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Except for those soul-reaching smiles of his.He couldn’t help those.

But tonight was going to be different. We’d talked so much by this point that I was pretty damn sure I could finally make a move without being entirely rejected. Because Greyson’s actions might’ve said one thing, but I swear the way he sometimes looked at me spelled out something completely different.

He wanted me too, I was sure of it.

Wasn’t I?

Yes. Yes, I was.

Right?Right.Right?Hell, I didn’t know, but I knew I had to go for it. I knew I would forever regret it if I didn’t. And what was the worst that could happen?

A lot. A whole fucking lot.

I was pulled from my thoughts when my dad walked into the kitchen. One thing that had definitely changed since that first night with Greyson at Jaymes’ party was that I was now sleeping in my own bed, in my own house. The closest thing to it, anyway. I didn’t want to keep giving Jaymes the wrong idea—or, if I was being totally honest with myself, I didn’t want to keep giving Greyson another reason to stay away from me.

My dad and I didn’t say anything to each other as he strode across the open space, quietly pouring himself a mug of coffee. It wasn’t unusual, the silence. After my first few days of living here, and the complete lack of communication on my end, him and his wife seemed to be content in leaving me be. I couldn’t tell if they were just super observant and giving me the space I needed, or if they actually just didn’t give a shit. Either way was fine by me.

His wife walked into the room then. A tornado of chaos. Two screaming babies strapped to her body like a suit of armor, a diaper-bag of weapons haphazardly slung over her shoulder, a bottle in one hand and a shoe in another as she hobbled across the kitchen trying to get it on her foot.

Dad held her steady. I kept eating my cereal, more intrigued by their interaction than normal. I don’t know why, but I had the sudden urge to grab my camera and snap a shot of it.

So, I did.

All eyes in the room landed on mine. All eight of them if I was counting. I quickly stuffed the camera into my bag, barely catching the sad smile on my dad’s wife’s face before she smoothed it away. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed her holding something back. So maybe she did care.

And maybe I was the asshole.

She wasn’t the one who’d done anything wrong, after all. Wasn’t the one who’d abandoned me before I was even born, and wasn’t the one who hadn’t cared to ever call or write or visit. She wasn’t the one forced to play dad with her ownchild when my mom died.

But I’d been down one road with one mother. I didn’t want to go down this one with another.One year. Thirteen months, and I’d be eighteen and out of here. They’d forget all about me and go back to life as usual. I couldn’t wait, and I was sure they couldn’t either.

My dad turned towards her, planting a kiss square on her mouth, brushing off the whole strange encounter. “Super-mom, ready for battle,” he said, chuckling, and it immediately irritated me. Him and I were nothing alike; we weren’t supposed to share the same thoughts.

I stood from my stool at the bar-top, quickly sliding my backpack over my shoulder.

“School?” he asked, as if it weren’t where I was obviously headed. I didn’t answer him. “Why don’t you take your car, sweetie?” he added.

My whole body tensed, clenching with anger. I’d spoken an entire five sentences to him in the past six months, and he was calling mesweetie?I wanted to scream, but I answered with a, “No thanks,”through gritted teeth instead. I didn’t want anything more from him than I needed. A bed to sleep in, clothes on my back, food in my stomach. I’d figure the rest out on my own. And he sure as hell didn’t care before, when I’d been living with a dead-beat, drug-addict of a mother, so why the hell did he care now?

I slammed the front door closed behind me, wishing I could fast-forward time. To tonight. Next year. Ten years from now. But I’d settle for the next few hours.Just get me to that party.

Instead, the day seemed to go by in slow-mo, mocking me with a middle finger raised to my face. But eventually, after for-fudging-ever, I landed myself on that same couch, with my same best friend, drooling over the pictures we’d taken over the last few weeks. I’d brought my favorite one for Greyson. The one of him chugging down his water at football practice. The one where half of it was sliding down his chin and neck. The same one that I may or may not have had hanging in my room since the day after I took it.

I wasn’t a complete psycho, though. It was only one of a few dozen other black and whites that were pinned to my wall. That werenotof Greyson, thank you very much.

Sara noticed me finger-petting the image of him in my lap. “He’s still playing hard to get, huh?” she asked.

I made some sort of indecipherable noise. A snort; a grunt; I don’t know. It only made her laugh, before saying under her breath, “Speak of the devil.”

I looked up, only to find Greyson sauntering into the room like agoddamnmodel straight out of GQ. Honestly, it wasn’t fair for someone to look that good. He was wearing some new black chucks, dark jeans, and a plain white shirt, so really, it didn’t even make sense, the effect he had on me.How the hell was I supposed to make a move when he looked like that?But let’s face it, he kind of always looked like that. Without even trying. I wasn’t sure he even knew how good-looking he was.

Our eyes met from across the room, and he threw one of those tilted smiles my way before heading into the kitchen with Jaymes and the guys.

And that was my cue. I was going to go outside and wait for him on the grass, and when he met me out there, like he always seemed to, I was going to suck it up and make my move. No matter how scared shitless I kind-of-sort-of felt about it.

I was outside for maybe five minutes before I felt him sitting down beside me. My eyes were closed, my back pressed against the grass. Two shots in, and the devil on my shoulder was screaming at me to not back out, while the angel on the other was reminding me of the thousand and one ways we were about to embarrass ourselves.

“Hey, Jess,” Greyson said, the smoothness of his voice slipping beneath the surface of my skin the way it always did.