I RESCUED JOHNNY and put him back in the cabin. He looked disappointed in himself, or maybe he just always looked disappointed. Then again, what did I know about chickens? He’d jumped from my bed and perched himself in the far corner, sitting near a pile of clothes that I was pretty sure Marlo would never see again.

My heart was heavy in my chest, and my brain felt like it was going to explode.

I couldn’t match up my thoughts with my racing heart, with the way my body roared Marlo’s name every single time he looked at me.

I would not survive him walking away with the very last piece of me.

And I knew that he didn’t trust me not to do the same damn thing.

How do you build trust when you have this sort of attraction? This buzzing awareness that makes you want to devour every inch of the other person and come back for seconds.

I grabbed a nearby stick, tossed it in the fire, and yawned. It was getting late anyway, but Marlo was busy talking to an upset DeeDee. I only hoped it wasn’t because of Jackson. The guy could use a break.

Plus, he was already passed out back at his cabin. Jen had stayed with him for reasons beyond my comprehension.

Leaving me…

And Brax, who kept trying to show me how to roast the perfect marshmallow. I let out a defeated sigh.

I had six more weeks of this.

Six more weeks to prove myself, to get the attention of an agent who wouldn’t…

I shuddered.

It was worth it. It would always be worth it.

I just wished I had the confidence in myself to believe that I was worth it, that I could make it on my own, that I was worth fighting for, worth loving. And that was the worst part. What guy wanted to be with a girl who looked at herself in the mirror and counted her flaws? Both inward and outward.

Because if I had something to offer…

Then wouldn’t my parents care?

Wouldn’t they be at least a little bit affected by me?

I thought back to my senior musical. I had earned a big role — not starring — but still, it was something to be excited about. I could remember seeing the Reserved signs on their seats.

Ray’s Parents!

Would Marlo have come? If we had stayed in touch? Would he have clapped for me? Cheered?

Or just thrown popcorn and booed?

Brax handed me a piece of chocolate and plopped down on the log next to me. “So, you know about DeeDee, right?”

“About her and Jackson, and him screaming Jen’s name during? Yeah, I know all about it…” I was actually thankful for someone else’s drama.

“So…” Brax grabbed a graham cracker and chomped down on it. His red hair was tucked behind a black UW baseball cap. “…apparently, it gets worse than that.”

“How exactly does it get worse?”

“Well… word on the street—”

I elbowed him.

He rubbed his arm. “Fine, word amongst the staff members — mainly DeeDee, who confessed to Cassandra—”

Ah, Cassandra, the pretty blonde with a bob haircut and wing-tipped eyeliner that was drawn to perfection; she helped with all the costumes and makeup.

“—is that he didn’t even get off. He went like completely limp and then grabbed his clothes and bailed.”

My jaw dropped. “Like mid—” I used my hands to finish the statement with a clap.

“Yeah, I don’t know what you mean by clapping just now.” He grinned. “But yes, mid—” He clapped, and I pushed him. “Apparently his dick and heart are not in sync. Bummer for him.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, not a bummer for him. He doesn’t even like her!” I pointed at DeeDee just as Marlo glanced over at us.

“He looks pissed again. What’d you do?” Brax said in a low tone.

Oh, you know, we both got hot and bothered and then said words, and the words felt funny because our bodies wanted to do something different, but the words were more important so, nothing. Just confessions and confusion. Next.

“We talked,” I finally managed to get out, quickly taking a bite of chocolate and chewing so I wouldn’t have to say anything else for a minute or two, or ten.

Brax snorted. “Is that code for screwed?”

Sadly, no. I twisted my lips into what I hoped was a smile. “Not this time. Disappointed you weren’t there to ruin it?”

He sighed. “I said I was sorry.”

I pulled his hat off his head, ruffled his hair, and shoved it back on. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Hey! Nobody touches the hair.”

Marlo made his way over to us and sat on my right then held out his hand. I put chocolate in it, and he frowned before slowly lifting it to his lips. I sucked in a breath and zeroed in on his mouth.

Words. We still needed words.

Brax cleared his throat. “I’ll take care of the fire. Why don’t you guys go have some deep… conversations… about politics, religion, and the state of the economy.”

“Sounds riveting,” Marlo said in a bored tone, flipping him off.

I reached for Marlo’s hand, nervous he wouldn’t want me to, that he’d tell me not in front of the staff members, but he gripped it back and in front of the last few remaining campers, walked with me back to his cabin and closed the door behind us.

“Everyone saw,” I said, throat dry.

