Tor's jaw clenches and he shakes his head. "I'm gonna turn this truck around and put that kid in the fucking ground. Does that little shit think he can treat you like that and get away with it? Does he have any fucking idea who he's messing with?"

I touch his arm. "Tor, stop. Do you want to go to jail for assault again? Please just take me home. I want to forget all the filthy things he said to me."

"If I hear any more of this I'll fucking kill him."

"Fine." I cross my arms in front of me, wishing I had changed my clothes and gotten out of this ridiculous dress.

He glances over at me. "I didn't mean you couldn't talk. I just meant I can't hear any more of how he treated you without going back to teach that scumbag a lesson on how to treat a woman. And how not to."

"I really don't want to talk at all," I reply, trying not to cry. "Can we just listen to some music?"

"If that's what you want." He connects his phone via Bluetooth to the stereo and starts up my favorite Eagles playlist that he made just for me a few months ago.

"Better?" He asks.

"Better."

I rest my head back against the car seat and close my eyes, letting the music ease away the stress of the night. Music has always been a huge part of my life. I may not be a musician like the rest of my family, but the love of music is embedded in my bones and lives deep in my soul. Nothing makes me feel more content than my favorite songs. While I love both of my parent's bands and their music, I have lots of other favorite bands that I listen to. A favorite song or melody can be so therapeutic and take you back to a better time and place, almost make you feel like you're really back there again. These songs on Tor's playlist remind me of when my mom was still here, and she and Dad would sit on the back porch and talk, drink wine and listen to the Eagles. I'd get comfy in my beanbag chair with my favorite books, and we'd sit out there for hours. It didn't happen often since both my parents traveled a lot, but those nights were always my favorites. I'd do anything to have just one more night like that again with my mom and dad.

"Can I stay at your place until tomorrow afternoon?" I ask Tor when we get near the exit to our town. "If you take me home now my Dad is going to know something happened."

"Where the hell is Chloe?"

"Probably under Brendan."

"Terrific," he sighs.

"Yup."

"You can stay at my place, and I'm not going to tell your father about this. He'll lose his mind if he knows you lied to him to stay at a hotel with a guy. So now we're both lying to your dad."

"I'm sorry, Tor. Really. And I didn't know about this. Chloe and I were supposed to share a room. She switched everything up when we got there and there was nothing I could do."

"Let's just get home. What's done is done, and I'm too tired to fight about teen drama."

I'm half asleep by the time we pull into Toren's driveway, and I feel bad that he must be utterly exhausted after working all day, probably chasing dogs around all night, and then driving almost three hours for me.

"I really do appreciate you doing all this for me," I say when we get inside his house. "I didn't mean to piss you off and ruin your night."

He lets out a deep sigh. "I'm not mad at you, Kenz. I'm glad you called me. You can always come to me. You know that."

"I know. And I appreciate it. I'm sorry if I disappointed you. That bothers me more than anything else that happened tonight."

"You didn't." He throws his car keys on the kitchen table. "You can't get through life without making mistakes, right? It's how we learn."

I nod and pull the clip out of my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders. "True." I kick off my shoes, relieved to be out of them. "Jason started to drink and hang out with his friends as soon as we got there. I just sat there getting blisters. I didn't even get to dance or anything; it was a total waste of time and money."

He tilts his head and smiles at me. "I can fix that." He crosses the living room to his mp3 player that's hooked up to his speaker system, hits the play button, and Elvis's smooth voice fills the room.

My mouth falls open in surprise. "Wow. I remember this."

"Do you?"

"Yes. You danced with me on your feet when I was little. I used to love that."

He moves to stand in front of me and takes my hand in his. "Let's try it without you standing on my feet."

Laughing, I put my hand on his shoulder as he lightly touches my waist. "Okay," I reply. "But I'm afraid I'm not much better than I was when I was five. Your feet still aren't safe."

He laces his fingers through mine. "Don't worry about it. I'm not any better, either."

As we sway together, our bodies a few inches apart, I realize my forehead comes to his chin. I don't know why I like that, but I do. Jason and I are the same height, and it felt awkward to me when we kissed - as if we were sorta unbalanced even though we were even in height. I think the man should be taller than the woman, it looks better to me. And now I know it feels better.

