Something is wrapped around me, and it’s too solid to be my blanket. I try to remember where I am, cracking my eyes open, letting the sun smack me in the face. I blow out a quiet breath when I realize I’m in my room.

The Jensen Ackles poster hanging across the room tells me I’m in a place nobody can hurt me, the familiarity of the pink walls and basic furniture evident that I’m not in my dorm.

My nightmare came back, debuting itself despite how far deep I buried it. It stopped replaying almost a year and a half ago, but I guess bringing up old memories has a way of weakening my defenses.

The residual of the dream has goose bumps on my arm, like I can still feel the unwanted touches against my skin. And even though there’s no alcohol around, it’s as if my nose can smell the bitterness of the brew radiating from his breath that night. I squeeze my eyes closed, reminding myself that I’m not there. That it’s not happening.

Somehow, the chanting works.

Suddenly, the wall of muscle behind me moves, and I yelp. Without thinking, I swing my arm up and connect my fist with something fleshy. A loud groan ripples from the mass of body heat behind me, along with quick movement. The weight that dipped the mattress down was suddenly gone.

I sit up and look at Will, who has his palm covering his eye.

“Will?” I whisper, chest rising and falling heavily.

“Geez, Tess,” he groans loudly. He pulls his hand away, and the area my fist hit is already red. His eyelid is swelling, making guilt swarm my body.

“Oh, God!” I squeak, quickly getting out of bed. I dash over to him, examining his eye.

“Tess—”

“I’m so sorry!” I tell him, lightly touching the spot. He winces. “You need ice or something. I think we have a pack downstairs. If not, we have a bag of vegetables we can put onto it.”

“Tess, I’m—”

“You’re not fine,” I snap. “I hit you! I swear I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t know anyone was in bed with me. And after last time—”

He pinches my lips together, shutting me up. It doesn’t stop me from rambling mumbled words that make no sense.

“Tess,” he says slowly, “I’ll survive. Now I know not to scare you though. You have one hell of a fist there.”

I blush. I tell him sorry, but my lips are still pinched together. It sounds more like alien language than an apology.

Letting go of my lips, he eyes me. “I think I’ll take that ice now.”

I sigh. “I really am sorry.”

He rolls his eyes, and follows me downstairs. I don’t know what time it is, but I know it’s early morning based on the small amount of sunlight creeping through the blinds in the hallway. I can hear birds chirping outside, and I know it’s probably from the small birdhouse Dad built Mom years ago. He hates the amount of birds it attracts, but Mom loves it.

I walk into the dark kitchen, and make my way to the fridge. I know we used to have ice packs in the small freezer above the refrigerator, but if not, a bag of frozen veggies would work just as well. Dad used a bag of corn on my older brother when he got hit in the side of the head during baseball practice years ago, and it seemed to work.

Well, for the most part. I like to think Doug is brain damaged, but that’s just sibling talk.

I end up finding a small ice pack and wrap it in a dish cloth before passing it to Will. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, with his hand covering his eye. I pry it away to see the damage done, and frown when I see his eyelid swollen closed. No doubt he’s going to have a shiner.

Who knew I could punch like that? Not me.

“Want some coffee?” I ask quietly, hoping caffeine can be a peace offering. I know he likes it, although he usually drinks it black. Gross.

He just nods, wincing as he puts the cloth-wrapped ice against his face. Once he settles, he lets out a soft, tired sigh. “What time is it?”

I peer at the clock on the wall. “Around six thirty. I’m sorry I fell asleep last night. I guess I just wasn’t feeling Moana.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep either. I just got comfy after you dozed off and didn’t want to wake you up.”

I have to agree. As soon as I snuggled into Will, my body eased, content. Sleepiness soon washed over me.

Instead of admitting that, I opt to tease him instead. “You just wanted to finish the movie so you could sing along. Admit it, Will. You love that movie.”

“It’s okay…”

Which is Will speak for he loves it.

Before I can say anything, Dad enters the kitchen, his gaze darting back and forth between Will and me. He eyes the ice pack Will has on his face, and slowly turns to me.

“What happened to him?”

I cringe. “I hit him.”

Dad grins. “That’s my girl.”

I sigh heavily. “I didn’t mean to hit him. He startled me when I woke up.”

Dad’s eyes narrow. “So that means he slept over last night?”

Will clears his throat nervously. “We fell asleep watching a movie. If it makes you feel better, Tess hit me pretty hard. Wouldn’t be shocked if I get a black eye.”

Dad’s grin widens.

