English language, spoken by my father. My day couldn’t get any shittier than this and it’s only just begun. I’m in bed, it’s—I look at my phone— almost ten o’clock in the morning and here he is, bringing me down. Ruining everything. Like usual. “What about?” I snap as I sit up in bed, then run a hand through my hair. My respect for him went out the window a long time ago. I can’t hardly look at him. After what happened at the restaurant between us last night, I’m done. Yet here he is, strutting into my bedroom on a Sunday morning like he has every right. I guess he does, since this is his house. But it’s like he’s a stranger. An imposter. A man that doesn’t belong here—and who isn’t wanted here. His showing up like this has ruined my good mood. Being with Amanda last night soothed me. She’s good for me. Too good for me. “Your mother and I have been talking.” He looms near the door, as if prepared to leave if he needs to. The way I’m glaring, I guess I can’t blame him. “You need to get serious about college.” “How am I not serious about college?” I ask incredulously. “I play football. I’m in honors classes. I get good grades. I’m doing everything I can here to make this shit happen.” He ignores everything I say. “I want to take you to Oregon this afternoon. I’ve already arranged for a plane, and I’ve scheduled some appointments first thing Monday morning.” “With who?” This is my opportunity to tell him I don’t want to go to the University of Oregon. That’s his dream for me, not my dream. I don’t want to leave this state. There are better colleges here. I don’t understand his fixation. But he doesn’t care what I want. It only matters what he wants. “With the dean of students, and with the head coach and his staff. I know we’ve toured the facility before, but this time it’s serious. We’re serious. No more distractions allowed. The parties need to stop. The girls need to stop, especially that one your mother just met. You don’t need to break any hearts this year, Jordan. You need to focus.” The stern look my father sends me makes most men cower in defeat. Not me though. I learned from a master. I stare back, not saying a word.

“Take a shower and pack an overnight bag. We leave in a few hours.” And with that, he’s gone. With that, I’m dismissed. Grabbing my phone, I roll over on my side and scroll through my notifications. There’s a Snapchat from Amanda that came about thirty minutes ago and I open it to find a photo of her in bed, her eyes sleepy, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, her smile soft. And so fucking sweet, it kills me to look at her like that. Pretty and open and vulnerable and all mine. The caption tears me apart. Last night was amazing. I miss you. She added a few heart emojis and just seeing them totally slays me. I drove her home early this morning, dropping her off down the street from her house before eight. She was worried about my parents finding her in my bed. And if I would’ve had my way, it could’ve happened. I wouldn’t have cared either. But she would’ve. I don’t want to disrespect her. I care about her too damn much. Frustration slides through me and I want to punch something. It’s ridiculous. My feelings for her are ridiculous. But they’re also real. So incredibly real, she’s all I can think about. She consumes me. Yet I can’t have her. Inhaling deeply, I let it all out and close my eyes. Press my hands over them. I can’t do this. I can’t keep this up. What Amanda and I have will eventually end. Hell, I can already see the end. I need to let her down gently. I don’t want to hurt her, though it’ll happen. I know it will. I’ll hurt myself too because I can’t resist her. Why would I want to? I don’t send her a reply. I don’t text her. I don’t call her. If I’m going to do this, I need to quit cold turkey. If this is what my dad wants, I need to do it. He’ll cut me off. He’ll screw me over. Damn it, I need him. I’m not even eighteen yet. He calls all the shots. I have to do what he says. If I don’t, there will be hell to pay.



Monday I show up to school and there’s no Tuttle. He never makes an appearance. Tuesday, more of the same. No Tuttle sightings. No texts, no calls, no Snapchats or Instagram posts. No one seems to even notice that he’s gone, with the exception of Livvy and Ryan, though they’re not saying anything. It’s like they’re scared to bring it up, especially after what happened Saturday night. I run into Kyla at lunch Monday and she asks me to come to football practice that afternoon to help her. “I know you have a job after school and I was trying to do it on my own, but I can’t,” she explained. “So if there’s any day you can help me, that would be awesome.” I had to turn her down for Monday and Tuesday. I worked both days after school, covering for Blake since he was sick with some sort of horrific virus. Sonja called me Sunday night asking me to work, and of course I said yes. I never had to work alone, though. Sonja was there both nights, stuck in her office behind the computer and working on end-of-month accounting stuff. Livvy gave me a ride both days and Dad picked me up once work was finished. Once I got home I stayed up until almost midnight, finishing my homework, checking out stupid Snapchat and getting pissed every time Lauren Mancini made some vague I wish he was my boyfriend reference. For all I know they’re spending time together. That’s what my envious heart whispers to me late at night anyway. So yeah. Blake didn’t come to school on Monday and Tuesday either. Neither did Mrs. Meyer. It was like everyone was out with some sort of weird virus or whatever, and I started to grow concerned. Was Jordan ill? Was he okay? Where could he be? But when I want to, I can be stubborn. For some twisted reason, I want him to reach out to me. It should be Jordan who makes the next move. I don’t want to look like I’m chasing after him. I don’t want to look desperate. I’m sure that’s what about a million other girls have done with him in the past. I don’t want him to think I’m like all the rest. I want to be different. Special. Especially after everything we shared Saturday night… Um, wow. That had been a major moment. We didn’t have actual sex, but it was close

enough. I’ve never been that naked—literally—with a boy before. And we were naked. I had my mouth on his… God. I can’t even think it, let alone say it out loud. I tried to do my best, but half of the time it felt awkward, though he certainly never protested. Did I drive him away with my lack of skills? He definitely didn’t complain while it happened. Or afterward either. Yet I feel like I messed up, or worse… I feel like every other girl he’s been with. And eventually dumped. I can’t think about it too much, though. If I do, I’ll just end up sad. Depressed. Devastated. So yeah. I sent Tuttle a Snapchat Sunday morning and he never replied. I’m worried about him, about us, yet there are so many things I need to focus on right now. I saw my counselor yesterday afternoon and she gave me the fattest packet of scholarship and grant forms I’d ever seen. Plus she handed over a list of website URLs that are full of lesserknown scholarships. My eyes crossed just thinking about all the forms I’ll need to fill out. And we’re barely into October. I tell myself I don’t have time to worry about Jordan. I don’t have time to worry about anything. I need to be on autopilot and just work through one thing after another. Going to class, picking up the pace at yearbook, afterschool water girl duty, Friday night game water girl duty, working, homework, college applications, scholarship applications, helping out at home… The list is endless. The more I don’t see Jordan, the more I realize I don’t need a boyfriend. Or even a guy I occasionally see. He’s a distraction. A distraction who will get me off track if I don’t watch it. But I miss him. My heart aches without him around. Without hearing his voice, seeing his rare smiles, feeling his hands on me. I miss everything about him, and it sucks because he doesn’t seem to miss me at all. It’s like I don’t matter to him. Like I never mattered. It’s Wednesday afternoon right after lunch when I pop my locker open and a note folded into a perfect rectangle falls out, landing on the floor. I grab it and open the note with trembling fingers. It’s handwritten instead of typed, and I know from the moment I read the first word it’s from Jordan, and it’s part of our English assignment. I still haven’t shared my entry with him yet. Where once I said my heart was made of wondrous light, now it is dark. Heavy. Angry. For only she can bring me light, and now that I’ve lost her, the light is gone. Banished. She is the only one who can make me feel, but without her, I am numb. We were young and stupid, and if I could go back in time and change my actions, I would. But I can’t. A foolish heart beats like no other, and mine is the most foolish of hearts. The damage has been done. I have lost the girl. Yet she will never lose me. Not if she looks deep inside her heart.

For now, I hold onto my dreams. For now, I hope for more wondrous light. I hope for my love to come back into my life. For now, I hold onto Juliet. My heart breaks at his words. This entry is short but pointed. He writes these things and they feel so real. I’ve poured my real feelings for him into my diary entries and can’t help but think he must do the same. Carefully refolding the note, I stash it into the front pocket of my backpack and start heading to class. He must be here. He has to be, since I got the note. This means I will see him in English. The nervous energy starts pouring through my body, making me jittery. And that has nothing to do with the giant Coke I drank during lunch. It’s brought on by the mere thought of possibly being with Jordan. And a few minutes later, when I’m making my way toward the classroom and I actually see Jordan, standing to the side and looking down the hall like he’s waiting for me, I slow my pace. Try my best to look nonchalant. Like I haven’t been anxiously searching for him for days. When he spots me, the faintest smile curls his perfect lips, his gaze never leaving me as I approach. Everything comes rushing back. He has that cool, calm Jordan Tuttle aura going on, and all I can see is that one moment when I made him lose control on Saturday night. The way he groaned my name. How he hauled me into his arms when it was over, his body still trembling, his mouth on mine, our naked bodies entwined. I’m flushed just thinking about it. But I need to remain chill. That is my number one goal. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” I say, hip checking him when he falls into step beside me. I hope I sound casual, but it’s so difficult. What I really want is to ask him a ton of questions. But that turns me into the needy girlfriend, and I’m positive he doesn’t like that sort of thing. He grabs hold of me, his arm sneaking around my waist. “Missed you,” he murmurs as he presses his face into my hair, quickly kissing my temple. I smile, hoping I seem mysterious. Like nothing bothers me. “Where have you been?” His gaze goes vacant as he stares straight ahead. “Family stuff. Nothing to worry about, though. I’ll tell you about it later.” Naturally, I’m worried. It felt like he just…disappeared, and now he’s back, like he was never gone. The way he’s acting, it’s weird. “You’re okay?” “Oh yeah.” He glances down at me. “You read my note?” “Yeah. It was good,” I say softly, wondering if he can see all the emotion I feel for him

shining in my eyes. I shouldn’t show my cards, but being this close to him, having him touch me, it renders me helpless. I think he knows it, too. “I’m not finished with that entry yet. Have you written yours?” “I have.” “You should share it with me.” “I will, in class.” Ugh, I sort of don’t want to, but I will. Maybe I should demand he spill before I let him read my entry. Though that’s catty and stupid, and I refuse to act that way around him. Jordan releases his hold on me as we walk into the classroom, and I’m relieved to see Mrs. Meyer is back. She runs through attendance, coughs a little, pops a Halls and then asks that we quietly work on our projects. “The first part is due this Friday.” A few groans fill the room, but otherwise we’re quiet. Well, except for me. I raise my hand. “Miss Winters?” I drop my hand. “How many entries should we have by the time we turn in the first part?” “At least five each,” Mrs. Meyer says with a faint smile. Crap. My heart sinks. I only have three and I want to work on the last one some more. Plus, I have to help with practice after school, and we have a game Friday. Thank God I don’t work at Yo Town again until Sunday afternoon, and only for four hours. Once Mrs. Meyer answers a few slightly panicked questions, we all assemble with our partners. I pull the second diary entry I never let him read last week out of my backpack and hand it to Jordan. “Please be honest,” I tell him. “Tell me if it’s awful or not. I really want this to shine and impress Mrs. Meyer.” “You’re a good writer,” he says, taking the paper from me. “I’m sure it’s fine.” I loom over his shoulder and read my words along with him. Lo, my life is over before it’s truly begun. From what passion for him burns so bright to turn so cold overnight. He shone upon me like the brightest star, and I was his ever faithful moon. Until without notice my star was snuffed out, along with the others, one by one. I was left a cold, dark and lonely moon. Faithful and present, yet lost and forgotten. Will he find me again? Will he shine his light upon me and warm me up? Or am I forever doomed to go this alone? He’s quiet for a moment, as if he’s taking the time to absorb my words, and I start to fidget. “Well?” The word bursts out of me like a bullet. Jordan turns to look at me. “It’s sad.”

“Romeo and Juliet’s relationship is the ultimate in sadness,” I remind him. “I know.” He glances at the paper once more, his gaze lingering. “Their relationship was also passionate,” he reminds me. “Passion only lasts for so long, especially with those two. They are a prime example that you cannot sustain a relationship based merely on passion.” I sound like I’m totally down on love, and right now, I sort of am. “You really believe that?” He raises a brow. I don’t know what to believe. Or what to think either. These mixed signals Jordan’s sending in my direction are playing havoc on my heart and my mind. I thought what happened between us this past weekend would’ve brought us closer together, but instead I feel like Jordan has pulled away from me and become almost—distant. “Yes,” I say softly. He says nothing for a moment. Just busies himself with pulling his iPad out of his backpack and turning it on. I do the same, telling myself I need to write the next entry, maybe two while we’re in class, but I can’t help sneaking glances at Jordan. Wondering what he’s been doing the last few days. He claims it was family business, but what? I don’t know what’s going on. I just wish he would tell me something. More than anything, I wish he would include me in his plans and thoughts and hopes and dreams. Okay, that last statement is over the top, but you get the gist. “I went with my father to check out a college he wants me to go to,” Jordan says out of nowhere. I look at him. “Where at?” “Oregon, like I told you about. They want me. He’s pushing it hard. Tells me this is my chance.” “Are you going to do it?” Jordan’s gaze meets mine for the briefest moment. “I don’t know.” I’m not sure what else I should say. He told me only a few days ago that he didn’t want to go. So what made him change his mind? Is that part of the reason why he’s acting so distant? “Maybe we should work on our entries for the rest of class,” I tell him, keeping my voice low. All the other groups are chatting loudly, and I wish we were too. But everything feels so serious between us right now. I don’t like it. Things aren’t right between us, and I don’t know how to fix it. I’m a fixer. It’s what I do. But this feels completely out of my control. Truly? It’s pretty damn terrifying. What if he dumps me? Before we even had a chance to really become something? “If that’s what you want,” he says, his gaze never straying from the iPad. I wish he’d look at me. I wish he’d talk to me.

But he won’t. We remain quiet as we work, our arms occasionally bumping against each other’s since I’m a lefty and he’s a righty. I apologize so many times he finally tells me to stop, and because I’m PMSing and a little moody and miffed at his neglectful treatment, I get pissed. I never claimed I was rational in Jordan’s presence, so none of you can hold my stupid behavior against me. I look up Romeo and Juliet quotes on the web on my phone and highlight them, adding them to my notes section for future reference. Mrs. Meyer isn’t bothered by all of us using our phones and iPads as we work. She encourages us to use them most of the time, unless she catches one of us texting. Of course, Livvy chooses this exact moment to text me like crazy. You will not believe what happened. Brianne Brown talked to me at lunch. Like chattered on and on as if we were best friends. I couldn’t believe it. I had no witnesses either. None. Where were you anyway? She told me thank you for leaving Dustin alone so she could finally have a chance with him. Can you imagine? Like I left him alone for her? Please. He’s the one who avoided me. I hate her. A few minutes later… Ryan and I had sex this weekend and guess what?

The condom broke. I am freaking. OUT. What if I get pregnant? I will DIE, A. Die. Die. Die. I don’t care if Ryan makes cute babies. Cuz you know he could. Look at him!!! But seriously. The last thing I want is a baby. She is so dramatic. And why didn’t she lead with the broken condom story? That’s way more dramatic than Brianne Brown thanking Livvy for letting her have at it with Dustin. I’m about to text her back quickly, but she sends me another one. I don’t even like kids. Having one of my own? Puke fest. I don’t want them. Like EVER. I decide to answer her back and calm her down. You’re not pregnant. Chill out. Screw everyone else and what they think, especially BB. “Who you texting?” Jordan asks casually. I glance up from my phone. How he can figure out I’m texting someone is beyond me. I shut off my phone. “Livvy.” “Uh huh.” He nods, his expression full on doubtful. Does he think I’m lying? Seriously? “Whatever,” I mutter under my breath as I see another text come in from Liv.

I need to get on the pill. I need to go to Planned Parenthood this week. You should come with me. My cheeks go hot and I glance over at Jordan, but he’s bent over his iPad and engrossed with whatever he’s doing. I should be working too. But now Liv has taken the conversation into an interesting turn and I don’t want it to stop. I don’t need to go on the pill. Why not? You and Tuttle ARE doing the nasty. Right???? Sort of. Not really. Not in the very real sense of the word. Kind of. How do you kind of do it? We are currently doing everything but IT. You know what I mean. Ohhhh…….!!!!!! Now she gets it. You still need to go on the pill. You don’t want a pregnancy scare. Condoms + the pill is the best way to go. You’re doubly safe. My mom is pretty open and explained all that I needed to know about the birds and the bees when I was younger. Plus, we had those special movies and discussions starting in the fifth grade. They were embarrassing, yet oddly fascinating. Plus, I’ve read plenty of romance novels in my life, so I know what’s up. I get the romantic stuff, the sex stuff. Heck, most of those romance books I read I stole from my mom’s secret stash in the hall closet. But if I went to her right now and asked her to hook me up with her gyno so I could get

on the pill? She would lose her freaking mind. I have a sudden thought and decide to ask Liv. Do you give Ryan a BJ with him wearing a condom? Ha! What a question. I’m on a roll. Um, no. I thought only hookers did that. Where do you come up with this stuff? I watch HBO. They have all of those old Hookers on the Point documentaries. I’ve watched a few. I have no idea what she’s talking about, so whatever. IMO, giving a blowjob is a sign of trust. He’s trusting you to put your mouth on his dick. You’re trusting him by putting your mouth on his dick. Cuz seriously, it’s weird when you think about it. If he can’t trust you or worse, he asks you to use a condom while you’re blowing him, that is just odd. Time to move on to the next one, you know? You deserve better than some guy who acts like that. That was the longest text Liv has ever sent me. Where are you anyway? Study hall. Where are you? English with Tuttle? I check on him again. He’s still staring at his stupid iPad. Yeah. Working on our project. And you’re talking about BJs with him sitting next to you? So brave.

I’m trying to come up with a good response when she sends something else. Did that happen with you and Tuttle? Did he ask you to use a condom before you blew him!!?? No, not at all. But the BJ part… OMG spill woman! Let’s just say I gave him a BJ and I haven’t really talked to him since. Until now. Ummm, I hate to say this. NM. You can’t leave me like that. Tell me. I don’t want to hurt your feelings or worry you Amanda, but that’s totally his MO. What do you mean? He gets a BJ and then he disappears like a ghost. But he would never do that to you! At least, he better not. Or I’m going to kick his ass. Oh! I’ll have Ryan kick his ass for me. For YOU. We’re here for you babe. Promise. Her texts only confirm my worst fears.

I’m about to go to out to football practice when I hear someone call my name. I turn to find Liv running toward me, her cheeks pink from exertion or making out with Ryan, I’m not sure which. “I made an appointment for us,” she tells me once she catches her breath. I frown. “An appointment for what?” “Planned Parenthood!” Wow, she said that extremely loud. I give her a stern look and she winces, realizing her mistake. “Tomorrow at four. Well, I’m at four, you’re at four-thirty,” she says at a much lower decibel. “What exactly are we going to, uh, PP for?” I told her I didn’t need to get on the pill. There’s no point. I’m not having sex, so I won’t get pregnant. And after the way Jordan treated me in class, how he bolted out of his seat the moment the bell rang, completely ignoring me, I have a sinking feeling that whatever we had, whatever we’d been working toward? It’s all over. My heart aches. So does my head. I’m so confused. I want to chase after him. I want to kick his ass. I can’t make up my mind which way to go. But I plan on soldiering on. I don’t really have a choice, do I? “Please, cancel my appointment,” I tell her. “I gotta go. I’ll text you later.” “Amanda.” She grabs my arm, preventing me from leaving. “Come with me, okay? I need—I really need the support. And I’ll support you, I promise. You may as well go to the appointment and get on the pill. Then you’ll be safe. We’ll both be safe.” I see the fear in her gaze and I realize she is truly freaked out over the condom breaking with Ryan. And she really wants me to be there for her. “I have football practice tomorrow. And I have it right now. I’m gonna be late.” She makes a face. “What? You’ve joined the team now?” “Kyla asked me to help her with the hydration station. She doesn’t like working it alone.” “Please, Amanda,” Livvy says, sounding desperate. “I really need you to go with me. Can’t you tell her you have an appointment and you can’t make it tomorrow?” I feel like that’s all I do lately. Make excuses to please someone else. I’m doing this

water girl thing for Tuttle. Well, I did it for myself to get closer to Tuttle, but look how well that worked for me. We’re back at square one. No, it’s worse than square one. We started to advance and make real, actual progress, but now we’ve ended up in this weird limbo place where it’s awkward and uncomfortable and we look at each other like we’ve seen each other naked because, oh yeah, we have seen each other naked before. And now it’s just weird. And awkward. And awful. “Hey, did you ever talk to Em like you said you would?” I ask her. Liv lets go of my arm, her expression turning distant. “No.” “Why not?” She is so frustrating. Everyone is frustrating. And no, I’m not being the asshole here. Fact: I surround myself with frustrating people on a daily basis. I must like being tortured. She shrugs. “I haven’t had time, okay? And honestly, I don’t really miss her from my life.” “What? Seriously? Come on, Liv. Don’t be so cold-hearted.” “Please, she’s the cold-hearted one, trying to sabotage my relationship every chance she gets. Being mean to me, pushing Brianne Brown on Dustin, the photos with her hanging all over Ryan, all the tricks and constant bullshit. I really don’t need that in my life anymore, you know? Without her around, everything’s become a lot easier.” “Is that how you really feel, Olivia?” I freeze. Close my eyes. Crap. I know that voice. It’s Em. And she’s standing directly behind me. The cool expression on Liv’s face betrays nothing. She’s like a statue, cold and unmoving. “I didn’t mean for you to hear all of that, but…yes. That is exactly how I feel.” I glance over my shoulder and see Em. She looks heartbroken. Her eyes fill with tears and her lower lip trembles, like she’s barely holding it together. I want to offer her comfort, but I know that’ll make Liv mad. And ultimately, I’m Liv’s friend first. So I need to stick with where my loyalty lies. “I was hoping we could become friends again. I was really hoping we could forgive each other and move on, but I guess not.” Em sounds so lost and sad, I want to go to her and offer her comfort. But I don’t. I just give her a sympathetic smile, though she’s not even looking at me. “Even after everything that happened, you really believed that?” Liv asks incredulously. “Of course I really believed that. We all believe what we want, right? But I guess my beliefs were too crazy to be real.” With a shake of her head, Em stalks off, never once looking back. Liv blows out a harsh breath. “Well. That was surprisingly easy.”

I whirl on her. “You wanted her to hear that?” “Maybe not all of it, but I’ve definitely wanted to tell her how I really felt. I just didn’t know how.” She sighs. “I didn’t have the guts.” I stare at her, shocked that she doesn’t feel even remotely bad for what she said. When I don’t say anything, I witness Livvy’s immediate slide into defense mode. “Things are so much better now, Amanda! You’ve seen how I am. How Ryan and I are doing. We’re getting along great. We are closer than ever. Plus, I have you in my life. I’ve made some friends in Yearbook. I don’t need anyone else, and I definitely don’t need Em stirring the pot and screwing things up.” Maybe Liv’s right. Maybe she is better off without Em in her life. Em just seemed so lost, so sad. I really wanted to give Liv back Em, and maybe that’s my own guilt seeping in, I can’t help it. I wish they could get along. I’m truly starting to believe that’ll never happen. And I need to accept that. “So.” Liv’s face turns plaintive. “Will you go with me to PP tomorrow? Please? I really need you there. I can’t ask Ryan to go with me.” “Why not?” “He’ll freak out. I assured him I could never get pregnant, even if the condom broke, but I don’t know about that. What if I can get pregnant? He will die. He might even…” Liv’s face starts to fall and I reach for her. Grab her by the shoulders and give her a solid shake. “You’re not—” My voice lowers. “—pregnant. I can feel it in my bones. And my bones never lie.” Liv giggles, but only for a moment before she’s somber again. “I won’t feel better unless I go and get checked tomorrow. And get on the pill. I need to do this, Amanda. For peace of mind, more than anything.” Sighing, I curl my arm around her and haul her in close to me. “Fine. We’ll go. But right after you’ll need to bring me back here so I can work on with the team during practice.” Practices can run until six sometimes, and maybe if we get out of our appointments early enough, I can help for the last half hour or so.” “What exactly are you doing for them anyway? I just thought you were the water girl at the games.” “Apparently now I’m the water girl during practice too. Staying hydrated doesn’t ever stop, you know.” “You sound like a commercial.” Livvy rolls her eyes then draws me into a hug. “I need to get home. My mom’s expecting me. I’ll text you later, okay?” “Bye.” I walk out to the football field alone, my mind filled with too many thoughts. Thankfully, a lot of those thoughts aren’t my own and don’t involve Jordan Tuttle, which is nice. It feels like a little reprieve, worrying about someone else’s problems. I have

enough, and really don’t want to add more to the mix if I can help it. But as I draw closer to the field and see the boys out there, I can’t help but think of Tuttle. And how he cut me off. And how mad that makes me. Kyla spots me approaching and waves me over. She shows me the elaborate hydration station with all the brisk efficiency of someone who’s been at this for a long time. She is in her element here on the sidelines. The boys all treat her like she’s their little sister or adopted mascot. She takes it all in stride, laughing and teasing, sometimes flirting, though not too much. She’s very professional. I can’t help but envy how easy she makes everything seem. Working with the boys, organizing the water, jumping to it when Coach Halsey screams her name. There’s never a hair out of place, her placid expression proving she’s unflappable. I wish I were that confident. The coaches are running the boys through endless drills, though I don’t really pay attention. I’m too busy working the hydration station, trying to figure it out as I fill one empty water bottle after another. Kyla’s taking care of an injured player and most of the JV team is milling around the hydration station, including one Eli Bennett, Ryan’s younger brother. “I know you,” he says, pointing his index finger right at me. “Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to point?” One of the other guys slaps Eli’s hand down and a few of them chuckle. Eli glares at the kid before resuming his examination of me. “You’ve been at my house.” Oh man. I so do not want to go down this road. “Want some water?” I offer him a water bottle. “Nah.” He shakes his head, his sweaty hair flying, then spits on the ground. Gross. “What’s your name?” “She’s a senior, Bennett,” another one of his teammates yells at him. “Save it for a girl who’ll really go for you.” “Maybe I like older women.” He directs a dazzling smile straight at me, and I can’t lie —the boy is gorgeous, just like his brother. He has the same golden brown hair and the strong jaw, though his eyes are more of a hazel color versus green like Ryan’s. He’s the JV team’s quarterback, and while he’s not extraordinarily tall, Eli is lean and muscled. He can throw the perfect spiral and he’s led the team in a big way this season. And what? Now he’s showing interest in…me? This has to be a joke. “You were with Tuttle,” Eli says as he saunters toward me. “At my house, for Ryan’s party. You were sitting on the bus together Friday night. You two a thing, or what?” I want to say or what so bad, but I keep my mouth shut. I shrug instead. I don’t want to say we’re something when we’re not. And I don’t want to say we’re nothing when we could be.

Meaning, I’m a confused mess and I don’t know how to answer Eli’s question. “If she’s with Tuttle, you need to leave her alone, bro. Remember what he said?” The other guy leans over and whispers in Eli’s ear, resulting in the both of them cracking up. Remember what he said? What did Tuttle say? About me? “Leave her the fuck alone, Bennett.” The growly voice is none other than Jordan Tuttle himself. I should’ve known he’d show up in my time of supposed need. I don’t bother looking at him because damn it, I’m still pissed. And I don’t want him always running to my defense. “I’ve got this,” I say, smiling sweetly at Eli. He gives me a questioning look in return, and I take a few steps toward him, trying to get my flirt on. “I’m with no one,” I tell Eli. “And while freshmen usually do nothing for me, I might take you under consideration.” All the guys start making noise, even Eli, who’s laughing and getting plenty of slaps on the back. The only one who’s quiet is Jordan. I can feel the anger rising off of him, like a living, breathing thing. But I still won’t look at him. I just flash Eli a giant smile before I resume my hydration station duties. The JV boys run back onto the field, yet Jordan remains. Kyla is nowhere in sight. It’s just the two of us, and I know I’m going to have to face him sometime. Slowly I turn to look at him, and the hurt I see in his gaze takes me aback. “You’re really interested in Eli?” He sounds incredulous. I sigh. Guess I’m not any good at this making Jordan jealous thing. “No. I was just… playing around.” “With that kid? He’s a total punk.” He stares out at the field. “Damn good player, though.” “Kinda like you?” He faces me once more. “I’m not a punk.” I muffle a laugh. “Please.” “I think I’ve grown out of that stage.” “Explain to me then the radio silence these last few days.” I cross my arms, waiting for his answer. Jordan blows out a harsh breath and squints into the sun. Of course he looks amazing when he should really look ridiculous. He’s wearing this dark blue cotton Nike headband that girls normally wear, keeping his hair out of his face. He’s got his navy blue practice jersey on, and white uniform pants that mold to every part of him. He’s a little dirty and a little sweaty and a whole lot sexy. I could slap myself right now for thinking this way. “I’ve had some shit go down. With my parents,” he finally says, still not looking at me. “College crap. Life crap. You don’t want to hear it.” His words are like a slap in the face. “You don’t know what I want,” I snap. His

surprised gaze meets mine. “I told you I would be there for you if you want to talk, or even if you don’t want to talk. Whatever. I will be there for you, Jordan. You just have to trust me.” I pause. “Maybe that’s the problem. You don’t trust me.” He stares at me, his mouth opening and closing a few times, like he’s trying to find the right words to say. But he says nothing. Just looks at me one last time… And then he walks away.

My new norm is Tuttle and I not really talking to each other, unless it has to deal with school. Our group project for honors English has been reduced to us working on it on our own. I tend to write the best diary entries late at night, when I’m tired and sad and missing him. I let the emotion flow from my fingertips onto the page, curled up in bed with my laptop. We don’t even send them to each other anymore. Instead, we email them separately to Mrs. Meyer. She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t ask us what’s going on. I’m thankful she leaves us alone. I went with Livvy to Planned Parenthood. She did a pregnancy test—negative. Got an exam, got on the pill, and now she and Ryan are, and I quote, “boinking like bunnies.” At least someone is getting laid. I had an exam too. Got a prescription for birth control and went and filled it. I’ve been dutifully taking the pills for over two weeks, which means I’m fully covered. I’m also still a virgin, so…that was pointless. I’ve been working a lot, both at Yo Town and the hydration station. School is kicking my butt. So is work—Mom always drives me and sometimes Livvy takes me or picks me up. Being at the football games with Tuttle so close, yet so distant, is killing me. Oh yeah. I’m back to calling him Tuttle again. I don’t want to call him Jordan. Feels too intimate, and we’re not on that level anymore. I don’t think we’ll ever be there again. Late at night, when I’m alone in my bed and I can’t sleep, I think about what happened. Wonder endlessly where exactly it went wrong—where I went wrong. Did I do something? Say something stupid? Irritate him beyond belief and now he can never forgive me? I don’t know. And it’s slowly killing me. That last night we were together was…life-changing. He’d shared a side of himself I’d never witnessed before, and I wanted to know more. See more. Experience more. But he cut me off. Denied. That’s what it felt like. He took a stamp and punched it on my forehead. DENIED. At least Lauren Mancini isn’t flaunting their so-called relationship, because they don’t have one. She’s given up, moved on to someone else, I have no idea who. Em has been

hanging around Lauren lately, along with Brianne Brown, who is still with Dustin. Now there’s a weird triangle, though I say nothing. Em and I talk a little bit, but it’s all surface. I think she’s mad at me over the entire Livvy thing, even though I’m not the one who said all that mean stuff. Yet I feel like I’ve let everyone down. It’s almost Halloween and the yearbook staff has put together a fundraiser so we can help lower the cost of our yearbooks, which is outrageous. I haven’t been able to participate much in the planning, but I am taking part in the weekend festivities. We’re hosting a haunted house at the fall carnival this Saturday at school and I’m one of the designated haunters, along with Livvy. She bought a ton of makeup at the Spirit Halloween Store and we found our costumes there too, which luckily weren’t too expensive. She’s come over to my house tonight—Ryan dropped her off—and we’re practicing our makeup and costumes. It’s Thursday and we knew we couldn’t get together tomorrow. I have hydration duty and she has girlfriend in the stands duty, since the boys are playing a home game. Another torturous night spending time with Tuttle so he can ignore me tomorrow—I can’t freaking wait. “How should I do my hair?” I stare at myself in the mirror, frowning. We’re in the middle of my room sitting on the floor, and I have my own light up mirror while Livvy brought hers. They’re both double-sided and I’m looking at myself five times closer, which is sort of freaky. I can see every flaw, every tiny zit and scar and a weird hair growing out of my forehead that’s nowhere near my hairline. I need to pluck that thing like yesterday. “Long and flowing and straight, parted right down the middle. Like Elvira,” Livvy answers me as she lines her eyes repeatedly with black kohl eyeliner. If she keeps that up, I won’t be able to see her eyes at all. “Who’s Elvira?” Liv sends me an exasperated look. “Google her.” I grab my phone and do as she says. Immediately I find Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, who does not part her hair in the middle. She has bangs and a big poufy bouffant thing on the back of her head that looks crazy, along with the biggest boobs ever. “I look nothing like Elvira.” I thrust my phone out toward Liv, showing her the photo. “Look at her hair! And her giant boobs!” Livvy starts giggling, and soon both of us are laughing, sprawled out on my floor, makeup surrounding us, our mirrors between our knees. I finally sit up and wipe the tears from beneath my eyes, thankful I still have Livvy when I’ve felt so down and out these past few weeks. She’s been a good friend. Has even ditched Ryan a few times so she could hang with me. That meant a lot.

“Let me work on you,” she says, staring at my very blank, makeup-less face. “I can make your skin really pale and your eyes super dark, then give you blood red lips.” “Should I wear fangs?” “No.” She shakes her head. “Let’s keep it simple. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be a witch?” “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be. I don’t think anyone really cares.” I glance over at my costume, which is hanging from the open door of my tiny-yet-still –a-walk-in closet. It’s black and long with flowing sleeves and an equally flowing skirt. The edges are jagged and the neckline dips to a low V, meaning I’ll have lots of skin on display but no cleavage since…you know. I don’t have any. But whatever. I’m going full on in character this Saturday night, and I’m excited. This is the first time I’ve been excited about anything in a while. Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I’m helping decorate the haunted house—aka the cafeteria— on Saturday morning before I go to my four-hour shift at Yo Town, which ends at three. Then I’ll come right back to the school, get into costume, have Livvy do my face, and we’ll be ready to scare by the time the carnival starts at five o’clock. Livvy grabs my mirror and pushes it away, then sets in on creating my mask. She slathers on a blend of regular foundation mixed with white face paint, then works on my eyes. She slicks so many layers of mascara on my lashes I eventually ask her why I don’t just wear fake eyelashes, but she tells me to shush. So I let the artist work her magic commentary-free. When she’s finally done, she hands me the mirror and I blink at my reflection, stunned. She did an amazing job. My eyes are dark and scary. My skin is so pale I look like a ghost. My lips are an arresting shade of red, and she even drew faint, thin black lines coming from the corners of my mouth. “Think we should do light black shading for blush on your cheeks?” she asks as I contemplate my face. I meet her gaze. “Will that look good?” “It can’t hurt,” she says with a shrug. She grabs her own mirror and starts lightly streaking black face paint onto her cheeks. “Maybe we need spiders drawn on our cheeks too.” “We shouldn’t overdo it,” I warn. Livvy rolls her eyes. “It’s Halloween. We’re working in a haunted house. Of course we should overdo it.” I stand and go to my closet, grabbing the costume before I hide myself inside. I carefully take off my T-shirt, shuck off my yoga pants and slip the black dress on before I reemerge and twirl around for Livvy. “What do you think?” Livvy looks away from the mirror, gaping up at me from where she sits on the floor. “Wow, you look great! I love that dress on you.” “I’m not showing too much skin?” I glance down at my chest. The neckline on this

costume is so freaking low I’m not sure if I can wear a bra, but it’s not like I have much to support, so what’s the big deal? “You’re showing the perfect amount of skin” She smiles. “You look hot.” Ugh. Ever since the whole thing happened with Tuttle, she’s been holding back, but I know she’s dying to hook me up with someone. Possibly Eli Bennett, who has asked his big brother about me multiple times. Ryan has mentioned this to both Livvy and me, and I never know how to respond. It’d be one thing if Eli was at least sixteen, but he’s not. He’s almost fifteen. Meaning he’s fourteen. I can’t do it. I don’t care how cute he is or that he’s taller than me, and that he looks pretty much like a grown man. He’s a kid. “I should’ve brought my costume.” Livvy mock pouts. “We could’ve taken photos together.” Her costume is prettier than mine, but she spent more money, so that’s expected. The dress is similar in style, but hers is made out of alternating panels of black velvet and red satin, and came with a sparkly red rhinestone choker. The collar rises high around the back of her neck too, which makes me think she really is supposed to be a vampire. “You’re going to have blood dripping from the corners of your mouth, right?” I ask her. “I guess I should. I think I am a vampire. Maybe I could be a redheaded Elvira.” She makes a weird face, her teeth sticking out over her bottom lip. “I vant to suck your blood!” We start laughing again and it feels good. It feels normal. And I haven’t felt normal in a while. Not since the beginning of summer. “We’re gonna be busy Saturday night,” Livvy says as she starts drawing a spider on her face as she stares into her mirror. I watch her. “It’ll be fun.” It’ll keep me occupied so I don’t think about the boy who so cruelly cut me out of his life. “I hope you really mean it. That you’ll have fun.” Livvy’s gaze meets mine and I see the concern there. Uh oh. “I’m worried about you. After what Tuttle did, you haven’t been the same.” “I’ve been down and out lately, I can own it.” I sit up straighter. “He walked out of my life without an explanation, so I think I have a right to be upset.” “Well, yeah. Of course you do.” Livvy frowns, ready to say something else, but I hold my hand up, stopping her. “But I don’t want to talk about him anymore, okay?” I try my hardest to keep my voice gentle. “It’s just—pointless. There’s no reason for me to try and get his attention. And I really don’t want to include him in any of our plans. What we had is over. Done.” She smiles faintly. “Good. I’m glad you feel that way. I wasn’t about to suggest you try to get Tuttle’s attention again, because I am so ready for you to move on. That guy doesn’t deserve you crying any tears over him. Forget that. Forget him. He’s a jerk.” “Right.” I nod, trying my best to believe it. “You’re so right. I’m over this. Over him.”

“Awesome. Perfect. I love it.” Livvy’s eyes are sparkling and she looks awfully pleased with herself. “And I know just the guy to help you get over Tuttle once and for all.” I frown, wariness easing down my spine. “Who?” If she says… “Eli.” Now it’s her turn to hold up a hand to stop my protest. “Hear me out. Yes, he’s young.” “Olivia.” I never call her by her full name, and that definitely gets her attention. “He is only fourteen years old.” “He’ll be fifteen next week!” “He’s a baby.” “A baby with a sexy smile and a great butt.” “Gross! You’re into his brother, not Eli.” “I can appreciate the ultra fine genes in both of those Bennett boys, can I not?” Liv bats her eyelashes, and we both start laughing. There’s been a lot of laughter tonight. “There are only two years that separate you,” she says. “I’ll be eighteen in March.” “That’s a long time from now!” A sly smile curls her lips. “Maybe he’s the rebound guy, you know? He’s not looking for anything serious. He doesn’t even understand the word serious. He just wants to have a good time.” “If a good time is code for sex, I’m not interested in having sex with a fourteen year old boy.” “Fifteen. He’ll be fifteen next week, don’t forget that,” she stresses. “Besides, I don’t think he’s looking for full on sex. Fairly certain he’s still a virgin, at least according to Ryan.” I make a face. “Ryan discusses his brother’s sex life with you?” I can’t imagine George having sex—ew—let alone talking about it with Livvy. And if she had a crush on my brother, that would be even worse. Yes, I am a total child. So maybe Eli and I would hit it off… “Ryan and Eli are constantly talking about dicks and asses and tits and banging and hand jobs and munching boxes. All of it.” Livvy sighs and I can barely keep in my laughter. “They’re boys and they’re absolutely disgusting. Yet they’re both oddly attractive when they talk like that.” “You’re crazy.” I grab a ruffled pillow that fell off my bed earlier and throw it at her, smacking her right in the face. She throws it back at me, but I dodge it in time and it hits the wall instead. “No, you’re crazy for not giving Eli at least a chance. He’s totally into you.” I don’t understand why. First I have Tuttle chasing after me, now I have Eli. They could

have anyone they want yet they both choose me. I seriously don’t get it. “Why would he be into me? And I’m not looking for sympathy either. I just…” I shake my head, throw my hands up into the air. “It’s weird.” “Here’s the truth—you’re really pretty and nice. You’re not stuck up, like so many of those other girls who chase after him—them. Oh, and that’s another thing. You don’t chase. Ever. I think guys find that attractive.” “It’s not game-playing strategy,” I tell her. “It’s just something I—don’t do.” Because I never believe I have a chance, so why bother? “Yeah, well, they like it. I think Tuttle liked it too.” She winces. “Sorry, scratch his name from this conversation. I know Eli likes how elusive you are, how you always tell him no when he’s dying for you to say yes. I don’t think any girls deny him, with the exception of you.” Huh. Interesting. “And I think that’s what the other one liked too. Everyone tells him yes. They fall over themselves for the chance to get with him, and you never did. Ever. They like the challenge.” She points her index finger at me. “You, Amanda Winters, are a challenge.” I cover my face with my hands. “I don’t mean to be,” I whine from behind my hands. “Oh, stop.” Liv reaches over and pries my hands from my face. “Just run with it. Let Eli talk to you a little bit tomorrow at the game. See what he has to say. Flirt with him. He’ll love it.” “I don’t want anything to happen in front of Tuttle,” I whisper, immediately wishing I could cram my words back into my mouth. Too late now. We’re too intertwined still. What happened between us is still so fresh. And damn it, I miss him. I want him back in my life. But he doesn’t want to be a part of it, so I have to suffer and watch him and wish for him and… God, I really can’t wait for football season to be over. “Please, you should flirt with Eli in front of him! Screw Tuttle! He’s the one who dissed you and shut you completely out of his life with no explanation! He’s a total asshole for doing that. If he doesn’t want you, then someone else will. You should go for it with Eli! Have a little fun. He’s completely harmless.” “Is he really harmless?” Why am I even considering this? He’s too young. Way too young. “You want my prediction? I believe Eli is a little handsy and probably uses too much tongue, but that can be controlled, you know what I mean? Be the wise older woman and mold him into the perfect boy. The one who can kiss and touch a girl just right.” The grin on Livvy’s face is huge and she wags her eyebrows at me like some sort of perv. I grab the pillow and toss it at her again, laughing when it bounces off of her head. “I can’t do that—and you can’t make me.” “You so can. What’s a little innocent making out? There is nothing better than a boy who’s an excellent kisser.” The dreamy look on Liv’s face tells me that Ryan is a most

excellent kisser. And so was Tuttle. I can’t deny it. His kisses were dreamy. Too dreamy. My fear of never finding a guy who can kiss as well as Tuttle can is about to come true. I can almost count on it.

I survive both the JV and varsity game, too busy to talk to anyone, let alone flirt with Eli Bennett. He comes around the hydration station a few extra times, but I can only smile helplessly at him when we make eye contact. What’s funny is that I am seriously considering Liv’s suggestion to make out with Eli and get Tuttle out of my system once and for all. Maybe she’s on to something. Maybe I really do need to find a rebound guy to make out with for an hour or three. Eli’s not bad looking. In fact, he’s really gorgeous, with the golden skin and hair, and the hazel eyes and the nice mouth. His lips are full and his jaw is a sharp edge, just like his nose. He has a nice smile and sometimes he reminds me of an overeager puppy, but puppies are sweet. I like puppies. So I’ll probably like Eli too. Tuttle doesn’t say one word to me during the game. Not a single one. He barely looks in my direction, and I tell myself that’s the way I prefer it. I let Kyla have him for the night. I even tell her I won’t work with Tuttle during this game, and while she gives me a weird, questioning look, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she keeps her eye on Tuttle so I don’t have to. It’s a total relief. Now the varsity game is almost over and we’re killing them in a total shutout, fortyfive to zero. It’s embarrassing, how badly we’re beating them. The backup players are out on the field, thankful for the chance to play, and I can hear Tuttle and his friends talking. Of course, I’m totally eavesdropping. “Party at your house tonight, dude?” Ryan asks him. Tuttle nods, his gaze locked on the field. “Sounds good to me. Everyone’s gone, so we can do whatever we want.” “What else is new?” Ryan slaps him on the back. “I can find some booze if you need it.” “Nah, we should be good, but call me if you go home first. I might need a backup plan.” What does he mean by that? “Can I go?” This is the enthusiastic Eli asking. He’s somehow snuck onto the bench, sitting on the other side of Ryan, and his brother doesn’t look too thrilled that he’s there. “Everyone’s invited.” Tuttle glances over his shoulder, his gaze meeting mine for the briefest moment. I refuse to be the one to look away first, and thankfully, I don’t have to.

“Everyone,” he stresses, when he looks away from me. I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and send a quick text to Liv. She answers almost immediately. Hell yeah we’re going to Tuttle’s house! Whoooo!!!! I turn to Kyla. “Are you going to Tuttle’s party?” “No way.” She shakes her head. “I never go to his parties. I always feel so left out there.” “You should come with Liv and I. Hang out with us.” I smile. “It’ll be fun.” Kyla shakes her head some more. “I don’t think so. That’s really not my scene, Amanda. Thanks for including me, though.” Dang it. I’m trying to include her and get closer to Kyla. Once the game is over, we start to clean up. I’m almost finished when Eli makes his approach, a cocky smile on his face when he stops directly in front of me. “You going to Tuttle’s? Or are you afraid, since you two used to be together or whatever?” “Afraid? I’m not afraid.” Nothing like getting right to the point. “And yeah, I’m going to his party.” Eli’s brows shoot up. “Seriously?” His voice squeaks a little and he clears his throat. It’s sort of cute. “Seriously,” I deadpan. “I’m guessing you’ll be there?” “Oh yeah.” He nods eagerly, his face lighting up. “I’ll see you there.” “See ya,” I say to his retreating back. Smiling, I turn to find Kyla watching me with her arms crossed. My smile immediately fades. “What’s wrong?” “Bouncing from one football player to the next isn’t the best idea,” she says, her voice dry. Yikes. Who crowned her Queen Judgey McJudgey Pants? “There is absolutely nothing going on with me and Eli.” “Right. That’s why he just high fived all of his friends after talking to you.” I glance over to where Eli is standing with his circle of friends, and they are still giving him high fives. That’s sort of embarrassing. “I have no idea what that’s about.” “I’m sure I can tell you all about it. I’m guessing some of the guys made a bet with Eli that he couldn’t get in your panties tonight. And I’m pretty positive Eli said he could. To make the bet even more interesting, they put a little money on it. Just to liven it up, you know?” The hostility in Kyla’s voice is cluing me in that something like this might’ve happened to her. And that’s just…awful. “Don’t fall for their shit, Amanda. You’ll only end up getting hurt.”

Before I can utter a word or ask her a question, she turns and walks away.

By the time we’re entering Tuttle’s house, the party has been going on for a while. The place is packed. In some weird almost twist of fate, at one point I was supposed to ride in the same car as Eli and go to the party with him, and I was freaking out over it with Liv. But that didn’t happen. Liv took too long getting ready and one of Eli’s teammates stopped by the Bennett house and got him. Ryan eventually came by Liv’s place and picked us up. I’m starting to feel like a total third wheel in their relationship, but most of the time they act like they forget I’m even with them. Meaning, they say things to each other in front of me that are kind of embarrassing—and intimate. Ugh. I’m still trying my best to forget the over the top things Liv and Ryan said to each other as I make my way to the kitchen, where I know the booze is. I grab a beer can and crack it open, guzzling it down as fast as possible. I’m tired and stressed over everything I’ve been trying to do the last few weeks. Now I just want to get a good buzz on and forget my troubles for a little while. “Don’t get drunk,” Livvy says as she wags a finger at me. She grabs a beer too. “This is for Ryan. I’m the sober driver tonight.” “How responsible of you.” “I’m trying to turn a new leaf. After the—” She lowers her voice to a loud whisper. “— pregnancy scare, I realized I’m the only one responsible for my own actions. So no babies, no DUIs and no getting into drunken car wrecks!” She clinks the unopened beer can against mine. “Gotta go find Ryan. I’ll catch up with you in a few, okay?” She ditches me before I can say anything, which feels like a common theme tonight. And now I’m thinking about Kyla and what she told me earlier, how angry yet sad she seemed. Did some of the football players try to trick her? I can’t imagine it happening now. She seems so in charge and sure of herself. Maybe when she was younger, did one of them—or a bunch of them—take advantage of her? God, I hope not. “Hey, you.” I turn to find Em standing there, with Brianne Brown on one side of her and Lauren Mancini on the other. I hate my life sometimes. “Hi Em.” I aim my smile at her, barely looking at the other girls. They’ve always been mean to me, so why would they change now? “How are you?” “I’m okay.” She cocks out a hip and I take her in. She’s wearing a cropped baby blue T-

shirt that shows off the flat expanse of her belly, and a low slung pleated black miniskirt. Her hair is sleek and tucked behind her ears, and her lips are this deep, glossy pink. She looks like the typical schoolgirl gone bad. If Livvy were here right now, she’d be mocking her hardcore. “What’s going on with you?” Em asks. “Not with Jordan anymore, huh?” Lauren asks sweetly, her expression pure innocence. I’m not falling for it. She’s a total snake, just waiting to sink her fangs into me. I ignore her question and focus on Em. “Not much. Been super busy lately.” “Right, have to keep those boys hydrated,” Lauren says. The matching smirks on Brianne’s and Lauren’s faces make me want to smack them both. “I’m sorry we haven’t talked much,” Em says, and she actually sounds sincere. “I, uh, figured you didn’t want to, considering you took Liv’s side.” My mouth drops open. “I didn’t take Liv’s side.” Well, I sort of did. “It’s okay, I get it. You were friends with her first. I can appreciate your loyalty.” “God, this conversation is so boring,” Lauren says just before she fake yawns. “I want to go find Dustin,” Brianne whines. Em shoots me a look, then rolls her eyes. “And I want to find Jordan.” Lauren hooks her arm through Brianne’s. “Let’s go.” We watch them leave and Em sighs. “They’re so annoying.” “Why do you hang out with them then?” “I really don’t have anyone else,” she says with a shrug. I actually feel sorry for her, and Livvy would probably yell at me if she knew that. “They’re total bitches.” “I know. But their bitchiness protects me in a way.” I sort of get it, though I don’t want to. “You need new friends.” “I’d hang out with you if Livvy would let me.” Em’s expression turns sad. “But she’s still pissed.” What can I say? Em is one hundred percent right. Instead of talking, I slam back the rest of my beer and then grab another one, cracking it open. “It really sucks, because all Brianne does is talk about Dustin,” Em says. “And he barely talks to me anymore. He’s still mad at me too. I know he hates that Brianne and I are friends. I think he’s afraid I’m going to do something to ruin their relationship.” I should tell her that’s everyone’s fear when it comes to her, but I keep my mouth shut. “You should tell Liv you miss her.” “Why? She won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me. Telling her that would be

completely pointless.” Em’s gaze sweeps the kitchen. “Is she here?” “Yeah.” “Did you come with her?” “Yeah, her and Ryan.” Em rolls her eyes. “That guy is a total douche.” “They’re getting along right now,” I say in their defense. “They make a really cute couple.” “Whatever. Just wait. He’ll grow tired of her eventually and then dump her ass.” Em sounds bitter. I remember that once upon a time, she went out with Ryan too. “Though I will admit, he’s been sticking with her for a while.” I really don’t want to get caught up in this conversation. I came to Tuttle’s—oh, the irony—to have a good time, not get embroiled in some more drama. I’m about to bail when Eli Bennett magically appears, clutching a red cup, a giant smile on his face. “Amanda,” he breathes, his gaze drinking me in. “You came.” He sounds surprised. “I did.” I smile at him. “What’s going on?” “Nothing.” He chugs from the cup like he’s nervous, then crushes the empty cup with a squeeze of his fingers. “You look pretty tonight.” Oh. “Thanks. You’re so sweet.” He flashes me a lopsided smile. “I bet you are, too.” Is that supposed to be a pickup line? “Um, what the hell is going on here?” Crap. I forgot Em is still standing with us. “Em, do you know Eli?” “Ryan’s brother.” She smiles coolly. “Nice to see you again.” “Yeah,” Eli mumbles, looking away from her. “Please don’t tell me you two are a thing,” Em says to me in disbelief. “No, no,” I reassure her. “We’re just friends.” “With benefits,” Eli tacks on, grinning wildly. “Not even,” I mutter. Em laughs. “You two are an—odd couple. But I’m kind of liking the possibilities. Revenge sex against Tuttle?” “What? No. There’s nothing happening between us,” I say again. “Seriously.” “Whatever you say,” Em drawls, wiggling her fingers at us as she starts to walk away. “See ya later.” The moment she’s gone, Eli is shifting closer to me, as if he’s trying to invade my space. I take a step back. “Trying to play it cool with your friends?” he asks.

