It’s emotion mixed with desire.

And I decide that might be the most powerful combination of all.

With every flick of his tongue, with every greedy touch of his lips, with every caress of my face, I know it's not just a silly love potion.

It's what love is supposed to be.

Scary, exhilarating—from the top of the world to the pits of hell—all-consuming love.

I think of his time bomb app, knowing that if I had one, it would be set to go off in March when I’ll go public, not August for my birthday. Which means I should follow his lead and appreciate the time we have left.

Liquidity.

12:30am

I flip open my screen to find B waiting for me.

He looks upset. Or pissed at me, I’m not sure.

“Hey. You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, but I don’t believe him. Something’s off.

“Did something happen?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Oh, good. I’m kinda nervous about this call. I know nothing about this stuff.”

“Me either. That’s why I set you up with Michael. So, conference him in, then I’ll introduce you and let you two talk.”

“Wait? What? You’re not staying on the call?”

“There’s really no reason to.”

“Yes there is! I can’t do this without you.”

“Look, finance is not something I really give a shit about and I don’t care to learn. As long as I have my board, I’m happy.”

“We’ve had that conversation before, B. It was bullshit then and it’s bullshit now.”

“Whatever. I’m traveling and I have to practice. I don’t have time for it. Do you still want me to introduce you or what?”

I push back tears and force myself to stay calm. “Yes, please.”

B goes, “Hey, Michael. Keatyn is on the line, so I’ll let you take it from here.”

Then there’s a little beep indicating that he left the call.

Michael is talking, listing his qualifications, but I’m looking at B. He gives me a sad smile, a little finger wave, and then logs off.

“So, a hostile takeover—how long will it take?” I ask Michael, trying to cut to the chase. I mean, I’m assuming it’s not really that hard to buy a company.

“Let’s talk about whether it’s even possible first.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s possible. He’s, like, leveraged, right? And that’s bad.”

“Yes, he is. The company is ripe for a takeover, but you have to be able to make it happen.”

“And how do I do that?”

“You offer to buy his investors out. If enough people sell, then you end up with the majority of the stock, which means you control the company. That’s what you want, right?”

“Yes. Are there any other benefits?”

“Well, the obvious one would be that you vote the current Chairman of the Board out of office.”

“Is Vin, um, Mr. Sharpe the chairman?”

“Yes, he is.”

“That’s perfect. I want to do both. Buy them out and appoint someone else. What will it cost?”

“That all depends on what his stockholders want. I’m emailing you a simple document so you can follow along.” The way he says “simple” makes it sound like he thinks I don’t have a clue.

I mean, I don’t. But still, I’m not loving his attitude.

I don’t say anything, though, because I desperately need his help.

“I have the email,” I tell him, pulling the document up on my computer.

“His company isn’t publicly traded, so it’s hard to get financial information. The numbers you see are what I believe it to be worth. And, from the digging I did as a favor to Mr. Wright, I have a list of investors along with their initial investments. Those are below. Do you see them?”

“Yes.”

“The next document shows the company’s liabilities. And the next is Mr. Sharpe’s balance statement.”

I scroll through page after page of spreadsheets, trying to keep up. “Uh, huh.”

“As you can see, his asset to debt ratio is very high.”

“Okay. And why is that important?”

“That ratio refers to his liquidity. He’s borrowed money on all of his assets, meaning he won’t be able to personally fight a hostile takeover. From on-the-ground intel, he’s invested a lot of money in a single movie and is betting the farm that it’s going to be a blockbuster.”

Mom’s movie could financially ruin him?

Wouldn’t that be poetic justice?

“But, as you can see from the figures on the last page, acquiring this company will take a substantial amount of capital.”

I look at the very big number on the last page. One that would require more than my entire trust. I think about the scholarship check I just wrote.

For a second, I reconsider it.

I quickly shake my head, clearing the thought. I can’t take it back and I don’t want to.

Besides, B promised his trust to help.

I’ll be fine.

“How do you plan to raise these funds?”

“Well, I have my trust fund, and Brooklyn said we could use his for whatever I’m short.”

“That’s what I thought. Unfortunately, Brooklyn doesn’t have control of his trust, nor will his father authorize the early release of any funds. So, unless you can arrange financing, there’s nothing further to discuss.”

This is why B didn’t want to be on the call.

Freaking chicken shit.

“I can get the money,” I say quickly.

“And how is a seventeen-year-old going to do that?” he asks condescendingly.

“I don’t know exactly,” I admit quietly.

“That’s what I figured.”

I bite my tongue, thank him for his time, and hang up.

I set the phone down in my lap, feeling paralyzed, like I’m lost at sea with no land in sight.

How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to win without B’s help?

I can’t.

That means prong two of my attack is out, which blows my whole plan to smithereens.

Damnit!

He has to help me. He promised! This was his idea!

I call him.

He doesn’t answer.

I hang up and call again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

I keep punching the button over and over.

By the time he finally answers, I’m pissed and crying frustrated tears.

“You should have told me yourself if you didn’t want to help me! I can’t believe you would bail on me like this! I need you!”

“This hasn’t exactly been easy on me. I’ve gotten shit from every direction for what I said about you. God, it was spur of the moment! I am grateful that you encouraged me! And I care about you. I wanted to help. My dad was willing to help, but he freaked the fuck out yesterday when he heard about the photo. Told me if I have anything to do with you it will jeopardize everything we’ve worked so hard for. My career. My future. He trashed the takeover idea. Said it was like poking the hornet’s nest. Said I can’t use my trust. So, I’m sorry, but my hands are tied. And, come on, don’t I get some credit for what I’ve already done? Michael did all sorts of research.”