I swat his arm. “Stop looking happy! I feel awful.” I direct my attention to Will. “Maybe we should take you to the hospital so we know your eye isn’t damaged.”

Mom walks in and asks, “Whose eye is damaged?” She looks at Will and gasps. “Erik, what did you do?”

Dad seems offended, his arms shooting up in the air. “Why do you automatically think I did something to the kid? It was Tess who hit him!”

“Tessa,” Mom scolds.

“I didn’t mean to!” I defend.

Mom relents. “Let me see your eye, Will,” she coaxes, taking the wrap away.

Her lips press together in a thin line as she assesses the damage. She’s been a nurse for over twenty years, which is a good thing in the moment.

“Keep the ice pack on it for a few more minutes and let’s see if the swelling goes down,” she directs, smiling. “I think you’ll be fine, but I want to make sure your eye will open more. No doubt you’re going to have a mark.”

I frown. “Will—”

“I told you I’m fine,” he says quickly. “I can see a little bit already, so the swelling is going down. I’ve been through worse.”

“But I’m not the one who hurt you before.”

He shrugs. “If I can survive a cow kicking me, I can survive this.”

I grumble to myself, but don’t argue. I remember when the cow kicked him. He broke two ribs and had to take it as easy as possible. He always complained about not being able to help out at his family’s farm. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to go back after that.

But cows terrify me anyway. I blame Will for that. When we were little, he convinced me to go to the farm with him and watch his parents do chores. We were playing in the barn when Will pushed me a little too far, and I fell into the getter. I managed to land somewhat on the pad where the cows were, which almost got me stepped on. If his dad hadn’t grabbed me, I would have been stomped to death.

So the farm life? Not for me.

After pouring Will a cup of coffee and sliding it to him, I poured one for both my parents. They doctor it up to how they like it, milk and sugar, and then join Will and me at the table.

“So any plans for the day?” Mom asks, looking between us.

Will answers first. “Chores with my dad and brother like usual.”

I just shrug. “Sleep? I don’t know.”

Mom sighs. “You need to go and do something, Tess. It’s summer! You should be blowing off steam before senior year starts.”

I cringe at the thought. I don’t want to think about senior year, even if I am excited about some of my classes. It just means being closer to graduating, and I have no idea what the next step is. Not thinking about the stress of getting a job and paying off loans is so much easier.

“What about hanging out with friends?” Mom continues. “I mean if Will is busy at the farm, you can go out with some of your old high school friends.”

Now that makes me snort. “What friends? I barely talked to anyone besides Will. The girls in my grades were all stuck up.”

Back in high school, I was the misfit. I didn’t play sports, I wasn’t in any clubs. Going out didn’t interest me, which meant parties were a no-go. I was the weird introvert, open to bullying because of my quietness. I wasn’t popular, not even hanging with Will and the guys. I was just the extra wheel who tagged along.

She sighs. “Well you can’t just sleep the day away. I know since the motel shut down you’ve been out of work, but what about your photography? I know plenty of people who would love to get pictures done by you.”

I love that Mom wants me to pursue something I love, but taking people’s pictures just isn’t what I want to do. I love photography when there aren’t any obligations attached. If I have to take pictures, there’s no fun in it. It’s a chore, not a passion.

“That reminds me,” she adds. “How was the concert?”

I know the last thing Will wants to talk about is Ian’s band, so I try keeping it casual. “It was fun. I got some great pictures.” I drink my own coffee. “I’ll consider what you said about doing pictures for work. It could be fun.”

But it won’t, I silently add.

She smiles. “I’m glad.”

Dad looks at Will. “How’s the eye, son?”

As much as Dad wants to hate Will, he always liked having him around. I think with Doug gone, it’s like he has a son again; somebody to relate to. Although, that doesn’t stop him from threatening Will’s life if he ever hurts me. Not that Will ever would. Dad is just … a dad.

Will pulls the ice back. His eye is opened more than it was, and a faint blue color is taking over under his lower lash line. I try to smile and tell him it doesn’t look bad but …

Dad laughs. “My little girl has quite the punch,” he says proudly. “That’s going to hurt for quite some time.”

“Dad!” I chide.

Even Mom laughs. “Well, if it’s bruising already, it means you hit him pretty hard, sweetie. Remind me not to mess with you.”

My face heats up.

“That bad, huh?” Will asks.

I smile lightly. “It’s not that ba—”

“It is,” Dad cuts in. “Are you going to tell everyone that my daughter did it? Or are you going to try making the story manlier?”

Will rolls his eyes. Or eye, really. The eye I hit doesn’t really roll as easily because of the slight swelling still there.

