Looking at them together is a slap in the face. The girl he'd obviously already spent time with tonight is really pretty. She's got big brown eyes, perfect blonde hair, and a waist so small it's a wonder all her internal organs can fit inside her body. Maybe they're all stuffed into her huge boobs instead.

"No, I'm not kidding," I tell her, finding my voice again. "Caleb, come back to our suite."

He looks confused.

"Your shirt is still in my room," the girl says with a big grin. She probably expects him to blow me off, and she's probably right.

To my surprise, Caleb slings an arm over my shoulder. He smells like beer. "I gotta go with her."

I can detect a slight slur in his speech, confirming that he's not completely sober.

The girl ducks back in her room, but reappears a second later. She whips his shirt at him. "You're a loser," she says, and then looks at me. "You can have him."

When she slams the door, it's just Caleb and me standing in the hall. I shrug off his arm. He hasn't put his shirt back on and his zipper is still undone.

"Are you coming?" I ask impatiently.

I'm kind of surprised that he follows me back to our suite. I unlock the door.

"I need help," Caleb slurs as he drapes his arm across my shoulders again. I can feel the heat of his bare skin through my clothes. In the past I would have done anything for Caleb to put his arm around me. But not now.

"You have beer breath," I tell him, pushing him off me. "And if you want help zipping up your fly, you've asked the wrong girl."

He stumbles into the suite behind me and collapses on the couch. "So you're the wrong girl for me but the right girl for Matt?" he asks.

"Shut up, Caleb. Matt's just a friend."

"I don't think so. I think you've moved on to him."

"My relationships are none of your business. And just because I talk to a guy doesn't mean I've moved on to him."

"Right. I knew that." He looks around, confused. "Wait, where's the rest of our little dysfunctional group?"

"At a movie."

"Why aren't you with 'em?"

As if on cue, a sharp pain starts at my ankle and shoots up my calf. I would suck in a breath, but I don't want Caleb feeling sorry for me. "I need to rest my leg."

He pats the cushion next to him. "Take a load off and sit next to me."

Caleb's hair is sticking up in all different directions and that damn zipper is still open as a reminder of what he was doing with that girl tonight. Problem is, he still looks good. My top lip curls, thinking about him and that other girl. "No."

"Come on, just for a second."

His eyes are at half-mast and he's attempting to act all vulnerable and innocent, but I know better.

"You should probably go to bed before Damon catches you drunk or on drugs or whatever you ingested tonight," I tell him.

"Sit with me for a minute, then I'll disappear into my room and you won't have to see me for the rest of the night. I promise." He fumbles with his fly and finally zips and buttons his pants, then leans his head against the back of the couch. "And just so you know, I didn't do drugs. Could've, but didn't. Don't want to end up like my mom," he mumbles.

That's the first time I've heard him talk about his family since this trip started. I hear a distinct sadness in his voice when he mentions his mom, which makes him seem even more vulnerable.

I stand right in front of him, determined to be the rational one. "You were drinking tonight. Don't deny it."

His lips curve into a small smile. "Yeah, I drank. Feels good to not have to think about ... everything."

I hesitate. Being close to Caleb isn't a good idea. "I should report you to Damon."

"Yeah, you should."

I sigh. "But I won't."

"Why not, Mags? Could it be that deep down in that frozen heart of yours you still like me?"

He reaches out and pulls me toward him. Not being very steady in the first place, I stumble forward, but he cradles my body with his arm and gently lowers me to the couch until I'm lying down. Under him.

"Don't answer that question," he says.

My brain tells me to scramble away and keep my distance, but my body isn't listening to my brain. My body has a mind of its own. I look up into Caleb's intense, sea blue eyes. Those depths are totally focused on my lips, reminding me of the first time we kissed back in Paradise. It was at Paradise Park, right after he held me while I cried in his arms.

I swear the air grows thicker around us, closing in like a dark cloud. All I hear is the sound of our breathing. I forget everything else and let myself enjoy being this close to him again.

He brushes my hair away from my face with unexpected gentleness, the pads of his fingers a soft caress brushing across my cheek. I bunch my hands at my sides, afraid that if I actually move I'll slip back into reality.

Caleb shifts and moves closer. "Maggie, do you want this as much as I do?" he asks, his face poised right above mine.

"I ... I can't answer that."

He leans back just the slightest bit, but he's still close enough I can smell the alcohol he drank tonight.

"Why not?" he asks.

I move my hand to his bare chest to stop him before I lose all common sense. Having him this close makes me breathe harder and my pulse race, which just makes me even angrier with myself than with him.

"Do you really have to ask? You were obviously with another girl tonight, Caleb. I'm not degrading myself by being sloppy seconds."

"I didn't kiss her. I swear."