“Um, I guess so.” “So you wanna keep this on the DL?” He nods before I can give him an answer. “I’m cool. I’m down.” “Uh-huh. Listen, Eli, it probably is better that we not make a big deal out of this, you know?” “This?” He raises a brow. “What are you talking about?” “Don’t pretend you don’t know.” I hesitate. “You want to…hook up?” “And you don’t?” This is ridiculous. “You’re only fourteen.” “Almost fifteen. Next week.” “And a freshman.” “Quarterback of the JV team. Next year I’ll be stepping in for Tuttle since he’ll finally be gone. Then I’ll be the fucking star.” I’m sure he will. His easy confidence will take him far. “So Livvy said you have a thing for me.” “Jesus,” he mutters, then takes my hand and drags me out of the kitchen. “Where are you taking me?” I yell at him, dodging people as he tugs me through the crowd. “I’m not having this conversation in the middle of the kitchen where everyone can hear.” He pulls me down the hall—the hall that leads to the secret back staircase, and he’s opening doors, one after another. He finds a supply closet, a linen closet, an empty bathroom—bingo—and drags me inside, shutting the door behind us. “Now what did Livvy say?” “She said you…liked me.” “I’m going to kill her,” he mumbles, running his hand through his hair, messing it all up. He looks adorable. What’s up with cute boys with messy hair? “Listen, you’re fine as hell. And you’re a senior. If you were into me and we hooked up tonight? I’d be a freaking legend.” Seriously? “You probably shouldn’t tell me that.” He frowns. “Why not?” “You only want to hook up with me because I’ll give you legend status.” He just blinks at me. “That’s not really cool, Eli. You’re just using me because I’m a senior?” Well, I’m supposedly only using him because he’s interested, so I guess we’re even. Now he’s full on grinning. “But that’s a good thing. An honor. You’re hot, Amanda. And the best thing? It’s like you don’t even know it. You wear those tight jeans and we’re all staring at your ass out on the field while you’re handing out water bottles or bent over one of us, taping up our hands. We’re all trying to catch a look, or even better, cop a feel.”

“Cop a feel?” I’m dumbfounded. “You don’t even notice, huh?” “No.” He’s got to be exaggerating a little. “I had no clue.” “Oh yeah. None of us would touch you, though. Tuttle made his claim and we weren’t allowed to hardly look at you.” So freaking primitive. What is he, a caveman? I ignore the warm feeling that washes over me at the thought of possessive Jordan Tuttle. When he acted like he cared about me. When I believed I was the most important person in his life. I shove the thought out of my head before I start to cry. Eli takes a step closer, then another. I back up, until my butt hits the edge of the counter and a wave of Axe body spray washes over me when he looms. “But now you two are done. So I called first dibs.” He says the worst things. “You did not just say that.” “I did.” He is all up in my business, his hands braced on the counter on either side of me, caging me in. The boy may say stupid stuff, but he has a few moves. And he’s rather persuasive. “I know you were all about that Tuttle life, but hopefully you’ve moved on.” I can’t stop myself from laughing. I’ve never heard such cheesy lines, not that I’ve had much practice. Eli starts laughing too, and I appreciate his cheesiness because it’s a total distraction. Tuttle’s rejection still stings. “Amanda.” Glancing up, I find Eli leaning into me, his head tilted to the side, like he’s coming in for—what? Oh God. A kiss. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I turn my head away at the last second and his lips collide with my cheek. It was sweet, a missed chance, and I felt… Nothing. Not a damn thing. Eli pulls away and licks his lips, his gaze laser focused on my mouth, like he can’t wait to taste it. “Can I touch you?” “Um…” He goes ahead and touches me anyway, one hand resting lightly on my waist. He studies me intently and it’s like I can see the cogs turning in his brain, trying to come up with a plan. “This isn’t going to happen, Eli,” I say softly. He frowns. “You’re not even going to give me a chance?” The disappointment in his voice rings clear.

I slowly shake my head. “I’m sorry.” “Is it because of Tuttle?” Being with Eli like this, in Jordan’s house, I can’t help but think of him. His smell and his taste and how he knew just how to touch me. The last time we were together in this house, in his room, naked and on his bed. The memories come one after another. Quick and intense and unavoidable, and then I’m pushing Eli away, a gasp escaping me when the door slams open and I see who’s standing in the open doorway. Watching us. It’s Jordan.



“What. The. Fuck.” I bite the words out, my fingers curling against my palms, my blood running so hot I feel like I’m about to burst into flames. Eli Bennett backs away from Amanda, holding his hands up in front of him and scared shitless. His eyes are wide and he can’t stop shaking his head. “It’s not what you think, bro.” “I’m not your bro, asshole.” I flick my head. “Get the fuck out of here.” He sends Amanda a quick look before he’s scurrying out of the bathroom like the scared little rat he is. I make a disgusted sound as I shut and lock the door, pressing my forehead against the cool wood for a moment so I can gather my thoughts. Gather my emotions. My anger. I count to five, take a deep breath, and turn to face her. She’s perched on the edge of the bathroom counter looking like a goddamn queen. Her back and shoulders are straight, and there’s a haughty look on her face. Her eyes are a little dazed and her lips are parted. Lips I’ve kissed so many times, and I miss them. I miss her. But she let Eli Bennett kiss her. In my bathroom. I can’t believe it. “Let me out,” she says, the slightest catch in her voice, like I scare her. Good. She scares me too. She fucking terrifies me. That’s why I’ve been avoiding her the last few weeks. “No.” I lean my back against the door and cross my arms, contemplating her. “We should talk.” “We have nothing to talk about,” she snaps. “I think we do.” I remain quiet and so does she. I’m trying to outwait her, but she’s stubborn and I give up fast. When I’m pissed, I lose patience. “Eli, Amanda? Really?” “You have no room to judge.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, her eyes full of anger.

“He’s a kid.” “At least he likes me. He’s into me. And he has no problem letting everyone know about it either.” That was a direct hit. “Get real. Being with you gives him bragging rights. That’s it. He only wants to bag you because you’re a senior and he’s a lame ass freshman.” She recoils and looks away, her normally lush lips forming a thin, straight line. “Bag me?” Bad choice of words. But I’m in too deep now, so there’s no going back. “Hook up with you. Fuck you. Whatever you want to call it.” Amanda turns that angry glare back on me, her dark eyes blazing. “You really think I’d —fuck him tonight? Seriously?” “I don’t know.” I shrug. When I’m jealous, I lash out. That’s what I’m doing right now. Lashing out like an asshole because she let some other guy put his hands on her. Put his lips on her. It’s killing me. Tearing me apart. But I deserve it. I pushed her away. I acted like she meant nothing, when she means everything to me, and I was too scared to face it, face her head on like a man. I’m a coward. “Nice to know you think so low of me.” She hops off the counter and stalks toward me, determination in her every step, looking sexy as hell, too. “Move out of my way.” “No.” “Open the door.” She’s standing so close to me, her body almost brushes against mine. Tilting her head back, she glares. “Open it.” I study her beautiful face. Memorize every little detail. I’ve missed her. So damn much. “No.” I switch tactics. “Did you kiss him?” “Who?” “Eli Bennett! Did you, Amanda? Did you kiss him?” “No, of course I didn’t!” Relief floods me, heady and strong, and she notices. For some reason, that sends her into a full on rage. She reaches out and pounds on the door, right by my shoulder. “Let me out!” She’s yelling at the top of her lungs, and I wince. “Please! Somebody!” I cover her mouth with my hand, silencing her. Bending down, I thrust my face in hers. “Stop yelling, okay? I’ll let you out. Just—be quiet.” Slowly I uncover her mouth and she starts beating on my chest. Pummeling me with her fists, one hit after another. She keeps saying something again and again, the words falling from her lips so fast, I can’t make them out at first. Until I can.

“I hate you, I hate you.” I grab hold of her wrists to stop her from hitting me. “Amanda.” “I hate you, Jordan. I really do. I hate you so much.” She’s crying. Tears are streaming down her face and her mascara is running. I’ve seen plenty of girls cry before. I’ve seen my mother’s tears countless times. They always make me uncomfortable. Tears in general put me on edge. Seeing Amanda cry breaks my heart. I pull her into my arms and hold her close, letting her cry all over the front of my shirt. “You don’t hate me.” “I do! God, I do. I swear. I really, really hate you, Jordan.” Her words are like tiny knives, carving into my already fucked up heart. She’s blubbering against my shirt, soaking it with her tears and I feel helpless. I can’t make the tears stop. How do I make the damn tears stop? “Amanda.” I cup her cheeks and tilt her head back, forcing her to look at me. She glares, her eyes glittering with unshed tears, her lips red and swollen, her cheeks flushed pink. “Please don’t cry,” I whisper, my throat raw. My feelings, my insides, my emotions, all scraped raw. Her face crumples at my words, like I just made it worse. I lean down and press my forehead against hers. Close my eyes and inhale in her sweet, delicious scent. My heart pounds, and my breaths come fast. She’s killing me. Ripping my heart to shreds with every shuddery breath, every soft cry. She slowly pulls away, her head bent, like she can’t look at me. “I trusted you, Jordan. I told you that you could talk to me about anything, that I would be there for you no matter what, and you still dumped me after the blowjob. Just like you do with all the other girls.” “It wasn’t like that—” I start, but she cuts me off with a look. “It was exactly like that. I gave almost everything to you, and in the end, you dumped me. I’m just like the rest of them. You discarded me as if I was trash and never really talked to me again. Not even for our project.” The tears start back up. “Who does that? What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you care about anyone?” “No!” The word explodes out of my mouth and I pull away from her, run my hands through my hair in frustration. “I don’t. I care about no one. Not my parents, not my socalled friends, not anyone. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?” She stares at me like I’m some sort of freak. Unshed tears fill her eyes and I want to go to her, catch the tears with my thumb, kiss her pain away. But I can’t. I’m the one who caused her so much pain. I have to leave her alone. “Why are you like this?” Her voice is a harsh whisper. “Why?” I shrug. “I don’t know. I can blame my mom and dad. They’re fucked up, Amanda. More fucked up than I am.”

She grabs my hand and laces her fingers with mine, and that is my undoing. That I can be so awful to her and she still cares, she still wants to help me… I can’t resist her. Instead, I pull her into my arms. Having her like this, holding her like this, relaxes me. It’s been too long. The past few weeks have felt like years. My entire body sways toward her, like it’s desperate to get close and I have no control. Amanda curls her hand around my nape, her fingers tightening into my skin. When she angles her head slightly to the right… We’re kissing. Our mouths drawn to each other like we can’t fight it, fight this, whatever we have brewing between us. The kiss turns hot and deep in an instant and I pull her in close, whirl her around so she’s the one pressed against the wall as I continue to devour her sweet mouth. She grabs hold of me, a whimper sounding low in her throat, and I slip my hands around her, under her, gripping her ass and hauling her up so her legs go around my hips. I pin her against the wall with just my body and unleash my everything on her. We kiss like we never plan on coming up for air, and my hands wander. Search and explore. Reacquainting myself with her body. This body that feels like it belongs to me. Only one word pounds through my head, throbs with my heart. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. She’s mine. And I’m never going to let her forget it.



It’s both a relief and pure torture, being in Jordan’s arms again. My back is against the door, his hard body pressed to mine, my legs wound around his hips. We kiss and kiss, and sometimes it feels like a battle. Like he’s trying to conquer me. But then the kiss softens, his lips lingering on mine, his tongue doing an achingly slow sweep… I don’t ever want this to stop. But it has to. And when it stops, the pain will come again. Just like before. I break away from his lips first and he tries to kiss me again, but I turn my head away. “We can’t keep doing this.” He touches my cheek, forces me to look at him once more. “Yeah, we can.” His mouth settles on mine gently. Slowly he works his magic, his lips and tongue persuasive, until I’m a moaning, writhing mass of hormones. He rocks against me and I can feel him, hard and long and rubbing me in just the right spot. Our bodies fit perfectly; our mouths fit perfectly too. But we aren’t perfect. We are far from it. How could something that feels this good end up hurting us so bad? “Jordan.” I whisper his name against his lips, but he ignores me. I say it again, shoving at his shoulders, and finally he withdraws, his expression wondrous, a little dazed. “What?” “Put me down.” My voice is firm. My emotions are everywhere, but I need to keep it together. Remain strong. Remain in control. He does as I ask, setting me on my feet, and I stare at his chest, see the tear stains soaked through his T-shirt. I release a shuddery breath and lift my gaze to his. “We can’t keep doing this,” I repeat. Jordan frowns. “Doing what?” “Kissing each other. Ignoring each other. Arguing with each other. You can’t have it both ways, Jordan.” His frown deepens, but he remains quiet.

“I need to know.” I take a deep breath and exhale loudly, trying to calm my tumultuous emotions, but it’s impossible. “How you feel. If you’re serious about this—about us. About me.” His silence feels like an answer, and I tilt my head to the side, so very weary of the constant game playing. “Just let me out of here. Please.” “I want to be,” he whispers, and I step back, confused. “You want to be what?” “Serious. About this. About us. About you.” He hesitates. “But I don’t know how.” I shake my head. “That sounds like such a bullshit answer—” He cuts me off. “It’s not. I don’t know how to be real with you. I don’t know how to be real with anyone. How to share myself with someone, how to show someone I—I care. I just can’t do it.” His words make me hurt for him, but this isn’t my fault. I refuse to feel guilty for his past, for his lack of emotion. “I can’t be with someone who won’t tell me how he feels,” I whisper. Again, his answer is silence. He’s killing me. “If you don’t know how to share yourself with me, then I don’t think this is ever going to work. I need you to trust me, Jordan,” I say quietly, speaking to my feet. I don’t want to look at him anymore. I can’t. “I don’t know how.” His words sound like an excuse. And I’m done with excuses. He shifts away from the door and opens it, silent permission for me to leave. So I take it, bolting out of that bathroom so fast, I practically trip over my own feet. I stagger down the short hall, end up in the kitchen, which is crawling with all sorts of people. I see Ryan sitting on a chair in the breakfast nook and Livvy is perched on his lap. They look cozy, like a real couple, and I’m taken over by a sudden wave of envy. I wish I was sitting on Jordan’s lap, talking and flirting and letting everyone in the whole damn school know that we’re together. But it will never be that easy with him. And while I’m all for fighting for love and that kind of stuff, it’s hard when the one that I want doesn’t seem to know what he wants. It feels like I’m fighting a losing battle. “Amanda! Come here!” Livvy waves me over, and I go to her and Ryan. “Eli is telling everyone you kissed him,” she says when I reach them. Oh, God. I completely forgot what we did—or more like what we didn’t do. What does that say about me? I go from almost kissing one boy to actually kissing another in a matter of minutes. But that last boy, I care about. A lot. “Um, well. We didn’t.”

“So he’s lying,” Livvy says, sounding pissed. “No, not exactly. We—sort of kissed.” That’s a nice way to put it, though why I’m trying to make it seem like more, I don’t know. Livvy’s jaw drops open. And so does Ryan’s. “Seriously?” she squeaks. “So he didn’t lie,” Ryan mutters, looking shocked. “He kissed me on the cheek. It wasn’t a big deal.” Pretty underwhelming actually, not that I’d ever say that out loud. “Well, it was a big deal to him,” Liv says, worry filling her eyes. “He’s telling everyone he made out with Tuttle’s ex in Tuttle’s bathroom.” “Crap.” I rub my forehead and glance around the kitchen. They’re all watching me, looking away quickly when I catch them staring. They’re probably all talking about me too. This is…not good. “I can kick his ass for you if you want me to,” Ryan volunteers. “I’ll gladly do it.” “Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I say sarcastically, then reconsider. “For now.” This makes Ryan laugh, and Livvy too. “There she is. Where’d you go, babe?” Eli is beside me, slipping his arm around my waist, like we’re a couple. “I missed you.” “Cut the shit Eli,” I tell him, making him immediately drop his arm. “This is not a thing.” “But the kiss…” “It was nice.” I spare his feelings and reputation by not bringing up that the kiss was on the cheek. I’m setting myself up for countless rumors, but I don’t care. I’m over all of this. “You know it would never work out between us,” I tell him softly. “We’re too different.” “So you’re breaking up with me?” He’s shouting. I guess he wants everyone to hear our conversation? “I’m afraid so,” I tell him. The entire kitchen has gone quiet. As in, they’re all listening. This is nuts. And by the wild look in his eyes, Eli is loving every minute of it. “Well, that fucking sucks, Amanda. I thought we had something real between us, but I guess not.” He grabs hold of me one last time and presses his mouth to mine in a fierce, quick kiss. “See ya,” he murmurs with a smirk and a wink. Yes. He just kissed me. And winked at me. Eli saunters out of the kitchen and I swear, ten girls follow after him, every one of them calling his name. “You just gave him tremendous street cred,” Ryan says, shaking his head. “Now all the girls will want him.”

“I don’t get boys. At all.” This I tell Livvy, who’s totally laughing at the spectacle Eli just made. “Join the club,” she says, offering her hand up for a high five. I give her a weak one, but this time, I can’t muster up the energy to laugh with her. It’s either I laugh or burst into tears though. And I definitely don’t want to cry. Then everyone will think Eli was the one who made me cry, when he had nothing to do with it. It was all Jordan. Jordan and his bossy demands, not letting me leave the bathroom, acting like such a complete jerk I started hitting him and telling him I hate him. I don’t hate him. God, I think I’m in love with him. Yes. That’s my problem. I’m in love with Jordan Tuttle. I’m madly in love with him, and he doesn’t love me back. “What’s wrong?” I jerk my head up to find Livvy climbing off of Ryan’s lap and coming over to grab hold of my arm. She’s frowning, her eyes full of concern. “You all right?” “Why do you ask?” My voice is shaky and my knees are wobbly. I need to sit down. “You look like you just saw a ghost. Or got sucker punched.” “The last one. Definitely,” I mumble, feeling faint. “I think I need to sit.” She leads me over to a chair and I fall into it, leaning my head back so I can close my eyes. I cover my face with my hands and sit like that for a while, running over everything that just happened in my head. “You look traumatized over the entire Eli scene,” Livvy says. “I hope you know you’re just making him look that much more desirable.” I lift my head and start laughing. I can’t help it. “This night is surreal.” Liv grabs a chair and sits in front of me. “Tell me what happened.” So I do. I tell her about Eli dragging me to the bathroom. How we really didn’t kiss, it was just on the cheek—and then how Tuttle interrupted us. “And he thought you were kissing Eli, right?” Liv’s eyebrows practically shoot up into her hairline. I nod. “He was so pissed.” “I’m sure,” she murmurs, her gaze growing distant. “Not like he has any room to feel anything, considering how he’s been ignoring you.” That exact thought ran through my head again and again. It still does. Worse, I feel guilty for what happened between Eli and me—and nothing happened. I didn’t do a thing, yet it feels like I somehow cheated on Tuttle. I absolutely, one hundred percent didn’t. He rejected me. He kicked me to the side like I meant nothing to him and he forgot all about me. No explanation, no nothing. Just…one

night he’s got me naked in his bed and a few days later, we’re acting like strangers. His rejection still hurts. It hurts so much. “What happened after that?” “He kicked Eli out, and then we—got into a fight.” “Oh my God, Amanda! He didn’t hurt you, did he?” “No! He would never do that. It was a stupid argument. I totally overreacted.” I shake my head. “And then after I overreacted and cried all over his shirt, he—he kissed me.” “Oh. Wow.” Livvy leans back in her chair, staring at me. “He kissed you?” I nod, the tears threatening to spill again. I press my lips together, desperate to keep it together. “And then I told him we had to stop.” “You made him stop.” “I had to. He won’t commit to me, Liv. I can’t be with someone who runs so hot and cold. He doesn’t trust me, and that means I can’t trust him either.” I don’t tell her everything Jordan said to me. That’s private. “You’re never going to get over him if you two keep doing this. Trust me, I should know.” Yeah, she should, what with her Ryan and Dustin love triangle. “Once Dustin and I stopped doing whatever it was we were doing, I was able to focus on Ryan. And that’s exactly what I needed.” “You’re not telling me to forget about Tuttle so I can focus on Eli, are you?” I am horrified at the thought. “No.” Livvy shakes her head, laughing a little. “Absolutely not. He’s not the right distraction for you. But you do need to move on from Tuttle. He’s only hurting you, Amanda. I hate to see you in pain. As hard as that is to hear, you’re never going to get over him if you don’t eventually meet someone else.” “I don’t want to be with someone else.” I want to be with Jordan. Okay, that thought makes the tears flow. I wipe at my cheeks, frustrated at my lack of control, and when I glance up, I catch sight of Tuttle standing near the refrigerator, frozen in place as he watches me. I stare back, letting him see me in all of my pitiful glory. Maybe he’ll come running over to me. He’ll pull me into his arms and tell me it’ll be okay and then we’ll be back to normal. He’ll say he trusts me and I’ll trust him, and then eventually I’ll admit I love him, and he’ll repeat the same words to me. He can be my first, and we’ll be the perfect high school couple. But none of that happens. I’m living in a complete fantasy world. Tuttle turns away and exits the kitchen, his retreating back reminding me that I’m a fool. A total fool.

I spent the night at Liv’s Friday and while we groaned and bitched at getting up so early this morning, we did make it to the caf by nine. Both of us are clutching venti PSLs in one hand and a warmed croissant in the other, surveying the mess that is the cafeteria. “We are total clichés living the high school dream,” Liv mutters just before she takes a big chug of her coffee. “Who the hell is in charge of this nightmare anyway?” That would be yearbook editor Elaine Kingston. She’s barely five feet tall, but she is a powerhouse of organizational skills and a take-no-bullshit attitude. And she is nowhere to be seen. “Don’t tell me we’re going to have to take over this project.” I’m still half-asleep, and it feels like no amount of Starbucks coffee is going to get me going. I didn’t sleep that great. Kept having weird nightmares with Tuttle in the starring role. The last one was the worst. Would you like to hear about it? I know people telling you their dreams can be kind of boring, but this is a good one. I promise. I’m at the Halloween carnival, and I’m wandering lost among the rows of games and food booths. There are all of these familiar faces, but not one of them is a real friend. I finally spot Tuttle, and when I run up to him, he grabs hold of me and kisses me. Right in front of everyone, and they all start cheering. But when I pull away, it’s not Jordan holding me any longer—it’s Eli. He has this evil grin on his face and then he starts laughing at me. They all start laughing. It’s all I can hear, the echo of their laughter as I try to struggle out of Eli’s arms. He’s holding on too tight, though, and I can’t get away. No matter how hard I struggle, I can’t get away… And then I woke up, a sweaty, trembling mess. I glanced at the clock, saw that it was five a.m.—we stumbled into bed around one—and I couldn’t go back to sleep. Yeah. That nightmare is still clinging to me. “Hey girls!” Elaine’s perky voice breaks through my thoughts and I’m so relieved she’s here, I almost hug her. “You’re late, Elaine. Sure you’re feeling okay?” Liv teases. “I’ve been here since eight,” Elaine says with a scowl. She’s holding a clipboard and there’s a pen stuck behind her right ear. She’s wearing a black T-shirt with a witch on a broom on the front and it says, Yes, I can drive a stick.

“Nice shirt,” I tell her. The scowl disappears and she smiles. “Thanks, Amanda. How long are you girls staying today?” “I’m here as long as you need me, though I have to drive Amanda to work,” Livvy answers. “I have to leave around 10:45,” I tell Elaine. “Less than two hours for you, then. Hmm.” She grabs the pen and taps it against her lips. It’s black with tiny orange pumpkins scattered all over it. Girl has some serious Halloween spirit going on. “I’m going to have the boys start hanging the black tarps right away. Help direct them and then come see me when you’re done.” She bustles off to go boss someone else around. “Let’s go, soldier.” Liv snaps her fingers, and we’re off. Surprisingly, the haunted house is really coming together by the time Livvy and I leave so she can drive me to work. The yearbook staff is huge and almost everyone is there to help out. Under the efficient command of our leader, we are seriously getting stuff done. It’s the perfect distraction I need, after what happened last night with Eli and Tuttle. I’m kept busy at the cafeteria, and by the time Livvy’s dropping me off at the shopping center, I feel pretty good. When I walk into Yo Town, I’m happy to see it’s busy there, too. Sonja is in the back working at her computer, and she calls me into her office when she sees me pass by. “Have a seat.” She waves at the chair on the other side of her desk. I settle in, trying to fight the unease that threatens to grab me. “Everything okay?” I ask. “Everything’s fine. You’re doing a tremendous job, Amanda. I’m so glad we have you as an employee. You’re such a hard worker and you never complain.” She shoots me a sympathetic look. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut your hours after November 15th.” Blake warned me this was coming, and now the moment is here. “By how much?” “Well, currently I schedule you anywhere from twelve to fifteen hours a week. After the fifteenth, though, I’m probably not going to be able to give you any more than ten hours a week.” She gives me a bleak smile. “I know that’s not much, and I’m so sorry I have to do this. But business slows way down once the cold weather is upon us, and we’re pretty much there.” It’s a clear, sunny day, but it’s brisk outside. Everyone’s over frozen yogurt, I guess. “I get it. I do.” “If you need to find more hours elsewhere, I completely understand, but if we get to keep you through the winter, that would be great too. Just know I will respect your decision no matter what.” “Thank you for the heads up, Sonja. I really appreciate it.” I stand. “I don’t plan on

going anywhere, but I might have to find another part-time job once football season is officially over.” I really don’t want to, but what choice do I have? I can’t do much with ten hours a week. That’s barely four hundred dollars a month after taxes, and I need more if I want to save up for my future. “I understand,” she says with a nod. “Just keep me posted.” I go into the bathroom, quickly change into my Yo Town shirt and then clock in before joining Blake out in the store, which is now empty. Blake’s cleaning up the topping station and he glances up when he spots me. “My mom already give you the bad news?” he asks. “Yeah.” I go to stand beside him, noticing that the frosted animal crackers are black and orange and white. Halloween colors. Everyone’s got the Halloween spirit. Sonja put up decorations in the window a few weeks ago. “Kind of sucks.” “I know, sorry. I warned you, though.” He tries to cheer me up by saying, “We only opened an hour ago and we’ve been pretty steady, so that’s good.” “I’m glad. I don’t want the shift to drag. I need to go back to school once it’s over.” At Blake’s confused look, I explain further. “The Halloween carnival is tonight. The yearbook staff is hosting a haunted house. Aren’t you coming?” “Nah.” Blake’s cheeks turn ruddy. “That’s kids stuff.” “No it’s not. It’s fun.” I nudge him. “Have you ever been?” “Only during my freshman year, and I hated every minute of it.” “Aw, you should give it another chance and go, Blake. Won’t some of your friends be there?” “I don’t know. Maybe—maybe Kyla’s going,” he mumbles, turning away from me to straighten up the cup display. My ears perk up. “Wait a minute, did you say Kyla?” He keeps his back to me. “I don’t think so.” Liar pants. “Um, I do think so.” I tap him on the shoulder and he whirls around, looking defensive. “Are you talking about Kyla the water girl? Short, medium-length brown hair, pretty brown eyes?” He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to speak. The answer is written all over his embarrassed face. “I know her, we’re friends!” Well, a slight exaggeration, but we’re getting there. “I’m a water girl too, remember? We spend a lot of time together at the games and at practice. How do you know her?” Blake shrugs, his expression pained. “We have a couple of classes together.” “Is she going to the carnival tonight?”

“I don’t know.” He heads to the back of the store without another word. Clearly he doesn’t want to talk about it, so I let it go. Customers stream in steadily throughout my shift, a lot of them people from school. I see Lauren Mancini and her posse, which isn’t a surprise because remember, she just loves this place. But what is a surprise is her demeanor. She approaches me as I stand behind the register, and there’s almost a—shy expression on her face. Say what? “So, hey, Amanda. What’s up?” “Nothing much,” I say warily. “How are you?” “I’m good, I’m good.” She pauses, then leans in closer. “Um, can I ask you a question?” I calculate the weight of her frozen yogurt cup and then key in the price on the register. “Four dollars and sixty two cents.” I hesitate when I catch the expectant look on her face. I don’t know what her plan is, but I’m not in the mood to be messed with today. “As long as it has nothing to do with Tuttle, then sure. Ask away.” She looks slightly taken aback but she forges on. “What’s the deal with you and Eli Bennett?” Okay. That was unexpected. Where’s the punch line? I’m waiting for her to accuse me of poaching a freshman. Or being a cradle robber. Whatever mean thing she can say about Eli and me, I’m prepared. But I see nothing on her face but genuine curiosity. Which of course, leaves me curious too. “There’s no deal with me and Eli,” I tell her. “We’re just friends.” “Really? He said you two broke up last night, and that you were really upset over it.” “Did he tell you that himself?” I’m half tempted to beat that kid up, I swear. Again with the violence, but I guess when you’re dealing with idiots, you can’t help it. “Well, I wasn’t the one who actually talked to him.” She shifts her feet, clearly uncomfortable. “Who did then? One of your friends?” Was he at the party spreading rumors to everyone or what? Stupid Eli. I knew he would run with this, but I didn’t realize just how far. “I heard a rumor, okay?” Her voice is full of irritation and she shakes her head. “Nothing confirmed.” “Oh.” This entire situation is only getting weirder and weirder. “Okay, fine. Eli and I were kind of hanging around.” For approximately thirty minutes. “And yes, we had some good times.” They lasted three minutes, tops. “Before everything fell apart.” Thanks to his running away from Tuttle. Heaven forbid he risks getting his ass kicked.

Why am I covering for him again? I have to admit—there’s something about Eli Bennett that’s charming. He’s crass and overeager and he says really dumb things, but he’s also really cute and kind of sweet. He’s harmless. “Short and sweet then.” “That’s all you need with Eli,” I assure her. Listen to me. What am I doing? Lauren wrinkles her nose and lowers her voice. “He’s kind of cute, though, don’t you think?” “He’s really cute,” I stress. Not a lie either. The boy is hot, but definitely not for me. I’m in love with someone else. “So tall too.” “Taller than his brother.” “And Eli’s a great kisser.” Lauren’s eyes go wide with surprise. “You really did kiss him?” I give a short nod, but say nothing. Let her imagination run wild. It makes the story that much more interesting. “How do you catch all of these elusive hot guys, Amanda? I don’t get it.” “I don’t get it either,” I say with a soft laugh. Her other friends approach and she shoots me a look that tells me to be quiet. So I am. I don’t reveal her interest in Eli, and she’s not mean to me, so I guess we’ve come to some sort of truce. “Going to the carnival tonight?” I ask them as I’m handing over their change. “You know it,” Lauren says with an arrogant little smile. “We’re running a kissing booth.” Figures. “A kissing booth during Halloween? Isn’t that more appropriate for Valentine’s Day?” “Kissing is appropriate year-round. Besides, we’re dressing up as sexy witches. It’ll be fun!” They grab their yogurt and leave the shop in a whirlwind of whispered words and not so discreet giggles. “I hate those girls,” Blake says the moment they’re gone. “Have they been mean to you?” “Nah. They don’t even know I exist. They’re just so self-absorbed.” He’s right. I think we all become self-absorbed. It’s like we can’t help it. We’re in our own little world, surrounded by our friends and family and interests, and after a while, we don’t even notice anyone else. “They’re not so bad if you know how to deal with them.” I smile at Blake. “Maybe I can give you lessons on how to deal with bitchy cheerleaders.”

He cracks a smile. First one I’ve seen from him all day. “Sounds like a plan. Though I’d rather you give me a lesson on how to talk to Kyla.” Now we’re talking. I rub my hands together greedily. “I need more details first before I can start teaching. You ready to talk?” “Not really.” Blake swallows hard. “But I can try.” “That’s all I can ask for.”

“You need to hurry,” I tell Liv as she carefully attaches fake lashes we decided to go with after all to my right eye. “We have to be out there soon.” “Shush, I’m almost done.” I already have fake eyelashes on my left eye and my lids feel extra heavy. “You are going to look so amazing. I hope Tuttle dies a little inside when he sees you.” I snort. “He won’t even be here tonight. He’s not social, remember.” “True. He should be here, though. Let’s make sure and take lots of photos tonight and plaster them all over Snapchat. You are the sexiest witch ever.” She steps back and beams. “I don’t even know if he follows me.” Lies. He does follow me. The #cuddlewithTuttle memory still lingers. Still hurts. “Ugh, he makes me nuts. Forget him.” Livvy is still smiling at me. “You look amazing.” “So do you.” She bats her false eyelashes. “Why thank you, my spooky witch friend.” I turn to look at myself in the mirror and I have to admit, I look pretty damn good. Even better than the trial run on Thursday night, and we were pretty smokin’ hot and spooky then too. My makeup is on point—scary without being hideous. My hair is parted in the middle and flowing past my shoulders, straightened to perfection with Livvy’s extra-hot straightener. I’m still a little self-conscious about the low neckline on this costume, but screw it. I’m performing tonight. I get to be someone else for a little while. May as well enjoy it. Livvy grabs my shoulders from behind and leans down so she’s in the mirror with me too. Our gazes meet in the reflection. “We look so freaking great! We better head over to the caf before Elaine kicks our asses.” We leave the auditorium where we got ready, via the back exit, which is also the long way, since we don’t want anyone to see us in costume. It’s not quite five o’clock, but the quad is already full of people milling about. And there’s a decent-sized line to get into the haunted house. The Halloween carnival at our high school is an annual event, and it’s a huge deal. It’s a great way for organizations and clubs at the school to raise money. It’s always fun, and

who doesn’t love Halloween? Well, there are more than a few people who don’t love it, and during our freshman year, a few disgruntled parents from the PTA threatened to shut it all down, but the students and faculty eventually prevailed. The Halloween carnival lives on. This is our last year to attend, so it feels bittersweet. It’s hard to believe all of these things we’ve experienced the past three years are our lasts this year. Our last first day of school, last homecoming—which I missed—and now it’s the last Halloween carnival. I need to make the most of this tonight. I know Livvy wants to as well. Usually I’m participating in the band fundraiser, which, naturally, always involves music. This year’s theme is a haunted band performance. I heard they set up the band room to look like an old time bar with a tiny stage where various band members perform. They’re all dressed up as ghosts from the Wild West. I see more than a few girls dressed like they walked straight out of a saloon, but their faces are white and their eyes are black. It’s pretty cool. “Everyone looks so great,” Livvy says as we head toward the back entrance of the cafeteria. One of the staff members is standing guard in front of the doors, and when he sees it’s us, he lets us in. It’s dark inside, with the black tarps hanging and the majority of the lights are off. We created a haunted maze within the cafeteria and there are little alcoves scattered throughout, where different “scenarios” are set up. Livvy’s in the vampire scenario while I’m in a witches and warlocks scene, but I have no idea where I’m supposed to go. “There you two are!” Elaine miraculously appears in front of us, dressed in a devil costume with a pointy red tail and little red horns sticking out of the top of her head, plus she’s carrying a pitchfork. It’s scarily accurate, what with the way she ran all of us ragged this morning. Livvy told me she never let up either. This is why the cafeteria looks so amazing. Elaine wouldn’t accept anything less. “Hey, boss!” Livvy waves, extra cheerful on purpose. We know it drives Elaine nuts. “Where do you want us?” Elaine briskly walks us through the maze, pointing to where each of us should go. The vampire section comes up first, so Livvy’s out, blowing kisses at us and laughing when Elaine takes my hand and drags me deeper into the maze. “Here’s your station.” Elaine gives me a little shove and I’m in an alcove with a small round table where three other witches sit. “Be scary and freak them out, but remember, don’t touch the houseguests!” “Oooh, you look extra scary,” one of the witches says as she takes me in. She’s wearing a sexy witch costume, and her boobs look like they’re ready to pop out at any moment. She kicks out the last chair for me. “Sit at the front of the table.” Scary music kicks on and people start trickling in. We sit at the table at first, hissing and cackling and saying goofy stuff as people pass by. But eventually we get bored, so we hide behind corners and randomly jump out at different times, scaring our so-called houseguests. People shriek and scream and run from us, but there’s lots of laughter too.

It’s so freaking easy, and we are having way too much fun with this. I see a few people I know and they call out my name and wave, or say silly stuff, trying to get me to break character. But I hold up as best as I can, calling everyone, “my pretty” and wiggling my long, black press-on nails at them as they walk by. At one point I see Tara and Thad pass by our alcove, holding hands and looking very couple-y. I feel a pang in my heart for the briefest moment. Then I wonder why they’re not working at the band fundraiser. About halfway through my shift, Em walks right up to me, fully decked out in a Suicide Squad costume. Tiny booty shorts, a tight-fitting top that shows off her stomach, and a little heart painted just below her right eye—she makes a most excellent Harley Quinn. “You don’t scare me,” she drawls, her bright red lips stretching into a huge smile. I wave my nails at her. “Where’s your baseball bat?” “They wouldn’t let me bring it on school property. They considered it a dangerous weapon.” She mock pouts and I can’t help but laugh. She just shakes her head at me and walks away. Eli Bennett walks through with his friends and they all stop and stare at me while Eli just stands among them and nods. I can only imagine what he’s told them about me. He’s got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, and I glare at him, hoping he’ll leave. He doesn’t. So I steadily approach, until I’m standing just in front of him. So close I could touch him. They all freeze, their eyes wide, matching horrified expressions on their faces. The other witches rally behind me, and they also remain quiet. I’m thrilled they’re cooperating without my having to even ask. “She’s freaky, man,” one of the boys whispers, and another one shushes him. I twist my red lips into a wicked smile, tapping one long black nail against my lower lip as I contemplate them. They’re just waiting for me to do something outrageous, so I go for subtle instead. “Boo,” I whisper, and they all scatter like leaves in the wind. Ah, silly freshmen boys. We start doing this for all the witches’ friends—and enemies. Whenever one of the girls leaps to the front, we fall in behind, following her cues. Every time we chase someone away, we collapse against each other in giggling fits. I’ve never had such a good time scaring people in all my life. We keep up this pace for a solid two hours until an announcement is broadcast over the cafeteria sound system. “Attention, houseguests. We ask that you please exit the house within the next ten minutes. The house is closing for a fifteen-minute break, but fear not! The house will reopen soon. Thank you, boos and ghouls.” The announcer sounds off with an evil laugh. My shift is over after those ten minutes, and then the second crew will come on duty. I seriously need to pee and I’m desperate for something to drink. My throat hurts from all

the witch talk and yelling. Plus I’m starving, and I bet Livvy is too. We’ll have to go check out the food booths and grab something to eat. People start leaving the cafeteria in droves, so I cut out early and head to the bathroom in the back near the kitchen, which is closed off to the public. I handle my business, wash my hands, fix my smeared makeup as best as I can, then exit the bathroom, intent on finding Livvy so we can go get something to drink and eat. But I stop short when I see who’s standing there. Like he’s waiting for me. Tuttle. “Hey.” His voice is soft and he keeps his distance, as if he’s afraid I’ll run. Or attack him. “Hi.” I stay where I’m at, not wanting to get close for fear I might do something. Like run. Or attack him. “How are you?” Why are we making pointless small talk? “How did you get in here?” He smiles sheepishly. “I bribed Elaine King.” My mouth drops open. “She’s not bribeable.” “Trust me. Everyone is bribeable. We all have a price.” His expression turns somber as he cuts his gaze away from mine. His words make me fume, and I know he’s not referring to me, but still. I don’t like that he believes I have a price and that eventually, he’ll be able to meet it if he needs to. “Well, I can’t be bought. Not by you.” Now he looks pained. “I know, Mandy. I’m not talking about you. It’s just…” His voice drifts and he thrusts his fingers through his hair, thoroughly messing it up. I wonder when was the last time he got it cut. It’s longer than usual, curling against his neck. I remember how soft it is… And I am becoming completely distracted by his hair, which is ridiculous. I need to focus. He makes it hard to focus, though. Not like the boy has to try too hard to distract me. All he has to do is stand there, wearing jeans and a black pullover hoodie, and I want to drool. It’s seriously not fair. “It’s just what?” I ask when he still hasn’t said anything. “I’m already messing this up.” He blows out a harsh breath and flicks his gaze up to the ceiling before he looks at me again. “Can I just talk to you for a few minutes? Somewhere private?” “I have plans to meet up with Livvy right now.” I’m not going to give in. He’ll just walk all over me again. Reel me in only to reject me, push me away, and I’ll be left behind a sobbing mess. I gave him too much power over me before. I can’t do that again.

“After the carnival then? Can I pick you up?” “You’re not going to the carnival?” “I’m here, aren’t I?” His gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my chest. “You look amazing, by the way.” “Thank you.” I want to say no. Yet I also want to say yes. Saying yes will result in me getting hurt. I’ll listen to what he has to say, he’ll feed me a line or two of complete crap, I’ll fall for it, we’ll spend time together, I’ll get my hopes up and then… My hopes will come crashing down in a blaze of shame and low self-esteem and Livvy will tell me, “I told you so.” I can’t go through that again. “I don’t think I can meet with you after the carnival, Jordan,” I say, my voice soft. I see the hurt on his face, the pain in his eyes, and it makes me feel terrible. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go through this again. Have a good night.” I turn on my heel and walk away. He follows after me. “Amanda, wait!” He grabs hold of my arm and stops me before I can get too far away. “Could we maybe talk tomorrow?” “What else is there to talk about?” I jerk out of his hold and throw my hands in the air, wishing I could throw a punch at him instead. When I don’t want him to be persistent is, of course, when he actually is. I can’t win with him. I just…can’t. “What do you mean?” Jordan frowns, taking a step back. “You don’t want to be with me. You’ve already told me that. Is that what you want to talk about? How it’ll never work out between us? Well, I got the message loud and clear yesterday, okay? We’re done. Over. Just the way you want it.” I glare at him, breathing so hard my chest rises and falls rapidly, and I swear I feel faint. It’s probably because I’m hungry. That I can even still be hungry gives me hope. Maybe I am over Tuttle after all… “I never said I didn’t want to be with you.” His voice drops and his gaze is intense as he watches me. “You didn’t have to,” I whisper just before I turn and walk away. And never once look back.

First up…I’m so incredibly sorry, readers. I didn’t mean for this book to end in a cliffhanger, I swear. But as I wrote Amanda and Jordan’s story, I realized he’s a lot more complex than I originally thought. Truthfully, so is Amanda. So yes, I’m writing another book about them, and it will conclude their story, I promise. Before I thank everyone, I want you all to know that Tuttle was only going to be a walk on character in Just Friends. A throwaway kind of guy who appeared every once in a while just to be a jerk or to be that extra friend Ryan and Dustin needed to talk to. Instead, Tuttle took over my brain and demanded his own story. So did Amanda. She became the girl so many readers rooted for—and so did I. So their story is not only for me (because it was a total joy to write, let me tell you), but for all of you too. All right, now for the thanks… A big, huge, sloppy kiss-filled thank you to my publicist and friend Nina, who has been such a loyal supporter of this series from the start and who will cut a bitch if anyone tries to take Tuttle away from her. Another big, huge, sloppy kiss-filled thanks to my assistant Kati. We’ve been together four (!!!) years now, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Plus you make great graphics that every raves over. Huge thanks also to Jenn Watson for her advertising skills and general awesomeness. And to Gelytaz, who also makes beautiful graphics and trailers—thank you for all that you do. To my daughter who is currently experiencing Just Friends-type drama, only it’s the eighth grade version (seriously – the inspiration is constant). Thank you for being so open with me, thank you for making smart choices and thank you for choosing such good friends. I love you. I must always thank my critique partner, my friend, my wifey Katy Evans for always taking care of me in the best way possible. Big shout out to my cover designer for this series Hang Le – these covers are so gorgeous, I can’t stop staring at them! Plus, thank you to my editor Mackenzie Walton and my proofreader Dana Waganer—you ladies keep me in line and make sure the story is the best that it can be. Also, thank you to my formatter E.M. Tippetts—the interior of my books always look fabulous thanks to you and your team. Last but not least, thank you to the readers, reviewers and bloggers who’ve read the Friends series so far and given me so much support. I know Livvy made a lot of you nuts. I know many of you couldn’t stand the majority of the characters in Just Friends. So thank you for enjoying their story anyway, and I hoped I changed your minds with Amanda and Jordan’s story. I adore these two. I hope you did too.







It’s pure torture, having her so close, knowing I can’t talk to her, touch her, kiss her. Whisper in her ear all the dirty things I want to do to her. I can’t do any of that. None of it. I’m the bastard who broke her heart. I’m the jerk who can’t commit. I told myself to stay away from her. Though she still tortures me even in my thoughts. I close my eyes and I see her. Her scent seems to fill the air when she’s not around. My mind plays tricks on me, and I can’t make it stop. So I watch her when I can. When no one’s paying attention. When she’s not paying attention, which is a rare occurrence. I’m pretty sure she’s as aware of me as I’m aware of her. Friday night football games are the worst. Like right now, I’m standing on the sidelines, watching our defensive line with a critical eye, dying of thirst. I need a drink, and the only one who’s working the hydration station is Amanda. Kyla, the other girl who works the hydration station with Amanda, isn’t here tonight. Just Amanda. All by herself. Hustling her cute little ass in those tight jeans the entire game, running around making sure we’re all hydrated. Except for me. “Fuck it,” I mutter as I toss my helmet onto the ground and stalk toward the hydration station. Amanda is talking to one of the JV players, being too nice as usual while the kid blatantly stares at her tits. She complains they’re too small, but I think they’re perfect. She’s perfect. The asshole staring at her chest? He’s too close. I want to smash his face in. I don’t even know the kid’s name, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t like how he’s looking at Mandy. My Mandy. You can’t make that claim anymore—you rejected her. Remember? The nagging voice inside my head irritates me so much, I actually growl. Out loud. The JV player spots me first and his eyes go wide, no doubt because of the mean look on my face. And maybe he heard me growl too. Who knows? Who cares? I glare at him

and he leaves without a word while Amanda is still talking, and she makes this cute, exasperated noise, shaking her head. “How rude,” she says, turning toward me with a faint smile. That smile fades in an instant when she sees it’s me. That hurts. More than I ever want to admit. “I need water,” I practically grunt, sounding like a primitive caveman. But what else can I say to her? I need you? I want you? Yeah, that won’t fly. She raises an eyebrow and grabs a water bottle, thrusting it toward me. “You haven’t said one word to me in two weeks, and the first thing you choose to say is, ‘I need water’? You didn’t even say please.” My knees are weak. Seriously. I’m six-foot-two of solid muscle. People tend to run when they see me coming, especially when I’m in a crap mood like now, and I’m scared shitless of this girl. “Please?” I add, my voice soft, my heart racing, my entire body on edge from her nearness. “That’s better.” Amanda steps closer, so close I can smell her. My legs shake. Maybe it’s because I’m dehydrated. Maybe it’s because I’m in love with a girl I can’t have. I take the water bottle from her and my fingers graze hers. That brief connection sends a jolt through me that makes every fine hair on my body stand on end. “Thanks,” I say before I start to drink. I drain practically half the bottle before I stop because she’s laying into me. “You shouldn’t drink so fast. You’ll make your muscles cramp up,” she chastises, though her voice is gentle. Her gaze is too. Everything about her is soft and beautiful and right. She’s wearing a navy blue polo shirt and jeans that show off those endless legs and I’m tempted to fall to my knees and beg for mercy. Would she take me back? Or is she already over me? But I don’t fall to my knees. And begging’s not my style. Instead, I return the water bottle to her and start to walk away, eager to make my escape when she says my name. Not my last name either. “Jordan.” Pausing, I glance over my shoulder to find she’s watching me, her dark eyes extra big, her mouth curved downward. She looks sad. Hopeless. I know what that feels like. I’m right there with her. “What?” “I—I miss you.” She hesitates. My heart starts beating extra fast. I can’t believe she just said that. I want her to say more. So much more. “Do you miss me, too?” Those last words are a faint whisper. Like it took everything out of her to admit that.

I say nothing. I can’t. I messed up. I let her in and it cost me. More than she’ll ever know. More than she’ll ever understand. I give the slightest shake of my head and leave her standing there. I can feel her eyes on my back as I walk away, and I know she’s mad. How does that old saying go? If looks could kill? Well, I’d be a dead man for sure. She’s probably plotting my future murder. “Hey, jackass. Ready to play?” Ryan appears out of nowhere, shoving my helmet into my stomach extra hard, making me cough. “Asshole,” I mumble as I take my helmet from him. “I’d be a lot nicer if you got your head out of your ass and focused on the game,” Ryan tells me. “Don’t let that girl mess with your mind, man. We need this win.” “She’s not messing with my mind,” I say, though I’m lying. She’s totally messing with my mind. I can’t think about anything else. Just Amanda. Why did I walk away from her again? “She is,” Ryan says firmly. “It’s been weeks since you two split. Move on, dude. She’s not worth it.” He shifts closer to me, his face practically in mine, though I’m taller, so I have the advantage. “Think about your future. Don’t worry about some girl who wouldn’t give it up to you. She’s using that to control you. I bet if you’d already boned Amanda, you wouldn’t be all twisted up inside over her. You’d be ready to find the next girl.” It takes everything within me not to tear his face off. He’s saying this type of crap to get a rise out of me. I know it. But I refuse to take the bait. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ryan grins. “I think I do. But whatever, man. Keep fooling yourself. Just don’t let your misery affect the team. We need you, Tuttle. We’ve made it to the playoffs. We need to keep winning.” He’s right. I want to win. We all do. I need to get over this. Over her. Focus on my future. Win the division championship, clinch a scholarship at my school of choice and get the hell out of here. Screw my dad. Screw my mom—though she doesn’t care what I do, as long as I’m gone. Amanda will just hold me down. Distract me. Ryan nailed it. She’s still messing with my mind and we’re not even together anymore. Were we ever together in the first place? Was that hopeful thinking on my part? I wanted her so badly. I still do. Despite everything I’ve done, everything I’ve said, everything she’s said, I still do. And I think she wants me too. “Let’s go,” I tell Ryan when the defense comes off the field. Almost the end of the second quarter and the score is three to zero in our favor. “We need to score a touchdown.” “Now you’re talking!” Ryan shouts as we run out onto the field. “Let’s go kick some ass!”