Will grumbles. “My brother won’t let me hear the end of it otherwise …”

“Or your father,” Dad adds.

Will sighs, because it’s true.

Mom swats at Dad. “Be nice, Erik.”

Dad just shrugs.

Finishing his coffee, Will passes me the ice pack. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“William!” Mom scolds. “You need more than coffee for breakfast. Take a bagel with you. Or a piece of fruit.”

Will sighs. “I’m not that hungry.”

Mom eyes him until he succumbs. I don’t envy him. The look she gives can make your skin crawl. Will says I have the same look, but I guess it comes in handy occasionally if nothing else.

“Can you see all right?” I ask, passing him an onion bagel from the bag. I know the weirdo prefers eating them raw over toasting them, so I don’t bother asking if he wants me to put it in the toaster.

“Yes, Tess. I told you I’m fine.”

“I’m just making sure,” I mumble, a frown setting on my face as I take in the damage.

If only I had the strength two years ago.

He takes a bite of the bagel to appease my mother. Smiling at him, she pats him on the shoulder.

“Take some Motrin for that eye. It’ll help,” she recommends, taking his coffee cup and washing it.

“Thanks, Claire.”

“Anytime.”

Dad looks at him. “As entertaining as this whole situation is, I’m glad you’re not hurt worse. But please, for my sanity, sleep in your own damn bed and not my daughter’s.”

Will’s cheeks turn pink.

I remind myself to tease him for that later.

“Yes, sir,” Will murmurs.

Mom rolls her eyes. “Leave the poor boy alone. Run along, Will. If you don’t, Erik will just keep lecturing you. Nobody wants to hear that.”

“I’m just protecting our daughter,” Dad returns, almost bitter that she’s not on his side.

Mom shakes her head and kisses his cheek. “I know, babe. But Will is a good boy, and you need to stop trying to scare him off. Just because he sleeps over doesn’t mean anything. Plus, they’re adults. They can do what they want.”

“Not in my house,” he grumbles next.

I roll my eyes. “Relax, Dad. We’re not having sex. Will and I fell asleep watching a movie. If it makes you so uncomfortable, he won’t sleep over again.”

Dad seems a little happier, but not much.

Will, on the other hand, is redder than the ruby-colored tablecloth draped across our kitchen table. Anytime we talk about sex in regard to us, he gets all weird.

It makes me laugh when I see him react that way, like the cool and collected Will can be all weirded out and awkward. It makes me feel less vulnerable—out of place.

“I should go,” he says, giving me an awkward hug. He waves at Mom, nods at Dad, and walks out the door with his bagel in hand.

I look at Mom. “Well, that was weird.”

She grins, but doesn’t say anything.

Dad shakes his head. “Not weird, kiddo.”

“How was that not weird? I swear, he can be such a prude whenever sex comes up. He’s almost twenty-two for crying out loud!”

Mom giggles. “Sweetheart, you know I love you, but you can be so dense.”

I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not dense!”

“Will likes you,” Dad says, sighing like the words are a death announcement. “Not hard to see it.”

I freeze, not letting the words soak in the way they want to. “He does not.”

Mom eyes me. “He does, babe. He can joke about sex or anything else with his family, but with you? It’s because he likes you, and talking about you two having sex—”

“Or lack of,” Dad intervenes coolly, giving me the eye.

Mom snorts. “Save it, Erik. Anyway, Will has liked you for some time now, honey. He wouldn’t have stuck around for as long as he has if he didn’t. Look at everything he’s done for you. And how could he not like you? You’re beautiful, and you two spend a lot of time together. Feelings were bound to grow eventually.”

“Uh …” I shake my head.

I spent years entertaining the idea of u as a couple, but there is no way he did.

Unlike me, he talked about being interested in other people. While I pined for the unobtainable, he lived his life and dated. So, no. I don’t buy it.

Maybe, just maybe, if I could let go of the past—of what happened—I would open up to the idea of being with somebody. Anybody. Will, even. Not because everyone says he wants to be with me, that he always has, but because I want to be with him. Not just part of me, all of me. My heart, my mind, my body.

And I’m not capable of giving that away.

Not yet.

Mom pats my hand in comfort, taking my silence as hesitation to the truth. “That doesn’t mean you have to feel anything back. It also doesn’t mean that you have to pretend not to feel something. Like I said, you two are inseparable. There’s nothing wrong with liking him, platonically or not.”

“Let’s pray it’s platonic,” Dad mutters.