He was behind me. He hadn’t turned the light on yet, keeping us blanketed in inky black darkness and moonlight. And then his hands were on my shoulders. “Let them see.”

I laid my head back against his chest. “We should talk.”

He let out a laugh and then sobered. “Wait, you’re actually serious?”

I spun around and poked him in the chest. “Everything else just makes me more terrified and confused and—” I put my hands on my hips. “Hey, I want my favor.”

His eyebrows shot up as he crossed his arms and towered over me. “Oh, yeah?”

“I stole the seal.” I grinned. “So, I get my favor.”

He squinted. “Shouldn’t the favor be taking in a chicken? I’ll do you one better, taking in… you?”

“Nope.” I rocked back on my heels. “The chicken just comes with the territory, and… well, you took me in…” I gulped as insecurity slammed against my chest. “…you took me in because…”

He tilted my chin toward him. I couldn’t look away from his icy-blue eyes and wanted nothing more than to tug on his silky hair and pull him down to my face.

“Because you were lonely,” he finished.

My nostrils flared as anger swirled around my mind, trying to choke out the way my heart thudded with pain — pain from the honesty of his words, pain that he would notice the loneliness, pain that my enemy would be my safety.

“So…” My voice wavered right along with my confidence. I was too focused on the fact that I’d needed him again, and he’d offered himself just like he had in high school. And I hated the truth of the situation. That if I had told him I’d needed him at any point in high school, he would have been the first to sacrifice for my happiness, for my safety. And I’d just taken advantage of him, like any spoiled princess would. “My favor…” I stared down at my feet. “Each truth equals a piece of clothing. If you lie, you put on clothes. If you tell the truth, you take something off.”

“And what happens when we’re both naked?” he asked, voice thick with lust.

“Hopefully, by then…” I let out a sigh. “…we’ll be on the same page. If not…”

“If not, I’m sleeping with the chicken?” he offered with humor lacing his tone.

I laughed. “Maybe, you never know. Johnny may rock your world.”

Marlo drew his brows together in a scowl. “Never say that again. Not even to repeat it to Jackson.” He grabbed my hand and sat me down on the bed then strolled to his mini-fridge in the corner and pulled something out of it.

Tequila.

I glared. “Do you have everything in here?”

“Probably.” He didn’t even look guilty as he smirked at me and walked over then handed me the bottle. “Figured courage was needed.”

“For you, maybe.” I elbowed him.

He rolled his eyes. “Right…” He opened the bottle, tilted it back, swallowed, and winced. “Cheers, SP.”

“Ah, the nickname’s back. Nice. Wanna know what I call you?”

“Perfect?” he offered with a completely cocky expression.

“Lawn-boy,” I said in a snotty voice.

He flinched.

“What?” I grabbed the tequila and chugged some back then wiped my mouth. “It’s like I’m calling you farm-boy, and we’re in The Princess Bride.”

“And yet…” He narrowed his eyes on me. “…it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Ready… lawn-boy?” I grinned.

He smirked and leaned closer to me. I could smell his cologne and was dying to touch the bristles on his cheeks, the shadow that would be gone tomorrow after he shaved. I wondered if it would burn my face after hours of making out. I wondered how much I would like it as I clenched my thighs together to stall the growing pressure and tried to focus. “As. You. Wish.”

Well, that backfired quickly, didn’t it?

I licked my lips, tasting the tequila there, wishing I was tasting his mouth, and then I lost all train of thought. Was I supposed to be asking a question? Answering one?

“Apparently…” He chuckled low in his throat. “…I get to ask first, since I’ve rendered you speechless.”

I scowled as I scooted back against the headboard and waited with arms crossed while Johnny slept in the corner — or at least appeared to be sleeping, I wasn’t exactly an expert on the nocturnal behavior of chickens.

“Why did you let me kiss you?”

My scowl quickly turned into a glare. “You mean a few hours ago?”

“No...” He turned to me. “…in high school. Why did you let me kiss you?”

I didn’t want to answer.

Answering that simple question meant that he would know more than he should. It meant pain, possible rejection; it meant I was a fraud. And worse of all, he would know that his torment in high school really was all my fault because I wasn’t brave enough to stop it.

I grabbed a beanie from the desk next to me and pulled it over my head. “My turn.”

“Wow,” he said bitterly, “one question in, and you’re already not answering. Why am I not surprised?”

I ignored him, grabbed another swig of tequila, and after the burn faded, asked, “Why did you come?”

