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“Fucking beautiful, ” he says with a slow grin. “And red.”

Red?

I look down at the dress, but it’s definitely black.

“Your panties, ” he says as clarification. “They’re red.”

I let out a burst of what I thought was going to be laughter, but it sounds more like a warbled cry. That’s when I realize tears are still streaming down my cheeks, so I bring my hands to my face and attempt to wipe them away, but they keep coming.

I can’t believe he just undressed me to prove a point. I can’t believe I allowed it. Now I know exactly what Ben meant when he said he finds it difficult to control his indignation in the presence of absurdity. He thinks my insecurities are absurd, and he took it upon himself to prove that to me.

Ben steps forward and wraps his arms around me. Everything about him is comforting and warm and I have no idea how to respond. One of his hands meets the back of my head and he presses my face against his chest. I’m now laughing at the ridiculousness that is my tears, because who does this? Who cries when a guy undresses her for the first time?

“That’s a record, ” Ben says, pulling me away from his chest so he can look down at me. “Made my girlfriend cry less than three hours into our relationship.”

I laugh again, and then I press my face to his chest and hug him back, because why couldn’t he have been there the second I woke up in the hospital two years ago? Why did I have to go two whole years before finally being given the tiniest bit of confidence?

After another minute or two of me trying to rein in my erratic emotions, I’m finally calm enough to realize that he doesn’t smell so good when my face is pressed against a shirt he’s been wearing for two days.

I take a step back and run my fingers under my eyes again. I’m not crying anymore, but I’m sure mascara is everywhere now.

“I’ll wear this stupid dress on one condition, ” I say. “You have to go home and take a shower first.”

His smile widens. “That was already part of my plan.”

We stand in silence for a bit longer, and then I can’t take being in this closet for another second. I push his shoulders and shove him out into the bedroom. “It’s almost four o’clock now, ” I tell him. “Be back at six and I’ll be dressed and ready to go.”

He walks toward the door to my bedroom, but faces me again before he exits. “I want you to wear your hair up tonight.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

He laughs. “Why the hell does luck exist if I’m not supposed to push it? ”

I point at the door. “Go. Shower. And shave while you’re at it.”

He opens the door and begins to back out. “Shave, huh? You plan on putting those lips on my face tonight? ”

“Go, ” I say with an exasperated laugh.

He shuts the door, but I can still hear what he says to Amber and Glenn as soon as he walks into the living room. “They’re red! Her panties are red! ”

Ben

What the hell am I doing?

She’s moving to New York. It’s dinner. That’s it.

But seriously, what the hell am I doing? I shouldn’t be doing this.

I pull on a pair of jeans and walk to my closet to find a clean shirt. Right when I get the shirt over my head, the door swings open.

“Hey, ” Kyle says, leaning against the doorframe. “Nice of you to come home for a change.” Jesus. Not now. “Want to have dinner with me and Jordyn tonight? ”

“Can’t. I have a date.” I walk to my dresser and grab my cologne. I can’t believe Fallon willingly got as close to me as she did with the way I smelled today. It’s a little embarrassing.

“Oh yeah? With who? ”

I slide my wallet off the dresser and grab my jacket. “My girlfriend.”

Kyle laughs as I slip past him and begin walking down the hallway. “Girlfriend? ” He knows I don’t do girlfriends, so he follows after me to drain me for more info. “You know if I tell Jordyn you’re on a date with your girlfriend, she’ll question me until my head explodes. You better give me something to work with.”

I laugh. He’s right; his girlfriend likes to know everything about everyone. And for some reason, since she’s about to move in with us, she thinks we’re already family. And she’s especially nosy when it comes to family.

Kyle follows me straight out the front door, all the way to my car. He grabs my door before I can shut it. “I know where you were last night.”

I stop trying to shut the door and fall against the seat. Here we go again. “Your girlfriend has a big mouth, you know that? ”

He leans against the door, staring down at me with his arms folded across his chest. “She’s worried about you, Ben. We all are.”

