She hadn’t actually expected to hear from him even after they’d exchanged numbers. The texting had turned into a daily thing—day and night. They’d even emailed on subjects a little too long for texts: subjects like the one she still had questions about.

“I’m still surprised Sal let you take his car to come see me. Grace told me about how adamant Sal was that you shouldn’t be trusted.”

She knew it was a sore subject for him. When he’d sent her the email explaining about his past indiscretions, as he referred to them, there was no hiding the tone of it. He resented having to tell her. But he had to because he preferred she’d hear it from him and not his cousins. Only the things he’d told her didn’t seem like quite enough to make Sal so distrustful. Yes, getting caught tagging was bad, but he explained it, and while she agreed he’d made a bad choice being there in the first place, he’d had the good sense not participate. He told her about a few fights he’d been in recently, and how his brother had been caught shop lifting, and that his mom blamed him. Not that Vincent had ever shoplifted but some of the guys he hung out with had, and Vincent had brought them around Lorenzo.

“It’s not his car. You kidding me? He’d never let me drive that thing. It’s the restaurant’s car, but I did have to make a few promises and was duly warned again about behaving myself.”

He hid the resentment pretty well behind that sexy smirk, but she could still see it. There was no hiding the anger deep in his eyes. There had to be more to this. “Can I ask you something pretty personal?”

He nodded, but his smirk slowly fell.

“I know you told me about the things you’d gotten in trouble for: the tagging, the fights, all that.” She shrugged. “As bad as those things are, I can’t help but think those are pretty typical for a teenager. Okay, maybe not the getting arrested part, but fighting and talking back to your parents and all don’t seem enough to make Sal give such serious warnings about you.” She tilted her head hoping he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. “Are you sure you’re not leaving anything out?”

His jaw locked, and she knew she’d touched a nerve. There was more. Rose sat up straight. As much as she liked Vincent and somehow she just felt like she could trust him, she needed to be sure. She owed it to herself and to Grace to make sure she wasn’t getting involved even just as friends with someone who might be dangerous.

Rose turned to look up at him, but he glanced away. “There is more, but I don’t want you to know about every stupid thing I’ve ever done. It’s in the past. I’ve learned my lesson and I’m straight now.”

Rose peered at him. His last comment made her think of the reality show on TV about thugs who go to a tough-love boot camp to be literally scared into going on the straight path. Some had done some horrible things. Surely Vincent couldn’t be that bad. Almost afraid to ask she did anyway. “What do you mean by straight?”

He jerked his head to meet her eyes wide open. “No, I didn’t mean it that way. I’ve always been, you know, straight in that sense. I just meant—”

Rose laughed at his misunderstanding. “I know that’s not what you meant, but there’s this show on cable called Scared Straight. Kids get sent to boot camp to get straightened out.”

“Yeah,” Vincent frowned, “I’ve seen it.”

“Some of those kids are pretty messed up.” Rose cringed, remembering the episode where one kid had tried to burn his own parents’ house down while they slept in it and the other kid who was caught bringing a knife to school he planned on using against one of his teachers. He said he wasn’t really going to do it, but he’d been in so much trouble already, they sent him on the show anyway.

“I can’t say I was much better.”

Vincent glanced away again as Rose’s heart plummeted. “I wanna know.”

“Why?” He turned back to her now the sparkle in his eyes replaced by something much colder. “I’m not like that anymore.”

The mood had changed completely. She hated that she’d looked forward to this for so long, and now that may’ve all been for nothing because she couldn’t get involved with someone that messed up. His looks alone screamed bad boy. He had a tattoo at only sixteen; he carried himself with such confidence that the girls at her school would be all over him, and the boys wouldn’t dare mess with him. He cussed a little too much. He’d even admitted to smoking weed once upon a time, but he’d been smart enough to stop. All that, but he couldn’t possibly be a bad boy who’d plan to knife a teacher or blow up his parents’ house. Yet, here he was comparing himself to them.

She stared at him, hopeful that he could convince her somehow that he wasn’t that bad. He didn’t look like any of those kids on TV—didn’t talk like them. “Because I need to know what I’m getting myself involved in. You said it yourself in your email that hanging with the wrong people could be perilous no matter how much you try to not get involved.”

Tired of looking up at him, she stood up and moved from the bench, sitting on the table next to him. He turned to her. Sitting this close made her heart start fluttering again: a feeling much more welcome than the hollowness she’d begun to feel just moments ago.

“Little by little I’ve shut a lot of people out of my life,” he began, “people that brought nothing but trouble. No matter how many times they got busted, they never learned. Even some of the guys doing the tagging that are out now because they still don’t even know what the outcome of that incident is gonna be, are already getting in trouble for other crap. They don’t learn. I don’t need that shit in my life. I have my brother to think about. For some reason his ass thinks I walk on water. Everything I do he wants to be part of.” He stared at his feet. “Do we really have to talk about this, Rose? I’m not proud of any of the stupid things I’ve done. I’d rather that not be the first real impression you get of me.”