"I always loved when you played these songs for me when I was little."

"That's because you thought it was your dad singing. Actually, you thought every guy singer you heard was him."

I laugh because that's true. It took me a long time to understand that not every man on the radio was him singing. "I've just always loved his voice."

"He does have a good voice, but he can't compare to the King."

Letting go of his hand, I bring mine together behind his head, pull the black rubber band out of his ponytail, and wrap it around my wrist. With a shy smile, I clasp my fingers together at the back of his neck while he gives his head a little shake, his hair landing in an oddly alluring shaggy mess.

"Why'd you do that?" He asks, his warm hands circling my waist, pulling me a little closer to him.

"I like how it looks when it's messy." His hands tighten around me, and he turns us towards the window where the blue glow of the moon is shining through, revealing his devilish grin in the dim light of his living room.

"I think you just want to steal my rubber band," he accuses.

"It's not stealing if you let me have it."

His smile widens. "You're right. Should I be worried about you hoarding all my stuff? I thought you would have outgrown this by now. You're not gonna start clipping pieces of my hair, are ya?"

Tilting my head, I finger the ends of his hair, pretending I'm contemplating that. "I do like your hair," I tease playfully, but on the inside, I've started to shake like a leaf. I haven't stood this close to him since I was a little girl, and I can feel his body heat mingling with mine. It's exhilarating and frightening at the same time. I slide my hands down to his shoulders, thinking it will ground me to hold on to him, but instead, the inner jittering amplifies. His shoulders are wide and hard, so different from the boys I've touched. Where they were athletic and lean, he's like a rock wall. The solidity of him is incredibly powerful, almost commanding me to get closer, to touch him more.

"I kinda want your shoulders," I say with a light laugh to mask my nervousness as my hands move hesitantly down towards his chest.

He leans his forehead against mine, still swaying us slowly back and forth to the music, and laughs softly. "Unfortunately, you can't take those home and put them in your box. They're stuck to me."

Suddenly I'm overtaken with the notion of taking him home with me, putting him in my box of cherished things and keeping him for my very own.

I've lost my mind.

I peek up at him through my bangs to find his eyes just inches from mine, hidden behind his impossibly long dark lashes.

"I could get a bigger box," I whisper, my heart fluttering.

His eyes open and lock onto mine, and somehow the space between us is diminished, our bodies leaning into each other, my breasts against his chest. I'm not sure which one of us moved or if we moved at the same time. All I know is I don't want to ever move again.

"Yeah...you could."

My breath catches at the soft deepness of his voice and the unexpected brush of his hand across my cheek. My gaze drifts to his lips, so close to mine, but not nearly close enough.

Oh God, I want him to kiss me.

As if he can read my mind, he quickly pulls away from me, clearing his throat as he walks across the room to turn off the music.

"Tor..."

"It's late. We should go to bed," he says, looking at the mp3 player likes it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen and very obviously not looking at me.

My heart is pounding so hard in my chest I can't find the strength or air to speak. I nod slowly to his back and bend down to pick up my shoes and bag, glancing over at him questioningly.

Wow. My very first cold shoulder. This night just keeps getting better and better.

"You can sleep in the guest room," he says, still turned away. "You know where everything is."

"Okay," My voice is squeaky and strange and doesn't sound like mine at all. "Thank you for picking me up. I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize, Kenz. You did the right thing calling me."

Did I?

"Could I borrow a t-shirt? I don't have anything to sleep in."

The look on his face when he turns burns right through me. "I'm not even going to ask why you didn't bring anything to sleep in when you were staying at a hotel with someone."

"I forgot..." I say, following him to his bedroom. And it's the truth, I really did forget.

He's just shaking his head at me as he pulls a big black tee shirt out of his dresser, and hands it to me without looking at me.

"Thank you."

Once behind the closed door of the guest room, I let out a deep, shaky breath. I have no idea what just happened, but it was definitely something new. I felt it. And I'm pretty sure he did, too.