“I’m fine. You’ll see. I’ll be fine.”

Kyle stares at me silently for a few moments, wanting to believe me this time. But I’ve promised him I’ll be fine so many times, it falls on deaf ears now. And I get it. But he has no idea that this time really is different.

He gives up and shuts my door without another word. I know he’s only trying to help, but he doesn’t need to. Things really are going to change. I knew that for a fact the moment I laid eyes on Fallon today.

• • •

I walk up to her front door at approximately 5: 05 p.m. I’m early, but like I said... she’s leaving for New York and I’ll never see her again. Fifty-five extra minutes with her isn’t nearly as many as I want.

The door opens almost as soon as I knock on it. Amber grins at me and steps aside. “Why hello, Fallon’s boyfriend whom I’ve never heard of.” She motions to the couch. “Take a seat. Fallon’s in the shower.”

I glance at the couch and then at the hallway that leads to Fallon’s bedroom. “You don’t think she needs my help in the shower? ”

Amber laughs, but then just as quick, her face falls flat and serious. “No. Sit.”

Glenn is seated on the couch opposite the one I’m being forced to sit on. I give him a nod and he raises an eyebrow in warning. I guess this is the moment Fallon warned me about.

Amber crosses the living room and takes a seat next to Glenn. “Fallon tells me you’re a writer? ”

I nod. “Ben the Writer. That would be me.”

Right before she fires her second question, Fallon suddenly appears in the opening to the hallway. “Hey. Thought I heard you out here.”

There are no signs of her actually having just taken a shower. I turn back to Amber and she shrugs. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

I stand up and walk toward the hallway, pointing at Amber but looking at Fallon. “Your roommate is sneaky-sneaky.”

“That she is, ” Fallon says. “And you’re here an hour early.”

“Fifty-five minutes.”

“Same thing.”

“Is not.”

She turns around and walks backward through her bedroom door. “I’m so tired of fighting with you, Ben.” She heads toward a bathroom off the side of her bedroom. “I just finished packing. Haven’t even started getting ready yet.”

I resume my spot on her bed. “No worries. I’ve already made myself comfortable.” I reach over and pick up the book sitting on her nightstand. “I’ll just read until you’re finished.”

She peeks her head around the doorway of the bathroom and eyes the book in my hands. “Careful. That’s a good one. It might change your mind about writing a romance novel.”

I scrunch up my nose and shake my head. She laughs and disappears back into the bathroom again.

I open the first page of the book, expecting to skim over it. Before I know it, I’m on page ten.

Page seventeen.

Page twenty.

Thirty-seven.

Jesus, this is like crack.

“Fallon? ”

“Yeah? ” she says from the bathroom.

“Have you finished this book yet? ”

“Nope.”

“Well, I need you to finish it before you move to New York so you can tell me if she finds out he’s really her brother.”

She reappears in the doorway in a flash. “What?! ” she yells. “He’s her brother? ”

I grin. “Gotcha.”

She rolls her eyes and disappears into the bathroom again. I force myself to stop reading and toss the book aside. I look around Fallon’s room and it already looks different from when I was in here an hour ago. She’s removed all the pictures from her nightstand and I didn’t even get a good look at them earlier. Her closet is almost empty, sans a few boxes on the floor.

I did notice when I walked in that she still had on the dress, though. I was hoping she wouldn’t change her mind and pack it before I had a chance to intervene.

I see movement out of the corner of my eye, so I glance at the bathroom. She’s standing in the doorway.

My eyes fall to the dress first. I have to give myself props for picking that one out. There’s just enough showing at her neckline to keep me good and happy, but I’m not even positive I’ll be able to look away from her face long enough to stare at her cleavage.