Grinning, Mom shakes her head. “Erik, would you rather see your baby girl happy with somebody she loves? Or would you prefer she be alone for the rest of her life, never knowing what love feels like?”

Mom always tries to be the mediator when it comes to the topic of me and boys. It’s like she’s the only person who can allow him to see past his thick head. I’m his baby girl, which means that growing up and being an adult is off the table when boys are involved.

I’m sure if he could choose, I’d be the little girl dressed like a princess and playing tea party with him. The only worry back then was what bedtime story to read at night, not what nightmare would plague me from sleep.

His lips twitch. “You make a fair point.”

I turn to him. “Look, it doesn’t matter anyway. Will and I … we wouldn’t work.”

Even Dad seems confused, because Will and I have always worked in some way or another. I just shrug, not elaborating. Talking about freshman year, all of freshman year, is something I avoid at all costs. I want to believe that the barrier holding in the all the details will be enough to save me from ever relapsing into the train wreck I became for months after. Worrying them was never what I wanted to do, so it became a part of me that I held in. Telling them why I am the way I am, why I don’t date, why I don’t put effort into myself like I used to, why I changed is a secret not even Will knows about.

I’m damaged goods. Mentally incapable of grasping my own change. Incapable of moving past the events that replay in my head when I’m vulnerable at night. I’ve accepted everything that I’ve become, but I don’t accept dragging anybody else down with me.

The best part is, they don’t push for a reason, which is why I love them. They care enough to make sure I’m happy and healthy, but they don’t try to weasel their way into my business if it doesn’t involve them. They let me make my own choices, even if they don’t like them. Maybe there’s an inkling that tells them it’s more than just me being afraid to become more with Will, but they don’t let on that they think so.

“Anyway,” I conclude, shuffling toward the fridge. I put the ice pack back, and set the cloth it was wrapped in on the counter. “I’m going back to bed. I’ll try reaching out to my non-existent friends later and get out.”

Mom rolls her eyes. “You have plenty of friends, Tess. You always just preferred Will.”

I don’t argue, because she’s not entirely wrong. Besides Will, I used to hang out with Emily, but things changed once we graduated high school. Our motivations took us in different directions, and neither one of us looked back. Aside from her, I talked with Dylan. If you considered Dylan’s relentless flirting, playful and never serious as it was, talking. I always considered him a brother I never wanted, and he considered me the annoying little sister that pestered him at band practice.

We were never as close as Will and I were.

Nobody was ever as close as me and Will. That’s what makes us unique. Special. We can be total opposites, and in a lot of ways we are, but we still blend together.

I pull myself from the depths of my mind.

Mom winks at me and adds, “I don’t blame you. Will is a looker.”

Dad and I groan at the same time. “Don’t go all cougar on my best friend, Mom! That’s so gross.”

She laughs. “Oh, hush! You know your father is it for me. I’m just not blind. Will is a good-looking young man. Not even you can deny it.”

I don’t let her know I agree, because that’ll just feed the fire. Screw that. “I’m going to bed,” I tell them, shuffling back upstairs.

Before I’m out of earshot, Mom says, “She’ll realize it soon enough. She deserves to be happy, and we both know Will is what’s best for her.”

But she doesn’t know the truth.

I’m the storm raging to destroy everybody around me.

I’m good for Will as a friend, but I’ll destroy him as anything else.

I don’t sleep. I can’t. Instead, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Correction: I’m staring at the glow in the dark stars that Will and I put on my ceiling when we were in middle school. He won them at some school event and gave them to me because he knew I was scared of the dark.

I should have been embarrassed to be afraid of the dark in middle school. That’s a fear for children, or so I’ve been told. But regardless, Will never judges me. He just wanted to help, so he did.

Because he’s always liked you, my brain presses.

I shut that bitch up, because I don’t believe it. Or, at least, I don’t want to. I like the dynamic that we have as friends. Sure, he’s attractive, sweet, and protective of me. Boyfriend material any girl would be lucky to have.

I tell myself not to think any further. That’s always my problem. I overthink. I overanalyze. I freak out over the smallest stuff.

Although, this isn’t necessarily what I consider ‘small stuff.’ Not when my parents seem to be rooting for Will and me to become a thing. At least Mom does. I think Dad still wants me to become the crazy cat lady, that way I’m not lonely and I’ll never be around humans of the male variety.

I turn on my side, and sigh internally.

My eyes take in the hideous pale pink walls that I was so excited over when I was little. My parent’s let Doug and I choose a color for our rooms when we first moved in. If we ever wanted to change it, we had to buy the new paint ourselves. At the time, I was five. So of course I was going to choose the most god-awful girly color I could find. At least Mom talked me out of the Pepto Bismol pink I originally wanted.