I become the quiet, intense quarterback in the blink of an eye. The untouchable leader. It’s what they expect, what my team needs. It’s amazing how easily I fall into the role, how it fits me like a second skin. How I become Tuttle the QB, the star. The legend in the making. It’s all bullshit. But that’s okay. I’m just going through the motions, doing what I need to do in order to survive. I need no one. Just myself. Maybe if I keep thinking it—saying it out loud, even—I’ll eventually believe the words.



“I despise working the hydration station.” It’s the first thing I say to Livvy when I spot her after the game’s over. Livvy frowns as she watches me approach. She’s waiting for me so we can go find Ryan’s car together. He’s our ride back to her house since I’m spending the night, which I think Ryan secretly hates. He’d rather have Livvy all to himself. “I thought you enjoyed it?” Livvy asks. “Flirting with all the football players. Keeping tabs on that asshole Tuttle.” I ignore her calling him an asshole. I’m the only one who’s usually allowed to call him that, but right now, I’m so furious, I don’t care. She could put a hex on him and I’d encourage her. I’d probably build the voodoo doll and everything. Oh my God. My thoughts are so incredibly random, I’m making no sense. “I hate him,” I tell Livvy. “I don’t want to keep tabs on him.” Oh, I sound like a Bitter Betty, don’t I? I can’t help it. His earlier rejection still stings. Why’d I tell him I missed him? Why, why, why? I’m such a fool. I get within a few feet of him and it’s like I can’t even help myself. Clearly I have major issues. “Please.” Livvy rolls her eyes. “You do not. You’re madly in love with him and super pissed because of what he did.” “Don’t remind me.” I start walking and she falls into step beside me. “I just want to go home.” “Ryan should be out any minute.” She starts texting him and I keep walking, headed for the parking lot in search of Ryan’s perfect white BMW. I hope we’re not stuck here too long. I don’t want to sit around and wait for Ryan while he talks with his football buddies. I’m afraid I might see Tuttle again. Ew. No. …fine. Swoon. I’d love to see him again, as long as he didn’t open his mouth and say something stupid. Though it’s more like I’m the one who needs to keep my mouth shut and not say something stupid. More like everything he says is infuriating.

I can’t be with you. I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend. I don’t know how to show my feelings. I don’t know how to love you. All those words, all the pretty lies and sweet and sexy promises that dropped from his perfectly kissable lips were nothing but total bullshit. “I’m so glad they won,” Livvy says when I remain silent. She’s practically running to keep up with my strides and I don’t slow down. The farther away I can get from the football field, the better. “Ryan’s always in a good mood when they win.” Wait a minute. “Am I ruining your plans tonight?” I ask her, coming to a complete stop and making Livvy trip over her own feet. “If you want to take off with Ryan, I totally understand.” The look Livvy sends me is pure skepticism. “Yeah right. I won’t ditch you in your time of need.” A month ago she would’ve ditched me for Ryan without hesitation. Livvy’s changed. I knew she had a good heart buried deep down inside. It just took her a while to dig it out. “Are you sure?” I know what it’s like to have a boy you want to spend all of your time with. I sort of felt that way with Thad. I totally felt that way with Tuttle. I still feel that way about Jordan Tuttle. “Ryan will have to live without me. He can make a date with his hand tonight.” Livvy giggles, making me smile. “I’m hanging out with you. We can eat popcorn and watch a scary movie.” “Make it ice cream and you’ve got a deal,” I suggest. Livvy shivers. “It’s too cold for ice cream. And anyway, aren’t you sick of it, working at Yo Town all the time?” “Frozen yogurt and ice cream are two different things,” I point out, going for logic, though I know I’m annoying her. “Not really, but whatever.” She rolls her eyes then loops her arm through mine, steering me toward Ryan’s car. “We’ll have ice cream. Hopefully Ryan will let us stop at the store on the way home so we can grab some.” “I’ll buy. My treat,” I offer. “You’re just saying that so you can pick out the flavor.” My new best friend already knows me so well. “Valid point. One I won’t deny. But I’ll make sure it’s something you like too.” “Gee, thanks.” Livvy glances over her shoulder, her smile growing just before her gaze meets mine. “Ryan’s just behind us. And he’s alone.” Disappointment and relief hit me. I almost wanted to see Jordan, but…why? So he can

say something awful? So he can watch me with his beautiful, vacant blue eyes? Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I need to get over him. Find someone new. I’m surrounded by hunky, gorgeous football players on an almost daily basis, so I have plenty to choose from. The season is almost over so I’m running out of time. “Ladies.” Ryan’s deep voice comes from behind, and he wedges his lean body in between us, forcing Livvy and me to let go of each other. He slips his arms around our shoulders, squeezing us close to his sides, and I let him. Ryan annoys me sometimes, and sometimes he doesn’t. Like right now. He smells good and he’s in a great mood, so I can tolerate him. “I hear I’m your chauffeur for the night.” “Right. You’re taking us to the store for an ice cream run, and then you’re taking us home,” Livvy tells him. Ryan leans in and kisses her, never missing a step. Never releasing his hold on my shoulders either. The guy is smooth. “That sounds so boring, babe. Come on, let’s go dig up a party. I hear Cannon Whittaker is having one tonight.” “Tuttle’s not having a party?” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. Ryan sends me a knowing look, and I’m not sure how to interpret it. What does Tuttle tell him? They’re close—as close as Jordan allows anyone to get to him, which truthfully is pretty far. But I’m sure they’ve talked about me. What does Jordan tell Ryan? Does he say awful things about me? I can’t imagine it. Does Ryan say awful things to Jordan about me? I wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe. “Cannon’s mom is out of town,” Ryan finally says. “So we all convinced him it’s finally his turn to host the after game bash.” “Well, count us out,” Livvy says, leaning forward so she can shoot me a look. “Amanda and I are having a girls’ night in.” Ryan makes a disgusted noise. “Boring.” “Life isn’t an endless party, you know,” Livvy points out, sounding prim. Meaning she sounds very un-Livvy-like. “Says my girlfriend who loves to party,” Ryan teases, squeezing us both closer to him. “Come on, girls. Forget moping about a certain someone over ice cream.” I frown. Yep. He’s got me all figured out. “He won’t be there.” When I glance up, I find Ryan studying me. “Tuttle. He won’t show up. He doesn’t like going to parties, unless he’s hosting them.”

“He went to your birthday bash,” Livvy reminds us. “That’s when he was chasing Amanda.” Ryan’s gaze never leaves mine. “I don’t think he’s chasing you anymore. Do you?” I slowly shake my head, not liking his tone of voice. Or the look in his eyes. “And I’m not chasing him either.” “Right,” Ryan drawls, pulling me in so close to him, my face is smashed against his very hard chest. I shift away, flustered. I’m not attracted to him, but being held so close to a guy is making me miss it. The closeness that comes with having a boyfriend. A relationship. Damn it, I miss stupid Jordan Tuttle so much, it hurts. “She’s definitely not chasing him,” Livvy says firmly, rushing to my defense. “She’s over that douchebag.” I wince. I’m the only person allowed to bag on him and Livvy’s done it twice in one night. “I am,” I say weakly. I don’t sound very convincing and Ryan knows it. Livvy probably does too. “So over him.” “We can find you someone new then,” Ryan says, giving my shoulders a squeeze. “Maybe even Cannon. Guy’s been down and out lately. I don’t know what his deal is. He needs to get laid. Maybe you could offer up your services.” Did he basically just call me a prostitute? Livvy slaps Ryan on the chest, making him yelp. “You’re so freaking crude! Amanda isn’t going to help Cannon with that particular problem tonight. Or ever.” “Oh. Right.” Ryan starts to chuckle. “Considering she’s a virgin and all. Guess she wouldn’t even know how to help him.” I shrug his arm away from my shoulders and start walking ahead of them, silently fuming. Livvy immediately starts chewing Ryan out and I wonder if I should stay and listen. Gloat a little bit, maybe even add a few words. But I don’t want to. Insulting Ryan in return won’t give me any satisfaction. Nothing will. Well. Maybe Jordan Tuttle would. But that’s hopeless thinking on my part. Ultimately, I decide to stay out of their fight. What’s the point? I don’t want to get in the middle of that. They’ve been arguing more lately too. She’s always irritated with him. He’s always irritated with her. It makes me wonder how much longer Ryan and Livvy are going to last. I’ve been leaning against the back of Ryan’s car for five minutes before Livvy finally approaches me, her cheeks flushed, her eyes still sparkling with residual anger. “I’m so, so sorry he said that to you.” She takes a step closer and envelopes me in a quick hug. “He’s an asshole.”

“Yeah. He is,” I say against her hair before I pull away. “You don’t need to apologize for him. It’s not your fault he said that.” “But he’s my boyfriend, so I feel responsible. I told him we’re definitely not going to that party tonight. He can go alone.” She crosses her arms, even makes a little “humph” noise, but I can see the worry in her eyes. She doesn’t want her boyfriend to go to a party alone. He’s one of the hottest guys in our class, and he’s still relatively new, considering he moved here over the summer. This makes him a hot commodity. Lots of girls would love to snag him up. And Livvy knows it. “He’s going without you?” Livvy nods. “Yeah.” “Are you okay with that?” I ask carefully. She throws her arms up in the air in a frustrated gesture. “What am I supposed to do, huh? Control his every move? I’m supposed to trust him, right? So his going to the party alone tonight will be a moment of trust on my part.” “And his.” “Right. And his.” Livvy nods, her chin wobbly. Like she might start to cry. “We’ll go to the party.” The words rush out of my mouth quickly. I needed to say it fast or I might think too much and reconsider. “We won’t go with Ryan, though. We’ll show up later. On our own.” Her mouth drops open. “Why? So I can spy on Ryan? Make sure he’s being a good boyfriend?” She starts pacing, and I wonder where the hell Ryan is so we can get him to take us back to Livvy’s house. I’m desperate to get out of here. “You’re still mad, so if we go to the party with him, you two will just end up fighting all night. This way, you can show up looking hot like fire and he’ll chase after you the entire time,” I explain. The angry spark in Livvy’s eyes is immediately replaced with an excited gleam. “That’s a good idea. And you should show up at the party looking hot like fire too.” “Ugh. Why?” And who cares? I know I just thought about crushing on someone new, but I’m not ready yet. Or am I? God, I don’t know. See? I’m a typical confused mass of teenage hormones. “Amanda!” I whirl around to see Ryan headed our way, a reluctant Cannon walking beside him. Frowning, I call back to him. “What’s up?” They stop in front of me, Cannon shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, looking anywhere but at me. Weird. “Cannon asked me to ask you to go to his party tonight.”

“What? I did not.” Cannon shoves Ryan’s shoulder, nearly toppling him to the ground. His gaze reluctantly meets mine and his smile is weak. “Ryan’s full of crap.” “Okay.” I draw the word out, a little thrown off by their behavior. I don’t get what Ryan’s trying to do. Humiliate Cannon? Humiliate me? “Stop pretending you don’t like her,” Ryan says with a smirk. The murderous glint in Cannon’s gaze makes me take a step back, and he wasn’t even looking at me. “You should drive her home so I can talk to Livvy.” Ryan turns his pleading gaze on me, oblivious to Cannon’s irritation. “What do you say, Amanda?” “Um…” “No way,” Livvy pipes up, coming to stand by my side. “I don’t want to be left alone with him.” She points at her boyfriend. Ugh. Their flip-flopping relationship is exhausting. “Come on, baby.” Ryan goes to Livvy, slipping his arms around her waist and hauling her in close. “I need to talk to you.” The rest is lost in intimate murmurs and—yep, I hear lips connecting—a kiss or three. I send a sympathetic glance in Cannon’s direction and he shrugs. “I can give you a ride if you want. Unless you’d rather go with your friend,” he offers, all traces of his earlier anger gone, just like that. I part my lips, ready to turn him down, but I glance over my shoulder instead. See the way Ryan and Livvy are nuzzling each other like they’re madly in love. Like they just didn’t have a raging argument only a few minutes ago. What the crap ever. “Yes.” I turn to face Cannon once more, noting the shock in his gaze. “I’ll take you up on that offer. I’d really appreciate it if you could drive me home.” “Yeah. Sure. Absolutely.” He bobs his head up and down like an eager puppy and takes hold of my arm, steering me toward his car. “You’re going home with Cannon?” Livvy screeches after us. Clearly my choice has stunned her. I gently pull away from Cannon’s grip and turn so I’m walking backwards. “Yes. Text me when you get home, okay?” “I will! We’ll go to the party together.” She winks at me just before Ryan blocks her face with his own. As in, he’s kissing her again. Seeing them kiss makes me miss kissing a certain someone. I turn so I’m walking like a normal person. “What was that all about?” Cannon asks, his voice low. I shrug. “What exactly are you referring to?” “Ryan and Livvy.”

“They’re fighting. Now they’re making up.” “Right.” He pauses. “I don’t know why he said that about me wanting you at my party. It’s not that I don’t want you at my party, it’s just…” “I get it,” I say, wanting to reassure him. He doesn’t like me like that. I never thought he did. I know I don’t like him like that either, so we feel the same way. My heart—damn it—still belongs to someone else.

I climb into Cannon’s huge truck and slam the passenger side door, glancing around. It’s a newer vehicle and it’s absolutely immaculate. Like, everything’s clean, there’s no leftover change in the center console cup holders, nothing hanging from the rearview mirror, not even a bit of dust or dirt on the floorboards. Cannon hops into the car a few seconds later, scowling as he turns to look at me. “Despite what Ryan said, I don’t really like you. He’s full of crap.” I’m slightly taken aback by the ferocity of his tone. “Okay.” “He’s an asshole for saying that.” Cannon slams his door and sticks the key into the ignition like he’s trying to stab something. He cranks the car on, pressing his foot against the gas so the engine roars, and all I can do is stare at him. What the hell is going on? “Are you mad?” He barely looks at me. “Just frustrated. Shit’s not going my way lately.” Cannon Whittaker played a terrific game tonight, so I’m not sure what he’s referring to. Maybe something personal? “Like what sort of shit?” His mouth drops open as his wide eyes meet mine. “Did you just curse?” I shrug, a little embarrassed. “I do on occasion say bad words. I’m not as prissy as everyone seems to think I am.” Where did that assumption even come from? “I never thought you were prissy. It’s just…you’re so smart. It’s intimidating sometimes, trying to talk to you.” He looks away. “I’m the farthest thing from smart, so I don’t feel like I measure up, you know?” “Cannon.” I’m shocked he would even say such a thing, but I guess we all have our own insecurities we’re dealing with. “That’s the craziest thing ever. Why are you intimidated by me? I’m nothing. You, on the other hand, are such an amazing football player.” His gaze meets mine once more, his brows furrowed in seeming confusion. “Seriously. You could probably get a scholarship somewhere. Anywhere you want to go.” “Aw, I don’t know about that. That’s what my mom says, but she just wants me to get out of here and make something of myself. Problem is my grades aren’t so good.” A horn suddenly honks and I glance out the passenger side window to see Ryan pulling out of the parking lot in his fancy white BMW, the tires squealing and I swear I could hear him laughing through his open window.

Such a show off. “We should go,” Cannon says as he puts the truck in reverse and backs out of the parking spot. “Give me your address. I don’t know where you live.” I rattle it off and remain quiet for a while, my mind running over what Cannon said. What happened earlier between Livvy and Ryan. What happened between me and Tuttle during the game. It’s been an adventurous—and mostly annoying—night and there’s more to come with the party at Cannon’s. Great. “I feel bad about you taking me home, since you’re the one having the party,” I finally say. “Don’t you have to get things ready?” He chuckles, his mouth curving into a little smile. “Get things ready for what? I don’t need to do much.” Any party I’ve helped plan, there’s constant stuff to be done before it starts. “Are you sure? Don’t you have to like, set out food or whatever?” “I have a giant bag of tortilla chips from Sam’s Club and a couple of kegs out waiting in the backyard. Oh, and some beers chilling in the fridge, but those are for my VIP guests. Otherwise, I’m ready.” We come to a stop at a red light and he turns to look at me. “It’s no big deal, Amanda. Besides, you don’t live that far from me. After I drop you off, I’ll be home in less than five minutes.” Right. Because we don’t live in the rich neighborhoods like everyone else we hang out with. Trying to change the subject, I run my hand along the smooth, dark gray dashboard in front of me. “I like your truck.” He smiles. I can tell it’s a source of pride for him. “Thanks. I treat it like my baby.” “Did you buy it brand new?” “Yeah.” His smile slips. The pride I saw flashing in his eyes is gone. Now he appears uncomfortable. “My dad bought it for me at the beginning of the summer. Called it an early graduation gift.” More like a year-early graduation gift. Parents are so weird sometimes. “Oh.” I don’t recall ever seeing a Mr. Whittaker come to watch the games. I don’t remember ever seeing a Mrs. Whittaker there either. “So. Are you close to your dad?” “Not really,” he says through clenched teeth. He looks tense. Almost…angry. “He’s not a big part of my life.” “Oh.” I keep repeating myself. And I have no idea what it’s like to have a neglectful parent. My parents are so involved in my life I wish they’d leave me alone half the time. “Well, he bought you a really nice truck.” He must have major money to afford this. “Yeah. I think it’s supposed to make up for all the times he’s never around.” Cannon guns it when the light turns green, making my head jerk back and bounce against the back of the seat. “Sorry. My father is a touchy subject.”

Fathers seem to be a touchy subject for more people than I realized. “It’s okay. I get it.” Not really, but I want to. “How many people did you invite to the party?” “Everyone. Like the entire football team and whoever else wants to come. My mom doesn’t go out of town too often, so I had to take advantage.” “Will she be mad if she knew you were having this party?” He shrugs, keeping his eyes glued on the road. “Maybe. I don’t know. She just wants me happy, so if she ever did find out about this party, she’d probably like it. At least I’m being social. That’s what she’d say.” “I think you’re pretty social.” “Yeah, well, most of the time I’m hating on everyone, so I must do a good job of pretending.” I always thought Cannon was a simple guy with no problems. But he’s a lot more complex than he seems. I’m starting to realize pretty much everyone is a lot more complex than they seem. “Tuttle really cares about you, you know,” Cannon suddenly says. My entire body goes stiff. I do not want to talk about Jordan, especially with Cannon. Though I don’t think they’re close friends, so it’s not like this conversation would get back to Jordan. “He has a funny way of showing it.” “Yeah, I guess. I don’t think it’s easy for him to show his feelings, which I totally get. I’m not big on it either.” Cannon shakes his head as he flicks on the signal and turns right onto the main street of my neighborhood. “He never brings a girl around. Never looks at them the way he looks at you either.” My skin goes warm and I push the annoying feeling away. I refuse to fall back into that trap. “What do you mean? He has to fight off all the girls who want him.” Maybe a slight exaggeration, but that’s what I’ve always heard. Witnessed a time or two. “Well, yeah. There are a bunch of girls who want him, including Lauren Mancini, who will probably cut a bitch if she gets in her way.” He sends me an apologetic look. “Sorry. Just calling it like I see it.” “You don’t need to apologize. It’s true.” Cannon smiles and laughs. “Right. All sorts of girls are panting for his ass, but he really doesn’t want any of them. I’ve never seen him go crazy for a girl the way he acts around you.” “How does he act around me?” I’m almost afraid of his answer. “Like he can’t stop looking at you. Like there’s no one else in the world he’d rather stare at but you.” Cannon’s voice is soft. Almost reverent. “I’m not his good friend or anything, but I’ve spent a lot of time with him over the years, and I know what he’s like.” I’m jittery. Like my hands are shaking from what Cannon said. He’s just an observer. He doesn’t know Jordan that well, doesn’t know his thoughts. But maybe. Just maybe…

“Do you really know what he’s like? Or are you just saying this to make me feel better?” He pulls in front of my house and I unclick the seatbelt, turning to face him. “I don’t need any sweet words to make me feel better, Cannon. I’ve given up on Jordan Tuttle, because he’s given up on me.” Cannon’s lips thin and that ferocious look is back in his eyes again. “He’s a total dumbass, giving up on you.” “Tell me all about it.” His jaw hardens as he stares at my house. “Is it wrong to want something you don’t think you deserve?” Is he talking about Jordan and me now? Or maybe someone else? “Depends on how much wanting something else ends up hurting you.” “I don’t mind the pain.” His smile is sad. “I just hate the waiting. And there’s only so much waiting you can do until you feel like an asshole. You know what I mean?” I burst out laughing, and Cannon eventually joins in. I can’t even say why I’m laughing exactly. Maybe because it’s better than crying? “Surprisingly enough, I know exactly what you mean.”

“I’m feeling really self-conscious right now. Just thought you should know,” I tell Livvy. “No shit. If you’d stop tugging on your skirt, people wouldn’t notice that you’re selfconscious,” Livvy says under her breath as we make our way to the front door of Cannon Whittaker’s house. Once Cannon dropped me off at my house, I texted Livvy. She came over so the both of us could get ready before we took off to his party. And just because she was making out with Ryan while still in the school parking lot doesn’t mean they’re doing well. They fought again on the drive to her house and she was still mad at him. Like, out-for-revenge mad at him. “I can’t help it.” I tug on my skirt again, hating how short it is. I don’t wear dresses very often, but Livvy insisted I wear one tonight. Considering she was at my house and my closet was at her mercy, I didn’t have a choice. Plus, I can admit to myself I was secretly hoping Tuttle might show up after all and see me looking extra hot. Maybe he’d change his mind and want me back after all… Want you back. That jerk doesn’t even deserve you. You’re too good for him and don’t you forget it. It’s weird, but my inner voice sounds suspiciously just like my mom. Maybe because she said something very similar to me when we first split up. She was trying to make me feel better, but… Yeah. Her words didn’t really help. “Yes, you can help it.” Livvy slaps my hand away from the hem of my tight-fitting black dress, making me yelp. I don’t even remember buying this dress, so I have no idea where it came from. “You’re skinny with legs that are a mile long. I swear you look hot. Stop acting like a weenie and own it.” Ugh. I hate it when Livvy’s logical. “I’m owning it tonight too.” She tilts her chin, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Ryan’s going to regret making me so mad.” She’s also hell bent on proving to Ryan that she doesn’t need him. I guess they got into a yelling match in her front yard. She didn’t even care if their neighbors saw, and she told me all about it when she got to my house.

“But then I looked across the street and there he was, standing in his front yard with his mouth hanging open. I’m surprised he wasn’t recording it on his phone. Dustin saw everything,” she announced just before flopping backward on my bed. I’m shocked she’s so worried over what her ex-best friend—and occasional former hookup—thinks about her relationship with Ryan. “I haven’t talked to him in what feels like forever, and the first time I see him, he gets to watch me argue with my boyfriend. Talk about humiliating.” She’s been quiet ever since, silently stewing over what happened. I just hope they don’t get into yet another argument tonight. What she needs is a little distance from Ryan. “Do you think Dustin is here?” Livvy asks as we enter Cannon’s house. The place is small, which means it’s crowded inside and the music is so loud I can hardly hear myself think, let alone hear what Livvy is saying to me. “Who knows?” And who cares? Livvy shouldn’t. But she’s scanning the room, trying to be subtle but failing miserably. And I know she’s not looking for her boyfriend either. “If you spot him or Brianne, tell me.” She turns to face me. “I want to talk to him.” “Why?” When she says nothing I slowly shake my head. “Talking to Dustin while you’re in an argument with Ryan is like playing with fire, Liv. Someone’s gonna get burned.” Probably her, but I don’t say that. She’s a big girl. She can figure this stuff out on her own. “But I need to explain to him what happened.” She grabs my arm and gives it a squeeze. “It’s embarrassing, knowing he watched us arguing. He heard Ryan say such awful things to me. I don’t want him to think we’re always like that.” “Who cares what he thinks about you and your relationship with Ryan?” I pull my arm out of her grip. “You should care more about Ryan and what he’s thinking right now.” Livvy rolls her eyes and resumes her scan of the room once more. “I have nothing to say to him. Not until he apologizes to me first.” She’s being ridiculous. “What exactly did he say to make you so mad?” I’m opening myself up to a minimum two-hour conversation here, but I’m too curious to stop myself. “He called me a moody bitch.” Livvy turns to look at me, her mouth formed into a thin line. “He’s supposed to love me, not call me names. Right? Or am I expecting too much?” Valid point, but I know how Livvy works. “So did you call him anything?” “I said he was a rude prick.” Livvy crosses her arms and sniffs, her lips curled downward in clear distaste. Ah. And there it is. They sling insults at each other, and the angrier they get, the worse the insults are. I’ve seen it happen a few times lately. At first everything seemed perfect between them. I thought they were total couple goals. But after Halloween, something switched. They’ve been getting on each other’s nerves a lot quicker. She nags him and he picks on her. I’m tired of it and I’m not even the one in the relationship.

“Hey.” I grab her hand and tug her close so I can whisper in her ear. “Forget Ryan. Forget Dustin. Let loose and have some fun. Just…don’t let your boy problems ruin everything tonight.” Livvy pulls away, her eyes wide. “If you want me to let loose, you have to let loose too. I know you’re still down in the dumps. We should both get our drink on tonight.” “We can’t get too out of control,” I warn her, unable to help myself. I’m like her mother and she’s my wayward daughter. She laughs. “We won’t. I promise.” Uh huh. Livvy squeezes my hand. “Forget Ryan. Forget Dustin. Forget Tuttle. Boys suck.” I nod and release her hand. “Totally. Boys do suck.” Maybe if I say it loud enough, I’ll believe it. Because yes, Tuttle really does suck. But then again, he doesn’t. Not at all. He’s damaged and emotionally stunted, yet he’s also smart and sweet and quick to react and… I miss him. I want him. If he walked into this house right now and demanded I talk to him, I would. I so would. I wouldn’t even hesitate. Which is stupid. I know this. I’m a logical person. My feelings for Tuttle are illogical and confusing. Does that mean those feelings are love? I’m not sure. Distance helps in the healing. Somewhat. The longer I go without dealing with Tuttle, the better it’ll get. Maybe I’ll even forget all about him someday. Doubtful. But hey, a girl can dream. “Oh God, is that Dustin over there?” Livvy stands on her tiptoes, trying to see over the crowd. I slap her shoulder, making her yelp. “Stop looking for him! What did we just say?” Her gaze meets mine. “Boys suck?” she asks weakly. “Yes.” I nod firmly. “They do. Forget him. Let’s go.” I hook my arm into hers and steer her through the crowd. “Let’s go find the keg. Cannon told me it’s in the backyard.” Livvy is smiling and waving at every guy we pass and I want to slap her hand down. It’s like she turns on the flirt even harder when she’s mad at Ryan. Just so she can prove to herself she’s still got it. “Please don’t tell me Ryan’s in the backyard.” Is she pulling me into a trap or what? “I have no idea where he’s at.” I’ve seen that innocent look on her face before. “Really?” That one word drips with sarcasm. I can hear it. And I don’t believe her. She probably knows exactly where Ryan’s at. And if they’re near each other, she’ll want to start another fight. Or even worse…

She’ll go in search of Dustin, mess around with him yet again, and really start a fight. A big one. One that would most likely result in a breakup. Yeah. Not going to happen on my watch. Livvy is a happy drunk. She has a beer or two and she’s in a good mood. That’s what she should stick to. I’ll maybe have one beer, then I should stick with soda or water for the rest of the night. Drowning my sorrows in booze won’t help. They run too deep. Just as we approach the kitchen I pull away from Livvy. “I need to go find the bathroom. I’ll meet you in the backyard?” She nods. “Don’t ditch me.” I laugh and shake my head. “As if I would.” I watch her walk away and then head down a short hall to find the bathroom. It’s occupied, of course, but after only a minute a girl and guy I don’t recognize walk out. The girl’s face is bright red. The guy has a smirk on his face and waggles his eyebrows at me as he passes by. Gross. I use the bathroom quickly, wash my hands and am about to make my way to the kitchen when I hear someone from behind me say my name. “Amanda.” I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice, and dread slithers down my spine. I knew I’d run into him. I always do. Though he’d been avoiding me as of late, I had a feeling he might talk to me if he saw me here tonight. Slowly I turn to find Eli Bennett standing in front of me. Just turned fifteen years old, an adorable freshman and the star quarterback of the junior varsity team, he is Jordan Tuttle 2.0 in the making. “Eli.” My voice is weak and I clear my throat. “Hey.” “What’s goin’?” He leans in and kisses my cheek so quick I’m left startled when he shifts away from me. The boy has nerve. “Didn’t think you and Liv would show up tonight.” “What makes you say that?” I’m frowning. I can’t help it. Who’s he talking about us with? “Ryan.” Oh, right. Duh. His big brother. Eli shakes his longish golden brown hair out of his eyes. “He told me he and Livvy got in a huge-ass fight.” “They argued,” I agree, not wanting to say more. He’ll run and tell Ryan if I gossip about him. Besides, I would never do that to Livvy. “Those two should just end it.” He makes a face. “My brother has all kinds of hot girls lined up who want him, so it’s not like he’s hurting.” “Eli.” I’m chastising him like I’m his mama, but I can’t help it. He shouldn’t talk like this to me considering how close I am to Livvy.

“What? It’s true.” He smiles, his green eyes sparkling. He’s gorgeous and he knows it, but I am so not interested. We had that stupid moment in Tuttle’s bathroom, but it never amounted to much and I’m glad. I’m not necessarily proud of that moment, to be honest. Eli is way too young for me. “They’re all lining up for me too, you know.” I glance around, seeing no girls nearby. “Huh. Is this line you speak of imaginary?” He starts to laugh. “You never fall for anything I say, do you?” “No.” I smile. “I don’t.” His laughter slowly dies. “I like you, Amanda. Too damn bad you don’t feel the same way.” A sigh escapes me and I take a step closer. There’s something sweet about Eli. One minute he’s a complete horn dog saying the worst things and then the next he’s like a vulnerable little boy seeking approval. “Eli, I’m too old for you. Go pick on someone your own age.” He makes a face. “The freshman girls suck. I’ve dated all the ones I was interested in and they went nowhere. Gone through a few sophomores too.” “Then tackle a junior,” I suggest, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you can find someone who might be interested in you.” “I’m not interested in anyone else.” He shakes his head, sounding frustrated. “Just you.” “Didn’t we already talk about this?” I don’t understand his fascination with me. I thought it was a fleeting thing. I also thought he was terrified of Tuttle and that’s why he left me alone, but maybe not. Or maybe the entire football team knows—of course they know—that Tuttle and I are no longer together and Eli is making another attempt. Seriously, I wish he’d direct his attention toward someone else. “You haven’t even given me a chance.” Now I step away from him. “Actually, I did. Remember? The night you told me I was fine as hell?” Talk about embarrassing. That entire night is a blur to me, and Eli almost ruined everything. Well, he sort of did ruin everything. I appreciate his enthusiasm, but… “You are fine as hell,” he says, his earnest voice interrupting my thoughts. He lets his gaze roam over me, lingering on my legs, which are on full display in the too-short dress. “Tuttle was a total dumbass to let you go.” Anger starts to simmer in my belly and I take another step back. What’s with everyone slinging insults Jordan’s way? I’m the only one allowed to do that. “Gotta go, Eli. Talk to you later.” “Aw, don’t go away mad! Come on, Amanda!” he calls as I hurry away from him. I don’t turn around, don’t acknowledge what he’s saying. It’s pointless. He’ll just keep talking, trying to wear me down and I’m not interested. I’ll give the kid points for determination, though.

I head to the kitchen in search of something else to drink besides beer when I spot our host Cannon looking like a giant while he sits alone at the tiny table by the window. There is so much going on around him, and his expression is so… Sad. He’s having a huge party at his house yet he’s sitting alone so I decide to go sit with him. “Hey, Cannon.” He glances up and smiles briefly at me, but his blue eyes are still dim. “Hey, Amanda. I didn’t think you’d show up.” “I told you I would.” What he didn’t believe me? I know he was in a bad mood during our car ride, but I hoped the party would cheer him up. Looks like that didn’t work. “And here I am.” I nod toward the empty chair across from his. “Can I join you?” Cannon’s expression switches from sad to pleased in an instant. “Yeah, sure. You want something to drink. A beer? If that’s not your thing, I might have some vodka stashed in the cabinet above the fridge.” He starts to stand, but I wave my hands at him, shaking my head. “I don’t think I want any beer.” My stomach churns just thinking about it. Why am I suddenly so nervous? “Ah, come on Amanda. Loosen up.” He points at the empty chair across from him. “Sit down. Let me get you a drink.” “Fine. Okay.” I flash him a smile as I sit and he offers a weak one in return. This is a boy who used to be a total player. Now he’s sitting around looking like someone kicked his puppy. Maybe I do need a beer to deal with this. “I think I’ll take you up on that beer.” “Awesome. Hey, Bennett!” Cannon practically roars, making me flinch. Of course, Eli Bennett materializes out of nowhere. I’d rather avoid both Bennett brothers tonight, but I don’t know if that’s going to be possible. “What’s up, boss?” Eli asks, looking—and sounding—like an eager servant. Weird. “Get the lady a beer.” Cannon nods in my direction and when Eli spots me, he smirks. “And don’t say a word to her or I’ll kick your ass.” I can tell Eli knows that Cannon means business. The smirk disappears and he practically runs to the fridge, pulling out a Bud Light and running back over to deliver it to Cannon. “Here you go,” Eli says before he leaves, never once looking at me. Well. That was kind of nice. “What’s up with you two?” I ask. Cannon hands me the beer. “He’s a little punk who needed to be put in his place. So I did.” I pop open the can and take a sip. It’s nice and cold, better than the warm, foamy crap

in the keg. I lucked out. “How?” “I kicked his ass.” He sends me a look when I start to giggle. “For real.” Clamping my lips shut, I nearly choke on the beer still in my mouth. I carefully set the can on the table and gape at Cannon. “What do you mean, you kicked his ass for real? Why?” “He said some not so nice things about a friend of mine.” Cannon shrugs those impossibly wide shoulders of his. They’re even wider than Jordan’s, and that’s saying a lot. “So I wanted to teach him a lesson.” “By kicking his ass.” “Eli’s a little fucker. Just like his brother.” Cannon sends me an apologetic look. “Sorry. I don’t mean to curse in front of you.” “I can handle it,” I say, taking another sip. “And I know your friend Livvy is dating Ryan and that Eli even tried to get in your panties at that last party Tuttle had. And then Tuttle got all pissed off and wanted to fuck him up over it.” The moment the words fall out of his mouth, he presses his lips together, his cheeks turning ruddy. “Sorry. That was rude of me. I should learn when to keep my mouth shut.” This is kind of funny. It’s like Cannon’s proving all those gentle giant stereotypes are real, though let’s not forget he kicked Eli’s ass. “You’re only speaking the truth,” I reassure him. “But yeah. The Bennett brothers are kind of awful sometimes.” “Kind of? They’re awful almost all the damn time.” Cannon shakes his head, looking pissed. “Eli called my—friend a slut. He was even spreading rumors that she’d suck anyone’s dick on the football team. All they had to do was ask her. And I know that’s not true.” He grimaces. “Damn, I keep saying the worst things in front of you.” “Cannon.” I reach out and touch the top of his hand, trying to reassure him. “It’s no big deal. Say what you gotta say. It sounds like you need to get this off your chest.” “I do. I really do.” He nods in agreement, downright vigorously. “She’s a nice girl. She might have a reputation around school, but I know her. We’ve talked. A lot. Most of the time, she frustrates me, but I think that’s because she doesn’t know how to take— kindness.” He makes a face. “That makes no sense. But maybe you know what I mean?” Whoever he’s talking about, she’s reminding me of someone. “I do know what you mean. And maybe she doesn’t know how to handle kindness because no one has been genuinely nice to her before?” “That’s what I’m thinking. I’m definitely nice to her. Maybe I’m too nice. I dunno.” He takes a deep breath. “I want to watch out for her. Protect her. But she won’t let me.” That is the sweetest thing ever. I take a huge swallow of my beer before I ask, “Who exactly are you talking about?” Cannon parts his lips, ready to give me an answer, when a shrill voice calls out his name.

We both swivel our heads to see Em approaching the table with determined steps and fire blazing in her eyes. I swear she’s mad that she’s found Cannon and me sitting at the table together. Alone. With my hand still resting on top of his. Whoops. I snatch it back, not missing the way Em’s glaring at me. Almost like she’s… jealous? Okay. This is getting strange. “I don’t talk to you for a couple of hours and this is what you do? You go running to Amanda?” Em aims her angry fire on Cannon and he shrinks in his seat, like little Em is scaring the crap out of him. She rests her hands on her hips, the disappointment clear on her face. “So you’re a liar. Just like the rest of them.” “It’s not what you think—” he starts, but she cuts him off. “That’s what you all say.” Em laughs, but there’s no humor in the sound. No, her laughter is bitter. Angry. Sad. Just how Cannon’s acting. “Hey.” I stand, practically thrust myself in front of Em so she can’t see Cannon. I want her to focus on me, on what I’m about to say. “It really isn’t what you think.” She tilts her head back because I’m taller than her, and I swear her chin wobbles. Like she’s about to cry. “I thought you were my friend.” “I am.” I take her hands and give them a shake. “I just got here. I saw Cannon and thought he looked sad, so I started talking to him. I’ve known him a long time, you know.” Em’s eyes are dark, lined with thick black eyeliner, and so wide as she studies me. She looks like she wants to believe me, but she’s still unsure. “Em.” I shake her hands again, harder this time, and I lower my voice. “I’m not into Cannon at all. I’m—I’m still in love with Tuttle.” It took a lot to admit that. And I think Em knows it too. Realization seems to flicker in her eyes. “So you’re just friends? That’s it?” “Yes. We’re friends. I don’t want Cannon like that. And I really don’t think he’s into me either.” I squeeze her hands one more time before I let them go and say in a low voice, “But I do think he likes you.” She blinks once, twice, like she’s startled. “Really?” Her voice is a breathless whisper, and I’m baffled. These two are totally into each other. It’s obvious. So why are they acting like this? Huh. I could ask Tuttle the same question I guess. “Yes. Really,” I say, my voice flat. This is what happens when I think about Tuttle and our situation and how stupid it is. Doesn’t he see that? Doesn’t he realize just how ridiculous he’s being by denying that he has feelings for me? Because I know he has feelings for me. He cares about me. And he’d rather push me

away. Keep me out of his life. It’s so incredibly frustrating. And stupid. Em glances over at Cannon before she returns her gaze to mine. “You’re still in love with Tuttle?” Hearing her say the words out loud makes me wince. “You should tell him. He’s here. I just saw him.” My heart trips over itself. “What? He’s here?” I didn’t think he was coming, though I’d secretly hoped. “Are you serious?” “Yeah. When I first got here, I saw him outside, leaning against his Range Rover, looking irritated and sexy, though I don’t know how he manages to do both.” Em laughs and shakes her head. “You should totally go find him and talk to him. I know he’ll listen to you.” Yeah right. “He already knows how I feel.” My heart is racing. It never seems to remain calm when Jordan is nearby. “It’s a waste of my time to talk to him.” “I don’t know about that,” Em says slowly, her attention focused on Cannon. Her lips curl into a flirtatious smile. “Hey, you got anything for me to drink, Whittaker?” And that’s it. I’m forgotten, which I can’t blame her for, because if she really likes him, I get that. Wanting to spend all her time with the boy she wants, I’ve been there. I’ve so been there. Walking through the kitchen, I go to the door that leads to the backyard, watching everyone outside. I spot Livvy on the far side of the yard, talking with Ryan, her expression closed off, her arms crossed in front of her like she’s trying to keep him away. Her body language says it all. A breakup is imminent. I turn away and head for the fridge, where I find another cold Bud Light. I open it and chug half of it in a few gulps, wipe a hand across my mouth before I finish it off. My head is already spinning and I toss the empty can in the sink, turning away from the fridge to glance around the kitchen. No one’s paying me any attention. I’m alone. It’s like I’m invisible. It doesn’t matter what I do, because no one is going to notice me doing it. Right? Shrugging, I go into the living room, where loud music is playing and a bunch of girls are dancing. I join them, laughing when they easily accept me. They all yell and cheer and one of them grabs my hand, pulling me into the center. We’re all dancing and singing the words to the popular song currently playing. Guys start to take notice of us and they hover nearby and watch us, though they never join in the dancing. Chickens. Speaking of chickens, Jordan Tuttle is nowhere to be seen. Of course. The song ends and another fast one starts, making us cheer all over again. More girls join us and it’s getting so hot. My hair sticks to the back of my neck and I lift it up, trying

to cool myself off. “Want a drink, Amanda?” I turn to see a girl I knew from band standing in front of me with a smile, a red cup of foamy beer in each hand. I take one from her with a loud thank-you, ready to bring the drink to my lips when a hand shoots out of nowhere and snatches the cup from my fingers. “Hey!” I yell, lifting my head to find myself staring into Jordan Tuttle’s eyes. He’s glaring at me, clearly irritated and gorgeous and infuriatingly sexy while gripping the red cup in his hand like he wants to crush it. My skin tingles. My heart flips. He doesn’t move and neither do I—until someone calls out his name. The moment he’s distracted, I turn and run away.



I’m only here because I knew she would be here. It’s like I have no control. When I got home after the game, I took a shower. Jerked off. Dried off. Thought about shaving but didn’t, because I’m too lazy. Got dressed. Climbed into my car. Made the drive to Cannon Whittaker’s house without even thinking about it. It was like I suddenly found myself pulling into his driveway with no recollection of making the journey there. I killed the engine and sat there, watching the house for a while. So many people. They were everywhere. At least at my house, it’s big enough you can’t see them all. Here, they’re all I see. Except for the one person I wanted to see. I knew she was inside. I could feel it—feel her presence. Maybe she’s what drew me here. Ridiculous. Illogical. Yet here I am. Trying to come up with the courage to go find her. After a few minutes, I got out of the SUV. Leaned against it, watching people go past, a few of them calling my name in greeting, and I nodded in return. Most of them say nothing at all, they just stare at me as they walk past. I stood outside for a solid fifteen minutes, contemplating my next move. Hesitant. Full of doubt. Totally unlike myself. “Fuck it,” I muttered, and headed toward the house, not paying attention to anyone, not bothering to say a word. I opened the front door, pausing as I scanned the room, and she was the first person I lay eyes on. Amanda. Dancing with a bunch of girls I didn’t recognize, wearing a tight dress that revealed every curve and showcased her long, sexy legs. Her hair down, dark and wavy around her face and tempting me to plunge my hands in it. Wrap those silky strands around my fist so I could drag her back into the nearest bedroom and have my way with her. Yeah. I’m thinking like a caveman. This is what she does to me. I was heading toward Amanda when another girl came out of the kitchen with red Solo cups in each hand. She offered one to Amanda and I intercepted it just before she takes a drink. From the glassy look in her eyes, I’d guess she’s already had plenty of alcohol to drink.

God, she’s beautiful. And this is torture. Coming here. Seeking her out. Her dark eyes go wide when they meet mine and I can hardly move. Neither can she. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, a look I’ve seen her give me time and again, and I want to be the one who bites her lip. Taste her skin. Kiss her mouth. “Tuttle!” I turn away from Amanda to find Ryan is standing in front of me, a drunken smile plastered on his stupid face. “What’s up dude?” he asks with a laugh. I acknowledge him with a lackluster one-finger salute, keeping my mouth shut. I don’t want to deal with this guy. I need to talk to Amanda. But when I turn back around, she’s gone. Gone. Shoving past a questioning Ryan, I go on pure instinct, pushing through the crowd in the living room, ignoring everyone, my only focus on finding her. The house is small. She couldn’t have gone too far. I need to find her. I have to talk to her. I have to.



He’s chasing after me. I can feel him getting closer, and I try to push past the crowds of people filling Cannon’s house to gain some distance, but it’s no use. His fingers eventually close around my upper arm, halting my progress, and I whirl on him, jerking against his ever-strengthening hold. “Let me go!” I’m yelling to be heard above the music, and I don’t care if people are watching. Listening. I want to cause a scene. Maybe it’ll actually force him to react. He’s so cold all the time. So distant. Even when he tries to talk to me, when he’s almost desperate to make himself heard, he doesn’t make much sense. He talks in circles. Claims he can’t do the things that should come easy to him. How hard can it be, to love someone? What barriers are in his way? “I want to talk to you,” he starts, but I shake my head, cutting him off. I’ve heard this all before. We won’t get anywhere. I’m over it. Maybe someday I’ll be over him too. “I don’t want to listen to you. I’m done listening to you.” My skin is tingling where he touches me, and I’m so annoyed by my body’s reaction, I tug even harder, trying to get out of his grip. “Let me go, Tuttle.” The anger on his face is obvious. He hates it when I call him Tuttle. Well, too damn bad. “You’re being unreasonable.” “You’re being unreasonable,” I throw back at him like a child ready to launch into a major temper tantrum. “You want to start fighting in front of everyone? Because I’m up for it. I can yell and scream and kick and tell them you’re holding me against my will.” His expression turns dark. Thunderous. “You wouldn’t do that.” “Try me,” I say smugly. The music is still playing but people have stopped dancing, talking, laughing. They’re watching us with wide eyes, some of them holding up their phones. Recording the argument? Maybe they’re snapping a few photos to throw up on social media? For once, I really don’t care.

“You’re being unreasonable.” His tone softens and I tell myself not to let my resolve do the same. “Just hear me out, Mandy. Please.” I hate it when he calls me Mandy. And I really hate it when he says please because he so rarely does. Hearing him say that word makes me want to give in and let him talk to me. Let myself believe in what he wants to say. Murmurs start and the crowd slowly parts, a fuming Cannon emerging from its depths. His face is red and his eyes are narrowed as he strides toward the two of us. I sneak a quick glance at Tuttle, but his face is a mask. He almost looks… Bored. By the entire situation. I’m tempted to stomp on his foot just to make him react. “Hey.” Cannon’s voice is sharp as he tries to wedge his broad body between Tuttle and me. His back is to me and I can’t see anything around him. He’s as big as a wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Tuttle? Let her go.” “Stay out of it, Whittaker,” Jordan says between clenched teeth just before he lets me go. I take a step back, needing the distance from the sudden testosterone-fueled air. “Leave us alone.” “We were having no problems at my party until you decided to show up.” Cannon takes a step toward Jordan, looming over him. They’re so close their chests are practically touching, but neither one backs down. “Leave her alone.” Cannon’s voice leaves no room for argument. But seeing the look on Tuttle’s face, all that earlier supposed boredom is gone. He appears enraged, his hands clutched into fists, like he’s ready to throw one straight at Cannon’s face. Fear trickles through me, leaving me cold, and I wrap my arms around myself. “Stay out of our business.” Jordan’s voice is hard, as is his expression. His jaw is so tight it looks like it might shatter. “If you two have business, then take it elsewhere. You don’t need to start anything at my house.” Cannon turns to look at me, his gaze imploring. My new friend Cannon, rushing to my defense. Who knew he’d do this? Definitely not me. “Do you want to talk to him, Amanda? You don’t have to.” I’m torn. Part of me wants to listen to what Jordan will say. The other part wants to tell Jordan to kiss my ass and never speak to me again. “Say yes, Amanda,” Jordan commands like he’s the boss of me. Hearing him talk like that makes me want to punch him. The fear switches to anger just like that, and I stride toward him, ready to push, punch, scream, whatever gets my point across, when someone shouts and shoves Cannon from behind. It all happens so fast. Cannon yells. Jordan starts swinging. I hear phones clicking, flashes going off as people in the crowd snap pictures. Two of our best football players are going at it, and I’m stuck in the middle. “Fight!”