I can’t tell what’s different about her because it doesn’t even look like she’s wearing makeup, but she somehow looks even more beautiful than before. I’m glad I pushed my luck and asked her to wear her hair up, because she has it pulled up into some messy little knot on top of her head and I’m really digging it. I stand up and walk to where she’s propped up in the doorway. I lift my hands to the doorframe above her head and I smile down at her. “Fucking beautiful, ” I whisper.

She smiles and then ducks her head. “I feel stupid.”

“I barely know you, so I’m not about to argue with you over your level of intelligence, because you could very well be as dumb as a rock. But at least you’re pretty.”

She laughs and focuses on my eyes for a beat, but then her focus falls to my mouth and God, I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her so bad it hurts and now I can’t smile anymore because I’m in too much pain.

“What’s wrong? ”

I grimace and grip the doorframe tighter. “I want to kiss you really, really bad and I’m doing everything in my power not to do that yet.”

She pulls her neck back and her eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Do you always look like you’re about to puke when you feel like kissing a girl? ”

I shake my head. “Not until you.”

She huffs and pushes past me. That did not come out how I meant it. “I didn’t mean the thought of kissing you makes me sick. I meant I want to kiss you so bad it’s making my stomach hurt. Kind of like blue balls, but in my stomach instead of my balls.”

She starts laughing and brings both of her hands up to her forehead. “What am I gonna do with you, Ben the Writer? ”

“You could kiss me and make me feel better.”

She shakes her head and walks toward her bed. “No way.” She sits down on her bed and picks up the book I was just reading. “I read a lot of romance, so I know when the timing is right. If we’re going to kiss, it has to be book-worthy. After you kiss me, I want you to forget all about that Abitha chick you keep talking about.”

I make my way to the other side of the bed and lie down next to where she’s propped against the headboard. I roll onto my side and lift up on my elbow. “Abitha who? ”

She grins at me. “Exactly. From now on when you meet a girl, you better be comparing them to me instead of her.”

“Using you as a standard is completely unfair to the rest of the female population.”

She rolls her eyes, assuming I’m kidding again. But in all honesty, the thought of comparing anyone to Fallon is ridiculous. There’s no comparison. And it sucks that I’ve only spent a few hours with her and I already know that. I almost wish I’d never met her. Because I don’t do real girlfriends and she’s moving to New York and we’re only eighteen and so... many... things.

I stare up at the ceiling and wonder how this is going to work. How the hell am I supposed to just say goodbye to her tonight, knowing I’ll never talk to her again? I lay my forearm across my eyes. I wish I wouldn’t have walked into that restaurant today. People can’t miss what they’ve never been introduced to.

“Are you still thinking about kissing me? ”

I tilt my head back against the pillow and look up at her. “I moved beyond the kiss. Marry me.”

She laughs and scoots down on the bed so that she’s facing me. Her expression is soft with a trace of a smile. She reaches a hand out and presses her palm against my neck. My breath hitches. “You shaved, ” she says, running her thumb over my jaw.

I don’t think a single part of me could possibly smile when she’s touching me like this, because there’s absolutely nothing good about the fact that I’m not going to feel this way again after tonight. It’s fucking cruel.

“If I asked for your phone number would you give it to me? ”

“No, ” she says, almost immediately.

I press my lips together and wait for her to explain why not, but she doesn’t. She just continues to run her thumb back and forth over my jaw.

“Email address? ”

She shakes her head.

“Do you have a pager, at least? A fax machine? ”

She laughs, and it feels good to hear her laugh. The air was feeling way too heavy.

“I don’t want a boyfriend, Ben.”

“So you’re breaking up with me? ”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.” She pulls her hand from my face and rests it on the bed between us. “We’re only eighteen. I’m moving to New York. We barely know each other. And I promised my mother I wouldn’t fall in love with anyone until I’m twenty-three.”

Agree, agree, agree, and... what? “Why twenty-three? ”

“My mother says the majority of people have their lives figured out by the age of twenty-three, so I want to make sure I know who I am and what I want out of life before I allow myself to fall in love. Because it’s easy to fall in love, Ben. The hard part comes when you want out.”