My room is nothing special. Besides the pink walls, there’s a few posters here and there. Some of my favorite TV shows like Supernatural, and some of quotes that inspire me. My favorite is the poster of Chuck Norris jokes that Doug gave me right before he moved out to his own place. He said he was too old for it, but I think he just wanted me to have something of his.

What he doesn’t know is that I had already taken one of his old shirts that was two times too small for him as a token of remembrance. Even though we were five years apart in age, we were pretty close. Now? Not so much. It hurt, not that I never let him see it whenever we did see each other.

After a few more tosses and turns, I get out of bed. I throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and slip into my Converse before making it to the bathroom. My hair is a frizzy mess, but I don’t feel like straightening it. Instead, I put it up into a ponytail and put some eyeliner on. It’s minimal, but it’ll do.

Just as I walk downstairs, Mom is looking up at me with a wide smile on her face.

“Good, you’re up!” she says happily. “I was just about to see if you were awake. You’ve got a friend here.”

It’s only a little after ten in the morning, so I know that Will isn’t done with chores yet. And unless Mom got out my senior yearbook and tried reaching out to my old classmates—which I wouldn’t put it past her doing for the sake of me making more friends—I had no idea who could be visiting me. Not until a familiar musky mixture of woods and vanilla scent wafted into the hallway, one that I remembered only because I was the reason the cologne was mixed together.

It was supposed to be a prank that Dylan and I played on him, but he ended up liking the scent. As far as pranks go, it was a fail.

Ian stands in the hallway, his broad shoulder leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed across his chest casually like he belongs here.

I stop at the last step, staring. At the concert, my senses were too frazzled to take him in. Sure, not much has changed, but enough to take notice. It’s easy to see that his clothes are fitting his body a lot tighter than before, emphasizing muscles that I know he has under them. Flashes of skin, the way he felt against me, over me, on me overwhelm my ability to comprehend that my mother is still standing next to me.

“Tess,” he greets, still grinning, like he knows I’m undressing him. Remembering him.

“Uh …” I can’t seem to think of anything to say, his appearance taking me by surprise.

Mom interjects, “I’m so glad you two are catching up. Ian, I was just telling Tessa this morning that she needs to get out and have fun!”

Ian looks at me and winks. “Well if there’s one thing I’m best at, it’s having fun. Right, Tess?”

I fight off the blush that wants to creep up on my cheeks. More images flood my mind. The way my hands gripped his shoulders, how he guided my legs around his waist. If I closed my eyes, I could see how what little muscles he had back then ripple as he moved over me, his hands running through my hair, down my body.

Mom and Dad don’t know about Ian and me, and I intend to keep it that way. I mean, I was eighteen when things between us … progressed, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like them knowing who I decide to involve myself with. Plus, even with Ian’s rise to stardom, I don’t think they ever fully trusted him. He was the town bad boy, the rule breaker—the guy all dads feared their daughters would fall for.

I never fell for Ian, but I gave him part of me that would indicate otherwise.

I clear my throat. “Right,” I agree, voice hoarse.

Mom looks at me skeptically, suspicion rising in her gaze. “Ian was just saying how he wanted to try catching up with you since he’s been on tour. Isn’t that nice?”

Despite Mom’s previous outlook on Relentless, she seems genuinely excited for me to go out. Am I that pathetic that my own mother needs to ship me out with old friends?

It seems the answer is yes. Yes, it is.

I try giving her my best smile. “Yes … nice.”

I cringe at my less than stellar performance.

Ian chuckles. “What? Didn’t you miss me?”

“Not really,” I mutter.

“Tess!” Mom scolds.

“Kidding!” Only, I’m not.

I made a choice back then, one that I could have walked away from. But I was determined, and Ian was along for the ride. I don’t regret what I did—what we did. But that didn’t stop the guilt from sticking in the creases of my thoughts.

Even though Will and I never dated, it felt like I cheated on him. And how could I tell him what I did? Ian was his best friend, even back then. Things seemed a little rocky for a while, but what friendship didn’t have its ups and downs?

You know exactly which friendships aren’t like that, a voice tells me.

Ian grins, knowingly. “I know we weren’t close, Tess,” he begins, “but we knew how to have fun. I mean, remember that one time when—”

“You know what?” I say quickly, cutting him off. “Hanging out sounds great. Let’s go. Now.”