I get caught, both boys having a shoving match with me in between them. Cannon grabs hold of my arm. “Get out of the way!” I try to, slithering out of Cannon’s loose grip before stumbling into Jordan. He grips me by the shoulders, his gaze locking with mine and I suck in a sharp breath at the anger I see on his face, in his eyes. But I know it’s not anger toward me. He’s mad at Cannon. “Let her go, Tuttle! She doesn’t want to talk to you!” Cannon roars. Jordan holds up his empty hands, sending Cannon a death look. “Give me a break. I’m not even touching her.” “Leave her alone!” Cannon continues, his face going red. I appreciate his rushing to my defense, but it’s not necessary. Jordan isn’t hurting me. He’s not even touching me. I don’t get what the big deal is. It’s a big deal though. The entire party is starting to fall apart. People begin shouting. Arguing. The music shuts off and girls scatter in all directions, screaming at the top of their lungs. I hear the crash of glass, an agonizing yowl, and I realize quick everything’s fallen into complete chaos. “This is ridiculous,” Jordan mutters just before he hooks his fingers around my elbow. “Let’s get out of here.” “No.” My defiant tone is loud and I shake my head. “I’m not leaving with you.” “Wanna make a bet?” One brow lifts and he smirks. It’s adorable. And infuriating. “Tuttle.” Cannon steps around us, grabbing hold of Jordan’s arm, but Jordan pulls back, sending his elbow straight into my left eye. He nails me so hard I fall backward, landing on the floor with a hard thud that makes my teeth slam shut and my butt hurt. My skirt is wound around my thighs and I can taste blood on my tongue. Not to mention the throbbing that’s started below my left eye. A groan leaves me and I let my head drop to the floor, my hand flying up to cover the left side of my face. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth and I close my eyes, fighting the dizziness swamping me. “Jesus!” I hear Jordan yell and then he’s kneeling next to me, his hands roaming over my body, fingers pulling my skirt down over my thighs. “Are you okay? God, tell me you’re okay.” I crack my right eye open, my hand still covering the left. “You hit me.” His expression is nothing less than horrified. “I didn’t hit you.” “Your elbow hit me. By accident.” I close my eyes, the beer sloshing around in my stomach making me nauseous. Everything’s making me nauseous. All the yelling. The scent of Jordan’s cologne. The people darting around us. I’m scared someone’s going to step on me and hurt me even more. “It hurts.” “Damn it,” he mutters just before he scoops me up in his arms and stands, cradling me

close. “We’re getting you out of here.” “Put me down,” I protest weakly, but he ignores me, which is best. I don’t really want him to put me down. I hear Cannon yelling at everyone to calm their tits and it makes me laugh. But laughing only makes me feel worse, so I stop. Instead I gaze up at Tuttle, studying him as he walks down the short hall where the bathroom is located, carrying me like I don’t weigh a thing. He looks so handsome and worried and furious. His jaw is still tight. I can see a tic there, hear him exhale extra hard. There’s the shadow of stubble on his cheeks and jaw, his hair is unruly—he seriously needs to get a haircut—and his eyes are dark, hooded. Full of fire. Without warning he lifts his leg and kicks a door open, making a couple kissing on the center of a bed leap apart in shock. It’s got to be Cannon’s room. There are posters all over the wall, some of beautiful girls wearing little clothing, but most of them are of NFL football heroes. Future aspirations, I guess. “What the hell?” the guy yells at Tuttle, but neither of us say a word. He starts to check the next door, but I rest my hand on his chest, stopping him. “That’s the bathroom.” Jordan glances down at my hand resting on his chest before lifting his gaze to mine. “Still want to hit me?” I slowly shake my head, waiting for the embarrassment or shame to come. But surprisingly, it doesn’t. “I’m over it.” “Good.” We finally find a tiny room with only a plain desk and a narrow single bed in it. Jordan turns on the overhead light after he shuts the door behind us and takes me over to the bed, carefully setting me down. His gaze is searching, roaming all over my face, lingering on my left eye. “Can I touch you?” “Why?” “I want to make sure your eye isn’t worse than I think it is.” He reaches out, hesitant, his hand hovering in the air between us. “Can I?” I remain quiet, getting lost in his eyes for a moment before I finally give a tiny nod of permission. His fingers are gentle when they land on my cheek, just below my eye. He presses down on my skin, shifting up until he’s feeling along my cheekbone, getting closer and closer to my eye until I finally wince when he touches one particular spot. “That hurts?” His voice is a low, sexy murmur that I feel right to the very depths of my soul. Even though I’m in pain with a swimming stomach, a cut tongue and a blooming black eye, he still manages to give me butterflies.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “It hurts a lot. Your elbow is like a lethal weapon.” Jordan makes a face and shakes his head. “I can’t believe that happened. Are you sure it wasn’t Whittaker who nailed you in the eye?” “It was you.” I suck in a sharp breath when he brushes wayward strands of hair away from my forehead. I wish he wouldn’t touch me like that. Look at me like that. Like I might still matter. Like he might still care. “You hit me hard.” “I didn’t know you were standing that close.” “I was right in the middle of you two.” I sound incredulous because I am. “You were also beating me up.” He smiles, the arrogant jerk. “Rather ineffectively, but it was cute.” I glare at him. “Don’t call me cute. I was trying to hurt you.” His smile disappears, though I can tell it’s a struggle for him to remain neutral. “You were trying to hurt me?” “Yes.” He touches my forehead again, like he can’t help it, and I want to tell him to stop, but it feels too good. My eyes fall closed and I savor the feeling of his fingers skimming my skin, lightly searching around my eye. I wince again, and he pauses. “I see bruises.” “I’m sure I’m going to look hideous tomorrow.” “You could never look hideous.” I can’t stop the smile from curling my lips. “You haven’t seen me with a black eye yet, so never say never.” He chuckles. “Where’s your phone?” “I don’t have it with me.” I frown. “I left it in the car.” “Whose car?” “Livvy’s. We came to the party together.” My eyes pop open. “I need to find her. I need to tell her I’m okay. I need to see if she’s okay.” I start to sit up, but Jordan stops me, his hands going to my shoulders and pushing me back down so I’m lying on the bed. “I’ll text her,” he says, his voice gentle. Soothing. “Don’t worry about it. You need to rest.” He pulls his iPhone out of the back pocket of his jeans and his fingers fly over the screen. “I’m perfectly fine.” I’m also a liar. “I don’t need rest. I need to get out of here.” I sit up this time, so fast my head spins and I rest a hand over my churning stomach, closing my eyes again in hopes it’ll ward off the nausea. But that doesn’t help either, since my head is swimming. I carefully lie back down and throw my arm over my eyes. “I think I drank too much.” “How much did you have to drink?” “Um, two beers? Maybe three? But I drank them really fast.”

“Too fast?” “Yeah, and plus I was dancing and it was so hot and crowded in the living room. I think that’s my problem. I just need to cool down.” Jordan inhales sharply and shifts on the side of the bed, coming closer to me. I can feel his body heat, smell his scent, which isn’t as overpowering as it was just a few minutes ago. “You looked really good out there,” he admits, his voice low and sexy and vaguely irritating. Only because I think it’s sexy. “Dancing with the girls. The dress. Your hair. You look pretty tonight, Amanda.” My heart soars at the compliment and I want to tell it to calm the hell down. He’s given me plenty of compliments before, but does he actually mean them? “Thanks.” My stomach makes an embarrassing noise and I rest my other hand on my belly. “I shouldn’t have drunk those beers.” “Are you going to be sick?” Now he sounds a little freaked out. I shake my head and stop immediately because ow, that hurts. “No, I think I’ll be okay.” I keep my hand there, as if it’ll somehow calm me down. “I told myself I wasn’t going to drown my sorrows tonight in booze.” “Drown your sorrows? What sorrows?” Ugh, that he would even say that sort of pisses me off. “My Jordan Tuttle sorrows.” Thank God my eyes are covered so I don’t have to see him. I’m shocked and pissed at myself for saying those words out loud. “You never heard me say that.” He’s silent for a moment, most likely considering what his reply should be. “But I did.” His voice is even softer than before. I think I shocked him. “Well, act like you didn’t. Pretend the words don’t matter, okay?” I can’t look at him, can’t face the humility of saying what I just did in front of him. He’s the cause of my sorrows. I just told him that. What must he think? Does he pity me? Feel sorry for me? Though I know he’s said some pretty messed up things too. Yet I refused to listen. Maybe we’re even. “Amanda—” I interrupt him. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please. There’s nothing left to say between us, don’t you think?” He’s quiet again, and the silence is so unnerving I’m almost desperate to fill it with meaningless words. “Why would you say that?” I’m scrambling to come up with a reason. A good one. A strong, valid reason to make him stay away once and for all. I drop my arm from my eyes, though I still keep them closed, and part my lips, ready to say something when the door crashes open and I hear Livvy’s voice. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere!”

Livvy rushes into the tiny room, filling it up with over-the-top, stressed-out vibes. I crack open my eyes and watch as she approaches the bed, dropping to her knees so she can be face level with me. Her eyes are wide and staring into mine as she reaches out and rests her hand on my forearm, her nails digging into my skin. She zeroes right in on my black eye, her face crinkling in horror just before she lifts her angry gaze to Jordan. “You did this to her?” Oh, she sounds mad as hell. Jordan stands and takes a step away, almost like he’s afraid of her. “It was an accident.” “Oh, so your fist connecting with her eye was an accident? How gullible do you think I am, Tuttle?” Livvy turns to examine me once more, and her voice drops to the barest whisper. “Do you want me to take you to the emergency room? Call the cops? We can make a report. I’ll help you. Whatever you want to do, I’m here for you, but know this. He needs to pay for hurting you, Amanda. He can’t get away with hitting you. Your eye looks terrible. I can’t believe he did this! Has he been abusing you all along?” “Oh my God, Olivia. Seriously. You need to chill out.” I grab hold of her hand and give it a tight squeeze. She looks borderline hysterical. “He hit me accidentally with his elbow. He didn’t mean to do it. I promise.” The skeptical look she sends me says it all. “His elbow?” “Check with everyone who just watched it go down. Half of them were recording it on their phones.” I try not to think about that part because talk about humiliating. I’m sure my getting nailed with an elbow is already making its appearance on everyone’s Snapchat stories. I sink my head into the flat pillow and close my eyes. I’m exhausted. My head still hurts. My eye hurts. My tongue hurts, though it stopped bleeding a while ago so that’s good. “I was the one beating up Jordan first,” I explain to Livvy. “I got in between him and Cannon to try and stop their argument, and the next thing I know, I’m taking an elbow to the eye.” “Wait a minute. Are you saying Cannon and Tuttle were fighting over you?” I crack my eyes open to see her brows are so high they’re practically in her hairline. She turns to look at Tuttle. “What’s going on there?” “Ask Amanda. I don’t know what’s up with them.” I roll my eyes, but that’s painful too, so I stop. “He’s into Em,” I tell Livvy. “Cannon is, I mean. He doesn’t like me like that. They weren’t fighting over me, I swear.”

“Cannon Whittaker likes Em? Really?” Livvy shakes her head with wonder. “Who knew?” “He acts like he’s into you. He was trying to stop us from talking,” Jordan says, his voice tight as he stares right at me. “Like I’m a threat to you or whatever.” Livvy sighs. “This is sounding way too familiar.” She studies me. “Are you really okay? Do you want me to drive you home? I can. I don’t mind. I’m completely sober.” “I’ll take her home,” Jordan says, making both of us turn and glare at him. “Is that what you want?” Livvy asks me. Yes. Yes, it’s exactly what I want. But is it a smart move? Am I just setting myself up for heartbreak yet again? How many times can we do this to each other? How many times can I endure the back and forth with my emotions before I finally can’t take it anymore? “Hey.” We all turn toward the door where Ryan is standing, looking contrite. “You okay, Amanda? I brought ice for your eye.” He holds up a Ziploc bag full of ice cubes. “I’m fine,” I say as I sit up, wincing at the pain lancing through my head. “Is everything okay out there?” Jordan goes to Ryan and takes the bag of ice from him before bringing it over to me. I take it from him and gently set it over my eye, sucking in a sharp breath from the coldness. “Someone broke a glass vase in the living room, but otherwise, everything’s fine. Cannon made everybody go out to the backyard.” Ryan smiles at Livvy. “Ready to go, baby?” I think I just threw up a little in my mouth. I hate the way he just called her baby. Not even an hour ago she was spitting fire and ready to hook up with Dustin just to prove some weird point. Now she’s looking at him with hearts in her eyes like he’s her personal savior. “Amanda? You’ll be okay with him?” She sends Jordan one of her famous death looks. I shift the bag of ice over my eye, hoping this helps, because the icy cold against my skin sucks. “I’ll be fine. Promise. Text me when you get home.” Realization dawns. “Wait, my phone is in your car. I should go—” “You’re not going anywhere,” Jordan interrupts before he turns to Ryan. “Can you grab Amanda’s phone from Livvy’s car for me?” “Uh, sure.” Annoyance flashes on Ryan’s face, and then he’s gone. Livvy starts to giggle. “He doesn’t like it when someone tells him what to do.” “I know,” Jordan says smugly, making us all laugh. Ryan returns minutes later with my phone in his hand and Cannon in tow. He’s the one who delivers my phone to me, his cheeks ruddy with embarrassment. “You okay, Amanda? I didn’t mean to cause all that trouble.” He sends a look toward Jordan. “We cool, man? I don’t want to fight with you.”

“I don’t want to fight with you either, so we’re cool. And I didn’t mean to cause a scene. Your house didn’t get trashed, did it?” Jordan asks. “Nah, it’s all good. I made everyone go outside. The temperature will drop and then they’ll all bail.” Cannon shakes his head with a faint smile. “This’ll be the talk of school come Monday, won’t it?” “Most likely.” Jordan pauses. “You mind if we stay here for a few more minutes? I want to make sure Amanda’s okay before she starts moving around.” Geez, what is he? My dad? Though it’s kind of sweet, how worried he is about me. “Yeah, sure. No problem. However long it takes,” Cannon says easily. “Sorry again, Amanda. I was just trying to help.” I send Cannon a smile. “I know. And I appreciate it.” “We’ll get out of your hair,” Livvy says, steering both boys out of the room. She glances at me over her shoulder, mouthing, “text me later” right before Jordan closes the door behind them. And now once again, we’re all alone. He walks over to the bed and sits on the edge of the mattress, closest to the end. “How you feeling?” “I’m okay.” I run my tongue over my teeth and grimace. “My tongue hurts.” “What? Why?” “I bit it when I got hit and I think I cut it.” He scoots closer. “Let me see.” I clamp my lips shut. “No.” “Come on. Let me see. What if it’s serious?” “Serious as my black eye? I doubt it.” “Your eye isn’t black.” He tilts his head to the side. “Yet.” “Whatever. You can’t even see it.” I drop the bag of ice beside me on the bed. “I need a break from the ice.” “You should keep the ice on your eye. It’ll keep down the swelling and bruising.” “It’s cold.” “That’s the point.” He makes a growling sound that’s part scary, part sexy. “Show me your tongue, Amanda,” he demands. I stick my tongue out at him and he leans in, examining it closely, which is just…weird. It makes me think of his tongue. How it’s been in my mouth, curling around mine. How he’s licked my neck, my chest, many parts of my body. How he went down on me and proved that his tongue was downright magical…

And now my head is spinning for an entirely different reason. I close my mouth and our eyes meet. “See anything awful?” “No.” He slowly shakes his head. “A tiny cut, but nothing major.” I don’t know what to say. How to act. So I hold the ice against my eye once more instead. “I feel better now.” Jordan frowns. “Are you sure? You want fresh ice? Ibuprofen?” “No, I’m fine. Really.” I smile and make to get off the bed so I can stand on my own two feet like a normal person, but he grabs hold of my ankle, stopping me. “Rest for a few minutes longer. You don’t want to move too fast and make it worse,” he says, his voice low, his gaze roaming over me hungrily, like he wants to eat me up. My skin goes tight and I’m tingling. I should not be—turned on by the way he’s looking at me. My eye is throbbing. I feel like I’ve been beat up. I have been beat up. So why am I wishing he would just lean over and kiss me? I must be crazy. Something was knocked loose when he hit me with his elbow. “Why did you come to the party?” I ask him. He appears startled for a moment, but then that smooth, Jordan Tuttle mask appears, and I can’t get a good read on him. “Cannon invited me.” “Right. And you always come to parties when someone else throws them.” I raise a brow. “Were you looking for someone?” “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I was, actually.” Not the answer I expected. And if he says Lauren Mancini, I will lose my mind. “Well, maybe you should get back out there and keep looking,” I suggest. Then I remember his offer to take me home and how I agreed to it. “I’ll be fine by myself for a few minutes. I just want to rest.” “But I don’t need to look anymore. I already found her.” He’s watching me like I’ve completely lost my mind, which yeah, is probably true. I’m torturing myself by trying to figure out who he’s trying to hook up with tonight. Did he come here tonight to find someone to hook up with? Did I get in his way? I know he said he wanted to talk to me, but that’s nothing. Maybe he was just going to tell me to stay out of his way. Stay out of his business. Not that I care. Not really. Okay fine, I care a lot. But I can fake it with the best of them when I need to. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go back out there and talk to her. Or whatever it is that you do to work your sexual magic on her.” I wave at him like I’m shooing away a fly. Jordan frowns, his dark brows furrowing. “Are you really feeling okay? You’re not acting right.” I heave out a big sigh and pull my leg out of his grip, which makes my skirt ride up

way too far on my thighs. I tug on it, not wanting to flash him my panties, and of course his gaze drops right there. Like he’s trying to figure out what color my panties are. In case anyone’s curious, they’re black. Like Jordan Tuttle’s soul. “I’m fine. Stop asking,” I tell him before I drop my head and fixate on the tops of my thighs. It’s easier than looking at Jordan. I don’t know what’s going on between us, and I hate how natural this feels when he is so clearly still fighting what’s happening between us. “When I said I found her, I was talking about you, Amanda.” I lift my head, our gazes clashing. His face is so serious, so handsome and earnest. I try to glare, to pretend he has no effect on me, but I can feel my resolve melting when I see the tenderness in his gaze. Why does he have to look at me like that? “Are you saying this to make me feel better? Because you’re afraid I have a concussion or whatever? Or you feel guilty because you gave me a black eye?” I reach out and rest my hand on his knee, unable to stop myself from touching him. “Be real with me. Be honest.” His gaze drops to where my hand rests on his knee and stays there for long, quiet seconds, allowing me to get lost in the moment. Pretending that we’re together and he’s totally into me and I’m totally into him. When he lifts his head, he’s staring at me in the same way, like he can’t believe we’re here together and it’s—nice. His gaze does a lazy perusal of me, starting from the top of my head and ending at the tips of my toes, lingering on what he’d probably consider the good bits. Like my (nonexistent) boobs. My waist, my hips. He’s such a typical boy. “Jordan.” My voice is wobbly and I clear my throat. “Are you going to say something?” His gorgeous blue eyes flicker with unmistakable pleasure. “You said my name.” Is that all he can focus on? Figures. “Is that it?” He frowns. “No. I don’t know. It’s like I get near you, and I don’t know what to say next. I can’t help it, Mandy.” “Don’t call me that,” I snap, and he rears his head back, clearly startled at my show of anger. Well, good. I never act angry toward him. It’s about time Jordan feels my wrath. “I’m sorry.” His deep voice is quiet, reverberating within me. I love his voice. His face. His thick, dark hair and his square, masculine jaw, which is currently covered in stubble. I bet he’d give me beard burn if he kissed me for even a few minutes, and I’d also bet I’d love every moment of it. His words suddenly sink in and I blink up at him. “What did you just say?” Did he really apologize? “I said I’m sorry. I won’t call you Mandy anymore.” His gaze is imploring as he studies

me. “Why did you say that earlier?” The swift change of subject is jarring. “What are you talking about?” “Earlier, at the game. You told me you missed me. It was so—unexpected.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t know how to answer you.” “So you thought the smart move was to say nothing? Thanks for that, by the way, because you made me feel incredibly stupid.” Like how I feel right now, being trapped in this tiny room with him, where he seems to suck up all the air with just his mere presence. “I didn’t mean to make you feel stupid. I was the stupid one to walk away like that.” I snort in response and his lips curl into the faintest smile. His perfect face is too perfect, and ugh. It’s positively unfair how gorgeous he is. It’s also unfair how I can be so ready to forgive him when he offers me up the smallest smile as his apology. He’s stingy with those smiles. And he’s even stingier with his laughter. “You were stupid,” I agree, removing my hand from his knee. I need to stop touching him. We’re too close, this moment feels too intimate and I need to make it stop. Create some distance. “I’m always afraid whatever I say to you will fuck it all up,” he admits in a low whisper. “So most of the time, I think it’s best to say nothing at all.” “Yes, and you somehow still manage to fuck it up, even when you’re quiet.” His eyes go wide at me dropping the f-bomb and I smile, rather pleased with myself. It’s not easy to shock the unshockable Jordan Tuttle. “I’m starting to realize that,” he says. “Please. There are a lot of things you don’t realize.” I pause. “A ton.” He arches a dark brow. “Like what?” Men. They always want facts. “You don’t seem to ever realize my feelings.” He says nothing. “You don’t realize that it’s not a bad thing, having a girlfriend.” I glance down, running my fingers over the bag of melting ice, before my gaze returns to his. His eyes are lighting up at the mention of the word girlfriend, but he’s not getting an easy pass. Not even close. “You don’t realize that you had someone who would’ve always been in your corner, fighting for you no matter what. Nope, you let that slip right through your fingers like the idiot you are.” He flinches at my harsh words and I only feel a little guilty. I’m getting to him. My words are bothering him and that’s a good sign. “So what you’re saying is that I can’t get you—it back.” “No.” I shake my head. “You’ve lost the privilege.”

Jordan frowns. “I can’t even earn it back?” “How? You’ve stomped all over it.” All over me. All over my freaking heart. “There’s really no way to get it back.” “I want to try.” He says this so quietly, I have to lean forward just to semi-hear him. “Are you serious?” Unable to stop myself, I start laughing. Oh, he’s hilarious, this guy. “Do you even know how to do that?” “Do what?” His frown deepens. “Try.” Everything comes so easy for him. Or at least, it seems to come easy. Maybe some things are hard for Jordan. This has been hard on him. What we’re doing. Or at least, I think it’s been hard on him. I hope it’s been hard on him. If not, then he’s inhuman. “Not very well,” he says truthfully, along with a halfhearted shrug. “Things are just… given to me. It’s been that way my entire life. I’ve rarely had to fight for anything. The football scholarship I want to earn to the school of my choice, and you. Those are the two hardest things I’ve ever had to fight for.” He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “And I feel like I’m losing both battles.” “You’re losing this particular battle.” I point my thumb at my chest, indicating myself. “But I think you already know that.” He says nothing. Just watches me with that pitiful little boy look he’s perfected. “I think I need to be alone for a little while. Just so I can close my eyes and rest for a few minutes before you take me home.” More like I need some time by myself so I can go over what he just said to me. He doesn’t so much as budge. In fact, he shifts closer, his body nudging against mine, and I’m tempted to shove him off the bed. But I don’t. “A few minutes? Please?” Jordan gives the slowest shake of his head I think I’ve ever seen. “Seriously?” I lift my hands palms up in pure frustration. “Are you holding me captive now? Is this how low you’ll go to keep me in the same room as you?” “I’ll go even lower if I have to. Hold you down, tie you up, whatever it takes to convince you that I mean it. That I want to fight for you. That I want—you.” He sort of chokes out that last word, and I suppose him saying the word out loud should set my heart aflutter but forget it. That stumble over the word you has thoroughly pissed me off. “You talk a good game. But you never come through. Ever.” I shake my head but stop because it hurts. I’m going to have a killer headache tomorrow. “How is it you can throw all of those amazing touchdowns, yet you can’t seem to ever score a girlfriend?”

His nostrils flare, and I wonder if I made him angry. “I haven’t met anyone I wanted to make my girlfriend before.” “Seriously?” I still have a hard time believing these sorts of statements when they come from him. “Seriously.” He hesitates, his expression softening. “Until I met you.” “Please.” I snort, not caring if I sound unladylike. He’s the one who sent me sprawling to the ground with his elbow. So now he gets to see me through all my good and bad moments. “Stop lying to me.” “I’m not lying.” “Whatever.” I grab the bag of ice, but it’s wet and most of the ice has melted. I drop it to the ground, feeling vaguely guilty I’m getting the carpet wet. “Haven’t we had this argument before?” he drawls. This, of course, reminds me of our stupid argument in the guest bathroom at his house. The night he thought Eli Bennett kissed me. “Please.” The anger slips from my voice, replaced by sadness. “Just leave me alone for a few minutes.” “I’ll take you home right now.” He touches my arm, making my skin tingle. “You need to rest.” “I need to get away from you,” I mutter, sucking in a shocked breath when he shifts position so he’s sitting next to me on the narrow bed and I’m practically in his lap, my back to his front, my head resting on his broad shoulder. How did this even happen? What’s worse is that I’m enjoying it, being in Jordan’s arms again. I sort of melt into him like I can’t help myself. Which I think is my biggest problem. “You don’t want to talk?” he asks softly. I can feel his breath stir the hair at my temple, and oh God, it feels so good, sitting like this. “There’s nothing more we can talk about,” I say weakly. “You’re right.” He leans forward, nuzzling the side of my face with his. “Then let’s not waste our breath talking.” His hand cups my cheek and turns my head toward his, and then we’re kissing. His lips are soft and seeking, never pushing too hard, and I forget about everything. The fight. The elbow to my eye. Falling onto my butt in front of everyone. All I can focus on is the texture of Jordan’s lips, how damp and warm they are as they press against mine. How natural it feels to be sitting with him like this, his hand on my face, my hand on his chest. This is dangerous for my well-being. So dangerous. Yet I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.

“Jordan,” I whisper when his lips drift across my face. My nose. One cheek, then the other. My knees are wobbly and I’m glad I’m on the bed. My skin feels tight. Hot. I’m trembling and I don’t know what to say to make him quit. Not that I want him to… His mouth hovers above mine once more and I part my lips, ready—eager—for him to kiss me. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll walk away from you forever,” he whispers against my lips. Like I can say that. The jerk knows I can’t, too. I remain quiet, anticipation making my breath come too fast and my heart race. “Amanda?” I crack open my eyes to find him watching me again, an almost amused look on his face. The smug bastard. “Can you say it?” I say nothing. Instead, I reach up, curl my hand around his nape and slowly pull him in close so his mouth brushes against mine. I ignore the pain and focus on him. This time around, I’d rather show him how I’m feeling versus tell him.



She feels good in my arms, soft and warm—she fits perfectly. I could drown in her kiss, the taste of her, the sounds she makes, the way she inches closer, like she wants to climb on top of me. Words are bogus. Useless. I’d rather kiss her for hours and convince her that I want her. Words just get in the way. Her fingers slide through my hair and I groan. Her lips part and then her tongue circles mine, and I’d give anything to press her against the mattress and let her feel what she’s really doing to me. But I don’t do anything like that. She’s hurt. I don’t want to make it worse. And I definitely don’t want to push. “Jordan,” she whispers against my lips, and the breathy sound goes straight to my dick. I want her so damn bad. I just keep kissing her, silencing her. I don’t want to talk. But she says my name again. She’s struggling against me. So I loosen my hold and she pulls away. I open my eyes to find her watching me silently. Her eyes are wide and dark. Her lips are parted and swollen. The sensitive skin close to her mouth is pink, most likely from the stubble on my face. I scrub a hand along my jaw, making the stubble rasp, fighting the possessive feeling rising within me. I marked her. For everyone to see that she belongs to…someone. Hell. She belongs to me. Amanda shakes her head slowly, licking her swollen lips. “We shouldn’t have done that.” Her words are like knives carving at my walled-up heart. Those words bring me back to reality, remind me I have a huge task ahead of me. One I need to prepare for because I’m done losing. I’m done listening to what others want from me. For once in my damn life, I’m going after what I want. Screw everyone else. Screw my parents. They’re the ones who try to control me. I’m over it. Over them.

“You ready to go?” My voice comes out low and gravelly, and I clear my throat, then run a hand through my hair. She watches me do it, her gaze lingering on my head, and I wonder if she wants to touch me there. I love it when she rakes her fingers through my hair. Does she remember? Does she know that’s a weakness? Does she realize she’s my weakness? I don’t even think she knows the all-consuming power she holds over me. “Yeah,” she says shakily as she reaches up and brushes her lips with her fingertips. Her hand is trembling. The bruise beneath her left eye is starting to darken and I know it’s going to look like hell tomorrow. The guilt that washes over me, knowing I did that to her, can’t be stopped. It was an accident, but tell my conscience that. I climb off the bed and offer my hand to help her stand. She’s a little wobbly, but otherwise she’s fine. I catch the wince, catch her gently touching her cheek, and I know she’s in pain. I need to make it up to her. I need to make this right. Starting now, she’ll have no doubt whatsoever how I feel about her. But will she actually believe me?



“Amanda!” My bedroom door is thrown open with a resounding bang and I roll over with a moan, tugging my comforter over my head so Mom can’t see me. “Your dad needs your help outside.” Mom is never subtle about waking me up early on Saturday morning. As in, she never lets me sleep in. She used to love that I was in band and would have to be out the door early on Saturdays to go to practice or marching band competitions. Now, without band, she constantly complains that I’m getting lazy. It doesn’t matter that I work the hydration station and that I’m on the yearbook staff. In her eyes, I’m not doing much at all. Whatever. “He needs my help with what outside?” I crack open my eyes and stare at the wall. My left eye aches. I’m sure it looks terrible. I’m also sure I don’t want Mom to see it. “The backyard.” Mom’s tone tells me I should already know this. “He’s digging everything out of the plant beds, and then he’s going to add river rock. Remember the plan? We discussed it over dinner a few nights ago.” I vaguely remember the conversation. I haven’t been around much lately, not like I used to be. I’m always busy and staying for football practice, especially since we’re going into the playoffs, means I miss dinner most of the time. “Where’s Trent? Why can’t he help Dad?” I close my eyes, praying for her to leave soon. I’m going to have to show my face—and my nasty black eye—sometime, and I’m hoping before I see my family that I can use foundation and concealer to hide it. Or at the very least make it look less awful. First, I need to see just how awful it is. “He spent the night at Zion’s house. Once he comes home, Daddy’s putting him straight to work too. With all three of you out there, he’s hoping he’ll be done by midafternoon.” Mom raps on my door extra hard, and I wonder if she hurt her knuckles. “I’ll make you breakfast,” she croons to tempt me. “Your favorite, bacon and waffles.”

For once, her promise of bacon isn’t going to work. “I’m not really hungry,” I tell the wall. “And before I help him, I need to take a shower first.” An exasperated sigh leaves her. “What’s the point? You’re just going to get dirty anyway.” “I want to, okay? I feel gross.” I sound whiny, and she hates it when any of us whine, but at the moment, I don’t really care. I’m still half asleep and my eye hurts and I can’t get over what happened last night. Yeah, that’s my biggest problem right now. I don’t know how to deal with last night. Jordan and I kissed. He told me he still wants me. He drove me home and we were quiet for most of the ride, right until he pulled up in front of my house, cut the engine, leaned over and planted a sweet, lingering kiss on my lips that almost made me swoon. He’d cradled my cheeks with both hands and whispered, “I’m sorry” while staring into my eyes. So where do we stand? What’s going on? I have no idea. “Hurry up then.” Mom’s shrill voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Your daddy’s waiting.” She slams the door extra hard, making everything in my room rattle. I reach an arm out from beneath my peach and pale green printed comforter and snatch my phone off my wobbly bedside table, checking my notifications. I have Snapchats from what feels like everyone, including Jordan Tuttle. I decide to keep the anticipation going and open the other ones first. Most of them are general acquaintances who were at the party, asking if I’m all right. Livvy sent a kissy face selfie with a giant blue circle around her eye and you okay scrawled in red across the photo. I send her a photo of my ceiling fan with the message I’ll live. Finally, I open Jordan’s Snapchat. It’s a photo of his room, and I see his reflection in the mirror that hangs above his dresser. He’s a distant figure lying on his bed, and I swear he’s not wearing a shirt. There’s no message. Just the photo. So I do what every normal teenage girl on Snapchat does and screenshot that sucker before it disappears. Then I open it up in my photos and zoom in on him lying on the bed. Yep, he’s shirtless. Wearing what appears to be black pajama bottoms? Maybe black sweats? One hand is resting on his flat stomach and the other is clutching his phone and taking the photo. I can’t see his face, but his dark hair is a mess. The muscles in his arms bulge. And he looks really good without a shirt on, though I already knew this. Rolling over on my back, I sit up a little, pulling my hair over my left eye so he can’t see it. I have no makeup on and I probably look like trash, but screw it. I take a selfie and quickly send it to him before I chicken out. He immediately texts me in chat. How’s your eye?

I don’t know. I haven’t looked at it yet. You’re still in bed? Yeah. Nice. I smile. Then scowl. Pervert. He sends me another message. You work today? Oh. That’s right. I do. At three. I’ll take you. I’m scowling again. There he goes assuming things he has no business…assuming. He can’t drive me to work. We’re not a confirmed thing. Nothing’s changed between us just because of last night. We talked, I got mad, he hit me by accident, he kissed me, I liked it. End of story. I don’t need a ride. I know you don’t. Because I’m taking you. Jordan, seriously. My dad can drive me to work. Yep. I’ll ask him if he could take me, though he’ll probably be annoyed that I’m interrupting his yard project.

I want to do this. Stop arguing with me Amanda. I’ll pick you up at 2:45. Be ready. I don’t bother answering him. What’s the point? He won’t take no for an answer. And deep down inside? I sort of love it. After scrolling through my phone for a while, I drag my lazy butt out of bed and sneak into the bathroom across the hall, thankful no one’s around. The moment I spot my reflection in the mirror, I suck in a sharp breath and stare. It’s like a horrific accident on the freeway—I can’t look away. The bruise around my eye is black and purple with the faintest tint of red. I look… awful. Terrible. Lifting my hair away from my face, I lean across the counter and get as close to the mirror as I can. Oh, it’s bad. I turn this way and that, hoping I look better in certain angles, but it’s no use. I need a professional makeup artist to hide this disaster on my face. How am I supposed to go into work today and help the public? I’ll freak them out. I look like I got beat up. I did get beat up. And my parents are going to freak the hell out when they see me. Mom will probably want to call the cops. Dad will most likely want to kick Jordan’s and Cannon’s asses. Yeah. This is bad. I hop in the shower and take a quick one, not bothering to wash my hair. Before I go to work I’ll be back in here anyway, so Mom did have a valid point, but really I’m just stalling for time. Once I dry off, moisturize and brush my teeth, I throw on an old T-shirt and a pair of sweats. Then I pull out all the makeup I own, which isn’t much, and start applying layers of foundation and concealer around my eye. After laboring for five minutes, I lean back and turn my face to one side, then the other, studying my reflection. The makeup helps, but it doesn’t really hide the bruise. I don’t think anything can hide this bruise. I’m just going to have to face my parents and explain what happened. Deciding the best way to deal with it is head on, I go to the kitchen, trying my best to ignore the nerves bubbling in my stomach. “I made you waffles and bacon even though you said you weren’t hungry,” Mom says when I enter the kitchen, her back to me as she rinses off a dish in the sink before setting it in the open dishwasher. “There’s a plate waiting for you at the table.” “Thanks,” I say gratefully as I go to the kitchen table and sit down, hoping the food will help ease the nerves. Mom turns off the faucet and shuts the dishwasher door, then grabs a dishtowel out of the drain, drying her hands as she turns to look at me. I duck my head, my hair falling over my face, but the gasp that escapes her tells me I didn’t duck fast enough.

“Amanda.” My name whooshes out of her mouth, full of dread and shock. Her shoes click loudly across the tile floor and then she’s right there, standing in front of me, her fingers slipping beneath my chin so she can tilt my head back and examine my face fully. “My God. What happened to you?” I try to smile, but the stern look on her face prevents me from doing it. “It was an accident.” Her fingers drift over my face, and I wince. “Did someone hit you?” Her voice is quiet but with a lethal edge. Like she’s ready to tear someone apart for hurting her baby girl. “Tell me, Amanda. What happened?” Deciding not to hold back, I launch into the entire story, giving her pretty much every detail minus the reason the boys were fighting—supposedly over me—and the fact that Jordan kissed me. The more I explain, though, the more she scowls, until when I finally finish my story, I’m afraid her face is going to permanently stay that way. “I thought you split up with Jordan Tuttle.” I thought so too, I want to say, but I don’t. “I’m…confused over what’s happening between us.” “He sounds like he’s trouble.” “He’s not that bad. Really.” He’s a big heap of trouble, but I’m drawn to him anyway. Can’t tell her that either. Her mouth is a tight line. “I’ve never liked you going to all those parties, and here’s the perfect reason why. You’re grounded.” My jaw drops open. “Are you serious? Why? I’m almost eighteen, Mom. You can’t ground me.” “As long as you live under my roof, I can do whatever I want. And I can definitely ground you from going to those parties. They’re nothing but trouble. People drinking and doing drugs and having—” Her voice drops to a harsh whisper. “—sex. They’re not a good place for you to be.” How can I argue with her when everything she says is true? “So you’re only grounding me from parties?” “Yes.” She nods. “For a month.” “A month?” That’s a long time. Four weeks. Thirty days. “Keep questioning me and I’ll make it two,” she warns. I snap my lips shut and keep quiet. “I know you have to work, and you still have a social life minus the house parties. Plus there’s football, though that’s ending soon, right?” I shrug, then pick up a piece of bacon and start munching on it. “Depends on how far they go into the playoffs.” I don’t want to argue with her or trigger her into grounding me from everything. I need to remain neutral in order to save my senior year.

And I really don’t want to miss the parties, especially if Jordan continues to host them at his house. What will he say when I tell him I can’t go? He’ll think I’m lame. Totally immature since I’m grounded. “Well, the football season feels never-ending. It’s already November.” “We could play until right around Thanksgiving if they keep winning.” “Great.” Mom shakes her head. “Will you hate me if I wish they would lose?” “Mom! You can’t wish that. Some of those guys have potential full-ride scholarships hanging on this. If they win regional and even state championships in their division? They’ll look like superstars.” “Hmm. Well, all this hydration station stuff takes my daughter away from me. It’s not the same like when you played with the band. Then I could at least go watch you and enjoy the performance. Now when I watch the band, I get sad. And there’s not much to see when you’re handing out water bottles to the players.” She makes my job sound so small. And she can’t get over the band thing. Even though I feel like she’s baiting me, I’m not going to argue. I just keep munching on bacon and hope she drops the subject. “I miss you,” Mom says when I remain quiet. She smiles and I see the sadness there lingering in her eyes. “You’re going to leave us soon. We only have a few months left before you’re gone forever.” “Oh, Mom.” Now she’s making me feel bad. “I’ll still be around. I thought you wanted me to go to community college.” “It’s all we can afford if you can’t get a scholarship, but you’re going to get one. I can feel it. You’re too smart and too well rounded a student not to get one.” She reaches out and pats my hand, then gives it a squeeze. “Now hurry up and finish your breakfast so you can go outside and help your daddy. I’m afraid he’s going to overdo it all by himself.” “Mom, can you tell Dad what happened to my eye?” I wince when she sends me a sharp look. “He’ll probably react better when he hears it from you. If he sees me before I get a chance to explain, he’ll probably want to go beat Cannon and Jordan up.” She shakes her head as she pushes the chair away and stands. “Fine. I’ll go warn him for you. But be prepared. He’ll probably want to talk about it. And give you a speech. Possibly even ground you.” “You already grounded me!” My appetite is leaving me with every word she says. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell him that. You’ll be fine.” She stops and gently pats my cheek, smiling down at me. “That’s one hell of a shiner, sweetie. You need to take photos every day and document it.” “Why?” I ask incredulously. “So you can show all the photos to Jordan Tuttle and make him feel guiltier and guiltier for what he did to you.” She walks away, leaving me with my mouth hanging open. I can hear her evil laughter all the way down the hall.



I send Amanda a quick text to let her know I’m here just before I pull up in front of her house. I thought about her all night. All morning. I can’t get her out of my mind, though that’s turned into a normal thing for me. I used to fight it, but really. What’s the point? I’m both dying and dreading to see her. I want to check out her eye. Yet I don’t want to see it either. Her injury is just an actual, physical reminder of how I hurt her. And I’ve hurt her far more emotionally than physically. The moment I put my Range Rover in park, the front door opens and out comes her mother. Shit. She’s striding toward my car and I roll down the passenger window, hoping she’ll stay over there instead of coming to the driver’s side. “Hey, Mrs. Winters,” I say weakly. “Jordan Tuttle. I want to have a word with you.” She leans against the car, her head practically poking through the window as she peers at me with eyes that are the same shade as Amanda’s. “You hurt my daughter.” Guess she’s going to come right out and say it. “Yes, ma’am.” Yes, ma’am? I never say that kind of crap. “It was an accident. I feel awful about it.” “You should feel awful. She looks terrible. You hit my daughter. You caused her pain. You physically marked her and now everyone will know what happened,” she stresses. If she’s trying to make me feel guilty, she’s succeeding. “I know,” I say quietly. “I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. So I’m going to do everything I can to make it up to her.” “See that you do that.” She points at me. “You’re lucky I’m letting you drive her to work. I should never let her see you again. You don’t deserve her.” My chest goes tight. Everything she’s saying is true. She’s only confirming all the doubtful feelings I have about me and Amanda. “I really hope you don’t do that, Mrs. Winters. Your daughter means a lot to me.” “Really?” The skeptical look she sends me says a million things. All of them starting with, I don’t believe you.

“Really.” I nod. “Then prove it.” She slaps the side of my car, turns and walks back toward the front door just as it opens, and Amanda walks out. She’s wearing jeans that make her legs look ten miles long and a pale pink T-shirt that says Yo Town in white lettering across it. Her long, dark hair is in a ponytail, though there are a few pieces pulled out and hanging over her left eye. They don’t disguise the black eye, though. It’s obvious she has one. And I feel like shit for being the one who gave it to her. The tightness in my chest eases when our gazes connect. A tiny smile curves her perfect lips and she gives her mom a quick hug, nodding at whatever she said before she makes her way toward my car. I hop out of the driver’s seat and run around to the passenger side door so I can open it for her. “Such manners,” Amanda murmurs as she starts to climb into the car, but I stop her so I can examine her eye. “It doesn’t look so bad, right?” Her hopeful tone makes me want to lie and agree with her, but I promised myself I wouldn’t lie to this girl ever again. “It looks…” I touch the bruise as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt her, but she grimaces anyway. “Bad, huh?” Her voice is quiet. She reaches up and places her fingers over mine, and her touch soothes away all the earlier worry her mom filled me with. “People are going to talk at school.” “I don’t care if you don’t.” “They’ll assume you hit me like Livvy did.” “Have you seen all the Snapchat stories that feature it? Most everyone caught it all, right down to you landing on your butt.” I even saw the moment she bit her tongue, caught the wince and the way she touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth. “Oh, that’s not embarrassing.” She rolls her eyes and tries to laugh, but I silence her by resting my fingers over her lips. “I’ll protect you at school,” I murmur, tracing the curve of her lower lip. “I won’t let them say shit.” “You can’t be my guardian angel all the time,” she says against my fingers, her big eyes imploring as she watches me. I’m filled with the urge to kiss her. To take her back to my house and back to my bed. Keep her locked in there forever so no one can touch her. Tease her. Hurt her. But I do a pretty good job of that myself. Am I really her protector? I don’t know. “Watch me,” I say just before I lightly slap her perfect ass. She yelps, sends me a disapproving look and then I’m shoving her into the car and shutting her door behind her. “We need to hurry and get you to work. Don’t want you to be late,” I tell her through the open window. I don’t want to give her any more reason not to have faith in me. I need her trust.

I just flat out need her.



“…So then we talked for a really long time, and he apologized. Finally. I mean, that took like three hours to get a sorry out of him, but whatever. I’m over it. I think we’re good now.” Livvy shakes her head as we enter the senior hall Monday morning and head toward our lockers. “He’s so stubborn sometimes, I swear. Why exactly do I put up with his crap again?” “Um, because you love him?” I remind her. “Oh yeah, that’s right.” She laughs. “I mean, I know I’m stubborn too, and that means we butt heads a lot, but I’m trying to be more easygoing, you know?” Yeah right. When it comes to Ryan, Livvy is the farthest thing from easygoing. “You guys fought the entire weekend?” I ask, not really expecting an answer, because it’s obvious they did. I wish I hadn’t come to school. I don’t remember the last time I felt this way. I usually like going to school. I’m weird like that. But after everything that happened at Cannon’s party, the very public fight over me, my resulting injury—yeah, somehow my eye looks even worse—I don’t want to face anyone. They’re all talking about it. Boys smirk at me as I walk past them. Girls curl their lips and watch me with disdain. Honestly, I don’t know why. The proof is all over Snapchat and it’s also on Instagram. There are even images of Jordan’s elbow making direct contact with my eye. It’s obvious it was an accident. “What are people saying about Friday night, Livvy?” I ask when we stop at her locker. “And tell me the truth.” She glances around before her gaze reluctantly meets mine. “The rumors are bad, Amanda. Really bad.” “And, what? You weren’t going to tell me? I had to ask you first?” Sometimes I wonder just how loyal Livvy is to me. “I’m trying to protect you! And I was hoping all the chatter would die down, but it looks like it hasn’t.” At that precise moment, a group of boys walk by, all of them

coughing “slut” into their fists as they stare at me. Nice. If this keeps up, I’m going to cry. “The worst rumor I heard was that Cannon and Tuttle have—shared you in the locker room. And that one of them got jealous so they started fighting over you at Cannon’s party.” “What? That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard!” I look around the hallway, noticing how everyone turns away rather than making eye contact with me. Oh, yeah. Livvy’s right. The rumors are bad. “I know. It’s totally disgusting. I’m sure the rumors will die down eventually, so don’t worry, okay?” Livvy smiles brightly, going for the positive, but I can already feel the tears threaten, and she sees that too. She dumps her books into her locker and turns toward me, grabbing both of my hands. “No, don’t cry, Amanda. I’ll shut them all down, okay? I promise.” She’s only one person. How can she stop the vicious high school rumor mill? The tears finally make their appearance, springing into my eyes, and I dash a hand across them, wincing when I press too hard on my bruises. God, I can’t win today. I wish I could go back to a year ago. When I was a nobody in the band and so happy with my group of friends. I got good grades and the teachers loved me. I was trying out a relationship with Thad and giddy with those butterfly does he really like me feelings. It was fun. Simple. So simple. “Thanks, Liv,” I tell her with a watery smile. “I don’t know if that’ll help, but I’ll take what I can get.” “Well, well, well. Looks like you actually showed up today. The infamous Amanda Winters,” a familiar voice says from behind us. I close my eyes, fighting the dread that’s washing over me. Without having to see her, I know it’s Lauren Mancini. I’d recognize that snotty voice of hers anywhere. I dab at the tears before I turn around to face her. She physically recoils when she spots my black eye. “What do you want, Lauren?” “Your eye. It look hideous,” she says, making all of her cheerleader friends laugh nervously. She’s brought a posse with her, but why? For backup? So they can all make fun of me? Great. “Gee, thanks. I didn’t know.” Sarcasm drips from my words. “So is it true?” I decide to play dumb. “Is what true?” “The rumors about you and Cannon and Jordan.” I seriously hate it when she calls him Jordan. Like she has the right. “You guys are now a threesome or what? I mean, that’s very…modern of you, and them.” She laughs and so does the rest of her friends.

I clench my hands into fists and part my lips, but no words come. It’s like I’ve drawn a complete blank, which is the absolute last thing you want to do when forced to confront Lauren Mancini. “No, of course it’s not true. How dare you even ask,” Livvy says, rushing to my defense. “Who the hell are you to judge anyway, Mancini? We’ve all heard the rumors about you.” Lauren’s eyes flicker for the briefest moment. Thank God Livvy remembers all the rumors and crap that fly around this school. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Neither do you, so keep your thoughts to yourself, bitch.” Livvy grabs my arm and starts steering me down the hall. “Let’s go, Amanda.” “Wait a minute. I need to get my book out of my locker,” I start to say, but Livvy cuts me off. “Come back and get it later,” she says under her breath. “We don’t want to stick around here. Lauren will only make everything worse.” I know she’s right, so I follow her lead, wishing we’d run into Jordan. Or even Cannon. Anyone to help set the rumors straight. But we don’t. We’re less than a minute away from the final bell ringing, so I run into class, settling into my seat and pretending to dig in my backpack, searching for my book. But I know it’s not in there. The final bell rings and I go to my teacher’s desk, asking if I can go get my book since I forgot it in my locker. He hands over the hall pass and I run back out into the empty hallway, thankful Lauren’s not lurking around anymore with her little group. I go to my locker and open the door quickly, noticing the folded piece of white paper caught in the door vents. My heart picks up speed as I pluck it from its spot and carefully unfold the paper behind the still-open door. There’s only one sentence scrawled across the middle of the otherwise blank paper, in slashing black script. You look pretty today. Lifting my head, I glance around the hall, wondering who left it, and when. Was it some creeper preparing to give me grief over the threesome rumors? I don’t recognize the handwriting. And I don’t know why anyone would leave me a note. Jordan and I have talked. He picked me up from work when my Yo Town shift was over and we chatted on the drive home, but we kept it easy. I felt like I was hanging out with a friend, not my boyfriend. Not that he’s my boyfriend. I can’t make that claim yet. I grab my book and slam the locker door, the metal clang reverberating throughout the otherwise empty hallway. The overhead speakers click on and the student body president starts the morning announcements, and I cringe, praying he doesn’t say anything about the weekend rumors. Not that he would. I’m just totally overreacting.

I look at the note once more as I head back to class, rereading the words. I guess it could be Jordan who wrote the note, but I’m not sure. Maybe it was some jerk hoping to rattle me. It could’ve been anyone really. Maybe even Lauren, though I don’t know why she’d do this sort of thing. Without thought, I crumple the paper into the palm of my hand and I drop the balled up note in the trashcan as I pass by.

The morning passes with little fanfare, which works for me. Livvy tries to convince me to hang out in the quad at lunch with her and Ryan, but there was no way I could show my face there. Lauren would gloat and say something awful. Some of the cruder boys from the football team might make comments I don’t want to hear. And I have no idea where Jordan is. I haven’t heard from him all morning. No passing by him in the halls, no texts, no Snapchats. Nothing. So I hide out during lunch in the library like old times. It’s cloudy outside and the wind has picked up, so I’m glad I’m not out in the quad. I’d rather be by myself. “I figured I’d find you hiding out in here,” Em says when she approaches my table, pulling out the chair on the opposite of my table and settling in. “Why don’t you join me?” I say sarcastically as I tear open a bag of kettle chips. My baby carrots and ranch are long gone. “Can I have one?” Em asks, nodding at the chips. I point the opened bag toward her. “Be my guest.” She takes a few and shoves them all in her mouth, chomping loudly. She’s so loud, I’m afraid the librarian can hear her and we’re clear in the back of the room. When she remains silent, I can’t take it anymore. “Are you going to ask me if the rumors are true?” “No.” She smiles. “Because I know they’re not.” I frown. “How do you know?” “I was with Cannon on Friday night. In his room.” Her smile grows. “He’s definitely not interested in you.” Ha. Since he’s interested in her. At least she finally realizes it. “So you two are together?” “Oh, no. I don’t tie myself down with anyone.” She waves a hand, dismissing my statement. “I’ve learned attachments are for stupid people who don’t know any better.” I think she just insulted me, but I’m going to choose to ignore it. “Well, let me just say

it before you do. The rumors are bad.” “They’ll blow over soon enough. There’s more juicy gossip to be had. For instance, I’m sure people would love to know that a certain freshman is going around campus soliciting blowjobs before, during and after school.” My mouth drops open. “Who are you talking about?” “Eli Bennett, of course. That boy is desperate to get laid.” Em starts laughing. “He even asked me to blow him, but I turned him down.” “Em!” I say her name way too loud. I actually hear the shush of the librarian, so I lower my voice. “Are you serious right now?” She shrugs. “Totally. He asked me last week. Led up to it by sending me dick pics on Snapchat. I screen shot one. Wanna see?” Em’s pulling out her phone and I lunge across the table, batting at her hands. “I absolutely do not want to see that picture. No way.” “You’re no fun.” She mock pouts as she shoves her phone back into her backpack. “Not that any dick pic is good to check out. They’re all sort of funny looking, don’t you think?” “Definitely.” This of course, makes me think of Jordan’s. I didn’t think it was so hideous. But there’s nothing about him that’s hideous, so… “Not that you know much about dicks, am I right? You’re still a virgin.” When I feel my ears burn with embarrassment she starts to laugh. “I knew it. That’s what’s so great about this rumor. You’re a tramp/slut/whore who lets two jock boyfriends tag team you all night long. It’s so ridiculous, it’s almost amusing.” “Yeah. Real amusing.” I cross my arms and slump in my chair. Em’s laughter dies. “Oh, come on. You’ll be fine. Have you heard the rumors they spread about me? At least they don’t call you a hooker who does it for actual money. They’ve even said Livvy’s mom’s boyfriend is my pimp.” I frown. “How did he get drawn into your rumors?” Fine, I’ve heard the many rumors they spread about Em, but I blew them all off. How much of that can be true? Now that I’m dealing with my own outrageous story, I know the answer is pretty much none of it. “There was that really short period of time when my parents took my car away from me? Do you remember that?” When I give her a blank look, she continues. “Well, anyway, I was walking home from school because no one would give me a ride, and he saw me and pulled over. Offered to take me home and so I went with him. I wasn’t going to say no. My feet were killing me.” Just thinking about getting into a car alone with Fitch, Livvy’s mom’s boyfriend, gives me the creeps. He’s strange. He gives off this weird vibe that Livvy says she can’t trust. She wouldn’t take a ride from him, even if it was the last ride in the world. Yet Em climbs into his car alone with him like it’s no big deal. “I can’t believe you did that,” I tell her. “Yeah, well, I regret ever taking that ride because it blew up into this stupid rumor

around school and I never did figure out who started it,” Em complains. “That’s awful.” She shrugs. “I know it’s hard dealing with the bullshit, but welcome to high school! It’s not perfect. Not like it was when you were hanging out with your nerdy band friends and contemplating letting that guy feel you up or not in the back of the bus on the way home from an away game. Nah, this is way more hardcore. A lot more like real life, you know?” Em’s eyes light up as she’s talking. I think she’s loving this. The fact that all the new, nasty rumors around school have nothing to do with her. It’s like she’s offering up advice to me, the newbie, while she’s the old, wise one. My appetite leaves me at her depressing words, and when I offer the bag of chips to Em she snatches it up. “How do you get past it? All the rumors that swirl around you? Don’t they all just make you want to crawl into a hole somewhere far away and die?” “Nah. You can’t deal with it like that. You’re just setting yourself up to fail. When you hide, you look so damn guilty everyone thinks the rumors must be true,” Em explains. “So what should I do if I were you?” “You hold your head up high while you stroll down the hall and own that shit. Seriously, it’s no big deal. You act like yeah, I did it. So what? And when you’re like that, they don’t know what to say, or how to deal. They feel all awkward and stuff around you, and it’s great because you’ve totally ruined it for them.” Em shoves another handful of chips into her mouth and chomps on them gleefully. “So own it. Work it, girl. You’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain.” “What do you mean I have everything to gain?” She leans across the table and talks low, like we’re co-conspirators in this crazy game. “Everyone knows who you are now. No more nerdy smart girl Amanda Winters who gets good grades and is tucked into bed every night by Mommy and Daddy. Now you’re the girl who took on Jordan Tuttle and broke his heart. You’re the girl who gets gang banged by the entire football team—” “Hey, take that back! I haven’t heard that rumor.” And if I ever do, I know who started it. “Semantics. Whatever.” She waves a hand. “Anyway, you’re the girl who has threesomes with Cannon Whittaker and Jordan Tuttle in the locker room while the coaches watch. I mean, the rumors I’m hearing are just outrageous. So outrageous, I don’t know who the hell would even believe them.” “The way you talk, they sound pretty convincing.” My stomach is turning just thinking about all of this. “Yeah, well, we know they’re not true. Your truth is what I just said.” Again she leans over the table, a giant smile on her face. “You really are the virginal ex-band nerd who broke Tuttle’s heart and somehow has him still panting over you. You are the sweet girl who gets straight As and all the teachers love you and you probably are tucked into bed every night by Mommy and Daddy.”

