Author: Teresa Mummert

“Not really my scene,” I mumbled, as we made our way into a small empty room. I immediately went to the window, where the moonlight poured in.

“Mine either.”

“Then why are you here?” I turned back to look at him. He leaned against the wall as he pulled something out of the tin and dug around in his pocket.

“Why are you here?” he asked, as he put a joint between his lips and held the lighter to the end. It glowed hot orange, and shadows danced against his skin.

“Nowhere else to be.”

He nodded as if he understood as smoke drifted from around his lips. It was mesmerizing. He held the joint out to me, and I stepped closer to him and took it between my fingers as he exhaled, engulfing me in a white cloud.

“We traded one drug for another?” I raised an eyebrow, and he grinned, his eyelids heavy.

“Pot isn’t a drug.” He chuckled as he ran his fingers through his messy, dirty‐blond hair.

“What is this place?” I asked, as I held the joint to my lips and inhaled, filling my lungs.

“It’s nowhere.” His reddening eyes locked on mine as he threw my words back at me. I grinned as I let the smoke expel from my lungs and instantly felt lighter.

“It looks like it’s ready to fall apart.” I held the joint out, and his fingers ran over mine as he took it, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Nah.” He glanced around the room. “It just needs some love.”

My cheeks began to burn as he studied my face, and I squirmed under his gaze. “It’s a house that everyone has forgotten about,” I told him.

“It was once someone’s home. It was a dream, a future.” He took another drag as he stared down at the glowing cherry. “And it hasn’t been forgotten. Not yet. We’re here.”

“We’re here and nowhere.”

“Exactly.” He pointed at me and nodded.

“I think you’re high.” I laughed as I took another hit, shaking my head. It wasn’t often I was able to let the stress slip away. I felt brand new. The past fell away to the present with no thoughts given to the future. I was high. I backed up against a wall and slid down, my knees against my chest.

“I’m Abel Jensen,” he said, as he slid down against the wall next to me, his head resting against its peeling surface.

“Lie,” I said, as he smirked.

“It really is,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

I laughed, loud and bubbly. “I believe you. I’m Delilah Monroe, ‘Lie’ for short.”

He chuckled as he ran his palms over the front of his cargo shorts. He wore a plain white T‐shirt that hugged his long, lean muscles.

“You surf?” I asked, as I studied him. He looked carefree and easygoing, but his eyes looked tired, and not just from the pot.

“Not as much as I used to.”

“You live so close to the beach. I get it, though. Classes kind of take up all my time too.”

“I never go.” His eyes flicked up to mine and back to his shorts. He looked embarrassed.

“Why not?” I crossed my legs and rested my elbows on the insides of my thighs.

He shrugged but didn’t answer. I leaned back against the wall and ran my hand through my long blond hair, grabbing a chunk and holding it in front of my eyes as I inspected the split ends from the constant dye jobs.

“The waves in Cali are so much better.” The easygoing smile was back on his lips, and I couldn’t look away. “You ever been?”

“No.” I leaned forward, my arm extended for him to take the joint back. “I’m done,” I said, as he took it from me and held it to his perfect mouth. I got lost in the thought that I’d just had my lips on it, and it felt like we’d done something intimate.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, as he shook his head slightly, like he was in on a joke that I had missed.

“I’m sure it is.” I sighed as I stretched my legs and silently cursed Trish for letting me wear a skirt.

“I meant your hair.” His eyes studied me, and I watched them dip lower, running the length of my bare legs before he met my eyes again. “Reminds me of that actress in Garden State.”

“Thanks. Wait…wasn’t she a brunet?” My body felt hot, and I knew I was pink all over as I cocked my head to the side, but Abel just shook his head as his high settled in. I wasn’t used to boys hitting on me. High school had been pure hell for me—besides Brock. My chest ached and tightened as he ran through my mind. A lot had changed since Mississippi. Brock was too far away. Even being in front of him would feel like a million miles away. I was no longer the sad, worthless girl who cowered and cried to herself. I was no one, anyone, and anything I wanted to be.

“What?” I asked, as I realized his eyes were still on me.

“Nothing.” Abel shrugged as he let the joint burn out and placed it back in the mint tin.

“I should probably get going.” I pushed up from the floor, careful not to flash my panties. I really did want to kick Trish’s ass for not telling me where we were really going.

“Your friend is probably going to need you to take care of her for a while.” He stood and stretched, his cotton T‐shirt lifting to reveal the hard ridges of his abs.

“What did she take?” I asked, as I ran my hands over the back of my skirt.

“X.” He shook his head as he clenched his jaw, the muscles pulling and flexing under his skin.

“She’s an idiot.” I shook my head as well but immediately regretted my words. Trish was supposed to be my friend, but sometimes I couldn’t stand her.

Abel laughed as he rubbed his palm over the back of his neck. “She’s in good company then.”