When I give him an I-don't-believe-you look, his expression turns gravely serious. "I'm not gonna say we didn't fool around, but I couldn't go through with it 'cause I was..." He squeezes his eyes shut. After a second he opens his eyes and stares right into mine with that serious look again. "Forget it."

"Just go to bed," I tell him, trying to push him off of me. "It's obvious you're drunk and aren't thinking straight."

"Kiss me, then I'll go to bed."

"You're crazy," I choke.

"Yeah, I know." His lips are twisted into a half smile. "But humor me just this once." His head slowly dips toward mine. I watch and hold my breath as his beautiful, full lips get closer and closer. "Oh Maggie," he murmurs softly when I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck. "I need this."

I must not be thinking clearly, because I say against his lips, "Me too."

His hands are braced on either side of my head as he brushes his lips over mine. We kiss tentatively, as if we're both not sure it's okay. My heart is slowly melting. My entire body tingles with excitement and anticipation as one of his hands grabs my waist and pulls me closer.

I close my eyes and pretend we're back in Mrs. Reynolds' gazebo when it was just the two of us. It felt so good; it couldn't have been wrong. Back then he held me and made me believe that as long as we were together, everything else would fall into place.

I sigh into Caleb's open mouth; it comes out as a little whimper. He leans away from me. I open my eyes and find him smiling-a one-hundred-percent-satisfied male smile.

As if my response is his cue to take this further, Caleb gives a guttural growl right before he lowers his head again. His mouth is on mine, open, his tongue searching. I think my brain is trying to send off warning signals, but my body and my own tongue are enjoying the attention too much to listen. The sounds of our tongues and lips and moans spur me on, and I find myself raking my hands through his hair, pulling him closer.

"Touch me," Caleb urges as he reaches out and traces my lips with the soft tip of his finger and dips it into my mouth.

I convince myself to think of the gazebo. As long as I keep my eyes closed, we're there-we're in the past and not the present. He's going to tell me how much he cares about me any minute now. He's going to tell me that I'm the only girl he wants and needs.

He traces a wet path down my neck and dips his finger into my the V of my T-shirt. His mouth follows with little kisses before he moves up and kisses me again. I start to sweat with passion. I'm on fire.

It's all slow and erotic, our tongues reaching out and gliding and searching as if we're both savoring the taste of each other. The bitter taste of beer has been replaced by this sweet scent that reminds me solely of Caleb. I'm lost in the present, but my mind and body are stuck in the past. It feels good and oh, so right to be finally kissing him like this. And touching him.

He said he needs this.

I wasn't lying when I admitted I needed it, too.

When he reaches under my shirt and rubs his thumb across the top of my bra, the rest of his hand cradling my breast, I feel like the world has stopped and it's just the two of us left. I feel a warm sensation running from my breast to the tips of my toes and back again. My insides are slowly melting into little puddles.

Until my cell phone rings. It's in my purse, ringing loudly and interrupting my fantasy.

"Don't answer it," Caleb rasps. "Ignore it."

He kisses me again, but the gazebo is gone. The moment is lost.

My cell phone keeps ringing. I turn my head, breaking the kiss, and blink a sudden tear of frustration away as I send my arm flailing for my purse.

"I can't." My hand finds the side pocket and I grab my cell. The number glowing on the Caller ID makes me suck in a breath. "It's my dad," I say slowly as I nudge Caleb's hand away from under my shirt. I let the phone ring and ring until the call gets transferred to voicemail.

My dad, the guy who calls me once or twice a year. My dad, who left me and barely looks back.

I look up at Caleb, still poised above me. He's the boy who left and didn't look back until we were forced together on this trip. He betrayed me just like my dad did. He lied to me just like my dad did.

He fooled around with another girl tonight, then moved on to me like it didn't matter. Different face, different body, same interchangeable good time.

I'm pathetic and the only one I can blame is me. I could have said no. I could have acted like I didn't want this. I could have walked into my bedroom and shut the door.

But I didn't.

Instead, I stepped closer to him ... almost testing him to see if he'd make a move. Sure enough, he took the bait. I'm no better than that girl he was with tonight.

"Caleb, what are we doing?" I ask.

He leans away from me to sit up again and sighs. "Oh, no, here it comes. Your introspective, emotional, and philosophical self is coming out."

"Why shouldn't I be introspective? We don't make sense.

"Neither does chocolate and peanut butter, but somehow it works," he says. "Somehow the mixture of those two things is genius."

"You're drunk. I'm not talking about food. I'm talking about two people with a really screwed-up past-"

"Stop thinking so much," he says, finishing my sentence. "No matter how much time has passed, it doesn't seem to matter." He rubs my arm gently, tickling my sensitive skin. "I don't know why we're both fighting it so much. Hell, I couldn't do it with Brandi tonight because all I could think about was you. I even called her your name," he says, rambling. "Yeah, it's screwed up, we're screwed up, but why hide the fact that we still want each other?"