“That’s not true,” I start, but she cuts me off. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is how scandalous you seem. And right now, you are leading the board for most scandalous, with me just behind you and Lauren Mancini a distant third.” “Lauren? She’s on the most scandalous board?” Why am I even talking about this supposed board? It doesn’t even exist. “Sure. She’s one of the girls who agreed to give Eli a blowjob.” When my mouth drops open, Em’s pointing at me, laughing her ass off. “See? You’re shocked. She wishes she was as bad as us.” “But I’m not bad. And she’s way worse than me.” “Nope, not right now, not in their eyes. You want my advice?” When I nod, she continues. “Own the moment. Run with it. Act like you own those two boys. We know the truth. And trust me, the rumors will eventually fade. They always do. Especially now that we have Eli out there creating all sorts of drama. He’s a rumor wet dream come true.” Em shakes her head and starts laughing all over again. “Got any more chips?” “Nope, you ate them all.” She crumples the chip bag in her hands and shoves it into the front pocket of her backpack. “Where’s Tuttle anyway? I haven’t seen him all day. I figured once he heard all the shit talk, he’d be knocking heads together by second period.” The thought of him “knocking heads together” on my behalf warms my heart, which means I’m a sick, twisted person. “I haven’t seen him either. I hope he’s all right.” Her eyes go wide. “You haven’t talked to him? At all?” “Not today,” I say with a little shrug. “Weird,” Em mutters, shaking her head. “He’s mysterious. I can’t figure him out.” “What do you mean?” “People may try and hide their true selves at this school, but it always comes out eventually. Always. But with Tuttle? I don’t know. The mystery is real with him. Where is he today? It’s a Monday. He should be in school. But he’s not. Why? Where does he go? What does he do?” I’ve tried not to delve too deep into the mystery that is Jordan Tuttle for fear it would make him withdraw even further. He’s never been particularly open with me, and when he acts like he wants to say something, he always manages to mess it up. “I don’t know. He does a lot of things I can’t explain.” “Exactly. So we need to figure out what’s up with this dude.” Em taps her pursed lips with her index finger, staring off into space. “We?” I raise my brows. “Are we going in on this together?” “Don’t you need my help figuring out the mystery that is Jordan Tuttle? I mean, I could leave you on your own, but then you won’t have him figured out as quick if we put our

heads together.” I’m intrigued by her offer. But then again, I shouldn’t sneak around with Em and try to find out Jordan’s secrets—if he even has any. I should be open and honest and go straight to him when I have questions. Though he doesn’t like to answer the tough questions. He either flat out changes the subject most of the time, or even acts like I never asked the question at all. That’s frustrating. Maybe I should dig around into his background without him knowing so I can figure out exactly what he’s doing when he disappears. And he disappears a lot. Too much. “So you in?” Em asks after I’m quiet for a few minutes. “I know this is a touchy subject, especially if you two are dating again, or whatever you want to call it. But you know he’s never going to spill all his secrets to you.” “Why do you say that? Why wouldn’t he?” I’m offended. I want him to tell me everything. But wasn’t that the problem before? He’d get so tight-lipped when I tried to ask questions, when I tried to…act like a caring girlfriend. He wouldn’t let anything slip. He has a façade, that Jordan Tuttle mask, and he knows how to put it on so much, I’m not sure if I’m dealing with the real Jordan or the fake one half the time. It’s frustrating. “Because he’s probably afraid you’ll hate him when you find out who he really is.” Em grins, but there’s so much sadness in her eyes. “Isn’t that what we all worry about?”

I don’t see Jordan all day. Not in English, not anywhere in the halls or in my other classes or even in the parking lot when school lets out. Only when I go to football practice after school and help Kyla set up the hydration station do I finally catch a glimpse of him out on the field running drills. The relief that floods me at seeing him is almost overwhelming. I was worried. And now I’m kind of pissed that he ignored me all day, one of the worst days at school in my life. But how’s being angry at Jordan going to help matters? It’s not. Just like he needs to learn how to trust me, I need to do the same. “So the rumors are true,” Kyla finally says to me once we have everything set up. It feels like she’s been holding that question in for the last fifteen minutes, just dying to let it out. “About what?” I ask warily. If she brings up the threesome rumor or worse, a gang bang story, I’m going to lose it. “The black eye you’re sporting. Tuttle gave it to you, right? Or was it Cannon?” She glances out at the field to watch the boys run for a while before she turns to look at me. “They’re such jerks. Every single one of them. I hope you realize this by now.” “Tuttle nailed me with his elbow, that’s all. It was an accident,” I tell her, rushing to Jordan’s defense. Feeling defensive at her bitter words. “And none of the rumors are true. Not a one.” “Really?” She sounds doubtful. I nod. “Do you really believe I’d involve myself in a threesome with Jordan and Cannon?” Kyla bursts out laughing, her cheeks turning pink. “I’ve heard worse, so I don’t know.” “You know me better than that. I wouldn’t get involved with something so…dirty.” I shiver just thinking about it. So gross. I can only handle one boy at a time, thank you very much. And the one I’m currently dealing with is a major handful. “Sometimes things just happen, you know? You end up doing something you don’t want to, but you’re trying to be nice. You’re trying to get along with everyone. And please that one boy you like so much. But he doesn’t like you. Not like that.” Kyla’s voice drops and I step closer so I can hear her. She’s talking in a monotone and there’s no emotion on her face. None. “Yet you’ll do anything to make him happy. Including getting drunk and servicing his friends, because that’s what the cool girls do, right?”

Kyla bursts into tears when our gazes meet and then she’s running back to the girls’ locker room. Without hesitation I chase after her, the blood roaring in my ears, her words on repeat in my head. Sometimes things just happen, you know? God, what does she mean? I almost don’t want to know. I find her in the locker room, collapsed on one of the benches that runs between the rows of lockers. I tentatively sit down next to her, noticing the way her shoulders shake. She’s crying. Great big heaving sobs that make me want to draw her into my arms and hold her close. Offer her lame words of comfort because they’re all I’ve got. “Do you want to talk about it?” I finally ask her minutes later. I reach out and touch her shoulder gently, but I still manage to make her flinch. “Are you okay?” Kyla sits up and tilts her head back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m fine.” She takes a deep breath and wipes at her eyes, but there’s still streaks of mascara running down her face. “It happened a long time ago.” “How long?” “Freshman year.” She draws in a shaky breath and I see the tears continue to slip down her cheeks. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” “No.” Kyla turns to face me fully. “I should talk about it. None of the boys who did it to me are here anymore. They were all much older.” I’m scared to ask. But I want to know. “Did they—rape you?” “One of them d-did. The one I liked the most.” She lets her head hang, her hair falling in front of her face. “I was so young and he was so…I don’t know. Mature? Definitely more experienced. He knew just how to play me. And after it all happened, I heard I wasn’t the only one he did this to.” Oh my God. I can’t even imagine. “Did you press charges?” “No.” She shakes her head and wipes at her face once more. “My mom doesn’t even know it happened. I kept it all a secret. So that means you have to keep it a secret too, okay?” I don’t want to agree. How can she keep this to herself? Doesn’t it gnaw at her mind day after day? “But isn’t this eating you up inside? Not being able to talk about what happened to you?” “I’ve worked through it. I’m good now.” Another shrug. Another blank smile with blank eyes and blank…everything. “We should go back outside, don’t you think? They’re probably looking for us.” She didn’t give me much detail, and maybe I should’ve pushed for more, but what would I do with it once I had it? My automatic response is to tell. But she didn’t. She told no one. So now she’s stuck with this horrible burden that has a tendency to break out whenever she…what? Is triggered?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask carefully as I watch her rise to her feet. “We can talk about it some more if you want. I’m a really good listener.” Kyla doesn’t even take me up on my offer. She flat out ignores it. “Duty calls. We need to get back outside and get to work.” She claps her hands together and smiles, reminding me of the Kyla I first met. “Let’s get to work, Winters!” And then she’s gone. Slowly I shuffle out of the girl’s locker room, walking past the lower field where the band is practicing—nostalgic pang—striding faster by the left upper field where the cheerleaders practice, until I’m finally at the edge of the football field. Kyla’s already backing at the hydration station, keeping everyone hydrated, and I just… I’m not ready to go back there just yet. My mind is whirling with too many tumultuous thoughts, all of them having to do with my new friend and her painful burden. I thought my problems were bad. Mine are just rumors and bullshit. Kyla is dealing with real life stuff…that she hasn’t properly dealt with. “Hey.” I turn to find Jordan jogging toward me, his helmet dangling from his fingers, his longish hair already damp with sweat. He’s got the pads on and the white pants they wear to away games—which are streaked with grass and dirt, telling me someone has already sacked him once or twice—and his navy blue and white jersey with the number eight emblazoned across his chest. He looks freaking amazing. “Hey yourself,” I tell him, trying to keep it easy. Nonchalant. I don’t want to seem like the stalker ex-girlfriend who immediately asks where he’s been. Though I’d like to. “How are you?” I ask instead. “Busy,” he says, sounding the slightest bit short, though I ignore it. Then his voice softens and his eyes go warm as he studies me. “But I’ve been missing you. Are you okay?” And just like that, my heart blooms in my chest like a lovingly watered flower. “I’ve missed you too,” I confess, hating how it feels like it took everything inside of me to admit that. Sometimes I’m just as walled off as Jordan is, I swear. Or is he the one who makes me that way? “And yeah, I’m okay.” Sort of. Not really. But I’m a lot better now that he’s standing in front of me. “Yeah?” He smiles and grabs hold of my hand, lacing our fingers together and pulling me closer. “I’d hug you, but I’ve got all this gear on.” “You look hot.” The words slip from my lips before I have a chance to stop them and I slap my free hand over my mouth, feeling like an idiot. “You think so?” He’s full on grinning now and the sight of it is dazzling. He’s like the sun and I’m planet Earth, forever caught in his orbit. “I wish you’d say that more often.”

“Why? You never call me hot.” Yikes, did I just confess I want him to call me hot? Because I so do. I want to know that he wants me. I want to hear the words. I need the confirmation. Does that make me insecure? Maybe… “I call you hot all the time. Though maybe more in my head, now that I think about it.” He frowns and releases my hand, stroking his chin with his fingers, and I give him a shove, though he doesn’t move an inch. His gaze goes to my face, lingering on my left eye. “Hey, your eye looks better.” “Thank you for your pretty lies,” I say, batting my eyelashes. “No, seriously. I wouldn’t lie to you about that. I wouldn’t lie to you about anything. I promise.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and I lock my knees so they won’t wobble. His fingers touch my cheek, the spot directly below my bruise. “Your eye really does look better. The swelling has gone down a lot.” Whatever. He could say I’m a hideous troll right now and I’d probably fall under his spell. “Tuttle!” A whistle blows and I recognize Coach Halsey’s voice. He sounds pissed. “Stop mooning over your girlfriend and get your ass back out on this field right now!” All the guys start up a collective “oooh”, which only irritates Coach Halsey even more. He starts snapping at them, making them all take extra laps, and Jordan leans in while the coach is distracted, kissing me with the softest, sweetest lips. “Looks like I need to go. Want me to drive you home after practice?” he asks against my mouth. I nod. At least, I think I nod. I feel like I’m in a drunken stupor. “Sure.” “See you later then.” Another kiss stolen and then he’s jogging back out onto the field. I keep my gaze fixed on him for a long, drunken moment. He runs with ease, his body an athletic machine and he shoves his helmet on his head, covering that glorious hair of his. A sigh leaves me and I slowly shake my head. Despite everything he’s done to me, I still have it bad for him. Glancing around, I catch someone watching me from afar. A cheerleader who looks amazing in her too-short navy blue shorts and a white tank top that hugs her perfect breasts, well, perfectly. It’s Lauren Mancini. And if looks could kill, I’d be a dead woman. Turning my back to her, I start for the hydration station. But I can hear her running after me, calling my name, asking me to stop. God, what could she want to say now? I hurry my steps, trying to get Kyla’s attention, but she’s too occupied with the JV players, who all just came over to the station for some water. Which means she needs my help. “Seriously, you’re just going to ignore me?” Lauren calls indignantly, so close now I can hear her huffing and puffing.

Screw it. I whirl on her, coming to a complete stop so quick, she practically runs into me. “What do you want now, huh? Want to call me a slut again? Ask if I’ve been gang banged by the entire team yet?” I think of what Kyla told me and I become angrier. “Rape isn’t a joking matter, you know. Though I’m guessing you probably don’t get it, considering you’re such an insensitive bitch who doesn’t care about other people’s feelings.” Lauren’s pink glossed lips pop open as she stares at me and she slowly shakes her head. Her ponytail swishes back and forth, almost smacking her cheeks, and I hate that stupid huge bow sitting on top of her head. She looks like a doll. “Pretty harsh, Winters,” she spits out. “Talk about a low blow.” “And you’re the queen of low blows, so give me a break.” I turn and start toward the hydration station once more, and unfortunately she runs up so that she’s walking right beside me. “Listen, I wasn’t going to accuse you of getting—gang banged or whatever.” Lauren makes a face. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier.” I stop walking yet again. And she almost collides with me yet again too. “Are you serious? You’re apologizing to me? What’s wrong, are you sick?” She shakes her head, setting that ponytail to swishing again. “I’m not sick. It just ate at me all day, what I said to you.” “You don’t give a crap about me.” I can’t believe what she’s saying. “You’re right. I don’t. But I don’t like talking about things that didn’t actually happen either. Rumors are the worst.” I’m sure she speaks from experience. “You’re right. It didn’t happen,” I say firmly. “I know. Cannon told me.” Her eyes go wide. “He actually threatened me over it. He must really like you.” “Only as a friend.” “And Jordan?” She raises a brow. “What’s going on with you two?” I lift my chin. “That’s none of your business.” My MYOB statement doesn’t stop her from talking. “You two looked pretty cozy just a few minutes ago.” “Look, I really need to go. Are we done here?” I never talk like this to anyone. I’m always polite. But all this bullshit lately has brought out the worst in me. Or maybe it’s brought out the best in me. I’m not sure. With a sigh, she stares out at the field, her gaze locked on Jordan, no doubt. “Congratulations, Amanda. Looks like you finally caught the uncatchable one.” I haven’t caught him yet. The words almost fall past my lips, but I don’t let them. And

I’m glad. It’s okay to hold some things back. Why give your enemies ammunition? I don’t need to admit anything to Lauren. She can think I’ve caught Jordan all she wants. The illusion is far better than the truth. Isn’t that what Em meant? But I’m starting to realize as I discover everyone’s truths, it’s not that easy. Sometimes the raw truth can be the best thing ever. And sometimes the illusion can end up being a total trap.

“What time do you need to be home by?” Jordan asks after I climb into his Range Rover. Just as he promised, he’s driving me home after practice. I pull the seat belt over my lap and click it into place before I meet his gaze. “I don’t know. What do you have in mind?” “Do your parents expect you home by a certain time?” When I frown at him he continues. “I don’t want to piss them off, Amanda. I know your mom doesn’t like me.” “What exactly did she say to you the other day when you picked me up?” I never did ask. I was too immersed in the moment. Having Jordan back in my life like he never left it was heady stuff. It still is heady stuff. He stares straight ahead as he starts the car. “Do you really want to know?” My stomach bottoms out. “Was it bad?” “It wasn’t nice.” He turns to look at me. “But I don’t want to be dishonest with you. I promised myself I wouldn’t be.” I think of what Em and I discussed. How she sent me a text not even an hour ago that she was going on a Jordan Tuttle Google blitz, whatever that means. “Just tell me.” Jordan takes a deep breath and then lets it all out before he says, “She threatened to never let me see you again. She thinks I’m bad for you, and that I’ll only end up hurting you.” Hanging my head, I twist my hands together in my lap. I wish my mother hadn’t said those things to him, but then again, maybe he needed to hear it. Especially because I don’t necessarily disagree with her. Jordan might be bad for me. He might hurt me again too. But for some reason I can’t explain, I’m willing to take that chance. “Do you wanna go somewhere? With me?” He sounds worried. Almost desperate. Like he’s afraid I’m going to tell him no. And maybe I should. I lift my head and meet his gaze, remembering Mom telling me I’m grounded from parties. But hey, this isn’t a party so it doesn’t count, right? “As long as you don’t take me to a party, we’re good. But I need to be home by nine.” It’s already past five, closer to six. I don’t know what we could do for three hours. Well, maybe I do know what we could do. Not that I want to do that. Though my body goes hot just thinking about it.

A faint smile appears. “Want to come back to my house? No one’s home.” “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I say hesitantly. The smile is gone, replaced by grim determination. “Okay. Um, want to go out to dinner? I’m starving.” “Yeah.” I nod. “That sounds good.” And safe. I need safe. Going back to his house means spending time in his room, most likely rolling around on his bed and getting naked. And while I might kick myself for not going back to his house with him, I also know I’d be moving too fast if I did. I’m not ready to take that next step. I need more time. I don’t want him to think he has me that easily. There’s nothing wrong with playing hard to get. We go to a busy chain restaurant that’s loud and crowded, the bar full of people watching Monday Night Football. Jordan doesn’t seem interested in the game whatsoever, and after we’re seated at a booth far away from the bar and the TVs, I lean over the table to say, “Don’t you want to watch the game?” He shrugs, his gaze locked on the giant menu open before him on the table. “Not really. I hate both teams.” “Not a Steelers fan?” “Not even close.” He sends me a quick, disgusted look. Of course, he manages to look both hot and disgusted. This boy is talented. “I’ve actually become a Raiders fan lately.” “Really?” He doesn’t look like the type. Raider Nation is pretty crazy and they have a rough reputation. “Why?” “Their QB is good. The entire team is good.” He starts looking over his menu once more. “What are you going to have to eat?” “I kind of want a burger.” Huh. I wonder if he finds that not ladylike enough. Or am I overthinking things? “Me too.” He shuts the menu and rests his forearms on top of it. “I like that you’re not afraid to eat in front of me.” “You just made me feel like a total pig,” I tell him, and he laughs. “Seriously, did you date a lot of girls who didn’t like to eat in front of you?” That’s weird, but whatever. “I don’t really date.” “What do you mean by that exactly?” My dinner choice made, I close my menu as well. “I just…I mean what I said. I haven’t dated much. Lauren Mancini and I were a thing during our freshman year, but that didn’t last long, and once we broke up, I never really went out with anyone else.” He is such a liar. He’s had lots of girls. Plenty of girls. An endless stream of girls. “I hate Lauren Mancini.” Whoops. I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud.

“She’s kind of a bitch,” he agrees. Confirmation is so validating. “Kind of?” I raise a brow. “Fine, she’s a total bitch. But back when we were fourteen, she wasn’t so bad. She could be fun sometimes. Though she was also self-conscious and worried too much about what other people thought of her.” “I guess she hasn’t really changed,” I mumble. I hate hearing him say she was fun. That he had a good time with her. That they share a past. We share a past too, I guess, but it doesn’t feel the same. That was so long ago, what he had with Lauren. Jordan was probably a different person then. “Nah, she’s changed. She acts like she owns the school and isn’t afraid of anyone, but deep down inside, I bet she’s still just as insecure as she was when we were freshmen.” Hmm, he used the word “we”. “Are you insecure?” Maybe I don’t need to dig into his past with Em. Maybe I can figure everything out on my own. It might not be so hard to get him to open up to me after all. “I have my moments. Don’t we all?” His gaze locks with mine. “You make me feel insecure.” “Shut up. I do not.” I absolutely don’t believe him. The waiter appears at that precise moment and takes our order, leaving us with promises to bring our drinks and the mozzarella cheese sticks appetizer Jordan spontaneously requested. “You do,” Jordan tells me once our waiter is gone. “I never know how to act around you. I always feel unsure.” “Why?” I’m shocked. I’m not a big deal, not like he is. “It’s like I see you and I lose all my brain cells. I can’t think. Well, I can think, but it’s only about you. All I want is to—” He covers his face with one hand, and I can hear the muffled chuckle behind his palm. “I probably shouldn’t admit this to you.” “Admit what?” Now I’m curious. He drops his hand from his face, his expression serious. “All I do is wonder when can I get you alone next. I want you all to myself.” His voice goes deeper and his eyes get darker. “Always.” “Oh.” I blink at him, slightly dumbfounded. How do I respond to that? The waiter reappears with our drinks, letting us know that the appetizer will be out very soon. Once he’s gone, I unwrap my straw and dunk it into my cup before I take a sip of my Sprite. I’m agitated at the thought of Jordan constantly trying to get me alone so he can…what?

Come on. You know what. “Is that all I am to you? Some sort of conquest?” That comes out snottier than I meant it to, but I must know. If this is only about having sex with me or whatever, then it’s time to move on. I’m not going to give it up to him just so I can say I did it with Jordan Tuttle. That’s not what this is all about. I care about him. Actually, it’s more than that. I’m in love with him. If all he wants is sex, though… “Of course not.” He sounds offended that I would even suggest it. “This is a big deal to me.” He reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “You are a big deal to me. I tried to tell myself that I didn’t need you.” Ouch. I hate when he says stuff like that. “But I was wrong. I pushed you away like an idiot, and once you were gone, I was even more miserable. So I’ve come to a realization.” “You have? What is it?” I’m whispering. My throat is raw. This moment feels…serious. “I don’t want to live my life without you in it.” Aw. I love it when he says stuff like that. We stare at each other, a silly smile on Jordan’s face, and I know I’m wearing one too. I told myself I didn’t want to move too fast and then he has to go and say such sweet things. Act sweet. Look sweet. And just like that, I’m ready to forgive him for his past sins and take him back. Does that make me weak? I hope not. The spell is broken by the waiter returning and setting the plate of mozzarella sticks on our table. Jordan lets go of my hand and grabs one, dipping it in the marinara sauce before he shoves the entire thing in his mouth. His eyes go wide and he chews fast before he’s taking a big drink from his soda. “Too hot?” I ask amusedly. “Yeah, but I’m hungry, so I sort of don’t care.” He grabs another one and downs it too. He’s like a little boy who’s been deprived of delicious food for far too long and now he wants to eat all the things. All I can do is watch him, occasionally sipping on my Sprite. Until I remember this one particular question I want to ask him. “You’re not going to eat a mozzarella stick?” he asks before I can get a word out. I shake my head. “No thanks. So hey…can I ask you something?” “Sure.” He takes a drink from his soda and waits. “Why weren’t you at school today?” “I was there,” he says carefully, his gaze narrowing. “You saw me at practice, right?” “Well, yeah, but I’m talking earlier. You weren’t in class. I didn’t see you in English, or at lunch. I didn’t even pass you in the hallway.” I watch him closely, searching for a

reaction but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “Where were you?” “I had stuff to do.” He shrugs those broad shoulders of his. “Took up most of the day.” “What sort of stuff?” I hate prying, but he’s not giving me anything here. “Just stuff, Amanda. You know, school stuff. Family stuff.” He grabs another cheese stick and shoves it into his mouth, his gaze shifting away from mine. That’s it. That’s all he’s going to give me. His reaction tells me that maybe he does have something to hide.

“Hey.” I settle in a chair across from Em. It’s Friday, and the entire week has been incredibly busy with school and practice and homework and work and Jordan. I never got a chance to talk to Em about her Google research. When she saw me in the senior hall earlier this morning, she asked me to meet her in the library at the same table we were at Monday during lunch, so here I am. “What’s going on?” “I wanted to tell you about my Tuttle research.” Em smiles, looking pleased with herself. “Would you like to know what I found out?” Duh. “Yeah, but keep your voice down, okay? I don’t want anyone else to hear us.” I glance around the room before I move to the other side of the table so I’m sitting in the chair next to hers. That way we can whisper in each other’s ears if we have to. I trust no one. Anyone could be lurking behind the stacks. “Ooh, I like this. I feel like a spy.” Em snatches the kettle chips bag out of my hand and munches on a couple before she starts talking. “I’ve been sneaking in searches when I can, and I was finally able to dedicate a few hours last night to the cause.” The disappointment on her face is obvious. “I have to admit he doesn’t leave much of a trail.” “You were searching for hours?” I’m shocked. Why would she waste that much time if she couldn’t find much? Em only started in on this so-called investigation a week ago, and I haven’t done any digging beyond that night he took me to dinner, and got absolutely nowhere. It felt wrong, trying to dig into his life, searching for his secrets. So that was the last time I questioned him. And he’s been readily available ever since. Always at school, at practice, driving me home or dropping me off at Yo Town when I had to work. My hours have shrunk so I’m only working one night a week and both Saturday and Sunday, and Jordan seemed pleased by that. “I get to spend more time with you,” he’d said just before he pulled me in for a kiss. That turned into another kiss. And another and another… “I was bored,” Em says, knocking me from my thoughts. “Didn’t want to do my homework, was sick of looking at everyone’s stupid Snapchat stories. So I went into full on investigative mode and dug up a few things. Not much though, so don’t be too disappointed.” “I won’t be disappointed. I feel bad that we’re even doing this,” I mumble, my appetite evaporating the more I think about it. I hand over my bag of chips to Em and she takes them gleefully, tearing into them like she’s starving.

“Don’t feel bad,” she says between mouthfuls. “All of this information is on the World Wide Web. If he didn’t want it known, he would’ve had the information wiped.” “Can a person actually do that?” She sends me a look. “Come on. Of course, someone can do that. Especially if that someone has a ton of money, like Tuttle.” “Well, don’t keep me in suspense! Show me what you’ve got.” “I don’t have anything to show you. More like stuff I can tell you.” She leans back in her chair and I lean forward, not wanting too much distance between us. Again, I don’t want anyone to overhear. “His dad is cheating on his mom.” My mouth drops open then snaps back shut. “I already know that.” Em lifts a brow. “Really? What do you know?” “I only know—that.” I’m not going to spill to Em what Jordan told me. It doesn’t feel right. “Well, I saw photos of dear old dad with his arm around a woman who isn’t Jordan’s mom. So I did a little digging on the old man and discovered something very interesting. It seems that Mr. Tuttle likes to mess with girls who are barely legal. I’m talking women who are only a few years older than us. There are photos of him with all sorts of pretty blonde women all over the ’net. But there was one in particular who appeared in photos with him again and again. Every time I saw her, it bugged me because her face was familiar. More digging gave me her last name.” She smiles triumphantly. “You will never guess who it is.” “Who?” The smile fades, and her expression turns serious. “Lauren Mancini’s older sister.” “What?” I shake my head, like I can shake some sense into it. “You’re telling me that Jordan’s dad is having an affair with Lauren’s sister?” “Yes, can you freaking believe it? I always knew Candace Mancini had a few tricks up her sleeve, but I didn’t realize she actually turned real tricks.” Em starts laughing, obviously pleased with her crude joke. “Ha ha, very funny.” I go over the information in my mind, remembering the woman we saw his dad with at the restaurant when we went out with Ryan and Livvy. That woman couldn’t have been Candace Mancini. I thought she was older. And Jordan hadn’t recognized her, not in that way. Surely he would’ve known and maybe said something about it to me? But then again, maybe he knew and chose not to say anything at all. “You have to admit, it’s pretty scandalous,” Em says just before she tips the mostly empty chip bag into her mouth and shakes out the rest of the crumbs. “It is,” I agree. “But what does it have to do with Jordan? Did you find out anything about him?” I feel guilty even asking the question. I don’t care what his dad is doing— unless it affects Jordan. But this bit of information shouldn’t matter.

“Oh, come on. It definitely has something to do with Jordan. His dad is boffing the older sister of his ex-girlfriend. That’s so freaking scandalous, I feel like we’re living in an episode of Pretty Little Liars here. Or The Vampire Diaries, without the vampires,” Em says with a giggle. “This is juicy stuff.” And she’s reveling in it. “So you didn’t find out anything about Jordan?” Em shrugs. “His relationship with his parents is awful. Word on the street is his mom is addicted to painkillers. He’s the only one left in that house, so he bears the brunt of all the bullshit delivered by his parents, and that’s gotta be a lot of pressure on his mostly capable shoulders.” I’m so relieved she didn’t discover something awful about Jordan. At least this is just involving his dad. It would’ve been another thing entirely if she found out Jordan was the one having an affair with Candace Mancini. “He doesn’t like his parents much.” “Who would? They sound like awful people.” Em leans in closer, her voice lowering. “Another rumor I’ve heard is that his dad is willing to pay the University of Oregon a lot of money to accept his son, especially since that’s dear old dad’s alma mater. But the normally dutiful son doesn’t want to go there.” I already know this too. So there really aren’t any deep dark secrets concerning Jordan. “He’s donated a lot of money to the football organization. Guess he was a Duck once upon a time and had dreams of becoming a professional football player, but then he blew out his knee and the dream died.” I lean away from Em so I can meet her gaze. “You did find out a lot of information, didn’t you?” “It wasn’t that hard with the dad. He’s a public figure. Mom keeps to herself. She’s always at the spa, on vacation, or locked away in that giant mansion taking too many pills and drinking too much alcohol.” Em frowns. “You think Tuttle will end up a total mess because of the way his parents are?” “I don’t know.” I start chewing on my thumbnail. “I hope not.” “But he’s kind of a mess already, right? Secretive when he doesn’t need to be. Very standoffish. Doesn’t have many close friends, yet he’s always drinking and having parties.” I’m in immediate defense mode. “He’s really smart. He does well in school, he always has. And he cares about his team.” “Does he care about you?” “He says he does.” The doubt creeps into my voice without my meaning it to, and Em latches on to it. “But you don’t believe him?” “After everything that happened between us before…” I shrug. “I don’t know what to believe sometimes. It’s hard.” “I get it.” She nods. “I trust no one, and that includes Cannon. He’s just—too sweet.

I’m waiting for him to do something awful. I know it’s going to happen, and I just wish it would go down soon so we can get this over with.” The bitterness in her tone is telling. “You two are officially dating then?” “I date no one.” She sounds just like Jordan. “Relationships are a set up for disappointment. Remember?” I do remember. But her down-on-relationships talk makes me feel stupid so I change the subject. “Hey, have you ever heard any rumors about a girl getting—raped by a senior when she was a freshman?” “Are you talking recent rumors?” “No, a few years ago. Like…I think it happened to someone from our class, but when we were freshmen.” I bite my lip, hoping I haven’t given away too much. If Kyla knew I was talking about what she told me, she’d hate me forever. And I’d deserve her hatred too. “Amanda, I know you live in your sweet little protected bubble most of the time, but rape stories do circulate around this campus. More often than you’d think.” Em shakes her head, her eyes sad. “But I don’t remember hearing anything about a girl from our class getting raped by a senior when we were freshmen. And if it’s true, that’s just awful. Besides, don’t you think we would’ve heard about it by now?” Not if the victim kept it a secret. “Yeah, you’re right. We probably would’ve.” I frown and dip my head, hating that I doubted Kyla’s story for even a second. I shouldn’t doubt her. She was so upset, so traumatized just from our short conversation. Then she cleared right up and acted like nothing was wrong, which is totally not normal. “Why do you ask anyway?” “Oh.” I lift my head and offer up a faint smile. “No reason. I Just thought I heard a story about a girl, but maybe it happened at another school.” “Maybe…” Em’s voice drifts and she tilts her head, scrutinizing me. “Wait a minute. You’re not hiding any deep, dark secrets, are you? About yourself?” “What? No! I’m not talking about myself, I swear.” I shake my head vehemently. “The most traumatic thing that’s ever happened to me is Jordan Tuttle.” “Ha, and don’t forget when you walked in on your ex-boyfriend and your best friend going at it at Tuttle’s house,” Em reminds me. Though how she knows about that, I have no clue. Maybe Livvy told her? Maybe the story spread so wide that everyone knows? Probably. “Great, thanks. I didn’t need the reminder,” I say sarcastically as I push back in my chair and stand. “I’m gonna go. Check out the cafeteria and maybe grab something to eat before the bell rings. Wanna come with?” “Nah,” Em says as I grab my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. “I’m going to stay here and catch up on some homework.” “Okay.” I hesitate, then go ahead and say what’s on my mind. “Maybe we should quit the investigation, you know what I mean?”

Em’s surprised gaze meets mine and she lifts her brows. “Are you sure?” “Yeah.” I nod. “It—it doesn’t feel right, sneaking around behind his back and digging into his life. I’d hate to find out he did something like that to me, so I don’t want to do it to him.” “Hey. I get it.” She nods and offers up a closed-lipped smile. “Your secret is safe with me.” I exit the library, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that Em might be lying to me.

It’s always when you’re minding your own business that the worst encounters happen, you know what I mean? It’s so cliché, and I totally get it if you’re rolling your eyes right now. But guess what? I’m minding my own business, sitting in yearbook class and going over a new layout for the volleyball page spread when someone sits in the chair beside me. I turn to find it’s…Thad. As in Thad the douche, my ex-boyfriend. “Amanda.” He gives me a chin nod, looking nervous. “What’s good?” Did he really just ask me what’s good? He’s ridiculous. “What are you doing in here?” My tone is super snotty, but I really don’t give a crap. “Aren’t you supposed to be in band?” He frowns, his forehead creasing. “Well, yeah, but I skipped out. Said I had to use the can.” Lovely. He’s so classy. What did I ever see in him again? I check him out because I can. And then I remember what I saw in him. He may be a year younger than me, but he’s cute. He always has a ready smile, and he made me laugh. He wasn’t the best kisser and he had a habit of groping me when he got too intense with the kissing, but overall, our relationship hadn’t been awful. It had been tentative and new and fun and exhilarating for a too-brief time. The ending is what was awful. Finding him naked with my best friend Tara, actually having sex in one of Tuttle’s guest bedrooms. That night, I thought I was the one who was going to end up doing it with Thad. Instead it was Tara. I haven’t spoken to either of them since. Until now. A big sigh escapes me and I turn to face him fully. “What do you want, Thad?” He ducks his head, his gaze focused on the table in front of us. “I feel bad about what happened.” “You should.”

“Yeah.” He lifts his head, his face sad. “Tara broke up with me. This morning. That’s why I don’t wanna be in band today.” I don’t even feel a pang of sympathy for him. “Really.” Thad nods, his brown hair flopping into his eyes. He shoves it back irritably. “Said she couldn’t be with me anymore. Something about me being too immature when she wants a man.” Well, maybe that’s true. “And why are you telling me this again?” “Because I’ve been feeling really guilty lately about…everything that happened between us. It’s like you saw us that night, and that was it. You never talked to me or Tara again. You dropped out of band, you started hanging out with different people, you started going out with Tuttle, the most popular guy in school.” Thad shakes his head. “It was weird. It is weird. Why’d you change so much and so fast, Amanda?” This guy doesn’t deserve an answer from me. Yet I still feel compelled to give him one. “I guess I was tired of the old me.” “Are you happy with the new version of yourself?” He watches me closely, waiting for my answer, and I take a deep breath, staring off into the distance. Am I happy? I like the direction I’m going. Classes are good and I’m not scared of the future, otherwise known as college. I like my new friends, though that uneasy feeling about Em still lingers. I have a job that I like, but more hours would be nice. I don’t miss band as much as I thought I would because I have new things to occupy my time. And then there’s Jordan. He makes me happy, even if that happiness is mixed with a healthy dose of panic and uneasiness. “Yes, I’m happy.” My voice is firm and when my gaze meets Thad’s once more, I can see the sadness lingering in his eyes. Over what he lost? I hope so. “Then I’m happy for you too, Amanda.” His voice is hollow, so I know his words are too. A smile plays upon my lips and I turn away from him, not wanting him to see it. He’s getting everything he deserves.



It’s been a little over a week since Cannon’s party. The rumors died quick. Cannon and I took care of that, though I’m still pissed at him for interfering with Amanda and me in the first place. He needs to focus on his own problems. Like the fact that he likes Em, and she’s just stringing him along. She’s a hot mess. Yeah, I can admit she’s definitely hot— but she’s also crazy. Messed up in the head. Unpredictable. Who needs that? Not me. I’m messed up enough. Amanda’s black eye has faded to almost nothing, and I’m fucking glad. Seeing her with that ugly bruise on her face every single day was tearing me up inside. The constant reminder that I did that to her sucked. Gave me all of those I-don’t-deserve-her type feelings. But I do deserve her. I deserve happiness too. I don’t need to remain alone and focused only on school and football. I can have a life too. I can prove that to my parents and then they won’t be able to say jack shit to me. Then they’ll have to eat their words. I’ve been keeping it slow with Amanda, just like I told her I would. There’s no need to rush this, no matter how much just looking at her makes me burn. It’s hard though. So damn hard. When she smiles at me, it’s like my heart is in free-fall. And when I actually get to kiss her, touch her, pull her into my arms and hold her close? It’s never enough. Now it’s Saturday morning and I got to sleep in since I was out so late the night before, thanks to the playoff game—which we won, by only a field goal. Meaning our defensive line couldn’t hold them as well and the opposing defensive line sacked my ass more times than I want to admit. I’m sore and bruised and I’d sleep all day if I could, especially since my parents are gone and there won’t be anybody around. But I promised Amanda I would take her to work at eleven, so that means I need to get my butt out of bed and take a quick shower before I head over to her house. I check my phone, scrolling through my notifications and smiling faintly when I spot the Snapchat from Amanda. I ignore all the other messages and open the one from Amanda. It’s a stern-faced selfie and she’s pointing her finger at me with the message, Don’t forget to pick me up at 10:45. I take a quick and serious selfie and include a message before I hit send.

How could I forget you? She sends me back a pic of her standing in the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around her, her dark, wet hair spilling past her shoulders. Her face and neck are a rosy shade of pink and I think I can make out a few water droplets clinging to her skin, but then the photo’s gone. Stupid fucking Snapchat. I take another quick selfie and include another message. Drop the towel. The selfie that comes back is of her smiling, one brow arched, and a message. Send me a pic of your abs and I’ll consider it. My abs? I sit up in bed and shove the covers off me, kicking them off the bed. I aim my camera at my stomach and take a photo, then send it. Within seconds there’s a new photo, and it’s of her with the towel still on and she’s pouting. I need a better pic. Sexier. She also includes a blushing emoji. Huh. All right. I’ll deliver. It takes a few minutes, but I finally have the pose down. It’s a full body shot from my chest down, with one hand slipped just beneath the waistband of the black mesh shorts I only pulled on a few seconds ago. I thought about sending her a naked pic, but I don’t want to freak her out completely. Baby steps. I caption the photo Does this work for you? And hit send. A few minutes tick by and I’m starting to worry I pushed it, though I got the notification that she screenshot the image. Great. Will she use it against me later? She’s not like that, so I doubt it. Maybe she hates the photo. I run a hand through my hair, tug on the ends so hard that it hurts. Why hasn’t she responded? What is she doing? I check the time. I need to get in the damn shower so I can be there to pick her up by ten forty-five. Finally I get a reply and I open it to find a photo of her from the waist up, her hair still hanging in front of her now bare chest and one arm slung over her breasts. She’s smiling and I screenshot it quick before it disappears. Then I call her. “Tell me you’re in the shower,” she answers. “Want me to send you a photo to prove it?” “No! You need to go get ready so we won’t be late.” “Your photo was a rip off.” “What do you mean?” I can hear the frown in her voice.

“I asked you to drop the towel.” “And I did.” “But I couldn’t see anything.” “I did what you asked. I guess you needed to be more specific.” I can hear the laughter in her voice, and I like it. Even though I’m irritated that I didn’t get to see her actually topless. “Okay, how specific is this for you?” I take a deep breath. “Send me a naked photo next time.” “Jordan.” “I’m serious.” “I know you are, but I don’t have time for this right now. I have to get ready for work.” “So responsible.” I hesitate before I ask, “What did you think of the photo I sent you?” “It was nice,” she admits softly. “Just nice? Not sexy or groundbreaking or hot?” “Oh, it was definitely hot. You have the best abs I’ve ever seen.” She ends that sentence with a giggle. And that giggle is like a shot powering straight through me, settling in my gut—and lower. “Remember that one time you licked them?” I ask her, my voice low, my thoughts dirty. “Jordan! We are not having this discussion right now. Go get in the shower.” She ends the call before I can say anything else, and I start to laugh. She’s a bossy little thing when she wants to be. I freaking love it. After I get out of the shower and I’m towel-drying my hair, I see I have a missed call from my mom. Shit. I do not want to call her back. I finish getting ready and am halfway out the door when my cell rings. Mom again. Reluctantly I answer the call. “I’m at the airport and I’ll be home later this afternoon,” she says to me in greeting. “We’re having dinner tonight. You, me and your father.” “I have plans,” I tell her gruffly, even though I don’t. I’ll make sure I do. I’ll take Amanda out to dinner or to the movies or whatever. And if she can’t I’ll figure out something else. No way am I having dinner with my parents on a Saturday night. That sounds like a nightmare. “Cancel them. We need to talk to you.” “What about?”

“Stop questioning me and just do as I say!” she practically screeches. I pull the phone away from my ear. Jesus. “I’ll bring a guest then.” Hopefully Amanda will agree to go. I went to her family dinner, so it only seems fair. “No. Absolutely not. This is a family matter we need to discuss. I don’t want any interlopers trying to nose into our business.” “What time is dinner?” “Eight o’clock.” “Fine,” I bite out, hating that she’s won. They always win. Despite the fact they’re shitty parents, they have the upper hand because I’m a minor. And I hate it. When I turn eighteen, I swear to God I’m out of their house forever. I don’t care if I still have school. I’ll figure something else out. I gain control of my trust fund too, so it’s not like I won’t have money. “I’ll see you then.” I end the call before she can say anything else, and I hope like hell that pisses her off. But that’s not satisfying enough. I wrap both hands around my phone and hold the top edge of it to my forehead, closing my eyes. Trying my best to keep my anger under control. I want to throw something. Break something. Instead I take deep, even breaths. Tell myself to get my shit together. Try to focus on the fact that I need to be calm and normal when I pick up Amanda. The last thing I wanna do is freak her out. I drop my arms down to my sides and open my eyes. Catch my reflection in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. I nod and grin, thinking the smile looks pretty damn real. Even though it’s totally fake.



Since I’ve started working here, business at Yo Town has slowly died, mostly because of the cold weather. I guess no one wants to eat frozen yogurt in November—I can’t blame them. Thanks to this, my hours have been drastically cut, and I rarely work with Blake, the Yo Town owners’ son. I still see him around school, but we don’t talk much. We have Honors English together along with Jordan, though I think Jordan intimidates him, so he pretty much ignores me. But this afternoon, we’re working together for the first time in a long time. From the moment I get there, it’s pretty busy, customers constantly coming in, especially big groups of kids who always make a horrible mess. As the afternoon progresses, traffic quietly dies off. It’s almost closing time and we’re both cleaning up around the place when he asks me a question. “So, uh, do you ever talk to Kyla?” I look over at him, pretending to be nonchalant when I spot the nervousness written all over his face. It’s kind of cute, how unsure he appears. If Kyla has a hard time trusting guys because of what happened to her, Blake would be a good choice as a date, even as a potential boyfriend. He’s sweet, kind and smart. He’s not drop-dead gorgeous, but he’s cute. Blake’s the type of guy I would’ve gone for if Jordan Tuttle hadn’t walked into my life. “I talk to Kyla all the time,” I answer as I wipe off all the sticky round tables. People are such slobs, especially kids. They let the frozen yogurt melt and drip everywhere. “Like almost every day.” “Really?” Blake sounds surprised. “Well, yeah. We run the hydration station for the football team together, remember?” “Oh yeah, that’s right.” His expression turns sheepish. “I forgot.” Really? I don’t know if I believe him, but whatever. “You like her, huh.” “Well, um, kind of.” He shakes his head, his cheeks turning pink. “But I don’t think she likes me.” “How do you know?”

Blake shrugs, looking sad. “I don’t know. She just—she doesn’t seem that in to me. She’s in a couple of my classes so we talk a lot, and everything seems like it’s going great. We have a lot of stuff in common, she laughs at my lame jokes, but then just when I work up the nerve to ask her out, she seems to, like, mentally retreat. It’s the weirdest thing.” I think I know why she acts like that, but it’s not up to me to tell him. “Maybe she’s just really shy.” “Yeah, maybe. I don’t see her with guys much. She has a few close friends, and she seems to keep to herself a lot.” He leans the broom against the front counter and goes to sit at one of the small tables, looking defeated. “I don’t know if she’s really interested in me, you know? What if she thinks I’m just a friend?” “You’ll never know if you never take a chance and ask her out,” I suggest gently. “I don’t want her to reject me.” “You’d rather live with regret then? Always asking yourself ‘what if’?” I’m trying to live my life without regret, but it’s hard when certain things make you nervous. Like rejection. Like accepting someone back into your life even though you know they’re most likely going to hurt you again. I totally understand where Blake is coming from. Blake drops his head, gazing at the table. “When you put it like that…” His voice drifts and he watches me helplessly. Like I have all the answers. So I give him one. “Just ask her out. I’m sure she won’t reject you. Ask her to the movies or take her to dinner or whatever. Keep it simple.” “You really think she’ll say yes?” He lifts his head so our gazes meet. “Yeah, I really do.” God, I hope she does. I will feel awful if she turns him down. We continue cleaning and talking about school when the door swings open and in walks…Eli Bennett and Lauren Mancini. Holding hands. Laughing together. Looking very much like a couple. What. The. Hell. I turn to look at Blake and mouth, I’m outta here. I don’t want Lauren or Eli to see me, though Lauren knows I work at Yo Town. She probably came here and brought Eli on purpose. But to, what? Humiliate me? Last time I talked to him, he was still willing to chase after me, despite my obvious disinterest. The guy is persistent, I’ll give him that, but his persistence can get annoying quick. I’m almost to the door that leads to the back of the building when Lauren calls out my name. I freeze and slowly turn around, pasting a smile on my face. “Hey,” I say weakly, offering a lame wave as a greeting. I glance down at my shirt, see the smear of chocolate right in the middle from the melted M&Ms I cleaned up earlier. “Having another fun afternoon selling frozen yogurt?” Lauren asks brightly, her eyes

wide, her smile as friendly as a shark’s. “Amanda, I didn’t know you worked here.” Eli grins and lets go of Lauren’s hand, moving toward me like he’s going in for a hug. His arms are wide open, but I dodge around him at the last minute. “I’m surprised Lauren didn’t tell you,” I say, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. I don’t care how defensive I look. I don’t want to go back out there and help them or ring them up. The second they turn around I’m going into the back and staying there until they leave. “Nah, she didn’t.” Eli glances over at Lauren and she smiles sweetly in return. Gag. “It’s good to see you, though you’re…kind of a mess.” Ah, leave it to good ol’ Eli Bennett and his annoying honesty. “This is what happens when you have to actually work for a living,” I tell them both, annoyed. “Sometimes life is a little messy.” “How does Jordan feel about that?” Lauren asks snidely. “Feel about what?” I am so done with this snobby, rude, inconsiderate bitch. “And do you really have the right to use his name like that?” She rests a hand on her chest like I shocked her. “It is his name, isn’t it?” I hate how superior she acts all the time. “No one ever calls him Jordan. Even the teachers call him Tuttle.” “She’s right,” Eli adds, earning a dirty look from Lauren. “What? It’s true. Everyone calls him Tuttle.” “I don’t call him Tuttle,” Lauren says, turning her venomous gaze on me. “Considering we used to be together, I think I’m allowed to call him whatever I want, whenever I want.” “But that was a long time ago, wasn’t it? Like when we were fourteen?” Extra heavy emphasis on the word “fourteen”, because come on. How serious could their relationship have been? “Such a long time ago, I barely remember it,” another very familiar voice confirms from behind Lauren and Eli. My gaze lands on Jordan’s scowling face and I can’t help but smile at him. My own personal hero, always to my rescue. He has impeccable timing. “Jordan!” Lauren practically squeals when she turns and sees him. If she starts hopping up and down and clapping, I might cut a bitch. “What are you doing here?” “Picking my girlfriend up from work,” he says easily, dropping the word girlfriend like it’s no big deal. The disappointment on her face, in her body language, is painfully obvious. “What are you doing here?” He sends Eli a quick look. “Isn’t he a little young for you, Lauren?” “Um, we just had a sudden craving for frozen yogurt,” Lauren says, ignoring Jordan’s rude comment. “Come on, Eli.” She grabs hold of Eli’s hand and starts to drag him over to

the yogurt machines. “Let’s go pick out what flavors we want.” “Hey, Tuttle,” Eli says as he walks past, but Jordan doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t even look at them. He only has eyes for me. They’re long gone and I still can’t move. I feel pinned in place by Jordan’s smoldering gaze. “You’re early,” I finally manage to say. “I was hoping we could leave now and your co-worker—” He says this word snidely. I don’t know why he doesn’t like Blake. It’s weird. “—can close up without you. What do you think?” Excitement bubbles deep within me. Wanting to get out of here now sounds promising. “Why do you want to leave now?” “I have plans.” He says the words with such finality, I realize quick those plans don’t include me. What else could he be doing? I should ask him. But instead of asking him, I say, “I’ll go check with Blake,” and walk away as fast as I can. Because really? I’m annoyed. There he goes again, being completely closed off and not telling me anything. I can’t read his mind. And I can’t figure out his mood either. This morning when he came by my house to pick me up, he’d seemed so happy, and fun too. Sexy and flirtatious and full of delicious kisses. At one point I’d been tempted to call in sick to work so I could spend the entire day with him. Now he’s acting standoffish. Like he doesn’t want to tell me anything, and I hate that. As his official/unofficial girlfriend, I think I have a right to know what’s going on. Don’t I? I go behind the counter where Blake is waiting at the register for Eli and Lauren to finish so he can ring them up. “Do you mind if I leave a little early? My ride has somewhere he needs to be.” Oh, I sound so bitchy, but I don’t care. I’m mad. Blake frowns, tilting his head to the side. “You okay, Amanda?” I nod. Shrug. “Sure. Why do you ask?” “No reason.” He glances around the room, making a face when he hears Eli and Lauren giggling over at the toppings section. I would bet big money they’re destroying it. He lowers his voice. “Do you not want to leave with Tuttle? Is that the problem?” “Why would you ask that?” I frown. “I don’t know. You seem upset. And you weren’t upset until Tuttle walked into the place,” Blake points out. He stands a little straighter, squares his shoulders. Like he’s going to rush to my defense and fight Jordan. He’d get smashed in an instant. “If he’s not treating you right, let me know. You don’t deserve to be with an asshole.”