He squinted at me then flashed a sexy grin.

“Be mature, Marlo. Why did you come that night?” I sighed. “No matter how I say it, it sounds bad. Why did you come to my house?” I grumbled and waited for his answer.

He grabbed a nearby hoody and held it in his hands.

I waited an eternity in that cabin while he held the sweatshirt. If we could never talk, we would never get beyond this moment, beyond just wanting to let our bodies take over and protect our hearts from further harm.

And I knew I’d set a bad example.

Out of fear.

Because what if I asked him to love me? Really love me?

And he turned the other way?

“Shit.” Marlo threw the sweatshirt onto the ground and turned to face me. “Would you believe me if I told you I’d just wanted to make sure you were okay?”

I frowned. “What do you mean? We were neighbors?”

“I heard you fighting with your douche of an ex, and then I heard tears, followed by something breaking.”

“Ah, because I threw my phone at the mirror.”

“That.” He nodded and tilted his head as if he was trying to figure me out like a complicated math problem, which was true. I was complicated, but I wasn’t born this way. I wasn’t born stuck in a geometry field. I truly thought I was simply born simple.

Love me.

And with every year, my circumstances complicated my simplicity so much that even I didn’t know how to get out of the field, out of the maze.

“So,” he said and sighed, “I went to your room to make sure you weren’t bleeding and to make sure that if he was, you had help burying the body.”

I snorted out a laugh. “So, really what you’re saying is you wanted to be my partner in crime?”

“I’ve always wanted to live a life of crime. Why not start with the spoiled rich girl who had tears on her face and blood under her fingernails?”

I smiled at the thought of us joining forces.

The world wasn’t ready for peace talks between Marlo and me, not yet.

I wasn’t ready either.

That would mean I had no more excuses.

No more walls.

“So, you were worried.” I nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Yeah, I’m not finished.”

I lifted my head. “What?”

“I said…” He grabbed both of my hands in his.

Why am I shaking? Why is he so warm? And why does this feel bigger than me, bigger than us? Furthermore, why do I feel like crying?

“…I figured you needed a friend. A real friend, not one of the plastic shadow-hunter friends you hung out with who told you how pretty you were to your face then gossiped about how fat your ass was behind your back — and for the record, you’ve always had the best ass.”

I gulped, smiled a watery smile, and searched his eyes. “Sometimes, I think you know me better than I know myself. I needed a friend that night.”

He smirked. “Yeah, in hindsight, I wasn’t exactly emotionally stable enough to be walking into your room after downing a few shots with my fellow nerds, but there it is.”

“You weren’t that drunk.”

“I wasn’t that drunk,” he admitted.

“I want to change my answer.” I stared down at my hands. I focused on my perfect fingernails, the pink gel polish that covered them, the way they dug into my palm. “I let you kiss me because I wanted to know what it would be like—”

He swore.

I gripped his hand keeping him in place. “I wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone I actually liked. Who cared more for me than he did himself. I wanted love so badly…” Tears filled my eyes. “…and I knew you would give it to me with all of your heart.” I choked on a sob. “So, I took it from you because I was so sick—” I put my hands over my face and cried. “—so sick of being unwanted. Ignored. I just wanted someone to see me.” I wiped under my eyes, too afraid to look at him.

Had he ceased breathing?

Had my heart stopped?

Had the world ended?

I looked up through a blur of tears.

His eyes blazed, raked over me like a thousand heated kisses. “That,” he whispered, “is the nicest and truest thing anyone has ever said to me.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the falling tear on my right cheek then cradled my head. “It would have been an honor to kiss your tears then, to hold your hand and tell you how much you were worth, but since I didn’t, since we hated each other…” He smiled. “…I’ll just tell you now. You are beautiful.”

I sighed against the pain that felt as if he was stabbing my heart with a sharp arrow.

“You are talented.”

I tried to look away. It hurt. It hurt too much. Why does it hurt?

“You’re funny. You’re caring. You are everything that’s right with this world, and anyone who says otherwise is clearly everything that’s wrong with humanity.” His gaze gentled. “I’ve always seen you, Ray. The problem is, you’ve never seen yourself the way I do. The way others do. And I can’t wait until you’re able to love yourself enough to accept love — real love — and look in the mirror and actually smile.”

I threw my arms around his neck and held on so tight I probably scared him, but he didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t push me away.

More tears streamed down my cheeks as a heaviness released from my body. And slowly, very slowly, Marlo lifted his hand and pulled the beanie off.

Then whispered in my ear, “Next question.”