Mom smiles as I push Ian toward the door. He’s chuckling all the way out to the driveway, where an expensive looking car is parked. We stop next to the silver painted money on wheels, where I glare at him.

“What was that?” I demand in irritation.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence. “I was just saying that we had fun together. Did we not? Was I lying? We may not have been close … well, we technically were. Very close, as I recall.”

“Stop it!” I hiss, glancing at my house. “My mom likes to eavesdrop sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes. “So what? Do they think you’re still a virgin?”

I slap his arm. “They know I’m not, but that isn’t the point. I like to stay private about things, so stop making jokes about my …”

“Sex life?” he prompts, laughing. “God, you can’t even say sex? So what you’re saying is that they know you’ve had sex, but not with who. Which means you probably don’t want them knowing it was with me.”

My face heats up. “Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Because …” Why do I need to explain? “It doesn’t matter why. What matters is that my life is personal, which includes the people I sleep with. Or, in this case, slept with. Past tense. As in, not happening again.”

He puts his hand on his heart. “I’m hurt, Freckles. Does that mean you didn’t think our time together was special? I thought every girl’s first time was supposed to be one they never want to forget.”

I take note that he used the old nickname he gave me.

It doesn’t stop me from gaping at him. “You’re such an asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” I mutter. “Listen, I don’t want to rehash the past. Since my mother thinks we’re hanging out, we better go somewhere. I suppose this thing belongs to you?” I ask, pointing toward the car.

“This thing,” he replies, actually offended this time, “is my pride and joy. Besides my band, of course. It’s the newest Mercedes; just came out.”

I stare at the car for a long moment, trying to decide if I should pretend to care or not. The car is nice, I guess. I’m not really a car person. Honestly, if I had a choice as to which vehicle to ride in, Will’s or Ian’s, I’d choose Will’s beat up truck any day. Not because I’m biased, but because his truck has a story. It’s been worked, hauled around, and abused, but it still runs. Even if it has troubles sometimes.

Ian’s car? It’s too shiny, too new. It looks like it could break if you touch it, and for what money I can imagine he spent on it, I don’t see how it’s worth it.

I roll my eyes. “If that’s supposed to impress me, you’re gonna have to try harder. And that doesn’t mean talking about all the expensive shit you can buy with your money. I don’t care about any of that. Now can we go? Or is my lack of caring about your baby going to mean I can’t get in it?”

He stares at me for a second with a blank expression of his face. Then, a grin appears. “You haven’t changing a bit, have you? Still feisty as ever. You look good, Tess. Didn’t mention that before.”

Why is he complimenting me?

“Well … thanks.”

He gestures to his car. “Get in.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Once we’re seated in his car, I respond. “I hate surprises, Ian.”

He starts it up. “I remember.”

I find it odd he does, because the most we talked was, for like, a few hours. I don’t recall everything that was said, but I remember enough.

I let it go. “And you’re willing to risk it?”

He sighs. “For some reason, yes. Despite what you probably think, I did miss you. I had fun when we hung out. Not just because of the sex, either. You’re a cool girl.”

I find myself blushing. “Whatever.”

“Really,” he presses. “I know we only hung out that one time, but we spent most of the night talking. It isn’t like I convinced you to go to the party just to get you into bed.”

“Can you just stop?”

We’re driving down the road now, which means it’s too late to get out. I could tuck and roll, but risking a head injury isn’t something I’m up for. Guess I’ll have to suck it up.

“Fine,” he agrees. “I won’t bring it up. Just know that I actually want to hang with you today. There’s nothing I expect from today, just like there wasn’t anything I expected … then.”

I want to mutter, I doubt that, but I don’t. I stay quiet, staring at the scenery we pass.

I mean, he was the one who wanted to sleep with me. Or, at least, he offered. Clearly, there was expectations.

“So did you like the concert?”

I’m thankful for the subject change, even if it’s still about him. Same old Ian. Egotistical as ever. Now, he’s just an egomaniac with money to support his head growth.

“It was good.”

“Just good?” he muses. “You seemed to be having fun. Even saw you singing along to some of the songs.”

I shrug. “I won’t deny your band is good. But if I tell you anything more, your ego will grow, and then there won’t be enough room in this tiny ass car for the both of us.”

“Ha ha.”

I smile to myself. “I did get some great pictures. I can show you later if you’d like.”

“That’d be awesome.” He sounds genuine.

I just nod.

“So …” He turns onto a side road I’ve never been on before. “How’s William doing? I see you two are as close as ever.”

“Will is fine.”

“You’re not very talkative,” he notes. “Can’t we just have a conversation, Tessa?”