What is it with guys always rushing to my defense? A few seconds ago, I loved it. Now I hate feeling so weak. “He’s not an asshole, Blake.” Well, maybe he is. “He’s never hurt me.” He broke my heart, but I guess that doesn’t count. “And I was sort of upset at Eli and Lauren when they came in, remember?” But Jordan did make it worse. Not that I want to admit it. “As long as you’re sure…” “I’m sure,” I say firmly. “But I’ll stay if you need me to. I’m scheduled to close and I don’t want to ditch you.” “No, it’s okay. If you want to go with him, go.” Blake chuckles, trying to lighten the mood I guess. “You’ll just have to return the favor sometime.” He smiles easily and I lunge toward him, giving him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. Why I’m so happy he gave in, I don’t know. I’m still angry at Jordan. It’s cute, though, how Blake’s face turns bright red, and when I release him, I glance over my shoulder to find Jordan watching us. Glaring. Frowning. Looking ready to tear Blake’s head off. Our gazes meet and I tell myself to look away, but it’s like I can’t. “Ready?” Jordan asks, his voice tight, his eyebrows up. He crosses his arms, his biceps bulging, and I remind myself to focus on my anger. On his anger. Not his sexy muscles straining against his sleeves. Ugh. “Let me get my purse,” I tell him, turning toward the doorway that leads to the back office. I spot Lauren and Eli still standing by the toppings bar, though they’ve forgotten all about the candy and are blatantly watching us. The look on Lauren’s face is nothing short of pure malice mixed with amusement. If she wasn’t holding that giant cup of frozen yogurt, she’d probably be rubbing her hands together in anticipation of spreading this particular story around school come Monday. Or even better, on social media. Instagram. Snapchat. We’re putting on a show for everyone to see.



I’m trying my best to keep my shit together, but it’s difficult. I don’t say a word as we walk toward my car and neither does Amanda. All I can focus on is that moment between her and Blake from just a few seconds ago. When she hugged him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek, beaming up at him like he just made her day. Her night. Her entire year. Christ. I wanted to rip his hands off when they touched her. Wanted to demolish his face with my fist when she kissed his cheek. I know it was an innocent gesture. I know she wasn’t trying to provoke me. But it almost feels like she did all of that to drive me crazy and it fucking worked. I open the passenger-side door for her and she climbs into the SUV, biting out a quick, “Thank you,” right before I slam the door shut. Her lips part as we stare at each other through the window, and I’m overcome with the need to kiss her. Pushing the urge out of my mind, I jog around the front of the Range Rover and get in on the driver’s side. I start the car and glance over my shoulder, hooking my hand around the passenger-side headrest as I quickly back out of the parking spot. I could use the backup camera, but this gives me an excuse to possibly touch her. And I do. Touch her. I wrap a silky strand of dark hair around my finger, tugging on it gently just before I let it go and remove my hand from the seat. I put the SUV into drive and tear out of the parking lot, hitting the gas so hard, my tires squeal across the pavement. Amanda gasps as she reaches for the grab handle above the door. “Sorry,” I mutter once I turn onto the road. I barely glance in her direction, almost afraid of what I might find. Like her overwhelming disapproval. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” “You didn’t scare me.” She lets go of the handle and primly sets her hands in her lap. I think she’s trying for dignified, but her hair’s in a messy braid with wild strands around her face, there’s mascara smudged under her eyes and her shirt is a disaster. But she’s still beautiful. And her ass looked damn good in those jeans when I was walking behind her just a few minutes ago. We remain quiet as I continue to drive, and when I stop at a red light, I can’t stand it anymore. “You’re mad.”

She shrugs, but otherwise remains silent. “Why?” What did I do wrong? If anyone is in the wrong here, it’s her. She’s the one who grabbed Blake. She’s the one who kissed him. I may have called her my girlfriend to Lauren and Eli, but we haven’t made anything official. Hell, I feel like I walk on pins and needles around her almost all the time, scared I might do something wrong that’ll send her away from me forever. What right do I have to be angry over her hugging and kissing Blake? Are we even officially a couple yet? “Because you said you wouldn’t keep things from me, but you still do. You’re exactly the same. You’ve got all of these deep, dark secrets you keep hidden away, and you’re so standoffish sometimes. If we’re supposed to start working on our relationship, Jordan, you actually have to talk to me, you know?” She exhales loudly and turns away so she’s facing the passenger-side window. I say nothing. Just stew over her words as I continue to drive. She doesn’t live too far from Yo Town, so we arrive at her house quick. Pulling up to the front, I notice there are no lights shining through the windows. “No one’s home?” She keeps her back to me. “My parents are out of town, picking up my brother at college,” she tells the window. “It was a last minute thing. I guess his car broke down.” “Your old car?” The one I said could barely run that first time I picked her up after a late shift at Yo Town. Guess I called that one. “Yeah.” Her shoulders slump a little. “They took Trent with them and they’ll be back tomorrow. Sometime in the early afternoon.” “So you’re staying home alone tonight.” And she never mentioned this to me before. Not even this morning when I drove her to work and everything was so good between us. Well, more like when I was trying to convince myself I was okay with my mother bossing me around and demanding that I come to our messed up family dinner. Instead of thinking about that bullshit, I focused on Amanda and how happy I was to see her. How good she tasted when I kissed her. How right she felt when I pulled her into my arms— “I’ve done it before. Stayed by myself overnight. It’s no big deal.” She finally turns to look at me, and I see a flicker of pain in her eyes, but then it’s gone. My heart feels like it’s cracking. I’m the one who put that pain there. I’m the one who hurt her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I only just found out while I was at work. And I was going to tell you, but I wanted to make it a surprise.” She sighs, her shoulders slumping. “But now you have other plans. Plans you won’t tell me about.” “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s just that what I’m doing isn’t going to be fun. Trust me,” I say firmly.

“What exactly are you doing? “My mother demanded I come home for a family dinner.” The sarcasm is heavy on those last two words. “More like it’ll be two hours of them giving me endless shit. I don’t want to go.” I hesitate for a moment before admitting, “But I have to.” “Maybe…” Her voice drifts, and she clamps her lips shut. They curve into this mesmerizing little smile as I stare at them, and I’m tempted to lean over and kiss her. “Maybe what?” I ask when she remains quiet. “You should come over tonight. After your dinner.” She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, like she can’t believe she just said that and she’s trying to stop the words from leaving her. “If you want to.” “I want to,” I say immediately, giving in to my impulses and leaning over the center console, pressing my mouth to hers in a gentle kiss. “I definitely want to,” I murmur against her lips. She smiles and pulls away, her gaze locked with mine. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” I reach out and cup her cheek, stroke her soft skin. “Want me to text you when I’m done?” Amanda nods. “Will you be okay all alone?” I don’t want her scared. I want to protect her in every way I can. “Yeah.” She nods again. “I’ll see you later tonight then.” I lean in and kiss her once more. This one is longer, my lips lingering, our mouths clinging. When I finally break away she has this dazed expression on her face and her lips are swollen. Every time I look at her, I swear she gets more beautiful.



I decided to leisurely prep for my night with Jordan. First I took a shower, shaved everything I could and washed my hair with my favorite shampoo and conditioner. Once I dried off, I slathered on enough body lotion that I ended up smelling like the inside of a Bath & Body Works store. I’m figuring by the time Jordan comes over, it’ll mellow out to the perfect, subtle scent. I take my time drying my hair and then curl it with the curling iron Livvy left at my house. It has a big barrel and makes the most perfect waves. I pluck my brows. I brush my teeth. I debate wearing makeup and decide why not, then only put on a light coat of mascara and that’s it. Nerves make my stomach twist since I didn’t really eat dinner, though I probably should. Mom calls to check up on me, and she makes me swear I have no one over at the house. Considering I don’t have anyone over when she calls, I’m not lying when I swear I don’t. Yeah. Whatever makes me feel better, right? Once I end the call with Mom, I go into my tiny walk-in closet and stare at my clothes. Boring, boring, boring. I want to wear something cute but casual. Something that doesn’t look like I’m trying too hard because honestly? I am trying so hard right now. If all goes as planned, I’m going to seduce Jordan Tuttle tonight. Funny, right? He’s the player. He’s the one who’s been with an endless list of girls. I’m the virgin who’s made out with maybe a handful of guys. What do I know about seduction? Nothing, that’s what. But I’m bound and determined to get over my nervousness about having actual sex. I’m going to do it. With Jordan. In my bed. All night long. Oh God. I think I’m going to be sick. Determined to get over the nausea, I decide to focus on other things. Like what I’m going to wear. I go to my dresser and dig through the top drawer until I find the new lacy black bra I splurged on a few weeks ago, thoughts of Jordan in my mind as I purchased it. It’s sat unworn in my underwear drawer ever since, along with the matching lacy panties I bought. I drop the towel I have wrapped around me on the ground and put them on, then

check out my reflection in the mirror. Ugh. There’s no way I can greet him looking like this. What am I going to do? Just casually open the front door wearing only my underwear? Yeah, Jordan might appreciate it, but I’ll feel dumb. This seduction thing is hard. Kneeling down, I pull open the bottom drawer and pull out a pair of black cropped leggings. Then I grab my favorite PINK gray, black and white sweatshirt and tug it over my head before putting on the leggings. I step into my old black slippers and then check my phone. It’s only nine-thirty. I’ve still got a long wait ahead of me. I flop on the bed and text Livvy, asking what she’s doing. Thankfully, she responds immediately. You don’t want to know. Huh. What does she mean by that? I definitely want to know now. You’ll be mad at me. When am I ever mad at you? This will make you mad. She’s being so evasive. Meaning she’s hiding something. She’s doing something wrong. But what? It’s like a light bulb goes on over my head. I send her another text. Please tell me this has nothing to do with Dustin. No answer for a few minutes and then… This has nothing to do with Dustin.

Are you lying? Maybe. OLIVIA!!! I rarely bust out the full name, but this is deserved. What the hell is she doing with Dustin right now? Are you with him? I’m at his house. He’s feeling really down because he broke up with Brianne earlier. He asked me to come over, so I did. They broke up? Yeah. First thing this morning. Via text. So cheesy. Now you’re over at his house consoling him? Yes! We’re friends. That’s what friends do. She is going to get into a heap of trouble. I can just feel it. What about Ryan? What about him? Where is he? He had his friends over at his house and they’re playing one of his dad’s new video games.

Oh, that’s right. His dad is a video game designer. But I thought Ryan hated video games? Doesn’t he hate playing video games? Sometimes his dad asks all his friends over so they can test them out. I think that’s what they’re doing. Suddenly, my phone rings and Livvy’s name flashes on the screen. “Why are you calling me?” I answer. “It’s a lot easier than typing. I’m feeling lazy. Plus, I just snuck outside.” I hear a door close behind her and it gets a lot quieter. “Please don’t be mad at me for going over to Dustin’s. He sounded so sad and like he needed a friend. I couldn’t say no to him.” “You should say no. It’s going to get you into a lot of trouble when Ryan finds out,” I warn. “Oh, screw him. What does he care? I’m sort of over his bullshit.” How many times have I heard this? And they haven’t been together very long. It’s kind of crazy. “If you’re over his bullshit, then maybe you should break up with him.” “I’m not ready for that yet.” “But you’ll go over to Dustin’s house like no big deal.” “Stop. You’re making me feel bad.” Livvy pauses for a moment. “What are you doing right now?” “I’m alone. My parents are gone.” I explain to her how they left to go help my older brother George with his car. I’m starting to wonder if that was a made up story. It sounds bogus. “Wait a minute. So you’re in your house completely alone?” Livvy sounds shocked. “Yeah. What’s the big deal?” “Are you having Tuttle over tonight?” Her voice lowers and I can tell she’s teasing me. I decide to use her answer from earlier. “Maybe.” Livvy sucks in a sharp breath. “He is coming over there, isn’t he? Or is he already there? Ah, you’re going to do it tonight, aren’t you?” She is screaming so loud I pull the phone away from my ear. “Oh my God, Liv! Go ahead and let the entire neighborhood hear you.” “Sorry! I’m just so excited! I can’t believe you two are finally going to do it!” Livvy squeals, making me wince.

“I don’t know if anything is going to happen,” I tell her. “So don’t get your hopes up.” “Come on, you’re alone in your house and he’s coming over, right? You never did tell me where he is.” “He’s having dinner with his parents right now. Then he’s coming over.” “Oh.” She says nothing else and I’m immediately defensive. “What do you mean by that?” “Remember that time we went out to dinner and we saw his dad?” How could I forget? It was an awful night. “Aren’t you worried that if his dinner with the parents is anything like that night, Tuttle will come over to your house all pissed off and ragey?” “Ragey?” “Well, yeah. It’s like he’s full of pent up rage. And that makes him ragey. Get it?” “I get it.” My stomach growls and I realize I’m hungry after all. “Listen, Livvy, I gotta go. Don’t do anything too crazy, okay?” “I won’t, I promise. We’re just talking. That’s it.” Livvy giggles. “But I want you to do as many crazy things as possible tonight, okay? And I want a full report tomorrow!” She ends the call before I can say anything else. I check the time. Well, that killed fifteen minutes. I’m munching on chips and a grilled cheese sandwich I just made when I finally get a text from Jordan. I’ll be at your house in less than five. I swallow hard, nearly choking on cheese and bread. He’ll be here in less than five minutes? “Shit!” I yell out loud as I grab my paper plate and dump everything in the trash, including my half eaten sandwich. I turn off the kitchen light and run to my bathroom, where I hurriedly brush my teeth to get rid of grilled cheese and Dorito breath. Of course, that’s when the doorbell rings, me with a mouthful of toothpaste, foam around my lips and dripping down my chin. I spit in the sink, rinse out as fast as I can before I wipe my face with a towel. I’m literally running to the door and when I finally get there and throw it open, I’m relieved to see Jordan standing on the doorstep. Looking windblown and vaguely irritated. Oh, and super hot. Like, wearing a plaid flannel shirt and jeans and boots hot. Like I want to rip his clothes off hot. “Hi,” I say—or more like I squeak. I sound like a mouse. “Hey.” He nods toward me. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” I back up out of his way and he walks inside, stopping just in front of me. His gaze drops to my chin, lingering there, but he doesn’t say anything. “Is something wrong?” “You have something.” He reaches out and swipes at my chin, his fingertip covered in white. “On your face.” Oh my God. How embarrassing. “Yeah, it’s toothpaste.” “You were brushing your teeth?” His brows shoot up. “Well, yeah. You texted me when I was eating Doritos and a grilled cheese sandwich.” Ack, why’d I tell him that? “I didn’t want to have Dorito breath.” “You’re cute.” I lift my head to watch as he slips his finger in between his lips and sucks the toothpaste off. That’s sort of gross. But it’s also rather…intimate, in a weird way. “Minty fresh.” “Jordan!” I go to shove his chest and he grabs hold of my wrist, keeping my hand pressed against him. “You’re so weird.” “Come here.” He pulls me into his arms, crushing me against him and I go willingly, slipping my arms around his waist and holding him tight. “I missed you,” he murmurs. “Your hair smells good.” “Thanks,” I whisper. My plan worked—he likes the shampoo. “I missed you too.” We only just saw each other a few hours ago and it had been tension-filled. Crap, we’d almost gotten into a fight. But now I just want to melt into him. Hold on to him and never let him go. “Let’s get inside.” He walks me farther into the house and kicks the door shut. He seems just as reluctant to let me go as he turns the both of us toward the door so he can lock it. “Wanna sit on the couch?” “Okay,” I say weakly, thankful he’s not taking me back to my bedroom first thing. I’m nervous enough. We need to lead up to this slowly. He takes my hand and we settle onto the couch, our legs pressed next to each other’s as he slips his arm around my shoulders. I lean my head against him and breathe in his woodsy scent. “How was your dinner?” “Total bullshit.” I lift my head so I can look at his face. His jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed as he stares straight ahead. I refuse to let his closed off expression deter me. “You don’t want to talk about it?” Jordan exhales loudly and gives a slight shake of his head. “Not really, but I don’t want to shut you out either.” So that’s what it feels like when your own words are thrown back at you. “If you’d rather talk about something else, I understand. I know your parents are a—sensitive subject.” He glances down at me, his expression sincere. “I honestly don’t know what to say. It’s

the same thing with them, every single time. They try and tell me what to do. They try and control every aspect of my life, especially my father. They spent the entire dinner talking at me and not listening to a word I said, so eventually I shut up and tuned them out.” That sounds so awful. No wonder he acts the way he does. It sounds like no one has ever treated him nicely. Or shown him any love. Not even any kindness. “Why do they want to control you so much?” “I don’t know.” He shrugs and I rest my head on his shoulder once more. “Because they can? Because they think they own me? It’s not like they care about me or about what I do. Only if it messes with their idea of what’s proper or not.” His parents sound like monsters. I met them both only once, and that one time we saw his dad doesn’t really count. Though the time I met his mom had been incredibly awkward too. I rest my hand on his thigh and give it a squeeze. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” “That you have such awful parents.” “It’s not your fault my parents are awful.” He goes quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder why they even bothered having me. I feel like I’m more of a nuisance to them than anything else. They’ve always done whatever they want—who cares about the kid? They’ve never given me any of their time, even when I was younger and really needed it, you know?” We always need time from our parents, but I don’t say it. “Yet they have these endless expectations on me. All of these demands that supposedly mean something to them and our family name. My father likes to say that a lot. Keeping up the family name. It’s a bunch of bullshit.” He sounds absolutely disgusted. “And if I don’t meet their expectations, if I don’t do exactly what they want, then I’m a complete disappointment.” “Are you serious?” I’m outraged. Like seriously outraged on his behalf. “How can you not meet their expectations? You’re smart, you’re a star football player, you don’t get into trouble—” He interrupts me. “Oh, I’ve gotten in trouble. You just don’t hear about it because my dad pays off whoever he has to so he can keep it under wraps.” My curiosity shoots way up but I can’t focus on that right now. “Whatever. Don’t we all get in trouble sometimes?” Well, not me. Not until last summer when I started hanging out with Jordan. Not that he makes me a bad person, but… He makes me want to do bad things. With him. “You know what the real problem is? They want to have complete control over me. I’m turning eighteen soon, and they can’t stand it. I’ll come into my trust fund and I won’t need them anymore.” A trust fund? I’m stunned. “You have a trust fund?”

“My grandfather died when I was a baby. He left me a trust fund and my father has invested well on my behalf over the years. It’s about the only good thing he’s done for me,” Jordan says bitterly. I knew he was rich, but I didn’t realize he’d have his own money. He’ll be completely independent and could probably move out of his parents’ house if he wanted to. “What are you going to do when you turn eighteen?” I ask. “What do you mean?” “Are you going to stay home and finish out the school year? Or are you going to— leave?” Oh, God. What if he leaves? Once he finishes out the football season—which is in a matter of days—he has nothing keeping him here. He’s probably completed enough classes that he could graduate now if he wanted to. When’s his birthday anyway? I feel bad that I can’t remember. And what are his plans? He hates his parents so much I wouldn’t blame him for wanting to leave this place and never come back. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll finish out the school year and graduate, just like everyone else.” His voice is soft and I can hear it rumble in his chest. “I’ll have money in January when I turn eighteen, but I don’t know where’d I go, Amanda. My parents are rarely home anyway, and I don’t think I want to live on my own. Thinking about that kind of shit is…” Scary. He doesn’t need to say the word out loud. I know what he’s thinking, and I can’t blame him. It is scary sometimes, to think of the future. I told myself at the beginning of the school year I need to live my life day by day and not worry about tomorrow. So far, that’s been working out fine. But I don’t have rotten parents like Jordan does. I know he has financial security, but money can’t buy you happiness. And it definitely can’t buy you love. I think he realizes that. I don’t know what else to say. An apology isn’t good enough and like he said, it’s not my fault his parents are such assholes. So I remain quiet and close my eyes, enjoying this moment of just sitting with Jordan and not talking about anything at all. I listen to his even breaths. The sound of his heartbeat, steady and true. His fingers skim over my shoulder, his thumb slowly tracing the seam of my sweatshirt, and I swear if he keeps this up, I could fall asleep like this… “Amanda.” Jordan’s deep voice snaps me awake and I lift away from him in a hurry, sitting up straight and looking around, pushing my hair out of my face. My head feels heavy and my vision is hazy, and when I look over at Jordan, I notice he looks just as tired as I feel. “Did we fall asleep?’ I ask groggily. “Yeah.” He grabs his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. “For at least an hour.” “Really? Wow.” I run a hand through my tangled hair, then slip my finger beneath each eye to check for smudged mascara. Of course, my finger comes away black. I can’t ever get it right with this guy, I swear.

“Do you want me to leave?” “What?” I turn to look at him. “No. Why would I want that?” “You want me to stay?” He rubs his eyes and my heart melts. He looks like a sweet, sleepy little boy, and the urge to pull him into my arms and keep him forever is strong. “I don’t want to do anything, I promise. Just sleep.” “Oh.” I’m disappointed. But I’m also…relieved. Maybe tonight isn’t the night for my sexual liberation. Maybe tonight is the night I get to indulge and cuddle with Tuttle. Oh, crap. I’m going to need to hashtag that and post it on Snapchat somehow. He might get offended, but screw it. It’s a chance I have to take.

“So you really didn’t have sex with Jordan Tuttle, huh?” Livvy’s tone is clearly disbelieving. But why would I lie about that? “No, I really didn’t have sex with him,” I say firmly. We’re sitting on the floor in Livvy’s bedroom on Sunday afternoon. I didn’t work at Yo Town today, but I still need to be home by five for our weekly family dinner. My parents brought my older brother George home, so he’ll be there too. I guess he’s staying here for the next few days, maybe even weeks. I heard Mom say something about academic probation and Dad freaking out over George dropping out of college, but I stayed out of it. At least their focus is on my brother and not me. They have no clue Jordan spent the night at our house last night. Though nothing happened. Not a thing. Only a few quick kisses and the two of us twisted around each other all night long, sleeping peacefully. We woke up around ten, I made him breakfast—cereal and toast and coffee—and then kicked him out in fear of my parents showing up unannounced. He didn’t seem to mind, though. He gave me a thorough kiss goodbye, whispering against my lips, “Remember our Snapchat conversation from yesterday morning?” I nodded, wondering where he was taking this. “We could still do that, you know. Send each other—photos. No one will have to know. They’ll just disappear.” He smiled and kissed me one last time, most likely knowing he’s shocked me. “You can trust me.” That particular conversation has been on my mind ever since. “What are your thoughts on, um, sending nude photos?” Livvy pauses in painting her toenails and lifts her head, the surprise on her face obvious. “Say what? Don’t tell me Jordan’s asking you for nudes.” Of course, Jordan’s asking me for nudes. He’s almost eighteen years old. I’m sure he lives for nudes. He might even have a…collection? Ew, a tiny detail I really don’t want to know about. “Kind of,” I tell her. “What do you mean?” Livvy frowns. “He asked for one this morning after we kinda flirted around the topic.” “How? Tell me exactly how it went down.”

“Well, I sent him a photo of me wrapped in a towel after getting out of the shower yesterday morning.” I bite my lip and duck my head, not wanting her to see my embarrassment. “Ooooh, I didn’t know you had it in you! Dirty girl.” I look up just in time to see Livvy wink at me. Which of course sends us both into hysterical giggles. Once I compose myself, I continue. “So he sent a photo of himself in return and told me to drop the towel.” Livvy’s eyes light up. “He asked you to or told you to?” “He told me to.” “So demanding. That’s kind of hot.” The dreamy sigh that escapes her makes me smile despite my worry. “Did you drop it then?” “Kind of.” I explain how I took the photo and how I posed. She shakes her head when I’m done. “That isn’t how you take a nude photo, Amanda.” She says this like I should know, her voice full of disappointment. “Well, I have no clue what I’m doing, so I thought it was okay.” When she sends me a knowing look, I blow out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not going to just send him a bunch of nudes with my legs spread or whatever. That’s gross.” “It’s hella gross,” Livvy agrees as she screws the cap back on top of the nail polish and sets it on her bedside table. “You don’t want to look like a photo shoot out of Hustler. That magazine is absolutely disgusting, by the way.” I’ve never even heard of Hustler. And I’m not about to ask Livvy how she knows about it. “But yeah, you definitely want to tease him,” Livvy says with firm authority. “Show a little bit without showing the whole package, you know what I mean? Guys love that. A glimpse of a side boob. The bottom half of your ass cheek. The illusion of nudity without you actually being naked.” I’m frowning so hard I’m probably going to give myself wrinkles. How does she even know all this stuff? “You really think I should send him nude photos? Just bare it all and hope for the best?” “You won’t need to bare it all, but yeah. Why not?” Livvy shrugs. “Everyone’s doing it.” “Just because everyone’s doing it, doesn’t mean we should too.” I watch her closely. “Have you sent nudes to Ryan? Be honest.” She quickly shakes her head. “No way. I don’t trust him.” “What?” Now it’s my turn to be totally shocked. “But you guys are, like, together. You’re boyfriend and girlfriend, in a serious relationship. You’ve had—” My voice drops to a whisper. “—sex.” “Yeah, so?”

Livvy is acting so nonchalant about her lack of trust in her boyfriend. It’s kind of blowing my mind. “You gave up your virginity to Ryan, yet you don’t trust him. Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” “I don’t know. Maybe? I’m too scared he might do something awful when we split up. Like show the naked photo I sent him to all his friends or whatever. That would be beyond humiliating.” “You seriously believe he’d stoop that low if you broke up?” “It’s a risk I don’t want to take. Even with Snapchat and setting the photo to, like, one second before it disappears, I still wouldn’t send him a naked photo. We’re probably going to break up and he’d figure out some way to use that photo against me.” Livvy shakes her head. “Honestly? I don’t know how much longer this relationship is going to work.” Just like that, the subject changes. I feel like I’ve been waiting in nervous anticipation for her to drop this bomb. I choose my next words carefully. “Are you thinking about breaking up with him?” “Sort of. It’s been on my mind a lot lately. I’m not as happy as I was when we first got together, I know that.” She shrugs and touches the corner of her big toe nail to test if it’s dry or not. “It was nice talking to Dustin last night. It made me realize how much I miss him.” Her voice is quiet and she keeps her focus on her dark burgundy painted toes. “What, so now you want to try out a relationship with Dustin?” Okay, I’m not going to judge. But—and this is according to Livvy—their friendship hasn’t always been the best. In fact, from what Livvy told me, before she started dating Ryan, she and Dustin were pretty toxic for each other. Lots of back and forth, we’re friends, we’re not friends, we’re gonna make out and do things to each other, oops we don’t like each other anymore type stuff. Why would she want to go back to that? And why would he want to take her back? “No. I don’t know. Dustin and I have a long past. He’s been such a huge part of my life and we just—stopped talking. It’s been hard.” She shrugs. “I mean, Ryan’s sweet and he’s a great kisser. Plus, he’s really good in bed. But is that enough to keep going out with him? I’m not sure.” He’s really good in bed? Maybe I didn’t want to know that? Then again, maybe I do want to know. I’m sort of fascinated with the many possible reasons why he’s so great. “Do you have other guys you can compare notes with?” “What are you talking about?” Livvy frowns. I probably phrased that all wrong. “Well, you said Ryan’s good in bed. Which means you think he’s good at—sex.” I pause and meet her gaze. “So. Is he? Good in bed?” “Yes. Most definitely.” The look that crosses her face is nothing short of dreamy. “And you’ve been with how many other guys?” Her frown returns. “Dustin and I messed around a lot, but we never had actual sex.” “So you’ve been with Dustin and Ryan and that’s it?” Livvy nods. “Then how do you know Ryan’s any good? If you haven’t really been able to compare him to anyone else.”

“Whatever.” She waves a hand, dismissing my words. “That part doesn’t matter, Amanda. When it’s good, you know it’s good. Trust me.” Yeah, I don’t know if I can. But I just smile and nod and try to steer the conversation back to where I want it to be. “I’m just saying don’t throw away your relationship with Ryan just because you heard Dustin has a big dick or whatever,” I mumble, feeling dumb. Livvy bursts out laughing. “Remember, I’ve seen his dick, my prudish friend. And while I wouldn’t call it huge, I can definitely say it’s pretty decent, for a dick.” I will never, ever look at Dustin in the right way again. “Has he ever sent you nudes?” “Dustin? No way. Though he asked me for some once when we were fifteen and being stupid.” She smiles serenely. “I told him I wasn’t going to provide his beat off material and he never asked again.” “You did not,” I breathe. I can’t even imagine saying something like that to Jordan. I’d be too embarrassed. “I did so! That’s all he was looking for, you know?” She studies me carefully. “You and Tuttle never really did it, huh.” I slowly shake my head. “No, we never really did.” Just thinking about it makes me nervous. I don’t understand why being a virgin is such a big deal. Why do we have to give it away? Or lose it? Why is so much tied up in it? I do everything else but actual intercourse with Jordan yet that somehow keeps me pure? Saves me from…what? When I think about it too hard, it’s kind of ridiculous. “But you two did—other things. Right?” Livvy asks. “Yeah. Just not the actual deed.” I start picking off the nail polish I just painted on my fingernails. This conversation makes me feel jittery. Nervous. How can I measure up sexually with any of the other girls Jordan’s been with? How can I measure up to Jordan himself? “Well, he’s going to want to,” she says with all the authority of someone who knows. “Probably soon too. Are you ready?” “I don’t know. I want to say yes, but….” I clamp my lips shut. What’s holding me back? “But what? I mean, I get it if you’re nervous. Having actual sex is such a big deal.” “Why?” When Livvy looks at me strangely, I continue. “Why is having sex a big deal? We’ve already done so much. Why do we put such heavy expectations on actual intercourse? “Oh God, you just said intercourse.” Livvy collapses into a fit of giggles, which irritates me. I’m trying to have a serious conversation. I let her giggle for a few minutes, and when she finally gains some control, she answers me. “It’s, like, society who puts the expectations on intercourse and virginity and girls saving themselves. Boys get laid and it’s considered a rite of passage. Girls have sex and we’re considered sluts. It’s totally

unfair. You know what I mean?” “I know exactly what you mean.” Livvy mock pouts and crosses her arms. “We shouldn’t be judged so harshly just because we want to explore our sexuality.” “I totally agree,” I say with an enthusiastic nod. This is what I want. A serious conversation about sex. “Who cares if we’re having sex, right? We’re practically adults. We should be able to do whatever we want.” “Yeah!” Livvy throws her arms into the air like she’s cheering at a football game. “So you’re ready to just do it with Tuttle then? Get it over with? Liberate yourself?” My heart trips over itself just hearing Livvy say that, and all my righteous enthusiasm disappears. I swallow hard, fighting the nerves battling it out in my stomach. “Maybe?” “Maybe’s not a real answer,” Livvy teases, wagging her finger at me. “What happened to your sexual liberation of two seconds ago? You go from wanting to send nudes and having sex with your hot boy to…maybe?” Yeah, where did it go? One mention of doing it with Jordan and I quietly panic. “I guess it’s one thing to talk about it, and another to actually do it?” When she sends me a stern look, all I can do is shrug. But come on. What’s the real problem here? Do I not trust Tuttle like Livvy doesn’t trust Ryan? Well. Livvy doesn’t seem to trust Ryan whatsoever. I do trust Jordan with some things, but not…everything. Like my heart. He’s broken it once already, yet I keep going back for more. After a while he’s got to think he has me no matter what. Will he take advantage of my weaknesses? Will he keep hurting me because he knows he can’t lose me? How much more can I take? Am I already setting us up to fail?

“You should come with me to the quad for lunch,” Livvy suggests as we walk down the hall after fourth period, headed for our lockers. It’s lunchtime on Monday and the idea of sitting in the quad with all the popular people kind of makes me nauseous. “Will Lauren Mancini be there?” “Yes, only because she’s hanging around Eli all the time and he can’t leave campus.” That’s a senior privilege only, and considering she’s dating a freshman…she’s stuck. Unless she wants to sneak him off campus in her car. I wouldn’t put it past her to try it. “No thanks.” I pick up speed as we draw closer to our lockers. “I’m going to the library. I need to catch up on reading anyway.” “I really don’t want to be there alone,” Livvy admits just before she goes to her locker and starts to open it, her back to me as she speaks. “Please come with me, Amanda. I need you.” I dump a few books into my locker and shut it before going to stand next to Livvy. She sends me a quick glance, her expression sad, and I swear she almost looks ready to cry. “Hey.” I touch her shoulder. “Are you okay?” She offers up a little shrug before she shuts her locker door and turns to face me with glassy eyes. “Not really. It’s weird right now. Everything feels so strange.” “What exactly do you mean?” “I mean, I don’t think I want to be with Ryan anymore.” She drops her voice extra low and it trembles. “The two of us together, we’re a total mistake. It won’t work. Like, ever. All we do is fight. I’m irritated with him all the time, and I think he feels the same way about me. Our relationship is pointless. I want out.” “Oh, Livvy.” My heart aches for her. I hate that she’s hurting so much. I hate that she wants to break up with him. I know they’ve had their ups and downs, but I didn’t think it was this bad. “I want to be with Dustin.” She clamps her lips shut and I swear her eyes well up with tears. “I can’t do this anymore.” “Do what?” “Fake that I’m happy with Ryan. I’m not.” Now the mascara-tinged tears slide down her cheeks and I can’t help myself. I pull her into my arms for a big hug, holding her close while she cries into my shoulder, getting my sweater wet.

“Forget the quad,” I tell her as I smooth my hand up and down her back. “Come with me to the library.” “No way,” she says, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “I know you see Em in there a lot. I do not want to deal with her right now.” They’re still circling each other, and I doubt their friendship will ever be the same. “Fine, then let’s go off campus together and we’ll go out to eat. You brought your mom’s car today, right?” “No. She needed it because she has an early shift.” Livvy pulls away, furiously wiping at the tears streaking her cheeks. “We’re stuck here.” “No, we’re not.” I pull my phone out and impulsively send Jordan a quick text. I have no idea what his answer is going to be, but I’m hoping it’s yes. Can I borrow your car? His response is quick. Are you freaking serious? Yes, I’m serious. I need to take Livvy to lunch somewhere off campus. I can drive you both. I’d rather take her alone. She really needs to talk about some stuff. He doesn’t respond, and my stomach twists with nerves. “Who are you texting?” Livvy asks, and I hold up a finger to silence her. “Hold on, I’ll tell you in a minute. Let me work on this.” I stare at my phone screen, willing him to text me back but so far, nothing. “Maybe we can sit in one of the study rooms,” Livvy suggests. “No one goes in those during lunch.” “Please, people use them at lunch all the time,” I tell her, my gaze locked on my phone. Ugh, I’m going to be so frustrated if Jordan doesn’t respond soon. I really want to do this for Livvy. It would mean a lot to her, and to me. “What do you mean?” I glance up and meet Livvy’s gaze. “I mean that I’ve caught a few people in those rooms at lunch or after school hooking up.”

Livvy’s mouth drops open. “Are you serious? Really?” “Yes. Really.” I nod and check my phone yet again, relieved to see he’s texting me. “It’s the perfect place to hook up privately. The teachers never check those rooms as long as you’re quiet.” I remember the first time I discovered a couple making out in one of those private study rooms. I’d been a freshman, and I think they were seniors. The girl sat on the guy’s lap, straddling him, her legs spread and tiptoes poised on the floor, his hands on her breasts, their mouths fused until I opened the door. Their lips broke apart and she glared at me, reaching for the table. When she tossed a book at me, I ducked while the guy threw back his head and laughed. My fourteen-year-old mind had been blown. “Hmm.” There’s a glimmer in Livvy’s eyes as she grabs her phone and starts doing some texting of her own. An uneasy feeling slithers down my spine as I watch her when my phone buzzes in my hand. I never let anyone borrow my car. Ever. But I’ll let you take it. Because I trust you. Not to wreck it. So don’t. Wreck. It. A little smile curls my lips. This feels like a big deal. “Okay, I have plans,” Livvy announces, making me look up at her with a frown. “I really appreciate your help, Amanda. Like, really. But I’m good now. I’ve got it handled.” I raise a brow. This is suspicious. “Who are your plans with?” “Um.” She nibbles on her lower lip and takes a step closer to whisper in my ear, “You gave me a good idea with the private room thing in the library. So, uh, Dustin is meeting me in one in five minutes.” She checks her phone. “Make that four. I gotta go.”

“Livvy.” I grab her arm before she can leave. “What are you doing? If Ryan catches you, he’s going to be furious. What if someone sees you two together and tells him? Is that how you want him to find out about you and Dustin—sneaking around?” “I don’t want him to find out anything, so I really hope no one tells him.” She sends me a pointed look and I’m offended. Does she truly believe I’d rat her out to Ryan? What the hell is wrong with her? “Guess it’s the risk I have to take, though,” she says, her tone flippant. “Dustin needs to talk to me. Privately.” She extracts herself from my grip and without another word, she’s gone. My phone buzzes again and I check it. I’m out in the parking lot. Meet me at my car and we can go over a few things before you take it. Growling beneath my breath, I stalk down the hall and push through the double doors that lead outside. I can’t believe Livvy’s going to meet Dustin in the library and do… what? Make out? Or worse? She’s freaking crazy. And she’s still with Ryan, so she’s basically cheating. I despise cheaters, especially after what Thad and Tara did to me. I don’t want to think less of Livvy, but she’s not giving me much choice. This sucks. I’m walking through the senior parking lot when I spot Jordan standing near his black Range Rover, leaning against its side. He’s wearing a white Henley shirt, his arms crossed and his biceps bulging beneath the long sleeves. The breeze ruffles his dark hair across his forehead and he stares off into the distance, every inch the troubled, broody boy that he is. He looks so freaking good, I’m momentarily distracted by him. I stop and stare, my lips parted, my breath becoming shallow. It’s still hard for me to believe that this guy, this gorgeous, sweet, annoying, smart, strong, wonderful, awful boy likes me. That he might even care about me. “Hey.” His deep baritone knocks me from my daze, and I head over, stopping just in front of him. “Where’s Livvy?” “She made last minute plans. With someone else.” I don’t say anything else. Livvy’s secret isn’t mine to tell, and I’m afraid if I start talking about it, I’ll get really pissed. So I leave it alone. “Guess I don’t need to drive your car after all, but thank you for offering. I sense it was huge deal.” “It is,” he agrees, tipping his head toward me. “But you’re worth it.” Oh. He says things like that and I’m left speechless. “You don’t have any plans?” “No.” I shake my head, feeling tongue-tied. Jordan grabs my hand, lacing our fingers and giving them a squeeze. “Then let’s go to lunch together.”

“Don’t you want to stay here?” He usually does. He’s always out at the quad, holding court over his loyal subjects. I used to sit out there with him, with all of them, just basking in his presence. But once we had the so-called breakup of our so-called relationship, I stopped going. One, because I couldn’t stand to be near him knowing he wasn’t mine anymore. Besides, most everyone who would hang out with Tuttle is annoying. Frustrating. Awful. All of the above. “No, not if I can sneak off campus somewhere with you.” He tugs me closer, his expression serious, his voice low. “Let me treat you to lunch, Amanda.” When he talks to me like that, looks at me like that, I tend to give in easily. “Okay,” I say softly, a jolt pulsing through me when he runs his thumb over the top of my hand. Sometimes the simplest touch has the most devastating effect. “Where do you want to go?” “Whatever you want.” “The Corner Bakery Café?” It’s my new favorite restaurant, though I don’t get to go very often. He makes a face. “You like that place?” “It’s delicious.” I take another step closer, so I’m practically invading his personal space. He doesn’t seem to mind. “Have you eaten there since it opened?” “Once. With my mother.” That face he just made? Now it looks worse. “Not the most pleasant experience.” I’m starting to think every experience with his mother is the furthest thing from pleasant. “Well, take me there instead and we can make it a better experience.” I grin at him, unable to stop myself. He smiles and drops a kiss on my lips. Then another, this one longer, and with the slightest bit of tongue. I rest my hand on his chest, my fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. His free arm circles around my waist, and I swear I hear someone yell his name, but I ignore them. I’m too in shock that he’s kissing me in the parking lot while everyone walks by, so I’m not arguing. I like it. “Jordan Tuttle! Get your hands off that girl right now! I’m writing you up for PDA!” Jordan leaps away from me and we both turn to find the vice principal, Mrs. Maddox, glaring at us, her arms crossed in front of her ample chest, her mouth set in a firm line. Every so often the PDA police—as we all like to call them—roam the campus and scream at couples for putting on overt public displays of affection. It’s freaking ridiculous, how strict they are. What makes it worse? We’re getting yelled at for an innocent kiss while Livvy and Dustin are most likely hooking up in the freaking library. “Sorry, Mrs. Maddox,” I tell the vice principal, who’s glaring at us with disgust, hating

how shaky my voice sounds. I never get in trouble, like ever. This is a huge deal for me. Mrs. Maddox’s face falls, disappointment shining in her eyes. “Amanda Winters? Is that you?” “Yes, ma’am,” I say miserably. She looks at me, then over at Jordan before her gaze returns to mine. “The both of you, in my office. Now.” “Are you serious? But we’re going to lunch,” Jordan starts, but she silences him with a look. “You’re going nowhere,” she says firmly, her bright fuchsia lips forming a thin line. She’s older, probably in her late fifties or early sixties, and she’s super grumpy most of the time, even with the good kids. “But Mrs. Maddox—” Jordan starts again, and she shakes her head, cutting him off with just a look. “Trust me. You’re only making it worse.” Mrs. Maddox starts walking. “Follow me. And no talking to each other,” she calls over her shoulder. We both fall into line behind her, Jordan sending me a secret, slightly irritated look before he lets me walk ahead of him. Jordan’s annoyed, but I’m terrified. What if Mrs. Maddox calls my parents? I’ll never hear the end of it, especially if she tells them what I’m in trouble for. All three of us walk back into school, Mrs. Maddox taking us to her office. She points at the two chairs across from her desk as she settles into her seat, the stern look on her face telling me that she means business. “I am so incredibly disappointed that the two of you are in my office right now,” she starts out, her shrewd gaze sliding to mine. “Especially you, Amanda.” I duck my head, my cheeks hot with shame. If she’s trying to make me feel like absolute crap, it’s working. “You both sign the student code of conduct every single year while you attend this school, so you should know the rules, especially now that you’re seniors. Public displays of affection are strictly against school code, especially—kissing on campus,” she continues. I am going to die of embarrassment. “What’s the punishment?” Jordan asks, sounding bored. I chance a glance at him, noting how he’s slouched in his chair, his expression a combination of arrogance and annoyance. It’s like he doesn’t give a crap if he’s disrespecting Mrs. Maddox. “Excuse me?” By the look on Mrs. Maddox’s face, she is not amused. “I asked, what is the punishment.” Jordan leans forward, his gaze intent as he stares at her. “You can skip the lecture. Just tell us what you want us to do.” “A week’s detention,” Mrs. Maddox snaps, anger flashing in her eyes. “For one hour, right after school, starting today.”

“A week?” I gasp. “I have practice,” Jordan says easily, like she won’t challenge him. “Can’t make it.” “You can and you will,” Mrs. Maddox says as she pulls a pink pad of paper out of the top drawer of her desk and starts filling out the detention slip. “I won’t tolerate your rude attitude toward me, Tuttle. You must adhere to the rules just like everyone else in this school. You’re not a special snowflake.” If it was any other time I would totally laugh over her special snowflake comment, but I keep my head bent so I don’t have to look at either of them. It’s easier this way. “But we have the regional championship coming up.” He sounds the slightest bit panicked and I lift my head, hating how worried he looks. That worried expression is gone in an instant, though, and replaced with anger. “I can’t miss practice. Coach Halsey is gonna have a coronary.” “That’s not my problem. And you should’ve thought of that before you accosted Amanda Winters in the senior parking lot.” Mrs. Maddox scrawls her signature across the detention form before she tears the paper off and hands it to him. “You may go, Jordan.” Oh. Someone else who calls him Jordan. Surprising. He rises to his feet, crumpling the detention slip in his hand. “What about Amanda?” “I’m going to talk to her for a few more minutes.” She sends him a pointed look when he doesn’t budge. “Alone.” Jordan looks over at me. “I’ll wait in the hall for you.” And then he’s gone, the door shutting behind him with a loud slam, making Mrs. Maddox wince and me flinch. We sit quietly for a moment, the only sound the scratch of her pen across the pink detention slip as she fills it out. She tears the slip off the pad and hands it over to me. I take it, hating how my hands shake. “Amanda.” Her voice is much more pleasant now, though that tinge of disappointment is still there. “What are you doing?” I frown. “What do you mean? You know what I was doing. That’s why you’re writing me up for a PDA vio—” “Not that,” she interrupts with a brisk shake of her head. “What are you doing with Jordan Tuttle?” “Oh.” How is this any of her business? I don’t have to answer her, do I? “We’re, uh, friends.” “Really.” Her voice is flat. She doesn’t believe me, but I don’t know how else to describe us. “Is that what you call what I witnessed just a few moments ago? A friendly kiss?” “Um, yeah?” If she considers tongues friendly, then most definitely. “Amanda.” She sighs and tilts her head, examining me closely. “You’re a good girl.

You get terrific grades, you never get into trouble, yet here you sit in my office, and I’m going to send you to detention. Do you know what your problem is?” I’m slightly taken aback by her question. “Um, no?” “Jordan Tuttle, that’s what.” She leans over her desk and lowers her voice, like she’s sharing a secret with me. “He’s—troubled. Most likely too much trouble for a girl like you.” Now I’m just flat out offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You can do much better, dear.” This is said in a whisper, and then she smiles. “Don’t you think?” I rise to my feet, my entire body trembling, I’m so angry. I can’t believe she’s warning me off Jordan. If I wanted to report her to someone higher up, like in the superintendent’s office, I bet she’d get in a lot of trouble. “Is that all you wanted to discuss?” She gapes up at me, clearly surprised by my reaction. “Yes, but—” “I’ll report to detention this afternoon.” I walk out of her office without another word, ignoring her when she calls my name. I’m totally stunned by her words, by my reaction, by my disregard for the rules. I’m all about the rules, I always have been. I would never go against an adult’s wishes, especially one who’s in charge of me. But Mrs. Maddox was so rude, so incredibly awful just now. What does she know about Jordan’s personal life? Absolutely nothing. And where does she get off calling him troubled? Warning me about him? My blood feels like it’s boiling, I’m so flipping mad. I stride through the main office, ignoring everyone sitting behind the counter or in the chairs by the window, though I know I heard someone call my name. I’m too angry to talk, too angry to do anything but just operate on autopilot and I push the main office door open with all my might, making the door creak loudly with the force of my strength. Stopping short, I’m surprised to find Jordan leaning against the opposite wall in the hallway, scrolling through his phone. His eyelids rise, his turbulent gaze meeting mine, and without a word I go to him, take his hand and lead him out of the building. I have to get out of here before I lose my mind.

“Where do you want to go?” Jordan asks once we’re in his car and driving down the road, away from campus. “I don’t know. I don’t care. Just get me out of here,” I say irritably. I roll down the window and let the late fall air wash over my face. It’s barely fifty degrees outside but it’s sunny, so the air feels extra cold. It’s like a slap of reality against my cheeks, and I shiver. “You should close the window.” “Are you cold?” I turn to look at him. He shrugs. “I’m always hot.” Indeed. “But I don’t want you getting cold.” “Such a gentleman,” I murmur as I hit the button and roll up the window. “I think I’m too angry to be cold.” He smiles to himself and shakes his head. “You do seem fired up.” “Mrs. Maddox is a total bitch.” “Whoa, simmer down, Winters. Tell me how you really feel.” I ignore the fact that he’s teasing me, that he can make light of the situation when he was just as pissed as I was only a few minutes ago. But I can’t tell him why I’m so angry. No way am I repeating what Mrs. Maddox said about him. The both of us don’t need to be mad at the same time. That’ll just make everything worse. “The PDA rules are stupid.” “Yeah, they are.” “We’re practically adults. Why can’t we kiss on our lunch break? What does it matter? We weren’t even in the school.” “But we were on school grounds,” he points out. I send him an irritated scowl. “What? Are you defending her now?” “No. I think the no-PDA rule is stupid. And I think Mrs. Maddox must have a bug up her ass that makes her run around campus and bust people on an almost daily basis. It’s messed up.” He’s quiet for a moment and his silence starts to make me antsy. “But I think I can get us out of this mess.” “How?” I ask incredulously. “Coach Halsey will bail us out.” “He’ll bail you out.” I slump in my seat and cross my arms, staring ahead morosely. The lunch period is almost over and we’re going to be late getting back to school. For

once in my life, I don’t care. “He’ll take care of you too. You’re our water girl, remember?” He reaches out and runs his big hand over my knee. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of this.” “What if Mrs. Maddox calls my parents?” I slap my hands over my eyes and groan. “I never get in trouble. They’ll probably want to kill me over this, especially since I got caught kissing you. They already don’t like you. We don’t need to give them any more reasons to not like you.” Jordan remains quiet for a moment, and I drop my hands to find him staring straight ahead, that tic in his jaw starting up again. “I wish I could change their minds.” I wish he could too, but that’s going to take time. I decide to change the subject. Sort of. “Do you think Mrs. Maddox will call them?” “Honestly? No. This is your first offense. Mrs. Maddox seems to like you. She can’t stand me. If we get caught kissing again, then she’ll probably call your parents. Or if we don’t show up for detention, she’ll call them.” “I thought you said Halsey will get you out of detention?” “He’ll definitely get us out of detention. But we have to go today. That’s what will freak coach out. I won’t be at practice and he’ll get mad, figure out I’m in detention and demand I get out of there. Then I’ll tell him he needs to get you out too, and boom. We’re done.” He smiles, looking pleased with himself. But whoops, I’m still stuck on one particular thing he mentioned earlier in the conversation. “You said this is my first offense. Is this your first PDA offense, too?” His expression turns to stone and he keeps his gaze fixed on the road. “No. It’s actually my third,” he bites out. I sit up in my seat and gape at him, but he’s still not looking at me. “Your third? Are you serious?” My mind is going haywire trying to figure out who he got busted with for the PDA thing. “Shouldn’t Maddox suspend you or whatever?” “I think our chances or whatever restart with every school year, or something like that. My first two offenses were during my freshman year, and I haven’t got in trouble since.” Realization dawns. Meaning his first two offenses were… “With Lauren?” “Yeah.” He doesn’t look at me. Still. So I stare straight ahead, stewing over what he just said, my mind clicking through all the many scenarios that might’ve happened between them. Stupid Lauren Mancini. She has so many…moments with him. They share a history that I can never have and it makes me jealous. There. I can admit it. I’m jealous of her and what she and Jordan shared. I don’t care if it was four years ago. They still spend a lot of time together. He plays football. She’s a cheerleader. And she’s linked to him because supposedly her older sister is having an affair with his dad, which is so freaking bizarre I can barely wrap my head around it.