I glanced up to his blue‐green‐ocean eyes, and he winked, setting free a thousand butterflies in my stomach. I realized my mouth was hanging open, and I snapped my lips together as I nervously tucked my hair behind my ear and made my way from the room. Abel followed me down the creaky stairs, and I suddenly felt like pushing open the front door and taking off into the night. So that’s what I did. As my foot came off the bottom step, I pushed forward and grabbed the door handle, but it didn’t turn, and my paranoia from my high began to creep over me. I turned around to face Abel, whose eyebrows were pulled together as I pressed my back against the door. He kept coming, his body so close that I felt the heat from his skin, and goose bumps broke out over my arms as he reached out and twisted the lock on the handle. I breathed out, realizing I’d been holding it in, and the corner of his lip twitched upward as he took a small step back.

I spun around and pulled the door open, my lungs desperate for fresh air. I walked out into the night, down the steps of the porch, and put my hands on my knees as I gasped.

“Are you all right?” Abel called from behind me. I shook my head, not wanting to hear my voice sound weak. Nothing could make me look any more pathetic than my panic attack. Fear crept up from my stomach and spread through my body. There’s nothing to be scared of, I repeated over and over in my head. A hand spread out over my back, and I shot up and turned to see Abel with concern in his eyes, hidden behind the red glaze. The color made the swirling sea color pop, and I stared, mesmerized. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. No one was trying to hurt me anymore, but it didn’t stop the fear that raced in my chest and made me feel as if my heart would explode.

“I just need…a minute.” I looked down at the gravel and grass, which were illuminated by the moonlight.

“Just breathe, Delilah.” His hand was on my back again, and he slowly counted down from ten, his voice low and soothing. I couldn’t help get lost in it and let it cloud my thoughts.

“You a shrink or something?” I joked, as I finally started to come back around.

“No, but I’ve seen my fair share.”

“So you’re crazy. Good to know.”

“Just needed someone to talk to,” he said.

I got that. I got it more than Abel realized. I didn’t know what I’d do without Marie, but there were things I couldn’t even tell her. It was like a brick resting on my chest, on my conscience. It weighed a ton, and I would have loved to have someone help me carry it, take some of the pressure off me, but Brock was out of reach. I could picture him right then, and it made my heart hum.

“Good morning.” Brock stuck his head inside my room, and I jumped from my bed.

“You’ll get in trouble if they catch you in here.”

Brock stepped farther into my room and crossed his arms over his chest, a playful smirk on his lips. “Do you want me to leave?”

I bit my lip as I stared at him. I shook my head, and he smiled at me.

“Then I’m not leaving.”

“They’ll make you. They’ll take away your privileges.” I stepped closer to him and lowered my voice so no one would hear.

“It’ll be worth it, Bird.”

My heart raced at his nickname for me, and for the millionth time, I wanted to ask him what it meant, but my heart was stuck in my throat, and that was when I noticed a sadness in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him.

“Nothing.” He laughed nervously and shook his head.

“Seriously? You have to tell me, or I’m going to scream.”

His eyebrow cocked as if he were challenging me. I opened my mouth, but before the sound left my throat, Brock’s body was flush against mine, his strong hand over my mouth as he smiled.

“You trying to get me in trouble, Bird? That’s not very nice. I thought we were friends.”

I tried to ignore the fact that he had called me his friend. It boggled my mind that he’d risk getting into trouble just to be near me—not that I was complaining. His hand slid from my mouth, and I sucked in a ragged breath, suddenly very aware of his hard, muscular body, which was pressed against mine. His eyes narrowed, and the smirk fell from his lips as we studied each other.

“Want to know why I’m sad?” he said. “My mom called this morning to let me know my grandma died. She isn’t even getting me out to go to her funeral back in Boston.” His arm fell from my waist, and I wobbled on my feet as my emotions went from one extreme to the next along with Brock’s. My heart was racing from his nearness and breaking over his pain.

“I’m sorry.” I had no idea what to say. I’d never had a friend, let alone had to comfort one while he or she was hurting.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Bird.” He shrugged, the sad gaze now carefully masked behind a blank stare. “Shit happens, right?” he spat angrily.

I nodded as I picked at my thumbnail.

“Hey.” He stepped closer, the palm of his hand sliding over my cheek, and I struggled not to lean into his touch. “I’m fine. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped that on you. This isn’t your problem.” He stepped back, his hand falling to his side as he turned to leave the room.

“Wait,” I whisper‐yelled after him as he stepped into the hall. “Wait for me.” I followed after him, and his lips formed a smile.

“Always, Bird.”

“Where did you go just now?” Abel was in front of me, his face full of concern. I felt like a fool, getting lost in my memories.

“I just spaced out.” I forced a laugh. “I must really be high.”

He smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked worried. I walked toward the house. Maybe if I hung out with Trish, I could stop thinking about my problems. Abel walked with me, but he stayed a step behind.

“Trish?” I called out as I stepped inside. I walked into the living room, and Trish was on one of the guys’ laps as she kissed him fiercely, her hips rocking to the beat of whatever song was playing. She was still fully clothed, but something told me it wouldn’t be long until that changed. Douche bag number two was watching them intently, his hand down the front of his jeans. “Trish!”