I finally peel my eyes away from the window to look at him. “This just feels weird,” I admit. “After what we did …”

“I thought you wanted to drop that?”

“I do, but …” I shrug. “It’s just that us hanging out is weird because we did that. We saw each other naked, Ian.”

He cracks a smile. “I remember quite well.”

I groan. “Yeah, well whatever. What I’m trying to say is that we barely ever spoke before that night. Then, all of the sudden, you wanted to talk to me. You’re right; I had fun hanging out and just talking at that party. It was different, but good different. But then we slept together, and it changed things. You acted like I didn’t exist whenever we saw each other in town. It wasn’t like I expected anything more from you, but a simple ‘hi’ would have been nice. Then you just left for your tour.”

He frowns. “Tess, I’m not trying to make things weird for you. I’m sorry I left without saying anything, but I wasn’t the same person then. I won’t say I’ve changed completely, but my intentions are better than they were.”

I snort. “Yeah, okay.”

He eyes me. “I mean it. I was a douche then. Still kind of am. I don’t use girls though, not that I want to think I used you. I mean, you seemed into it. You were on board. You wanted to lose your virginity, so I helped out. You know, like friends do?”

I laugh. “Friends help each other with homework or drama. Friends don’t sleep with friends, Ian. It’s like, the law.”

He rolls his eyes. “Is that why you didn’t give it to Will?”

My eyes widen.

“What?” he asks innocently. “How long are you going to trap that poor bastard in the friend zone? He’s into you. Always has been. And you like him, right?”

I try to reply, but words are beyond me.

He chuckles. “Wow. Tessa Williams speechless. Got to say, I never thought I’d see the day. You weren’t even speechless after—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, please.”

He shrugs. “It’s cool. First times aren’t supposed to be fun. I mean, they typically are for the guy. But I hear they suck for girls. If we practiced I could blow your mind.”

“Ian,” I warn through clenched teeth.

He smirks. “Okay, okay. Don’t get your thong in a twist.”

“Really?”

“What?” His expression turns into one of over-exaggerated innocence.

I shake my head. “You really never change.”

“I’ve changed enough that matters.”

“What does that even mean?” I question. “I mean, it’s like you’re saying you’ve grown up, but what does that even matter? It’s not like you’re trying to impress me.”

“And why would you think that?”

“You’re pushing me on Will.”

“Well somebody needs to,” he states. “It was painfully obvious that he had a crush on you, but he was too afraid of being rejected. Shit, I thought he was going to kill me anytime I mentioned how hot you were back in the day.”

I stare at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m not saying you aren’t hot now. Shit, you’re even more attractive now than you were in high school. You filled out, got curves. It’s not hot. It’s sexy. But Will? Yeah, he didn’t know how to handle the situation.”

My eye twitches. “And I suppose you thought you did?”

His laugh is dark, devious, engraved with the same memories I have. “Sweetheart, clearly I handled the situation pretty damn well. Unless I’m remembering how that night ended differently than you are?”

My cheeks heat up, probably blotched with pink.

“Didn’t think so,” he says in amusement.

I push past it. “I think you’re forgetting something in your argument, Ian. Will had Sheri back then. A girlfriend. Somebody he crushed on for his entire junior year before he finally asked her out. That doesn’t exactly scream interest in me, now does it? Plus, I don’t see why you’re so adamant about making Will and I happen, even after all this time. Hell, why did you even bother sleeping with me if you thought he liked me?”

“It’s not like I’m saying I didn’t like you, Tess.”

I don’t answer. I don’t even bother analyzing his reply.

“I just didn’t like you as much as Will did,” he continues, humor in his tone. “Or should I say does? I could feel the death glares he cast my way at the concert. It’s like part of my soul was being ripped out. The dude has it bad. Maybe it’s time to just give in.”

“Give in to what?” I ask, exasperated. “It’s not like I can just make myself like him like that. Do I like him? Of course. Did I ever have a crush on him? Yeah, I did. But I’m not a teenager anymore. I moved on from all of that.”

Or, I think I did.

He turns onto another side road, and this time the scenery starts looking familiar.

“You haven’t moved on from Will,” he points out. “Not really. I hear you two are still pretty close; inseparable even.”

“I …” I clamp my lips shut. What does he want me to say? He’s right. Will and I are close. I haven’t ‘moved on’ from Will, but only because there was nothing to move on from. We were always friends.

“I’m going to give you some advice,” he tells me, slowing down at the end of the fair grounds. I notice the Ferris wheel from afar, as well as a few other rides.