“You should’ve had the guts to tell me yourself. And without your help I don’t have enough money to go through with it anyway! My plan—no, your plan—is ruined.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You just don’t get it!” I yell. And as soon as I say the words, I know they’re true. I realize that’s exactly the problem. Other than one horrible picture, B’s life hasn’t changed much. He’s not in hiding. He’s living his dream.

“What don’t I get?”

I calm down and use my bitch voice, hoping I can scare him into seeing how important this is. “Every move you make is on the internet, Brooklyn. The tour schedules. The photos. You might think you can just bow out, but you can’t. You screwed yourself when you thanked me. And that means she’s in danger too.”

“Don’t give me a guilt trip. I know you’re seeing someone too.”

“Yeah, but the difference is, I’m somewhere safe. You’re not.”

I hang up on him.

And feel very alone.

I sit in the cold stairwell staring at the floor until my phone buzzes, startling me.

Hottie God: Dallas and Riley want to take me somewhere tonight. You up for that?

Me: Uh, no. Not at all.

Hottie God: Are you tired?

Me: Yes, but I can’t sleep.

Hottie God: Then I’m coming over until you can.

Me: I’m kind of crabby.

That’s an understatement.

I roll my eyes at myself. I’ll just tell him not to come. That I’ll see him tomorrow.

Hottie God: I’ll rub your face like I did when you were sick.

Or not.

Me: I’ll be waiting.

I sneak into my room, unlock the window, and get under my covers.

A few minutes later, Aiden has his arms wrapped tightly around me, and my face is snuggled into his neck.

“You sound like you’ve been crying,” he whispers.

“Just, you know, family stuff,” I say, sort of telling him the truth.

“Tell me. Maybe I can help?”

“No one can help, Aiden,” I say pathetically.

He runs his hand over my tense neck muscles, kneading them gently.

“That feels good.”

“You’re stressed and I want to make you feel better. In the morning, I’ll be gone, but I want you to . . .”

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 1ST

You come to me.

7:14am

I’ve just hit snooze for the third time when there’s a knock on the door. I look over at Katie’s bed and see she’s already gone. I vaguely remember her mentioning a Spanish club meeting.

“Come in.”

Aiden walks in carrying a bag and a cup of coffee. He’s dressed in a pale green Oxford, making his eyes look even greener than usual. He sits on the edge of my bed.

“Brought you some breakfast.”

I sit up, pushing my messy hair out of my face.

He rubs his thumb across my cheek. “You seemed upset last night. I wanted to make sure today gets off to a good start.”

I close my eyes and press my face into his hand, which causes him to wrap his arm tightly around me.

“Shit,” I say, “it’s getting late and I need to get ready. Do you wanna stay here while I do?”

“Of course,” he says, sitting down at my desk.

I run into the bathroom, get ready quickly, then run into my closet and throw on a white blouse and my skort. I walk back into my room, looking for my black sweater, and find it draped over the back of the chair Aiden is sitting in.

He stands up quickly, pulls me into a hug, and then kisses me.

The perfect kiss. Soft. Slow. Sweet.

“Do you remember what I told you last night?”

“That you’d help me?”

“No, after that. About what you’re supposed to do this morning?”

I shake my head. “Sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”

“I thought so,” he says, kissing my nose. “I told you to wear the cowboy boots your grandpa gave you. That they’re lucky and they’d make you feel better.”

A lightbulb goes on in my head. Grandpa.

“Ohmigawd, Aiden, you’re brilliant,” I say with a big grin, running to the closet to grab my boots. “That’s exactly what I need.”

I come out of my closet wearing a smile.

“That’s what I like to see. You smiling,” he says.

I give him a long kiss, letting my body melt into his. “Thanks for coming over last night, and for breakfast. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m gonna have to bring you breakfast more often if I get kisses like that,” he says adorably.

“Come on, we better get to class,” I say, pulling away.

But he holds me firmly.

“But from now on, when you’re upset, you come to me, okay?”

I get lost in his sweet eyes and nod in agreement.

“You and me. That’s all we need,” he says, giving me another long kiss then leading me toward class.

Riley sits next to me in history and says discreetly, “So I talked to Cam last night. Asked how the hell we’re supposed to get stuff there. Get this. He told me to go back on Saturday night before curfew and all will be revealed.”

“All will be revealed?”

“I guess.”

“What did he say about taking other people there?”

“Pillowcase over the head unless you know one hundred percent that you can trust them.”

“So who do you think we can trust?”

He looks up toward the ceiling, thinking. “Aiden and Logan.”

“I’d agree. What about girls?”

“Girls are tricky. I trust Ariela but what happens if we break up? If it got ugly?”

“I don’t know. What about Peyton?”

“Maybe, but I definitely don’t trust Whitney.”

“Lets keep it small for Saturday night.”

“Do sort of a dry run and see how it goes?”

“Yeah, I think that would be smart.”

“You know, I was thinking that might be just the place to take Ariela on Sunday night.”

“I thought you were coming to dinner for Aiden’s birthday?”

“Well, it’s our one month anniversary, and I want it to be special. Like, I’m hoping it’s really special,” he says, lowering his voice.