The entire scenario is twisted and dark and weird. Makes me wonder what I got myself into. “Was she your first?” I blurt out, unable to contain the question. “My first what? Girlfriend? Sort of. If you don’t count the girl I messed around with at camp the summer after seventh grade.” “You messed around with a girl the summer after seventh grade?” God, the more he says, the less I want to know. “It was pretty innocent.” He shrugs. “Lots of hand holding and experimental kissing.” “What do you mean, experimental kissing?” I snap. Oh, I sound like a jealous girlfriend right now. But it’s like I can’t help myself. “I don’t know. I had zero skills. I was thirteen and clueless. She helped me out. We helped each other out.” I am jealous of a nameless, faceless thirteen-year old from summer camp that he probably hasn’t seen since. I’m also clearly insane. I need to stop. “And then you practiced those skills on Lauren?” Whoops, there goes my mouth again. He sighs and makes a left turn into the parking lot of the Corner Bakery Café. He pulls into a spot right in front of the restaurant, puts the SUV in park, kills the engine and turns to look at me. “I’m going to say this one more time, Amanda. Lauren Mancini doesn’t mean shit to me.” I blink, unable to respond. “She flattered my fragile ego at a time when no one seemed to give a crap about me. She was cute, she was fun, and I went for it. Our relationship only lasted a few months, and it deteriorated fast. You know this. She was a pain in the ass. We argued a lot. I never met her needs, she said. I don’t even know what her needs were, and it’s not like she told me,” he says, sounding irritated. “I think she expected me to be a mind reader.” “Oh.” It’s all I can manage to say. I’m feeling really stupid right now. If I don’t want to drive him away, I need to get over these jealous feelings. They’re going to ruin me. Ruin us. “And she wasn’t my first, if you’re talking about sex.” He says nothing else. Doesn’t give up any more information. I don’t ask for it either. It’s none of my business. If he ever wants to tell me, fine. But I can’t keep asking. “Would you like to know how long I had a crush on you, Amanda?” A self-depreciating laugh escapes me and I finally look over at him. “You really had a crush on me?” He doesn’t even hesitate. “For-fucking-ever. Since seventh grade. Maybe even sixth grade? I can’t remember exactly. I was a real prick back then, and you were always nice to

me. Remember when you sat in front of me in English our eighth grade year? Every time you passed something to me, you’d always smile. And it was a real smile, your eyes would sparkle and everything.” I sort of remember that. I just wanted him to be friendly, yet he always scowled at me. He scowled at everyone. “I was scared of you.” “Really?” He looks surprised. “Well, you scared me too. I’m still scared of you, Amanda. The way you make me feel when I look at you, when you say my name, when you smile at me…it’s freaking terrifying.” God, he says the best stuff. And he doesn’t even realize it. He’s just raw and open and honest and I love it. “Why didn’t you say anything back then? Or—try anything?” “I didn’t think you were interested. Not like that. Plus, I didn’t think I was your type.” “I didn’t know you were my type until you started talking to me,” I admit. Jordan frowns. “What do you mean by that?” We’ve had this conversation before. I guess I can’t get over it, though I need to before I drive him away for good. “You were so popular and I wasn’t. We moved in different circles. I thought you were untouchable. Then you took care of me last summer at your party, after I discovered Thad and Tara together. I was a total drunken, emotional mess and you were so sweet, so thoughtful.” His eyes seem to catch fire as he studies me. “My thoughts about you that night were anything but sweet or thoughtful.” “Really?” He must be joking. He wasn’t thinking of—jumping me, or whatever. “What were you thinking?” “I couldn’t believe I actually had you where I wanted you, and you were really upset, so I couldn’t do anything about it. No way was I going to try anything when you were drunk and sad and crying. That would’ve been a total asshole move,” he explains. “But I thought you are an asshole.” I keep a straight face, hoping he knows I’m teasing him. “Oh, I am.” The slow smile he sends me makes my skin tingle and my breath catch in my throat. “But I never want to be an asshole when I’m with you.” Swoon. All I want to do is squeeze him tight and never let him go. But I’m also hungry, so I have to make a suggestion before I die of starvation. “Let’s get our lunch to go and eat it somewhere else.” “We’re going to miss fifth period,” he points out with a wicked smile. “Who cares? Let’s skip the rest of the day and get back just in time for detention,” I suggest.” He raises a brow. “Feeling rebellious today, Amanda?” “I think you bring out the bad girl in me,” I tease him. Jordan chuckles. “I wish.”



We end up at a park my parents used to take me and my brothers to when we were little, but I haven’t been here in years. I remember the reason why we stopped coming too. When we were younger, it only cost a dollar a carload. Now it’s up to five dollars a carload. My parents couldn’t justify the expense. We started going to the much smaller, much more boring free park down the street from our house instead. Jordan finds a parking spot directly in front of a giant pond and we sit in the car eating our sandwiches and watching the ducks as they glide by on the water’s surface. People walk along the pond’s edge, and there’s an older couple sitting on a nearby park bench, the woman’s gray head leaning on the man’s shoulder. It’s cute. “We used to bring bread crumbs to this pond and feed the ducks,” I say after I finish the first half of my sandwich. I was going to wrap up the other half and save it for later, but screw it. I’m still hungry, so I might go for it. “Yeah?” Jordan takes a sip from his drink. “Your parents would bring you with your brothers?” “Uh huh. Trent was too little, so he just sat with my mom and dad. George and I used to get in fights over who got to feed the ducks first. One time a duck bit his hand and he howled and cried like that stupid duck bit his finger clean off.” I giggle at the memory. “My brother was always really dramatic.” “Is he still?” “Oh yeah.” I go quiet for a moment, thinking about George. “He came home from college this past weekend. He’s not doing good there. The school is putting him on academic probation next semester and he’s finishing two online courses from home. I guess he withdrew from the rest of his classes—it was either that or he’d fail them. My parents are so mad.” “Is that why your parents were gone this weekend? They went and picked him up?” Jordan asks. I nod. “He wrecked our old car almost two weeks ago, but he only just told them a few days ago. Once he started talking to my mom, she figured out quick he wasn’t going to school hardly at all. He’s too busy partying and hanging out with his friends, I don’t know. My parents aren’t talking to me about it, and I don’t pry. George has holed himself up in his room and barely comes out, not even to eat. It’s really tense at my house right now.” Unbearably tense. I don’t like going home. I miss working at Yo Town—this week I’m only scheduled Saturday afternoon, that’s it, and I need the money. Once football is over for good, I probably need to find a new job. Luckily enough, I’m busy at school and that keeps me away from the house, but only

till around five, and then I have to go home. If Livvy’s going to constantly chase after Dustin, then I don’t want to hang out with her anymore. At least, not right now. I don’t want to play a major part in the demise of her relationship with Ryan. “I know how to help you with that.” When I look up at him in confusion, Jordan’s face is impassive. Downright innocent. “Your stress. I can help relieve the tension.” “How?” I ask warily. This is usually the point where Jordan says something dirty and I’ll call him a pig and then we’ll both laugh because we know I don’t mean it. But he doesn’t say anything like that. Instead, he grabs the rest of his sandwich and starts tearing up the bread in little bits, tossing them into his empty chip bag. “Let’s go feed the ducks.” Okay. That’s not what I expected him to say at all. “Seriously? You’ll sacrifice your sandwich for me?” “I shouldn’t eat the bread anyway. Too many carbs.” He tears up the rest of the bread from his sandwich, tossing it all in the chip bag until it’s gone. “Wanna help me feed them? I don’t want them to bite me, and it sounds like you have more experience with that.” He smiles. I smile back. I’m helpless to this. His charm. His sweet ways. He’s trying so hard. I see that. I want to give him a chance. Really? I’d probably give him a thousand chances, though I’d never tell him that. I don’t want to stop seeing him. Talking to him. Kissing him. I like kissing him a lot. “Let’s go,” I tell him right before I open the car door. We both climb out, Jordan clutching the chip bag full of torn up bread and me with my phone at the ready. I’m totally documenting this moment. The ducks see humans approach the pond and they become frantic. They all start quacking as they make their way to the pond’s shore, each of them waddling out of the water and rushing for us. Jordan sends me a slightly panicked look. “They’re pushy.” I start to laugh. “Don’t be scared. Start throwing them bread crumbs and they won’t jump you.” He holds the bag out toward me. “You want some?” “Sure.” I reach inside the bag and grab a handful, then start scattering the crumbs onto the ground. The ducks go crazy, their quacking reaching high decibels as they all scramble for the bread at once. I take a step back, bumping right into Jordan, and he sneaks an arm around me, his hand resting flat against my stomach as he pulls me closer to him. “They are a little pushy,” I admit, my voice shaky. Not because of the ducks, more from Jordan’s nearness. He’s so tall behind me, so big and firm. I feel protected snuggled so close to him. “I know,” he murmurs against my hair. With his free hand, he dumps the rest of the

breadcrumbs on the ground and the ducks go wild, incessantly quacking as they peck at the ground, fighting over the last of the crumbs. “Think they’ll try to eat our shoes?” “Only if they think our shoes look like bread,” I joke. The ducks swarm around us for a while in search of more snacks, but eventually they give up and head back out into the water. Jordan and I remain in the same position, both of his arms wrapped around me now, squeezing me tight. He leans down so he can rest his chin on my shoulder and I tilt my head to the side, my knees weakening when I feel his warm breath waft across my neck. “Wanna make out in the back seat of my Rover? Like that one song by the Chainsmokers?” He says the last few words against my skin, his mouth tickling. I laugh, turning so that our gazes meet. “You really want to make out in the back seat of your car?” I lift my brows. “We have at least an hour before we have to get back for detention.” He lowers his voice, his gaze locked on my mouth. “And I’d make out with you wherever you’d let me, Amanda.” I pull out of his arms and take his hand, leading him back to his car. I’m giddy, my stomach fluttering with a thousand butterflies in anticipation of what we’re about to do. “Let’s go make out then.” He’s grinning. And it’s so cute he takes my breath away. I like seeing him like this. Playful and light, as if he has no worries in the world. I don’t think he gets enough of this in his life. Maybe I can give that to him. I let him take the lead as he goes to unlock the back door of his Range Rover, and he holds it open for me, the grin still plastered on his face. I get in and he climbs in after me, shutting the door behind him, cutting off the outside noise. All I can hear is my heart hammering in my ears and I take a deep breath, wondering which one of us is going to kick this off first. “Come here,” he murmurs, grabbing my hand and tugging me close. I go willingly, until I’m sitting on top of him, my legs spread around his hips, knees braced on the seat. He tilts his head back and leans against the headrest, his gaze roaming over my face. “How’d I get so lucky?” he asks, his voice soft. “What do you mean?” “Having you back in my life. You should’ve told me no. You should’ve told me to stay the hell away from you.” He reaches for my face and cradles my cheek, his thumb stroking over my skin back and forth. Back and forth. Mesmerizing me. “But you didn’t. I’m thankful for that. For you. You’re the only good thing in my life right now.” His words break my heart. It makes me sad, all the love he hasn’t experienced. He wears such a tough shell, never letting anyone close for fear of getting hurt. Not that he’d ever say that. He wouldn’t call it getting hurt. He doesn’t believe he is hurt.

But he so is. He’s damaged. Though not broken. I can’t fix him, I don’t want to fix him, but I can be there for him and show him what it’s like. That it’s okay to let love into your life. Oh, I sound corny in my own head, but it’s true. He slides his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me down toward his mouth. “Do you think this is too public a place?” I ask just before he kisses me. He lifts his lids, his gaze meeting mine. “I don’t really care who sees me kissing you, Amanda. And I don’t think there are any PDA police patrolling the park, so we should be good.” I laugh, but he smothers the sound with his mouth, silencing me completely. It’s a hesitant kiss at first, a little unsure, which is totally unlike Jordan Tuttle. We take it slow, our lips lightly connecting. Breaking apart. Reconnecting. Lingering longer with every pass. His fingers tighten around my nape and I run my hands up his chest, feeling every defined muscle beneath his tight shirt until I’m clutching his broad shoulders. His other arm slides around my waist just as he parts my lips with his tongue. I open for him easily, a low moan leaving us both when our tongues connect. Our hands roam as our kiss deepens, and when his hand slips beneath the hem of my sweater, his hot fingers pressing into my bare skin, a full body shiver moves through me. “You’re always so responsive,” he whispers against my neck after he breaks the kiss. His mouth is hot against my sensitive skin and I shiver yet again. “I wish we had time to go back to my house.” “Jordan,” I whisper, a whimper escaping me when he gently bites my neck. That shouldn’t feel so good, I swear. “Isn’t it fun to just…kiss for a while? And nothing else?” He lifts away from my neck and faces me, his gaze slumberous, his lips swollen from the kisses we just shared. Chill bumps race over my skin at the way he’s looking at me. Like he wants to—devour me. It’s hot. He’s hot. “Yeah.” His voice is rough and he clears his throat. “Though with you, I always want more.” His admission makes me brave. “I want more too.” I lean in, pressing my forehead against his and closing my eyes. “But I’m—scared.” “Of what?” He strokes my hair away from my face, his fingers gently raking through the strands, and I want to purr like a kitten. “Of me?” “Of everything. Of giving myself to you and never being able to get it—me back.” I bite my lip, worried. Should I have just admitted that? I lift my forehead away from his and open my eyes to find him already watching me. He frowns, his brow creasing. “What do you mean? I’ll only take what you’re willing to give me, Amanda. I would never push you for anything.” “I know, and you never have pushed me.” I touch his cheek, run my fingers along his jawline, the stubble there sharp against my fingertips. “And we’ve done a lot, but…it’s still scary, you know?” “We’ll take it slow.” He kisses me. A warm, sweet kiss that makes my heart feel like

it’s going to fly right out of my chest. “I promise.” We kiss some more, and I’m in no hurry to stop this. A car pulls up beside Jordan’s and a butt load of kids fall out of it, all of them screaming as they run toward the pond. I barely notice. Jordan doesn’t notice at all. He’s too intent on making me want to lose my mind with his mouth. “Should we go back to school?” I ask fifteen minutes later. I’m out of breath. My mouth is sore and my entire body feels charged with electricity. “Yeah. Soon,” he murmurs just before he kisses me again. And I let him. I need the distraction. At least for a little bit.

Friday night. It’s the regional championship game and it’s at home. Jordan and I only served one day of detention before Coach Halsey lost his mind and went to Mrs. Maddox, demanding that she excuse the rest of the detention “sentence” for the both of us. I don’t know what Coach Halsey said to her, but she dismissed us from detention with no argument. I’ve spent the entire week with Jordan. I’m too annoyed with Livvy to hang out with her and she knows it. I think it’s her guilty conscience that’s keeping her away from me too. She still hasn’t broken up with Ryan. And I’m sure she’s still seeing Dustin on the side. So not cool. The football team has had longer practices throughout the week to prepare for the biggest game of the season, so I’ve focused all my energy on my hydration station duties. Kyla and I have been working—and talking—nonstop. Spending so much time together has helped us get closer. I like her a lot. I consider her a good friend, and I hope she considers me one too. But yeah. It’s Friday night and the stadium is full of people on both sides. The crowd is roaring and waving signs, but the game hasn’t even started yet. The band is playing in the stands, getting everyone pumped up and Kyla is pacing behind the hydration station, her constant back-and-forth and the intense expression on her face making me nervous. “You’re freaking me out,” I tell her when I can’t take it any longer. “Why aren’t you already freaked out? Your boyfriend is about to play the most important game of his life at this very moment, and you’re acting like it’s no big deal.” Kyla shakes her head, clearly exasperated with me. “There are recruiters here tonight. I’m sure all of them will be watching him play.” “I’m sure,” I say as I glance around the field. The boys are already out there, tossing the ball back and forth to each other with ease. Trying to intimidate the other team, I guess. I turn to look at Kyla. “Do I look stupid?” Her eyes go wide. “What do you mean?” “I mean this.” I point at the number eight I drew on my cheek in sparkly blue paint. “What I’m wearing. Is it too much?” My hair is in a high ponytail, tied with blue and white ribbon. I’m wearing a long-sleeved white T-shirt beneath one of Jordan’s old jerseys, which he brought to school for me a couple of days ago. So yes, his last name is emblazoned on the back of the shirt, along with his number.

“I think you look cute. You’re supporting your boy.” Kyla smiles and her eyes sparkle. I know she means what she says. “And the Tuttle jersey is a nice touch. I’m sure when Lauren sees that she’ll lose it.” “Please.” I make a dismissive noise. “She’s too into Eli right now.” Kyla bursts out laughing. “That is just the weirdest matchup ever.” “Not really. I think they’re perfect for each other,” I say sarcastically. “Kind of like you and Tuttle?” Kyla raises a delicate brow. “Exactly!” I clap my hands and bounce up and down like…a cheerleader. What’s wrong with me? Oh, I know. I’m finally nervous and excited about tonight. This is the ultimate make-or-break game for our team. “Hey, can you take a picture of me for my Snapchat story?” “Yeah, sure,” Kyla says. “How do you want to pose?” I’ve had this pose in my head for weeks, because I’m weird and obsessive like that. I hand Kyla my phone and then turn so my back is to her, showing off Tuttle’s name and number. I’m glancing over my shoulder with a knowing smirk, the eight on my cheek and my hands on my hips. Kyla takes one photo and checks it. Deletes it, then takes another, repeating the process until she’s satisfied. “What do you think?” she finally asks when she hands my phone back to me a few minutes later. I stare at the photo, pleased that it looks exactly how I envisioned it. “It’s good.” I glance up at her with a frown. “It’s not too much, is it?” “No, it’s perfect. Girls will die. Tuttle will love it. It’ll be so obvious the two of you are together.” Kyla nods her approval with a smile. “Now post it. Then go find him and wish him good luck, okay? I think he needs it. He looks antsy.” I turn toward the field and spot him out there, yelling at one of his teammates. Yeah, I bet he is antsy. And nothing I can do or say will calm him down, though I’ll try my best. Focusing on my phone, I tap out a caption for the photo before I post it to my story. Good luck tonight, Jordan! You got this! #TuttleisBae #eightisgreat I can’t help giggling as I stash my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and make my way to the sidelines in search of Jordan. I stop next to Coach Halsey, who is screaming his head off so loud he’s making me wince. I take a step away from him and he sends me a sheepish grin just before he launches into another tirade, cupping his hands around his mouth so everyone can hear him. Like they can’t already. “Amanda.” Jordan takes off his helmet and is jogging toward me, his mouth grim, his gaze steely. I know that look. He is in full on concentration mode, and a shiver moves through me. It’s sexy when he’s so intense. “You okay?” Look at him, concerned about me when he should be focused on the upcoming game. “I’m fine.” I smile and take a step toward him. “How are you?”

“Trying to keep my shit together,” he says in all seriousness. I want to laugh, but I don’t. Instead I move even closer, grab hold of his hand and interlace our fingers. “You’ve got this. I know you do.” His eyes are warm as they scan my face, lingering on my cheek. “I like seeing my number on you.” “Do you?” I raise my brows. “I feel like I’ve been branded.” Just like that his eyes shine with a possessive gleam. “Yeah. I really like it.” His voice lowers and then he’s pressing a quick kiss to my lips. I can feel the coach glaring at us, probably dying to say something, but he doesn’t. “Now everyone knows you belong to me.” “There you go again, acting all possessive.” I act like I’m complaining, but his words send a shiver down my spine. “You love it.” He knows me too well, and when he kisses me again, it’s like Coach Halsey can’t take it anymore. He explodes. “Tuttle! Get your skinny ass over here. Now!” Jordan sends me an apologetic smile and I squeeze his hand. “Good luck,” I whisper. “You’ve totally got this.” “Thanks, baby,” he whispers, and oh my God, I want to faint when he calls me baby. I am such a girl, I swear. I watch him go, startled by the subtle clearing of someone’s throat coming from behind me. I whirl around to find of all people standing there but… Em. “Hey,” I say weakly. “Long time no see.” “How’s it going, Amanda?” Her chin-length hair is tucked behind her ears, there’s a lot of black liner circling her eyes, and she’s wearing a white choker along with a navy blue T-shirt and white and blue stripes painted on both of her cheeks. I don’t think I’ve ever looked so school spirited. “It’s really…good,” I admit, realizing that I mean every word. Things really are good. Like extra good. “That’s—good.” Em smiles, and we both laugh. “Why are you here on the sidelines?” I ask. I don’t recall ever seeing her attend a football game before, but hey, maybe she’s here for… “I came down to wish Cannon good luck. He asked me to.” Her cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink. “He said he needed a good luck charm, so I offered to be his for tonight.” My eyebrows go up, but I say nothing. I don’t want to freak her out. Em’s even more skittish about relationship-type stuff than Jordan ever was. “Want to stay down here with us and work the hydration station during the game?” I ask. That way she can stay close and it’ll probably be so crazy, we’ll need the extra hands.

Em appears taken aback by my offer and she slowly shakes her head. “Oh, I couldn’t do that. I don’t think.” She hesitates, shifting on her feet. “Really? You don’t mind?” “As long as you don’t mind us putting you to work, yeah, we could use the help.” I look over my shoulder to find Kyla standing nearby. “You don’t mind if Em helps us tonight, do you?” “No way, that’s a great idea. I’m sure we can put her right to work.” Kyla smiles and waves at Em. “Hey, Emily.” I had no idea they knew each other. Being isolated in band for all those years, it was all I focused on, so I didn’t pay attention to other friendships. “Hi, Kyla.” Em takes a deep breath, her gaze meeting mine, a fixed smile on her face. “Fine. I’ll help you guys, but don’t get mad if I screw up.” She sounds put out, but I know she’s faking it. I know she wants to be close to the field so she can watch her boy. “There’s no way you can screw up. Trust me.” I take her arm, link it through mine and lead her over to the hydration station. “Besides, this way you can keep watch on your boy all night. It’s a win-win situation.” “He’s not my boy,” she mutters, but I send her a knowing look, calling her on her bullshit without saying a word. She briefly sags against me and ducks her head with a laugh. “Fine. It’ll be nice to watch my—boy—while being so close to the game. You got me.” “It’s okay to admit you like him,” I tell her quietly as we go behind the hydration station. I let go of her arm but she stays close, her gaze meeting mine. “It’s not a crime to care about someone.” Her gaze drops and she gives a little shrug of her slender shoulders. She looks so tiny, so vulnerable, and I swear even her chin wobbles. Like she might cry. When she lifts her gaze to mine once more, though, her eyes are dry and all that raw vulnerability disappears like it was never even there. “It’s just hard to believe something can be this—good,” she admits. “That someone can be so nice and fit with you so perfectly, like you were meant to be. It’s almost too easy. And that’s scary. Do you know what I mean?” I think of Jordan. I wouldn’t call our relationship easy, but this past week, it’s been exactly that. Easy. Fun. Perfect. “I know exactly what you mean,” I murmur. And I do.



We’re winning. Barely. I don’t want to jinx myself or the rest of the team, but I’m feeling confident for the first time since the game started. It’s almost done too. With a little less than two minutes left in the fourth quarter and us ahead by ten, the rest of my team is strutting around like they’ve already got this. High-fiving each other on the sidelines, sitting on the bench, and out on the field between plays. With plenty of smack talk going back and forth with the other team, the air is full of frustration, adrenaline and testosterone. But we shouldn’t get too confident. The other team is getting ready to score a touchdown, and I’m pretty sure those bastards are going to do it too, which means we need to score another touchdown, or at least a field goal, to cinch this game. A field goal would be nice, but I don’t think it’s good enough. I need to throw that last touchdown. I want the glory moment. I want whoever catches it to have that glory moment too. Ryan and I have been talking it over the last few minutes while watching our defense work their damnedest to hold the opposing team back, and we have a plan in action. A plan we don’t tell Coach Halsey, though hopefully he’s confident enough to realize we won’t let him down, especially when what we’re planning is in our playbook. We’re still going by the rules. We’re just doing it on our own terms. “Go get hydrated, stat, before you head back out onto that field. You two have played extra hard tonight,” Halsey says from behind us, making Ryan and me turn to look at him. Coach’s mouth is set in a grim line, his eyes narrowed. He’s sweating profusely and his face is red. He looks like he’s going to have a heart attack at any moment and drop to the ground. “You okay, Coach?” Ryan asks, squinting at him as he shakes his hair out of his eyes. He nudges me in the side, sending me a what’s-up-with-him look, and I try to keep a straight face. “Don’t stress,” I tell Halsey, clapping him on the shoulder as I start to walk past him.

“We’ve got this.” “Christ, I don’t think I can take much more of this,” Halsey mumbles just as Ryan starts singing “We Are the Champions” as loud as possible, making the other guys on the sidelines laugh. “Don’t get too confident, Bennett!” Halsey yells after us. “I mean it!” Ryan shakes his head and mutters a string of curse words under his breath. “That old man has no faith in us, I swear to God,” he says, chock full of arrogance, as usual. The kid is a good football player and he freaking knows it. “We’re gonna blow his mind in approximately forty-five seconds, don’t you think? Wish I could see his face when I catch the winning touchdown. I’ve been practicing that back flip for the last two weeks. Tonight I’m going to bust it out right after I score. Spiking the ball in the end zone won’t be near satisfying enough.” “Keep your voice down,” I tell Ryan irritably. He’s too much sometimes. Too showy, full of too many words, too many hand gestures. I appreciate his confidence, and I can admit I have my own fair share of it. It’s what makes us better players. But I never clown it up. Ryan, though? He’ll get in people’s faces and brag about how great he is. He’ll sing loud songs and brag and shit talk until you want to tell him to shut the hell up. It’s annoying. No wonder his little brother Eli is such a cocky shit. He gets it all from his lame-ass older brother. “What’s the problem? Bro, you are way too uptight. We have got this. I’m just ready to mow them down and make them eat their shitty words when it’s over. Did you hear that one guy right before the first half ended? Said I had chicken legs. Started making clucking noises.” Ryan shakes his head, disgust written all over his face. “Motherfucker.” I did hear that guy and he knew just what to say to irritate the crap out of Ryan. And it worked. He’s most sensitive about his skinny legs. Yeah, you need physical abilities when you’re playing this game, but it’s one hundred percent a mental game too. If you’re thrown off by a few taunting words or a couple of rough hits, forget it. You could lose the entire game just because some asshole decides to call you chicken legs. “Forget that guy,” I tell Ryan as we approach the hydration station. “He’s just jealous because you can actually run while he can barely move.” That defensive guy slinging insults Ryan’s way was huge, built like a tank and slow as hell. Ryan keeps chattering and I nod like I’m listening, but I’m not. I’m looking for Amanda, searching until I find her standing just behind the hydration station, talking to Em. My chest goes tight when she lifts her gaze to mine like she can feel me watching her, a little smile curling her lips when she spots me. I smile back, unable to stop myself. I love having her on the sidelines during the games, especially tonight. It’s like I need her here to get through the game. Just seeing her wearing my old jersey and my number painted on her cheek makes my chest want to puff up with pride. Or yell out to anyone who’ll listen to me, “Hey, see that beautiful girl over there? She’s mine.” But I don’t need to say any of that. Everyone already knows she’s mine. “Man, you have got it so freaking bad for Amanda. You look like a total sap right now,”

Ryan says irritably. I’m immediately annoyed. “What’s wrong with that? You have it bad for Livvy,” I say as we stop in front of the hydration station. Kyla hands us each a water bottle and we take them from her. “Nah, not really. It’s been rocky with her lately. She’s become distant. And I can’t remember the last time we had sex.” He swishes the water in his mouth before he spits it on the ground. Whatever. I take a drink, though not too much, because the nerves are starting to kick in. I know for a fact he and Livvy freaking did it not even a week ago, since he bragged to everyone about it. But I guess he forgot. “I’m moving on,” Ryan continues. Another fault of Ryan’s? He talks too much right before we have to go out on the field. “Got some other fine ass girls lined up for when we split, because it’s coming soon. I can feel it.” Ryan grins. “Gotta keep my options open, you know.” The crowd suddenly roars and we both turn to watch the other team run the ball in. Wonder if they’ll try for a two-point conversion. Then we’ll only be winning by two points and chaos could break loose if we don’t watch it. As in, they could sneak up and win this game. Hell. Halsey’s yelling for us. The other team is setting up, and since their kicker didn’t come out onto the field, I know they’re going to try and run it in. Ryan hands off his water bottle to Kyla and he’s already jogging back toward the bench where his helmet is. I need to go do the same. In a second. “Hey.” Turning, I see Amanda standing right in front of me. She places her hand on the center of my chest and lifts up on her tiptoes, brushing her lips against the side of my jaw. “Good luck,” she whispers close to my ear. Damn. That kiss wasn’t good enough. I grab her hand and tug her close, pressing my mouth to hers in a quick, searing kiss. She backs away, blinking up at me, and even though that moment lasted maybe ten seconds, tops, I know I just rocked her world like she’s always rocking mine. “See ya,” I tell her with a grin before I toss the water bottle to her. She catches it with ease and I turn to head back to the bench, grab my helmet and run out onto the field. The opposing team made their two-point conversion. We’re only leading by two and there’s a minute twenty left in the game. It’s go time.



If I had nails, I would’ve bitten them all off already. But since I don’t have them, it’s like I’m just nibbling on my fingers, I’m so nervous. It’s totally disgusting, I know it is, but I can’t stop. This game is killing me. It’s killing all of us. Kyla has resumed pacing and she’s wearing a path into the ground from her constant back and forth. Em has completely thrown herself into her new hydration station duties, staying focused on cleaning up and keeping fresh water bottles for the team versus actually watching the game. She told me during halftime she couldn’t stand watching. It made her too nervous. And right now, Cannon isn’t even on the field. But it doesn’t matter. She’s purposely avoiding looking at the field. But I’m watching. I can’t not watch. I’m sending up silent prayers that Jordan can do this. That if he can’t score a touchdown, at least they can wind down the clock and end the game with the win. They’re leading by only two points and they currently have the ball, but it’s still so incredibly nerve-racking. Jordan remains unruffled and I don’t know how he does it. They huddle, they get into position, I hear him call out the plays, and slowly but surely, he moves them down the field. The crowd is going wild, both sides of the stadium yelling and cheering. The cheerleaders are chanting, “Move it on down the line,” and for once, Lauren Mancini’s extra loud voice doesn’t grate on my nerves. I’m too focused on watching Jordan. “I can’t take it.” Em appears beside me and I glance over at her, our gazes locking. Her eyes are wide and the eyeliner is smudged, giving her dark circles that make her look like a raccoon. She appears totally frazzled, I’m guessing by both the tense game and how busy we were tonight working the hydration station. I don’t know how we could’ve done it without her. “I have to watch,” she tells me. “It’s almost over, right?” “Yeah, it is. But one minute could last five, so be prepared,” I warn her. “Ah, come on. What’s the big deal? Cannon’s not even out there.” Kyla is standing on the other side of me. She leans over to look at Em, and I can tell by the light in her eyes that Kyla’s teasing. “That’s why you’re here, right? To watch your boy? Because you and

Cannon are a—thing?” “No,” Em immediately says. I jab her in the ribs and she grunts, glaring at me. She huffs out a breath and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Yes, we’re a thing. I’m not his girlfriend or anything like that, but we are…seeing each other.” “Aw, that is so cute.” I smile at her and she rolls her eyes again, but she’s smiling too. We go quiet and turn our attention to the field, but both teams are on the sidelines. “Why isn’t anything happening?” Em asks, looking confused. When it comes to football, she really is clueless. Working tonight hasn’t helped; she’s barely able to concentrate on the game. “The other team called a time out. Trying to mess with their heads,” Kyla mutters. “They can do this, though. Mentally, our boys are tough.” I say nothing. Our boys are mentally and physically tough, but tonight they’ve been extra cocky too. Sometimes that’s a good thing and sometimes… It’s a really bad thing. Our offensive line jogs back out on the field and I breathlessly watch as they get back into formation. Jordan talks to his team, his voice ringing above even the roaring crowd, and my heart is in my throat when he gets the ball and passes it to the running back. But that was a fake pass. Jordan still has the ball and I glance toward the end zone— Ryan is hauling ass toward it. I start hopping up and down, grabbing the girls’ arms. “Watch Ryan, watch Ryan, he’s going to catch it. He’s going to catch it!” The ball sails through the air and Ryan… Catches. It. He lunges toward the end zone, sliding between two massive defensive linemen to land on the ground, the ball still clutched in his arms, the touchdown made. The crowd jumps to their feet screaming their joy. The band launches into the most raucous fight song I’ve ever heard and the cheerleaders practically leap out of their shoes as they yell themselves hoarse and shake their pompoms. It’s over. They won. Jordan did it. We three all make a break for it and run toward the field along with the cheerleaders and the rest of the team, the coaches, the fans and the local media. The offensive line swarm Jordan and Ryan as they hug each other and rap their knuckles on each other’s helmets. I can see their smiles—they’re big and proud and I’m swept by the overwhelming sense that I will never forget this moment. That I will carry it with me until my last days, never able to forget the night Jordan Tuttle threw the final touchdown and won the regional championship game. “Amanda!”

He’s calling me and I go to him without thought, moving through the crowd of towering football players who surround Jordan. He’s standing in the middle of the crowd, his helmet gone, his dark head sweaty, the black lines beneath his eyes smeared down his face. He’s grinning from ear to ear. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so big, and when I get closer, when he actually spots me, it’s like nothing else matters. His gaze never leaving mine, he makes his way toward me, swoops me up into his arms and spins me around, his mouth meeting mine in the briefest, sweetest kiss. “You did it,” I whisper against his lips. “We did,” he agrees, slowly lowering me to my feet. Cameras are going off, the many flashes of light making me wince, and Jordan laughs, shaking his head. “Looks like everyone caught that kiss. Think Mrs. Maddox will bust my ass for PDA?” I burst out laughing. “She might let you slide tonight.” “Tuttle!” Coach Halsey appears, grinning yet looking furious, all at the same time. “Come with me.” “I gotta go.” Jordan leans in and kisses my cheek. It feels like we’re getting carried down the field by the crowd surrounding us. I haven’t taken a step, yet I’ve somehow moved. “Give me some time. Wait for me, okay?” I nod. “Just text me.” He squeezes my hand and then the coach leads him and Ryan away. The rest of the team exits the field and I follow after them, heading straight for the hydration station so I can help Kyla and Em clean up and put everything away. But when I get there, I find Kyla is the only one cleaning up. “Where’s Em?” I ask her. “With Cannon, I think.” When I open my mouth to protest Kyla shakes her head, cutting me off. “Don’t get upset. It’s no big deal. She didn’t have to help us tonight. I’m just thankful she did.” I snap my lips shut. Kyla’s right. Why am I complaining—about anything? “What a game, right?” “Totally amazing,” Kyla agrees with an enthusiastic nod and a big smile. “I’m sure you’re really proud of Tuttle.” “I think we’re all really proud of the entire team,” I say, but Kyla’s right. I’m so incredibly proud and impressed by the game Jordan played tonight. I knew he had it in him. I’ve watched him play for years while in band and now this season, working so closely with the entire team. He’s a talented football player. I bet he’ll have a list of colleges who wish he’d come play for them. The realization sobers me up and I go about my clean up duties on autopilot, my mind awhirl as the stadium slowly empties. Jordan is going to have so many opportunities. And it’s not like he needs them either. He’s already set with the trust fund so he never has to worry about money. A tinge of envy washes over me and I try to push it away but it’s so hard.

He has it all, and everything for me, my entire future, feels like a huge struggle. I’m almost finished cleaning up when I hear a familiar voice calling my name. I turn to see Livvy running toward me, her hair flying behind her, her expression animated. “We won! We won!” I laugh and nearly fall over when she tackle-hugs me. “Yeah, we won,” I tell her, my voice muffled against her shoulder as she squeezes me close and hops up and down. “It was such a good game.” “The best. Did you see the way our men worked so well together?” Livvy asks when she pulls away from me. Huh. Now Ryan’s her man again because he’s the star of the game? “They work really well together,” I say, though I know most of the time Ryan drives Jordan nuts. “It was such a great game.” Livvy laughs and shakes her head. “I’ve missed you, friend! You’ve been so busy this week.” “So have you.” My voice is cool, my judgment on high alert, and I can’t help it. Livvy and her Dustin antics have been bugging the crap out of me all week. I knew I’d get angry when I’d next talk to her and look at me. I’m getting angry. Livvy frowns. “Are you mad at me?” I glance around, making sure no one else is nearby, before I step closer to her, my voice lowering so no one can overhear us. “What’s going on with you and Ryan?” “There’s nothing going on.” “Right. So tell me what’s going on with you and Dustin?” Her brows go high. “We’re friends. That’s it.” “That’s why you’ve been sneaking off meeting him all week? Comforting him after his breakup with Brianne Brown?” Oh, I sound snide as hell, but Livvy’s behavior is totally triggering me. Making me think of Thad and Tara and what they did to me, how devastated I’d been. How their betrayal totally changed me. I hate to see it done to someone else. “Not that it’s any of your business, but nothing has happened between Dustin and me. I’ve been a good friend to him while he mourns his breakup with Brianne. That’s it. He needed someone to talk to and I’ve been there for him,” Livvy explains, her voice flat, the sparkle in her gaze gone. Great. Now I’ve made her mad. I feel awful, but I can’t help my reaction, especially to suspected cheating. “I’m sorry, Liv,” I tell her with a sigh. “I don’t mean to attack you or whatever. It’s just that, when everything happened between my ex-boyfriend and best friend, it was so devastating. I have a hard time with the cheating thing.” “I’m not cheating on anyone. Trust me.” Her tone is clipped and her expression is

closed off. Almost like she has… Something to hide? Stop being so suspicious! “I wanted to find you and see if needed a ride to Tuttle’s house.” When I frown at Livvy, she continues. “He’s having a party. A huge bash to celebrate the win. It’s being catered and everything so it’s already set up, I guess. People are over at his house right now.” I’m blinking at her in confusion, unable to find the words to speak. He never mentioned a party at his house after the game. Why wouldn’t he? God, he’s such a guy sometimes. “He and Ryan are meeting with some recruiters, so they’re going to be tied up for a while.” The strained smile Livvy sends my way makes me feel bad for ever opening my fat mouth. Why’d I have to stir up trouble tonight? “He asked Ryan to ask me to bring you over to his house.” “Oh.” I press my lips together and glance over my shoulder to find Kyla nearby, gathering her things. “Hey, Kyla. Are you going to the party over at Tuttle’s right now?” She sends me an odd look, one that says, you know I don’t go to those parties. “I’m not going to be there, but tell everyone congrats for me.” Kyla’s out of there before I can say anything else. “What were you going to do, invite her to the party?” Livvy asks incredulously. “Of course I would ask Kyla to the party. She’s become a good friend. And she’s an integral part of the team.” “She’s also kind of boring and no fun.” Livvy grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I’m sorry about the whole Dustin thing too, okay? I’m being totally honest with you right now. Dustin and I have talked a lot, but nothing has actually happened between us. I wouldn’t cheat on Ryan, I swear.” She’s mind cheating on him, and that’s almost as bad. Maybe even worse? Though with guys, the emotional stuff doesn’t bother them as much as the physical. So maybe Ryan wouldn’t care? Yeah, he probably would. But whatever. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize,” I tell her, though I’m glad she did. “Who am I to judge you?” “Oh, you’ve been judging, but I get why. I can’t imagine what that was like…” Livvy’s voice drifts and she shakes her head. “I totally know what it feels like. How could I forget? When Em and Dustin hooked up over the summer and broke my heart.” “Em helped us out a lot tonight,” I say, changing the subject. I don’t want to discuss the whole Em/Livvy/Dustin/Ryan love rectangle scenario again tonight. We’ve already gone over that situation enough times that we’ve completely exhausted it—there’s nothing more to say. “With the hydration station.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Livvy makes a face. Uh oh. “I thought you two were finally working it out and trying to become friends again? Sort of?” “Not really. I mean, we talk on occasion, but not for long, and usually only over social media. I know she’s got her own man now and I shouldn’t have to worry about her trying to steal Ryan away from me, but…” “You think she’ll try and steal Ryan away from you,” I finish for her. Livvy nods. “Or maybe even Dustin if that…ever happens. I don’t know. What’s worse, she’d be justified in doing it, you know? That’s the really messed up part of it all. I stole from her and so she should steal from me.” “It doesn’t have to be that way. You two can forgive and forget and move on. She’s not interested in Ryan. She likes Cannon. A lot,” I tell her. Livvy waves a hand, dismissing our entire conversation. “I don’t want to talk about that anymore. It’s too confusing. Let’s head over to Tuttle’s house and get some of the catered food before it disappears. What do you think?” She smiles. I nod and smile wearily in return. I’m exhausted. And even though I got my parents’ permission to go, the last thing I want to do is hang out at a party with a ton of people, the majority of whom I don’t even consider my friends. But I am hungry, so… “Sounds good. Let’s go.” We start walking, but then Livvy stops me. “You think we should go back to my place, change and then head over to Tuttle’s?” “No.” I shake my head. “Let’s just go as is. Show some team spirit.” “You’re right.” Livvy offers me her arm and I hook mine through it. “Let’s do this.”

When we arrive at Jordan’s house, the place is already crawling with people. There are cars parked everywhere, all along the road, leading up the driveway and in the field that surrounds his home. I instruct Livvy to park in front of the garage because Jordan would want us to. At least, that’s what I tell myself because, hello, I’m practically his girlfriend. That has to come with some perks. The music is pumping loud as we make our way through the house and I see lots of familiar faces. Most of the football team is already here, and I spot most of the cheerleaders as well. Including my absolute favorite one. Yes, Lauren Mancini is still in her cheer uniform and Eli Bennett is standing next to her, one arm slung around her waist and his hand spread wide over her butt. Classy as usual. The gigantic dining room—a room I’ve never been in—is filled with tables of food. There’s no liquor in the house that I can see, but everyone was clutching beer cans or red Solo cups outside when we first came to the house, so I’m guessing this particular party is an alcohol-is-prohibited-inside type of event. I’m guessing his mother had a hand in that decision. “They’re still not here,” Livvy says, the disappointment clear in her voice as she scans the room. “What’s taking them so long?” “They should get here soon,” I reassure her, then discreetly check my phone for about the hundredth time. But there’s still no word from Jordan. I know he’s busy tonight. There are recruiters and reporters and a team meeting, and I’d bet a million bucks he’s totally exhausted and overwhelmed. All I want to do is take care of him. I make myself a plate of food because I’m starving and Livvy follows along behind me, swearing she’s not that hungry after all and only grabbing a few things because I force her to. We eat in the kitchen, standing at the counter while surrounded by a ton of people who are doing the same thing. I swear there are more people at tonight’s party than usual, and I’m guessing the offer of free food is drawing everyone out. It kind of sucks. I know this is supposed to be a celebration for the team, but it’s turned into a public spectacle. And these people aren’t here to support Jordan and the rest of the team. They just want free booze and food and the chance to hang out at Jordan Tuttle’s

house. “Think the cops will come?” I ask Livvy once I’m done eating my food. I swear the music has gotten even louder. “They better not.” Livvy makes a face. “That would ruin everything.” “I know.” It wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing if you ask me, but I keep my mouth shut before I get myself into trouble by sounding like a jerk. “I just hope it doesn’t get out of control.” “You’re acting like a total mom right now, Amanda,” Livvy says, her tone scathing. “Stop acting like a grandma and have some fun.” I’m so offended by her words I don’t know what to say at first. And when I finally do come up with the right response, Lauren Mancini has to swoop in and make everything that much more difficult. What else is freaking new? “Ladies, I’m guessing you two are incredibly proud of your boys tonight, am I right?” Lauren beams at us and I’m immediately suspicious. Let’s be real. Saying nice things isn’t Lauren’s style. “Yeah, we’re pretty proud,” Livvy says for both of us. I just stand behind her, keeping my expression neutral. “They both played such an amazing game,” Lauren gushes. I wonder where Eli is. I wish he’d come over and drag her away with him. I’m thinking I won’t get that lucky. “I know they were meeting with recruiters after the game. I’m sure all of their groupies were waiting for them too.” Groupies? Is she for real? And if anyone is a football groupie, it’s her. “If you’re trying to freak us out because Jordan and Ryan aren’t here yet, Lauren, it’s not going to work,” I tell her wearily. “What?” Her eyes go wide. If she’s trying for the innocent look, she’s failing miserably. “I would never want to do that,” she says with a sly smile. “Oh my God, you are such a bitch, Lauren,” Livvy says, stepping in between us so her back is to me. “Go pick on someone else. Even better, go find your little boyfriend, you sick child predator.” Freaking ouch. That was a low blow. But Livvy isn’t scared to deliver rude insults, not like I am. “At least I’m not cheating on my boyfriend with my ex-best friend/hookup partner,” Lauren throws back at her, her tone snotty. Livvy glares, mutters some ugly words, and then… All hell breaks loose. People immediately scatter when Livvy lunges for Lauren, her fist connecting with Lauren’s nose in a sickening, bone-crunching sound. I didn’t even know Livvy had it in her, and I don’t think Livvy knew it either, because she’s swinging her hand like it’s hurting her and Lauren is bent over howling, both hands covering her

face, specifically her nose. I grab hold of Livvy from behind, my arms hooking through hers as I steer her away from Lauren. People are yelling and phones are out, documenting the entire thing. What is it about violence breaking out in kitchens at parties? I lead Livvy out of the kitchen, Lauren calling after us that she’s going to call the police. Yeah right. She’s going to call the cops and have Livvy arrested for assault. Uh huh. She’s going to tell Eli’s parents and Livvy will get in trouble. Hmm. That one’s valid, considering Lauren and Livvy are dating brothers. “I hate that smug bitch,” Livvy says once I have her locked away in a small bathroom. I set the toilet lid down and instruct her to sit there so I can tend to her hands. And tend to them I do, hoping I’m not ruining the pristine white guest bathroom towels when I mop up the blood dripping from Livvy’s knuckles. She winces and groans when I gingerly dab at her roughened knuckles. I wish I could put a bandage on her hand, but it won’t stick so there’s no point. “I’ll be fine,” she says with a nod after I rinse out the white washcloth for what feels like the millionth time. “It’s just a scratch, don’t you think?” Definitely more than a scratch, but she’s in good shape compared to Lauren, so I’m not going to correct her. “It’ll heal just fine,” I tell her. “But I’m guessing it’ll be pretty painful the next few days.” “Hitting her in the nose is worth the pain,” Livvy says with a little laugh. “Did you see her face when I did it? She was so shocked. I bet no one has ever hit her shitty little face before.” “I’m sure,” I murmur as I finish taking care of Livvy. My phone buzzes and I pull it out of the back pocket of my jeans to find a Snapchat from Jordan. I toss the bloody washcloth into the sink and turn on the water, then open the app. It’s a selfie of him with the trophy, his eyes half closed, his lips pressed to the trophy itself, like he’s having a romantic moment, the weirdo. I read the caption that accompanies it. I’d rather be kissing you. Where are you? Awww, at least he’d rather kiss me versus the trophy. I take a photo of Livvy slumped on the toilet, glaring at the camera. I send it to him, letting him know exactly where I am. He responds quickly. Give me a few and I’ll come rescue you. Smiling, I close out the app and shove my phone back into my pocket. “Are you talking to Tuttle?” I smile dreamily, excitement coursing through my veins knowing that I get to see him soon. “Yeah.” “You two are really disgustingly cute together,” Livvy says with a slight shake of her

head. “Um, thanks?” She rises to her feet, tilting her head to the side, examining me. “Hey. Did you ever send any nudes to Tuttle?” I slowly shake my head, wondering where that came from. “It’s just never been the right time.” “Huh. Well, make sure it’s never the right time. Ignore my earlier advice. You shouldn’t do it, unless you’re one hundred percent comfortable. And even then if it doesn’t feel right, that means it isn’t. Go with your gut,” Livvy says with a final nod, just as there’s a knock on the door. “It’s Jordan,” I tell a wide-eyed Livvy before I turn to the door and open it. Jordan’s standing there, filling the doorway with his presence, his sheer size, an amused look on his handsome face. His dark hair is damp and slicked back, like he just got out of the shower, and that fills my head with all sorts of distracting images. His gaze scans the tiny bathroom, landing on Livvy, and he smiles. “I hear you kicked someone’s ass,” he teases her. Livvy’s face turns pink. “Not one of my finer moments. But Lauren deserved it.” “I kick out dudes who fight at my parties. I have a strict no-violence policy when I host parties at my house. It’s the only way I’ve been able to keep my mom’s valuable possessions intact,” Jordan explains, his expression solemn, though I see amusement sparkling in his gaze. Livvy laughs and I do too, though weakly. I wish she would leave. I want to be with Jordan by myself, and give him another congratulatory kiss. “Your boy is here,” Jordan tells Livvy, making her stand at attention. “In the kitchen. You should go greet him.” “I will.” She stops beside Tuttle and gives him the quickest hug. “Thank you, Tuttle, for being so understanding about the stupid fight. I’m so embarrassed.” “Shit happens and she probably asked for it, so no worries. Go find Ryan.” He smiles as Livvy edges out of the bathroom, and the moment she’s gone he’s shutting the door, locking it and grabbing hold of me by my waist, making me squeal. He lifts me up and places me on the edge of the bathroom counter, bracing his hands on the tiled edge and caging me in. “Hi.” I smile, feeling ridiculous. “Hi.” “You look pretty, though your eight is fading.” He traces the painted eight on my cheek thoughtfully, his gaze locked on his finger as it moves across my skin. “I’ve missed you,” he says, his voice low. A shiver moves down my spine at his intimate tone. “I’ve missed you too.” “I have to warn you, I’m on a total adrenaline high.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” He cracks a smile. “Probably, but it also makes me a little bit too—much sometimes.” “As long as you don’t get too crazy, I don’t mind.” He shifts closer and I spread my legs wider, so he can step in between them. “I can definitely get a little crazy when I feel like this.” “In a good way or—” I suck in a sharp breath when he slips his arms around my waist and pulls me in so our lower bodies are flush together. As in, I will be able to feel everything. I sort of can already feel everything. “—or a bad way?” “Depends on your definition of good.” He leans in just as I close my eyes and tilt my head to the side, nuzzling his face against the side of my neck. “And bad.” Hmm, so winning an important game makes Jordan Tuttle horny. I get it. I’m feeling that way too. He lifts away from my neck and then his lips are on mine, hungry and coaxing, his tongue sliding into my mouth, tangling with mine. He tastes delicious, cool and minty fresh, and I sink my hands into his damp hair, holding him still as we devour each other. Someone knocks on the door, startling us apart. “Occupied—find another bathroom!” Jordan yells and when his gaze meets mine, we both start to laugh. “Maybe we should go up to my room.” I frown. “Don’t you want something to eat first? Maybe talk with your friends and hang out for a bit?” He grimaces. “I’m not hungry. And none of those people out there are my friends. Not really.” Hmm, I don’t believe that, but whatever. “I just want to be with you, Amanda.” He drops a kiss on the tip of my nose and my heart flips over at the sweet gesture, the sweeter words. “My parents put together this stupid party. They just want to show off my big win. I want no part in it.” “Your parents are here right now?” I pull my arms away from his neck and lean back so I can meet his gaze. I thought they were gone. They’re always gone when he has a party. “Yeah.” He shrugs. “Somewhere. Who knows? I don’t care.” Realization dawns and I’m a little in shock. “Wait a minute. Would they still have had this party for you if the team lost?” His expression goes dark, his lips thinning almost into a sneer. “Losing was never an option.” Say what? Of course it’s an option. I hate to think it, but the team could’ve lost. And yes, it would’ve been awful and depressing, but life does go on. “Are you saying the Tuttle family can’t lose? Ever?” “Not when so much is riding on it.” How can he live up to these high expectations all the time? No one can. It’s impossible

—and unhealthy. It almost feels like his parents purposely set him up to fail. But he keeps on winning, keeps on accomplishing the impossible, just to prove them wrong. “And what exactly is riding on this win?” I ask. “My future, my reputation, the entire family’s reputation.” He shakes his head, that tic in his jaw back. The one that lets me know he’s irritated, frustrated, a combination of both. “You wouldn’t understand.” My mouth pops open. “I wouldn’t understand? Why? Because I’m not rich like you? Because my parents don’t put ridiculous expectations on us all the time? I want to understand, Jordan. I want to be there for you. I just—I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around everything you’re telling me right now.” He grabs my cheeks and forces me to look up at him, his touch gentle despite the fury blazing in his eyes. “I don’t want to fight with you tonight, Amanda. It’s been a rough day, but a good one too. I just want to be alone with you.” He presses his forehead to mine and inhales deeply. “I want to lose myself in you. But if we’re going to keep talking about this, it might get ugly.” He’s giving me an out, and I’m taking it. “I don’t want to fight with you either,” I admit, my eyes sliding closed when he slips his fingers into my hair and starts to massage my scalp. “I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry too.” He rains kisses on my face and I want to melt. Both at his apology and how sweetly he’s treating me. “Do you want to hang out downstairs for a while? I don’t mind if you want to.” I open my eyes and stare up at him. His expression is earnest, all traces of his earlier anger gone. He wants to please me. Even though he doesn’t give a crap about this party and would rather avoid it, he’ll walk around and socialize for me. For me. “I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want,” I murmur, and he smiles, diving in for a quick, hot kiss. “I mean it, Jordan. We can forget the party and go up to your room.” “Let’s compromise. We’ll go talk to people and act like we’re having a good time. And then in like thirty minutes, we’ll meet upstairs in my room and have a really good time.” His smile is downright wicked. “What do you think?” I swallow past my nerves and smile in return. “That sounds like the perfect plan.”