“Maybe I don’t want it.”

“Too bad.” Pulling into an empty parking spot, he shuts off the car and turns his body toward mine. “Don’t let yourself make excuses. I know this might sound cliché, but sometimes the people that are meant for us are right in front of us the whole time. Best friends don’t have to stay best friends. Why should they? They already know everything about each other.”

I’ve read a hundred books, seen a hundred movies, where the best friends become lovers. Some of them have happily-ever-after, and others don’t. And what’s the real struggle in them? That they’re afraid they’re going to ruin their friendship? That things might not work out? That’s always going to be a fear, but mine runs deeper.

Mine lives underneath my skin, a layer of me that says I’m not ready to be happy yet.

And being with Will … it would make me happy, like I could let go of everything I keep inside. Maybe I’m demented for wanting to feel that pain, but after so long of living with it, it’s become a part of me.

The truth is, I don’t know how to be happy. Not fully.

“But where’s the mystery? The surprise?” I blurt without thinking first. “Will and I know everything there is about each other. We know our strengths, weaknesses, annoying habits. It’s like we’re the same person. There’s nothing new to learn about him. What if I give it a chance and I find out that it’s boring?”

He studies me for a long moment, rubbing his clean-shaven chin. “If you decide to date somebody else, you’ll eventually learn everything there is about them anyway. You’re already there with Will. Why waste your time?”

“Why?”

His face crinkles with confusion.

“Why are you so intent on setting me up with Will?” I elaborate.

He exhales a short breath, like the truth is expelling from his body. “I liked somebody once. Maybe I still do, I don’t know.” For a moment, he seems to be deep in thought. Then adds, “Actually, that’s a lie. I still like her a lot, but it’s complicated. I haven’t seen her since I moved away during fifth grade. Maybe I’m still nursing the crush I had back then. A lot of shit changes, so she may be nothing like the girl she was back then. But do I care? No. I mostly regret not trying harder to reconnect with her.”

Ian has always been the player of the town, and become an even bigger one to the press. I find it hard to believe that he’s pined over the same girl since fifth grade. What could they have known about each other that held such a bond? He’s almost twenty-two, it seems like a long time to hold on to something.

Hypocrite.

Curiosity takes over. “What’s her name?”

He smiles at me, his eyes a lighter shade of blue, like there’s a speckle of hope breaking through the interior of the navy color. I wonder if my eyes ever do that, become lucid to the feelings that I don’t even express.

“Kasey,” he discloses, hips lips still tipped up. “She was my first kiss. I was hers. We were close, pretty much like you and Will. But when I left, it wasn’t on the best terms. Our families were … well, it doesn’t matter. There were some hardships when my family moved away, and I wasn’t allowed to keep in touch with her. I miss her. Always have.”

“So …” I try analyzing the conversation. “Are you trying to get me and Will together so we don’t regret not taking a chance? Because that’s pretty cheesy, Ian.”

“Do whatever the hell you want, Tess. I’m just telling you that regrets suck. Take a chance. Don’t take a chance. Honestly, it doesn’t matter much to me. I’m just trying to give you advice friend-to-friend.”

“Is that really what we are?”

He opens his door. “I’d like it to be. Just because we slept together doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Plus, it was a while ago. We could void it out, since so much time has passed.”

He gets out of the car, making me follow suit.

“But why do you want to be friends?”

“Why not?” he shoots back. “You’re cool, Tess. I’ve always thought that. You being easy on the eyes is simply a bonus.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such a flirt.”

He shrugs. “Just part of the package.”

“What if I don’t want to be your friend?”

He gives me a knowing look. “If that were the case, you wouldn’t have gotten in the car. And want to know something else? You trust me; another part of friendship.”

“I never said I trusted you.”

“You didn’t have,” he replies. “What we did that night said it all. Be honest, Tessa. You didn’t want that night to mean anything more than what it was. You wanted to lose your virginity, but you didn’t want to feel anything for the person. You trusted me with something, and have ever since. Why didn’t you ask Will? I think it’s because you were afraid you’d feel something for him. Maybe something stronger than what you already feel. You’ve always been good at masking how you feel. You like him, but you’re just as afraid of rejection.”

I don’t know what to say, so I simply soak it all in.

“So,” He concludes, rubbing his hands together, “I’ve got a pocket full of tickets, and we’ve got all day. Let’s just enjoy the good weather, ride some rides, play some games, and junk out to random food that should never be fried but is. Deal?”

And because the arrogant douche canoe is right about me trusting him, I smile and follow him to the entrance.