This party is boring as shit, but I’m trying to deal. I check my phone for the time. Only seventeen minutes left until I can go upstairs. Thank God. Amanda and I went our separate ways on purpose, and that was her doing. Sometimes I don’t get what my girl is thinking. Or what her motives are. They’re never bad, but I always think she has some sort of angle. This comes from years of never really trusting anyone and always being wary of their intentions. Amanda is slowly teaching me that putting my trust in someone is actually a good thing. “Mingle with your people, Jordan,” she told me at the foot of the staircase. She pressed her hot body against mine, teasing me with a smile, a touch, a kiss that I would’ve taken deeper, but she wouldn’t let me. Instead she gently shoved me away from her and waved. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” And then she left me standing there, dumbfounded as I watched her walk away, staring at her perfect ass in those tight jeans. It took me a few seconds to get out of my Amandainduced stupor before I started to wander. I immediately become irritated. There are so many people here, I can barely move from room to room. I find my mother holding court in what she calls the sitting room, surrounded by cheerleaders and members of the drill team, most of them sitting on the floor and listening to her college cheerleading stories with rapt fascination. The woman is a total narcissist. She loves an audience—when she’s composed and not strung out on prescription pills. I’m sure the majority of those girls sitting there listening to her drone on about frat parties, hot football players and shaking her pompoms think that if they get in good with my mother, somehow they’ll get in good with me. I’m not being arrogant when I think this —it’s pretty much fact. The problem? I despise my mother. I don’t believe she thinks too highly of me either. The way to my heart isn’t through her. I bolt before anyone sees me lingering by the sitting room, because it feels like a trap. I

go in search of and finally find a familiar face—Cannon sitting in an overstuffed chair in the living room with tiny Em perched on his lap. She’s balancing a plate on her hand that’s full of food and she’s feeding Cannon like he’s some sort of invalid. I’m about to give him shit for it, but the expression on his face is the happiest I’ve ever seen him, so I let it go. We make small talk for a few but Em keeps batting her eyelashes at him and murmuring stuff I can’t hear. They’re so into each other, I feel like an intruder. So I leave them too. My teammates are in clusters throughout the house and I congratulate them all as I see them. Ryan and Livvy are standing in a corner in the hall near the front door, her arms crossed, his expression thunderous. Looks like another storm is brewing there. Pass. I find Eli Bennett and Lauren making out on the front porch, and she pulls away from Eli when she realizes I’m standing there, a drunken smile fixed on her swollen lips. “Jordan, hi!” I feel like I can do no wrong when it comes to this chick, and it sucks. She needs to get over me for once and for all. “What’s up?” I say to the both of them. “Great game tonight,” Eli says with genuine enthusiasm as he slings his arm over Lauren’s shoulders and pulls her in close. She doesn’t fight him either. She’s fully embracing this weird relationship. “That last play was fucking amazing, Tuttle! Is Halsey forever indebted to you and my brother now or what?” I ignore his question. “Thanks. Your brother did an outstanding job tonight.” I clap on Eli’s shoulder and give him a shove. “You’ll have some major shoes to step into when it’s your turn.” His eyes light up and then he goes into complete Bennett bragging mode. “Aw, I’ve got this. By the time I’m the quarterback they’ll be saying, ‘Tuttle who?’” Lauren laughs nervously, sending me an apologetic look. I smile, but I know deep down inside they’ll never say that. They’ll always remember who I am. “You two have fun tonight,” I tell them as I start to walk away, but I hear Lauren tell Eli something and then she’s chasing after me, calling my name and trying to get me to stop. Shit. I take a deep breath to prepare myself for the Lauren onslaught and turn to find her standing in front of me, expectation written all over her questioning face. “What do you want from me, Lauren?” She seems faintly taken aback by my gruff tone and irritated question, but she flips past it quick. “I wanted to talk to you. About…” Her voice drops and I lean in a little closer so I can hear her. “My sister.” I frown. “What about Candace?” If people think Lauren’s a nightmare, they haven’t met her older sister. Candace is a holy terror. One of the biggest bitches you will ever meet, guaranteed. Almost as cold and calculating as my mother. And that’s saying a lot.

Lauren frowns. “You know what’s going on with her, right?” I hate it when she plays games. When anyone plays games. Why can’t people be straightforward with me for once? “I have no clue what’s going on with your bitchy sister and I don’t really care either.” I’m about to walk away, but Lauren stops me with a hand on my forearm. I turn to look at her, see the concern on her face. The confusion. Dread sinks like a stone in my stomach. Whatever she’s about to tell me, it’s not going to be good. “What is it?” I ask, my voice sharp. “Just spit it out, Lauren. Tell me.” She sighs and lets go of my arm. “My sister. She’s having an affair with…your father.” I go completely still, my blood running cold. Okay. That was the last damn thing I expected her to say. “I thought you knew, Jordan. It’s been going on for a while now. A few months at least. She first told me about it a couple of weeks ago, said she threatened your dad that she was going to tell your mom and he practically dared her to do it,” Lauren explains, looking miserable. “She wants a real relationship with him and he told her she’s never going to get it.” “He’s right,” I say, trying to push past the heavy weight that feels like it’s settled firmly on my chest. “He will never give Candace a real relationship, because he doesn’t know how.” Lauren’s voice drops to a low whisper. “I don’t know what to do. She’s dropped out of college. She won’t listen to my parents and they’re this close to kicking her out. But she has nowhere to go. Mom and Dad don’t know what she’s doing, but if they found out, they’d probably cut her off forever. She’s on this downward spiral and your father is making it happen.” I take a step back, trying to get away from her accusatory tone, her angry eyes. “What do you expect me to do about it? I can’t fix him, Lauren. He’s completely unfixable. And he definitely won’t listen to me, he never has. He doesn’t give a shit about me, just like he doesn’t give a shit about your sister. The biggest mistake she could’ve ever made was to get involved with him.” “So you won’t help?” she asks incredulously. “I can’t help. There’s nothing I can do for you. Or for Candace.” Like they’ve ever done anything for me anyway. Why should I help them? Lauren is slowly shaking her head, the disappointment on her face clear. “I thought you were becoming kinder, Jordan. I thought maybe somehow you being with Amanda would make you a more caring person, because she’s so nice and she does something for you that no other girl ever has. But I guess I was wrong,” she admits, her eyes filling with tears. She blinks them away, and I can feel the frustration radiating from her. I can’t believe she called Amanda nice. I can’t believe she thought I could change. I start to laugh, unable to help myself. “I haven’t changed, Lauren. I will never change. It doesn’t matter who I’m with or what I’m doing, I am who I am. And if that makes me a

rude asshole just like my father, then so be it.” Lauren’s lips part, her gaze going just beyond my shoulder, and I whirl around to find Amanda standing there, her mouth dropped open in shock, her pretty cheeks blazing pink with…what? Embarrassment? Disgust? Worry? Anger? “So you’re not going to help her?” she chokes out, her voice raspy. I frown and take a step toward her, but she backs away, like she doesn’t want to be near me. “You actually want me to help her?” Amanda’s lips snap shut, her eyes narrowed. She looks seriously pissed. On Lauren’s behalf? I find that hard to believe. “Why wouldn’t you? She needs you, Jordan.” I can’t freaking win with either of these girls, I swear. “She just wants to cause trouble between us, can’t you see that? You’re always complaining about her. Always insecure when it comes to my past with Lauren.” Amanda flinches, like my words physically hurt her. “This has nothing to do with Lauren and everything to do with her sister and your—father having an affair. You actually want him to cheat on your mother?” She mirrors my earlier question. “I never said that—” “You don’t really care though, do you,” she interrupts. Lauren takes this moment as her cue to leave. The chicken. Not that I can blame her. “What my parents do is none of my business. Or yours,” I say once Lauren is gone. I take a step closer to Amanda, grabbing hold of her arm so she can’t escape. “Their marriage has been in trouble for a long time, Amanda. I can’t stop them from doing anything to hurt each other.” “You could tell your dad to leave Candace alone, but you won’t, will you? Because you don’t care. You’d rather focus on yourself and screw everyone else.” She jerks out of my hold, her eyes blazing with anger. “Lauren’s right. You haven’t changed at all.” “You’re right. Is that what you want to hear? That I haven’t changed? That I’ll never change, despite us being together?” I glare at her, frustration bubbling up and bursting out of me like an erupting volcano. “You can’t turn me into a different person, no matter how hard you try. Lauren’s right. I’m not nice, just because you are. And that’s something you’re going to have to deal with if you want to be with me.” Her lower lip trembles like she’s going to cry and I immediately wish I could take back everything I said. “I don’t want to change you,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around her middle. “I just hoped…” Her voice drifts and she shakes her head before she slowly turns away. “Amanda. Wait—” I start, but my words are meaningless. She’s gone before I can say another word. And like the asshole I said I am, I don’t chase after her either.



It’s been three weeks. Yes, you heard that right, it’s been three long, painful, miserable weeks since I talked to Jordan Tuttle, and I feel like I’m slowly dying with every single day that passes. Dramatic, right? Yes, I am in full blown dramatic mode right now and it freaking sucks. No one wants to be around me, and I can’t blame them. Thank goodness the football season is over so I won’t have to be around the team and see Jordan on a daily basis. Stupid Jordan Tuttle and his big mouth and sullen attitude. He’s not been in school much. Too busy being courted by the various universities who want him to go to their school in the fall. His options are endless. He’s a freaking local star, and someday he’ll probably become a national star too. Me? I’m doing my best. Going through the motions. At night, after I finish my homework, I work on my college applications. I can only apply to five because that’s the limit Mom and Dad will pay for application fees. My SAT scores are strong. My extracurricular activities are a plus and my grades are excellent. I can probably get into plenty of good colleges, but can I get a scholarship too? There’s not enough money to take care of my education without me having to contribute heavily. I don’t know how I’m going to do that. The hours at Yo Town are pitiful, so the weekend after the big game, I go on a job search and find one at a small gift shop in the mall. It’s not the best job—the hours are going to suck since I’m working mostly the closing shift and the mall doesn’t close until nine most nights. But I can’t complain. It’s money. My parents were able to get George’s car fixed and they gave it back to me, so I’m able to drive to and from my job. They see me trying, which is a hell of a lot more than what they’re getting from George, who’s barely passing his online courses, so right now, I’m winning in the Winters household. Plus, Mom knows I’m hurting. She doesn’t ever say anything mean or awful. Doesn’t tell me Jordan Tuttle doesn’t deserve me or that I’m better off without him. For those first couple of nights right after we argued over those crappy things he said to me and to stupid Lauren Mancini at his party, Mom came into my room, sat on the bed with me and held me without a word while I cried into her shoulder. It was just the comfort I needed.

In gossipy news, Cannon and Em are going strong. They’re an official couple. They walk all over campus with their arms looped around each other, and they look kind of funny. Big ol’ Cannon and tiny Em. But they’re so happy when they’re together. You can see the happiness radiate from them both. It’s downright magical. Yes, I’m still a romantic. Jordan didn’t totally kill my vibe. Ryan and Livvy broke up. Yes, they broke up. Can you believe it? It was for the best, though. Those two were fighting almost every day, and during one of their infamous quad arguments, when she threw out the words, “Maybe we should just break up then and get it over with,” Ryan finally agreed. I think his answer shocked her, but they ended it then and there with little protest. And trust me, they didn’t mourn the relationship for long. Ryan found someone new—a pretty girl on the drill team who’s a former gymnast and has really long legs. Supposedly Ryan has found a new appreciation for girls who can do the splits and backbends. Gross, right? Livvy and Dustin aren’t together, but they’re not with anyone else either. They’ve fallen back into that “just friends” mode they were in before, the one that got them into so much trouble in the first place. But I think one of them is going to make a move soon, and make their relationship official. On a side note, Livvy’s mom ended it with her creepy boyfriend Fitch, and Livvy was so happy, she wanted to have a party. But then she realized her mom was really broken up over it, so they’ve been hanging out more, doing mom and daughter stuff, which is nice. Kyla and Blake have started dating. They are moving so slow you’d think they were turtles in another life, but that’s okay. Kyla’s delicate, and Blake is shy. They have a lot in common, and Kyla’s confided that he makes her laugh. I don’t think Kyla’s had much laughter in her life these last four years, so I’m thinking that’s a good thing. On the friendship front, we’ve forged a new group. Me, Livvy, Kyla and…Em. Surprising, right? It’s early days and I’m not sure how long this might last, but I feel good so far. It’s a step forward for Em and Livvy, and though they’re not extremely close like they used to be, they’re friendly. They can laugh together. And that’s major. I also convinced Livvy that Kyla isn’t boring. She’s actually a lot of fun, she’s just quiet, and they’re the ones who’ve gotten close fast. It’s nice. I have a clique, a group, and we’re all good friends. So yeah. Everything’s coming together. We had a week off for Thanksgiving break and it was nice to get away from the drama that is school. Between both jobs, I worked a lot, spent the night at Livvy’s along with Kyla one night, helped my mom prepare for Thanksgiving since we host it every year, and I worked my first Black Friday, which sucked. Now it’s Monday morning and I’m back on campus, dumping a few things in my locker before I go to first period. Livvy’s waiting for me so we can walk together, and I don’t notice the note caught up in the vents of my locker door until I’m just about to close it.

“What’s that?” Livvy asks from over my shoulder, pointing at my door. Oh. My heart leaps and I tell it to settle down. Even if it is from Jordan, I should tell him forget it. Seriously. Why hasn’t he talked to me? Apologized to me? Told me that he misses me and wants me back and he screwed up so damn bad that he hates himself? Yeah, that’s never going to happen. “Looks like a note,” I mumble, grabbing the paper from the vent and unfolding it carefully. I recognize the writing from that last note I received in my locker. The one Jordan never claimed to have written, though I always sensed he had. There are paragraphs scribbled across the paper, and I squint, trying to read the messy, slashing handwriting. “What’s it say?” Livvy asks curiously, but I shush her so I can read it. I’m sorry. So sorry. For everything. I was an idiot for letting you go and not chasing after you. I should’ve. You’re worth chasing after. What Lauren had just told me blew my mind, and though it has nothing to do with you, I guess it does because everything I do affects you as long as you’re in my life. I didn’t realize that until you left me. But I wasn’t lying when I told Lauren I would never change. This is who I am, Amanda. Flaws and all. I have a lot of them. I’m a lot to deal with, I know this. But I want you to know I never, ever meant to hurt you. It kills me to know you’re in pain over something I did. I wasn’t lying when I said I was an asshole. I bet you’re nodding your head and agreeing, aren’t you? I can’t blame you. But I want to be better. Better for you. I miss you. I miss your laugh. Your smile. Your lips. Your eyes. Your hair. Your body. Your brain, because you’re the smartest person I know. Maybe you’re not ready to have this conversation face to face yet, and that’s okay, so for now I’m going to leave a note in your locker every single day until you’re ready. Love,

Jordan My heart is cracking in two. I clutch the paper to my chest and breathe deep, closing my eyes, fighting the tears that are always right there, ready to fall. They’re gone fast and I open my eyes to find Livvy staring at me, her head tilted and her lips pursed. “You okay?” I nod, too afraid to speak. I might babble like an incoherent idiot. “Is the note from Jordan?” I nod again and she smiles, though she’s shaking her head. “How many chances are you going to give him?” I clear my throat. “As many I can handle.” Her shoulders slump. “Amanda.” I mimic her. “Olivia.” “I’m being serious. He’s hurt you so many times already…” “Yes, he’s hurt me, but I don’t think he can help it.” I hope I’m not making excuses for his crappy behavior. “You make too many excuses for him.” Oops, Livvy is a mind reader. She sends me a stern look as I carefully fold the note and stash it in my backpack before shutting my locker. “I’m exercising tough love on you right now,” she says. “And I hate to say this, but he probably doesn’t deserve another chance. You’re too good for him.” “I was waiting for him to do something like this.” We start walking toward our first period classes, ignoring the early morning chaos that surrounds us in the hall. “I know how he operates. He’s like an animal who needs to retreat in the woods and lick his wounds until he’s fully healed.” Livvy makes a face. “That sounds disgusting.” “Go with me here,” I say with an irritated sigh. “Anyway. He’s back. He’s ready. And I think—I think I’m ready to hear what he has to say.” “That must’ve been some note,” Livvy says, her eyes sparkling, though she’s still frowning. “Maybe you should let me read it.” “No freaking way,” I say vehemently, making her laugh. Some things are better kept private.

I’m in American Government during sixth period when someone delivers a dreaded yellow slip from the office to my teacher Mr. Woodward. He reads the note, his eyes widening beneath his thick glasses before he lifts his head, his gaze locking on me. “Mrs. Maddox would like to see you in her office, Amanda.” Oh. Shit. My stomach bubbles with nerves as I gather my things, shove them all into my backpack and go to his desk, taking the slip from him before I leave the class. The hallway is quiet as I make my way toward the office. So quiet I can hear my Converse sneakers squeak across the floor’s shiny surface. I’m about to round the corner and turn right toward the main office when someone grabs my arm and pulls me deep into an alcove that’s tucked just beneath the stairs that leads to the teacher’s lounge. I recognize his touch, his scent, the heat of his body immediately. It’s Jordan. Of course. “You scared me.” I slap lightly his chest and he takes a step back, away from my stillwaving hands. “Let me go.” “Did you get my note?” “Yes.” I stare up at him, hating how good he looks. “I thought you were going to send me one every single day because you knew I wasn’t ready to talk to you face to face yet.” Jordan shrugs. “I got impatient and I wanted to see you.” Argh. He makes it sound so simple. He drives me bananas. “I can’t stay here, Jordan. I need to go see Mrs. Maddox.” He smirks, and it’s the sexiest thing ever. Gah. “More PDA trouble, Winters?” “Stop.” I shove him this time but he barely moves. “Seriously, Jordan. I have to go. She called me to her office.” “I called you to her office.” He points his thumb at his chest. I lean against the wall, confused by his admission. “What do you mean?” “I, um, convinced someone who works in the office to fill out one of those slips to get you out of class. Looks like it worked.” His expression is smug. He’s very pleased with himself. I, on the other hand, am not pleased with him at all. “You only did that because you knew I wouldn’t willingly go with you anywhere,” I tell him, completely irritated by his bold move. “True.” He tips his head toward me, his expression solemn. “I messed up. But I also took this time away from you to really think about what I want, and what I want to give to you.” “Oh really.” My voice is flat and I drop my backpack at my feet so I can cross my

arms. “What have you been doing the past three weeks while you’ve ignored me, huh, Jordan?” “A lot. I checked out a few colleges. I flew up to Oregon again with my father and we met with the coaches, but he finally realizes I don’t want to go there. So he’s on board with my decision.” “What’s your decision?” “USC. That’s where I’m dying to go. I went and toured their facilities, met with the coaches, and it looks like I’m in.” He grins, and I’m so tempted to throw my arms around him, I almost do. I stop myself just in time. “That’s wonderful,” I say, my voice weak. I really am happy for him. “You’re getting everything you wanted.” “Not quite.” His smile turns bashful and he shoves his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I fucked up with you, Amanda. I should’ve followed after you that night at the party.” My heart cracks at hearing his words. “I didn’t like hearing you tear yourself down.” “I can’t help it.” “Well, you should stop. It’s annoying. And worse, it’s untrue. You’re not an asshole. You’re not like your father. You’re a good guy.” I stare into his eyes, desperate to make him believe me. “I wish you could see it.” “You’re the only one who ever does see it,” he admits softly. He’s breaking my heart I swear. “Did you and Lauren ever resolve your—mutual problem?” It’s probably none of my business, but I have to know what’s going on. Jordan sighs and runs his hand through his hair, messing it up thoroughly. He’s wearing a black Nike hoodie and jeans, and I want to jump him. Like usual. “Sort of.” Vague as usual. “What do you mean?” His gaze locks with mine. “I talked to Candace. And then I talked to my dad. I told them both I knew what was going on and that they needed to stop, or I’d tell my mother.” My mouth drops open and I squeak. Then immediately slap my hand over my mouth to keep anymore unwanted sounds from escaping. “Are you serious?” I ask, my voice muffled. “Yeah. I don’t know if it helped anything, but I realized you and Lauren were right. I can’t just stand by and let my father get away with his selfishness.” I drop my hand from my face. “Do you think the conversation helped?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. My father kicked me out of his office. Candace told me I can’t stop her from seeing my father because they’re in love. I did what I could.”

I sigh. “At least you tried. That’s all that matters. You’re a good person, Jordan. Despite what you think, you can change. You have changed. You’re nothing like your fath—” Now it’s his turn to rest his hand over my mouth, silencing me. “Trust me. I’m exactly like my father. I also told him if he didn’t let me go to the college I wanted, I would tell my mother he cheated on her with the sister of my ex-girlfriend.” My eyes go wide. He still hasn’t removed his hand from my mouth and we watch each other. I’m sure he’s prepared for me to spit on him or whatever, but I don’t think less of him for doing what he did. More like he just stooped to his father’s level and dealt with him in a way the man understands. How else can Jordan make his point? “It was a low move, but I don’t give a shit. It got me what I want.” His gaze is imploring as he continues to watch me. “Does that bother you, Amanda?” I slowly shake my head. “Do you think less of me?” Another shake of the head. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers, his hand loosening around the front of my face. He notices my barely-there nod. “I’ve fallen in love with you.” He says those words and then drops his hand, taking a step back. Like he needs the distance. “Being away from you was hard, but I needed to do it. I had to work on myself before I could be worthy of you, Amanda. I know you don’t think that’s true, but I do. And I need you to respect that.” I’m still stuck on those first words he just said to me. I’ve fallen in love with you. My heart feels like it’s ready to soar straight out of my chest, I’m so giddy. “I respect it,” I whisper. “I respect you, Jordy.” He makes a face. Whoops, I think I just blew his mind. “Did you just call me Jordy?” I giggle. “Do you mind me calling you that?” “Uh, maybe? Maybe not?” I’m thinking he doesn’t know how to answer. “If I let you call me that, will you forgive me?” “Always.” Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said that, but… Who cares. “Or have I run out of chances?” His expression turns somber. “I understand if I have. I get it. I don’t deserve another one.” It’s my turn to rest my hand over his mouth to shut him up. “Stop,” I murmur, giving his face a gentle squeeze. “You have to stop running away from me every time things get difficult, Jordan. I can’t keep doing this.” He nods. “If something bad happens, come to me. I won’t turn you away. We can work on your problems—and my problems—

together.” I drop my hand from his face before I whisper, “I’ve fallen in love with you, too.” He smiles, and his entire face lights up. I remember thinking how I’ve never seen him so happy than at the end of his last game, but that’s not true. Right now, stuck in this dark alcove with me at school during sixth period, just after he admitted he loved me and I just admitted that I love him. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen Jordan Tuttle in my life. This. Right now. I don’t want to ever forget this moment.



We’re in the back of a limo, just Amanda and me. She somehow convinced me to take her to winter formal and considering it’s our last one before we graduate and I get to bring the girl I’m in love with as my date, I figured I could tolerate one stupid formal school dance. Turns out I don’t regret going to this dance at all. When I went to pick Amanda up at her house and she greeted me at the door wearing a short, form-fitting dark blue velvet dress, I wondered how I was going to be able to make it through the night without grabbing her and doing something vulgar. She smelled so good, and her hair and makeup and that dress…Jesus. I was done for and we hadn’t even left her house yet. The dance was fun, loud and crowded and full of bad music. I sat out the fast dancing and watched Amanda bounce around on the dance floor with her friends. More often than not, I was checking the hem of her dress, waiting for it to fly too high and give me a covert shot of her panties. Then I got nervous and decided to go out there so I could protect her from other perverts’ prying eyes. I couldn’t be the only one checking her out. Every slow dance belonged to me. I held her as close as I could without getting busted by Mrs. Maddox. She seems pretty lax at school dances, which is mind blowing. I saw plenty of grinding going on during the fast songs and the slow songs, but it’s like everyone turns a blind eye. There was only an hour left when I convinced Amanda that we should leave early. How did I convince her? I whispered all of the many dirty things I wanted to do to her when we get back to my place and she blushed prettily, squeezed my hand and said she was ready to go. And that’s how I ended up in the back of this limo—she said she didn’t want a limo, but I wanted to pull off this winter formal thing right—with Amanda. She’s practically sitting in my lap and my hand is on her thigh, fingers gliding forward so they can rest between her legs. Her skin is warm and smooth and the heels of her shoes are pressing into my knee, but I don’t give a shit.

All I can think about is touching Amanda like this. I swear I can feel the heat from between her thighs and my fingers crawl higher, beneath the hem of her dress, farther and farther until I’m brushing against damp lace and she’s breathing so hard I’m worried she might pass out. “Jordan,” she moans just before her mouth crashes into mine. I shove the dress higher, not caring about keeping this discreet, my fingers delving beneath her thin panties to stroke her delicate flesh. She’s coming so fast I hardly have time to react, and then she’s laughing against my mouth, a sigh of relief escaping her once she’s come down off her high. “I’ve been waiting for that all night,” she murmurs against my lips. “I barely touched you.” “But you know how to touch me just right.” She gives me a smacking kiss and then I’m removing my hand from her panties and she’s tugging her dress down over her thighs. She’s curled up next to me and I hold her close as we ride back to my house, which is thankfully very empty. No parental units in sight. Tonight is special. Tonight is the first time Amanda and I are going to have sex. She wanted it to happen the day we admitted we were in love with each other, but I held her off. I didn’t want to rush it. I wanted the moment to be memorable. Romantic. She told me I was a total cornball and I didn’t deny it. “You smell amazing,” she whispers against my neck just before she starts kissing it. The suit and tie I’m not used to, and it feels like I’m choking, especially when she slings her thigh over mine and starts climbing on top of me. I try to hold her back and she mock pouts at me, her dark hair falling into her eyes. “Why did you push me away?” “We’re almost to my house. You want me to walk out of the limo with a huge tent in my pants?” Amanda bursts out laughing. “I don’t care if you don’t.” “Well, I care.” I sound like a frumpy old man, but I can’t help it. I’m not having sex with her for the first time in the backseat of a limo. That’s every teenager cliché come true. “Aw, Jordy. You’re no fun.” I scowl at her and she bursts out laughing. Yes. She’s seriously taken to calling me Jordy. And it freaking sucks. She knows I hate it too. That’s why she keeps doing it. I make like I’m going to tickle her and she dives out of the way, trying to avoid my groping hands. But she’s not fast enough and there’s not enough room in the back of the limo. I grab a hold of her and start tickling her ribs, making her squirm and giggle and try to fight me. Us messing around like this makes me hard as a rock and when I tackle her, pinning her so she’s lying flat across the seat, I slowly press against her, letting her feel just how she’s affecting me. Her eyes go wide and she arches against me, her skirt riding up. She spreads her legs, accommodating me, and my eyes want to roll back in my head, that feels so damn good.

“I can feel you,” she whispers. “That’s what you do to me,” I whisper back. She starts giggling and I wonder if she drank from the flask Livvy brought to the dance. “Are you drunk?” “No way.” She shakes her head. “I took a tiny sip from Livvy’s flask, but that stuff was nasty.” “Mmmhmm.” I thrust against her again, my entire body going tight and making me regret the move, but then she slings her arm around my neck and pulls me down for one of the hottest kisses of my life. So hot, we don’t even notice that the car has come to a complete stop until a few, kissfilled minutes later. “Think he tried to open the door for us and got a show?” Amanda asks with a lift of her brows. “I hope to hell not,” I growl, hating the idea of anyone seeing Amanda like that. No one else can look at her that way. She’s mine. I lift myself off her and she sits up, pulling on her dress so she’s covered, then smoothing her hair. Her lips are swollen and her cheeks are flushed. She’s gorgeous. And soon I’ll have her naked in my bed and I’ll really make her mine. Once and for all.



I’ve been so nervous thinking about my first time actually having sex that when the moment is finally here, it’s shocking how at ease I am about the entire thing. The dance was so much fun. I’d never come to the winter formal before, and having Jordan Tuttle as my date was just…perfect. He looks dreamy in a dark suit and tie, and he brought me a beautiful white rose wrist corsage. I pinned a white rose boutonniere on his lapel and then we posed while my parents and Trent took photos on their phones. Well, Dad busted out his fancy camera first and took a bunch of photos, and then he let Mom and Trent have at it with their phones. Trent just wanted to get bad pictures of us so he can post them on his Instagram later, the little jerk. I gave my phone to my mom and she took a bunch more for me. Then I opened the Snapchat app and took a selfie of the two of us together. I didn’t have to do any retakes either. The photo was perfect. I added a caption before I posted it to my story. My date for winter formal. #cuddlewithTuttle I posted it to Instagram too. Yeah, I have possessiveness issues, just like Jordan does. But now we’re at Jordan’s house and we’re in his bedroom. He’s undone his tie and shed his jacket, rolling up the sleeves on his shirt, and wow, wow, wow is he hot. If I think about what happened earlier in the limo, I’ll get embarrassed. I can’t believe how fast he made me…you know. All night at the dance had felt like foreplay. All the slow dance and teasing and flirting. The laughing and kissing and spending time with friends and hand-holding and heated looks across the table. Yeah, one big night of foreplay, so of course when he slips his fingers in my panties, I go off like a rocket. Like I said, embarrassing. But only a little bit. I feel comfortable enough with Jordan that I can get over the embarrassment pretty easily. Besides, the boy knows just how to touch me. Somehow, while I was lost in my thoughts, Jordan put on music and lit a couple of candles. He also got rid of his shirt, kicked off his shoes and is now lying across his bed wearing only the black dress pants, patting the empty spot beside him. “Come join me.”

It’s not a question, it’s a demand, and I don’t mind, because I want to join him. I start to step out of my shoes but he slowly shakes his head. “Keep the shoes on.” I’m smiling as I crawl onto the bed and lie beside him. He scoops me into his arms and holds me close, our mouths meeting in a slow, sweet kiss. He touches my face, his fingers gentle, his lips and tongue teasing, and my body instantly reacts, wanting more. So much more. I keep talking about unforgettable moments, and this is one of them for sure. Maybe a top moment in our lives so far, because hello, we’re about to have sex for the very first time. The very first time. I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. “Amanda.” His voice is ragged against my neck and he’s grabbing handfuls of my dress. “Let’s take this off.” I help him get rid of the dress and when he sees me in only my black lacy thong and matching demi bra, he groans and covers his eyes like he can’t stand it. “Damn, you are trying to kill me, I swear.” “You’re trying to kill me too.” I reach for the waistband of his pants and slide my fingers beneath it, touching soft, hot skin and making him shiver. I slowly undo the button and pull the zipper down. “These need to come off, too.” He shucks them off fast, and then we’re both only in our underwear. His erection strains against the front of his boxer briefs and I can’t stop staring. That is going to be inside of me in mere minutes. Will it fit? Will it hurt? Will I like it? I’m guessing the answer to all three questions will be yes, yes, yes. “You know I’ve never done this before, right?” I ask him, my voice shaky, my entire body shaky. I’m so nervous and excited. “I know.” He touches my cheek, his thumb streaking across my swollen lips. His face is somber, not even a trace of a smile as he says, “You know I haven’t done this before either, right?” Wait. A. Minute. I smile. Try to blow his statement off with a little bit of humor. “You’re joking, right?” I ask with a nervous laugh.

He is as solemn as I’ve ever seen him as he slowly shakes his head no. “I’m serious.” I close my eyes and now I’m the one shaking my head, laughing a little. Laughing a lot. He must be joking. This is a trick. A weird one, but a trick nevertheless. “Okay, you’re so funny. The joke is on me, ha ha.” “Amanda.” He tugs on my hand, and the next thing I know we’re kneeling on the bed facing each other. “I’m dead serious. I’ve never done this before.” “But you’re the blowjob king,” I blurt. He frowns. “What?” “Well, not that you give blow jobs.” Oh God, I’m messing this up so freaking bad. I need to shut up. Yet I can’t. “But you let girls give you blow jobs like, all the time.” “Well, yeah, but I told you before that number was grossly exaggerated.” I blink at him. “So there isn’t an endless list of girls you’ve hooked up with?” He shakes his head. “And you’ve never had sex with any of them.” “No.” His voice is firm. “Not even Lauren Mancini.” His irritable sigh tells me he can hardly tolerate my question. “Not even with Lauren Mancini.” My mind is officially blown. “What have you done?” I ask, then shake my head. “Wait a minute, maybe I don’t want to know.” “I’ve done a few things. I’m not a saint, I’ve messed around.” He studies me carefully. “I’d never gone down on a girl before until you.” “Wait, what?” But he did it so…well. He looks faintly embarrassed. His cheeks are ruddy and everything. “Yeah. I just went on pure instinct with that.” Oh my God. So he’ll get better at it? Lucky me. “The rumors about me are so overblown. And I never bothered arguing them. Most of the stuff people say about me is pure bullshit.” He takes my hand, brings it to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “You’re the only one who knows the real me.” Aww. That is the sweetest thing. This entire night has been amazing. So amazing I can’t take it anymore. I tackle him, sending him backwards on the bed so I’m on top of him, our underwear the only barrier between us. “I love you,” I whisper just before I kiss him. I can’t stop kissing him. The kisses become more and more intense, and then his hands start to wander, and my hands start to wander. My bra is discarded. So are my panties. He rolls over so he’s on top of me, I help

him get rid of his boxer briefs and then we’re naked. Skin on skin, hot and hard against soft and smooth, and oh my God, I am about to lose my mind right now. “Let me get a condom,” he says, grabbing the box from his bedside table and pulling out a packet. He tears open the wrapper and pulls away from me so he’s on his knees, rolling the condom on. I watch because it’s fascinating and I’m in awe of everything that is Jordan Tuttle. His body is beautiful. I want to kiss him all over. But I’m also nervous. “Are you scared?” he asks when our gazes meet. “A little.” His smile is almost bashful. “I don’t want to hurt you.” “We should take it slow,” I suggest. “You see, that’s always a problem with you. Taking it slow.” He pushes me so I’m lying flat on my back and he’s hovering above me. “I can never do that when it comes to you.” “Take it slow?” “Yeah. You make me greedy.” He starts kissing my neck. “Hungry.” My chest, my breasts, licking and sucking and nibbling and oh God. “So fucking hungry, Mandy. I can’t take it.” His mouth is everywhere. His hands are everywhere. He’s positioned just above me, ready to slip inside, and I spread my legs wider, ready for him. His mouth is on mine, the kiss sloppy and wet and full of tongue and ever so slowly, he pushes inside of me. I wince. My entire body tenses and he pauses, his breathing harsh as he hovers above me. “You okay?” “Yeah.” I nod and he slips deeper, making me gasp. “It just…hurts a little.” “Damn, Amanda.” He sounds in agony, and then we’re kissing again, my arms slung around his neck as I try to bring him in closer. This is the part when I could say I see fireworks and we come together in a symphony of magical lovemaking. But that would be a lie. It’s definitely magical, yes, because it’s the two of us together, having sex for the very first time. We’re in love with each other, and that makes it even more special. So it isn’t just some casual hookup, you know? But it isn’t perfect. No, more like it’s a little awkward and painful and kind of weird, but once we figure out what we’re doing and I get over the initial pain, it’s really good. So good. When we finish, our bodies are slick with sweat and we’re both out of breath. The music has long stopped playing and the only light in the room comes from the two flickering candles Jordan lit before we started. He gets rid of the condom and crawls back into bed, pulling me close so I’m snuggled up to his side, our legs tangled, my head on his

shoulder. “Where do your parents think you are tonight?” “Livvy’s house.” Like I could tell them where I’m really at. “Where’s Livvy at?” “I think she’s having Kyla over to spend the night.” Livvy went to winter formal with —you guessed it—Dustin, but they’re still not official. Talk about taking it slow. And Kyla went with Blake and they were so cute together. “Would you rather be with them?” “Um, no.” I nudge him in the ribs, making him grunt. “This was a lot more fun.” He starts to laugh. “Fun? That’s one way to put it.” “I bet it gets even better the more we do it,” I suggest shyly. Jordan glances down at me, his eyes glowing in the near darkness, his smile wide. “You want to keep doing it?” “Don’t you?” I ask innocently. His hands skim my ribs and then he starts tickling me, making me laugh. Making him laugh. We roll around on the bed trying to tickle each other, but then we start kissing and it turns into something more and… Yeah. It’s even better the second time around. And the third. Maybe even the fourth. You know what I mean.

“You two make such an adorable couple.” Mom is watching us sit together on the old, saggy couch that’s been in our since I can remember. Jordan and I just smile at her, my hand clutched in his, his thumb absently stroking my skin. It’s a far cry from that first time he came to the house for Sunday dinner and she asked him what he was doing with me. Yeah, not one of my favorite moments. It’s the Sunday before Christmas, which just so happens to be Christmas Eve. Mom and Dad invited Jordan over for dinner and we’ve already eaten what felt like a ton of food. Now we’re sitting in the living room, ready to open Christmas presents because my parents have completely come around and they embrace Jordan like he’s a part of the family. I think it’s because they realize just how happy I am with him, and how good he makes me feel. When I’m around him, I can’t stop smiling. Seriously, it’s like I have some sort of smiling disease, and he acts the same way, I swear. We’re good for each other, Jordan and I. “Let’s open presents!” Trent yells, making everyone laugh, with the exception of our mother. She sends Trent a stern look. “Your daddy is almost done in the kitchen.” He’s making his famous spiked egg nog, though I’m sure he won’t let us have any. “Once he’s sitting with us, then we can open presents.” Mom is allowing all of us to open the few presents we have from relatives who live out of town. The majority of our present opening will happen tomorrow morning, and then again when my mom’s family comes for Christmas dinner. It’s going to be loud and crazy and our small house is going to be full of a lot of people. It’s going to be awesome. “Are you sure you can’t come over tomorrow?” I ask Jordan for about the thousandth time. He keeps turning down my invitation, telling me he doesn’t want to interfere with our family’s day. He doesn’t understand that we think of him as family and we want him at our house. I’m almost desperate to have him with us. I can’t stand the thought of him spending Christmas alone. I’m pretty sure his parents are both out of town right now. Meaning they are the absolute worst parents alive. Jordan sighs and slings his arm around my shoulders, tugging me in close. Despite the

shabbiness of our home, he never says a word, never reacts, never complains. I think he’s comfortable here, and I love that. I love him. “Do you really want me here tomorrow?” he asks, his voice low, his gaze meeting mine. I see uncertainty there. Vulnerability. My heart cracks and I’m overwhelmed by the love I feel for him. “I don’t want to intrude—” I press my hand over his mouth, cutting him off. We do this to each other all the time now. “Stop. You’re never intruding. We want you here.” “Yes, Jordan. We want you here,” Mom says just as I drop my hand from his mouth. He leans in to steal a quick kiss and then he’s smiling at my mother. “All right then, I’ll come over tomorrow.” “Great. Now let’s open presents,” Trent says irritably. Dad and George walk into the living room and go straight to the tree twinkling in the corner. Mom cues up the Christmas music on the satellite radio and soon we’re all opening presents. My mom knit Jordan a beautiful black scarf and he immediately wraps it around his neck. Trent tears into his presents so fast he sullenly watches the rest of us open ours, a cloud of wrapping paper surrounding him. Jordan gives my parents a gift card to one of the fancier restaurants in town and Mom about hugs him to death when she sees it, saying, “You shouldn’t have!” over and over again. “Since you’re coming over tomorrow, I’ll wait and give your gift to you then,” I tell Jordan once we’re done unwrapping our presents. “Well, I’m giving you yours now,” he says, presenting me with a small box wrapped in gold foil paper and topped with a bright red bow. Oh. It’s small. Looks like jewelry, which makes me incredibly nervous. I take the box from him and unwrap it with trembling fingers, anxious to discover what’s inside. The wrapping paper reveals a black velvet box, and when I slowly pop it open, I gasp at what I find tucked inside. A ring. A delicate band of rose gold with a small sapphire in the center, flanked by tiny diamonds on either side. It’s beautiful. “So pretty,” I whisper as I take the ring out of the box and study it. He plucks the ring from my grasp and takes my hand, sliding the band on the ring finger of my left hand. I actually hear my mom squeal when he does this. “I love it,” I tell him just before I lunge for him and wrap him in the tightest hug I can muster. “I love you,” I whisper in his ear just before I kiss it. He slides his fingers through my hair, skims them across my nape, making me shiver. “I love you too.”



Later, after we clean up the wrapping paper mess and eat Mom’s homemade pumpkin pie while watching Trent play his new video game for a while, Jordan and I are about to go outside on the front porch before he leaves for the night when Mom stops us. “Your father and I have discussed it, and Jordan, we’d like to invite you to stay the night if you want to,” she offers. “Amanda mentioned to me earlier that there’s no one home right now for you, and I hate to think of you alone on the night before Christmas.” The tremulous smile on Mom’s face tells me she’s about to cry. The holidays always make her emotional. “Please say yes. All I can offer is the pullout couch, and it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but we’d love to have you stay.” “I’d like that, Mrs. Winters.” He smiles at my mom and she envelopes him in a quick hug before she pulls away. “Thank you.” “If you need clothes to sleep in or whatever, I’m sure George has some,” Mom suggests, fluttering her hands around like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. I have a strong feeling she thought Jordan would turn her offer down. I’m so glad he didn’t. “I have my gym bag out in my car,” Jordan tells her. “I have a change of clothes in there.” Mom beams, all traces of her near crying long gone. “Perfect. Go get it, but hurry! It’s cold out there.” We go outside and I stay on the porch while Jordan runs to his Range Rover and grabs his gym bag. I watch him amble back up the porch stairs, my heart swelling at the sweet look on his handsome face, the excitement dancing in his eyes. He loves that my parents invited him to stay over. I love that he’s staying over too. “Do you like the scarf my mom made you?” I ask him when he rejoins me on the front porch. “Yeah. It’s really nice. And warm.” It’s still twisted around his neck and he gives one of the ends a tug. “Did she make you one too?” “Oh yeah. She does every year. I just haven’t opened it yet.” I grin. “I have a huge collection of Mom’s homemade scarves, and so does the rest of my family.” “Guess I need to catch up then,” he says sheepishly, and I can’t take it anymore. I tackle him right there on the porch, kissing him with all I have. I’m so forceful, he drops his gym bag on the porch and his arms go around me, holding me tight as he kisses me hungrily. We’ve been holding back all night, trying to be discreet in front of my family, and now it feels like a dam just burst.

“Okay, stop,” he finally says minutes later, pushing me away from him. Though not too far. “Or we might get arrested for public indecency.” This makes me giggle. “Are you going to maul me on my front porch?” The sexy look on his face tells me he’s considering it. “Don’t tempt me.” A shiver moves through me and he pulls me back into his arms. “Cold?” “Yes.” But happy. So happy. The porch is lit from the glow of the Christmas lights Dad puts up every year, and pretty much every house on our street is lit up as well. “Oh! I want to give you something.” He frowns. “What?” I wiggle out of his hold and pull the small wrapped box out of the pocket of my cardigan. “This is for you.” His frown deepens as he stares at the box I’m holding before he lifts his gaze to mine. “I thought you were giving me my gift tomorrow.” “I have two presents for you. This is the special one. The other one can wait until Christmas.” Tomorrow’s gift is a bottle of cologne that will make me want to lick him every time I smell him. A real win-win gift, if you ask me. He takes the present from me and slowly unwraps it to reveal a simple black box. He pulls off the lid and finds the men’s silver link bracelet I bought for him. Lifting his head, he smiles at me. “I love it.” “Really?” I stressed over his gift so much. I took the girls to the jewelry store and had them help me pick it out. They reassured me it was perfect, but I still worried he might not like it. “Really,” he says firmly, taking the bracelet out of the box. “Will you help me put it on?” I take the bracelet from him and hook it around his wrist. It looks good on him and I smile, tracing my finger over the silver links. “You don’t mind wearing a bracelet?” “I will wear anything from you with no complaints.” He drops a kiss on my cheek then runs his finger over my new ring. “Do you like your present?” “I love it so much.” I hold my hand out and spread my fingers, admiring my new ring. It’s so tiny and dainty and perfect. “It’s gorgeous.” “Not as gorgeous as you,” he says, his voice low. I turn to meet his gaze and see the heat there. The hunger. Goosebumps sweep over me as he leans in and kisses me again, his tongue sweeping my mouth, his hand cradling my cheek. The front door swings open, causing us to spring apart, and Trent is standing there with a disgusted look on his little face. “Mom says you two need to come in before you freeze to death, but I’m telling on you. Mom, Amanda and Tuttle are making out on the front porch!”

The door slams before I can hear what anyone else said. “Should we go inside?” Jordan asks, his eyes sparkling with amusement. That he can tolerate my pain in the butt brother says a lot about his character. “I guess so,” I say with a little laugh. “Hey,” he says from behind me just before I open the door. “What?” I turn to face him, startled by just how close he actually is. He reaches out and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my skin. “Did I tell you that I love you today?” My cheeks go hot. Will I ever get used to Jordan so freely offering words of love to me? Probably not. “Yes, you did. But I’d like to hear it again.” Jordan tugs me into his arms and kisses me, his mouth warm despite the freezing cold air. “I love you, Amanda,” he whispers against my lips. “I love you too, Jordan Tuttle.” I touch his neck, his hair. I can’t get enough of him. Ever. “Forever?” he asks. It’s our new favorite word and hearing it makes me smile. “Forever.” Read other titles by Monica Murphy

This series would’ve never gotten off the ground without the enthusiastic encouragement from Nina Grinstead so Nina, this book is for you. Just so you’re aware, she will fight each and every one of you to the death for Mr. Jordan Tuttle so watch out. #TuttleisBae Thank you the bloggers and reviewers who read this series and helped me promote it. I can’t do this job without your help so please I know I appreciate each and every one of you. I always want to shout out to the readers because they are the reason I keep going. Thank you for reading. And a huge thank you to my daughter and son and their friends for their constant source of inspiration. Even though it’s middle school drama they’re currently dealing with and not high school (though man, it is some major drama let me tell you), the stories they tell reside in my mind and many times end up on the page. Kk fam sorry bout it (my apologies, it’s an inside joke).

Monica Murphy is the New York Times, USA Today and #1 international bestselling author of the One Week Girlfriend series, the Billionaire Bachelors and The Rules series. Her books have been translated in almost a dozen languages and has sold over one million copies worldwide. She is a traditionally published author with Bantam/Random House and Harper Collins/Avon, as well as an independently published author. She writes new adult, young adult and contemporary romance. She is also USA Today bestselling romance author Karen Erickson.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations for reviews. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet, without the publisher’s permission and is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. One Night Copyright 2016 by Monica Murphy Just Friends Copyright 2016 by Monica Murphy More Than Friends Copyright 2016 by Monica Murphy Forever: A Friends Novel Copyright 2017 by Monica Murphy This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content. Published in the United States of America First electronic publication: April 2017 by Monica Murphy. www.monicamurphyauthor.com This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the original vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

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