Makes sense. If you’re the Tin Man. “You think you can actually control whether or not you fall in love with someone? ”

“Falling in love may not be a conscious decision, but removing yourself from the situation before it happens is. So if I meet someone I think I might fall in love with... I’ll just remove myself from their presence until I’m ready for it.”

Wow. She’s like a mini-Socrates with all this life advice. I feel like I should be taking notes. Or debating with her.

Honestly, though, I’m relieved she’s saying these things because I was afraid she would kiss me drunk and convince me we were soul mates by the end of the night. Because Lord knows if she asked, I’d jump right in, knowing it’s the absolute last thing I should do. Guys don’t say no to a girl like her, no matter how unappealing relationships are to him. Guys see boobs coupled with a great sense of humor and think they’ve found the holy fucking grail.

But five years seems like an eternity. I’m pretty sure she won’t even remember tonight after five years. “Will you do me a favor then and look me up when you’re twenty-three? ”

She laughs. “Benton James Kessler, you’ll be too famous of a writer in five years to remember little old me.”

“Or maybe you’ll be too famous an actress to remember me.”

She doesn’t respond to that. In fact, if anything, my comment made her sad.

We remain quietly in our positions, face to face on her bed. Even with the scars and the obvious sadness in her eyes, she’s still one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. Her lips look soft and inviting, and I’m trying to ignore the knots in my stomach, but every time I stare at her mouth, the intensity of trying to hold back actually causes me to grimace. I try not to imagine what it would feel like if I leaned forward and kissed her, but with her this close, I’m really wishing I’d have already somehow read every romance novel ever written, because what the hell makes a kiss book-worthy? I need to know so I can make it happen.

She’s lying on her right side, and with the dress she’s wearing, a lot of her skin is exposed. I can see where the scars begin, right above her wrist, all the way up her arm and neck, pouring across her cheek. I touch her face just like she was touching mine. I can feel her flinch beneath my palm, because I’m touching the part of her she didn’t even want me looking at a few hours ago. I run my thumb over her jaw and then slide my hand down the length of her neck. She’s tense everywhere beneath my touch. “Does this bother you? ”

Her eyes flicker back and forth between mine. “I don’t know, ” she whispers.

I wonder if I’m the only one who has ever touched her scars before. I’ve had accidents in the past where I’ve burned myself attempting to cook, so I know what it feels like when a burn heals. But her scars are a lot more prominent than a superficial burn. Her skin feels a lot softer to the touch than normal skin. More fragile. There’s something about the way it feels beneath my fingertips that makes me want to keep touching her.

She allows it. For several quiet minutes, neither one of us speaks as I continue running my fingers over her arm and neck. Her eyes moisten, as if she’s on the verge of tears. It makes me wonder if she doesn’t like it. I can understand why this might make her uncomfortable, but for some twisted reason, I feel more comfortable with her right now than I have all day.

“I should hate this for you, ” I whisper, trailing my fingers over the scars on her forearm. “I should be angry for you, because going through this must have been excruciatingly painful. But for whatever reason, when I touch you... I like the way your skin feels.”

I’m not sure how she’ll take the words that just came out of my mouth. But it’s true. I suddenly feel grateful for her scars... because they’re a reminder of how it could have been much worse. She could have died in that fire, and she wouldn’t be next to me right now.

I run my hand down her shoulder, down the length of her arm, and back up again. When my eyes meet hers, there’s evidence of a tear that just trailed down her cheek.

“One of the things I always try to remind myself is that everyone has scars, ” she says. “A lot of them even worse than mine. The only difference is that mine are visible and most people’s aren’t.”

I don’t tell her she’s right. I don’t tell her that as beautiful as she looks on the outside, I only wish I could look like that on the inside.

Fallon

“Shit. Fallon! Shit, shit, shit, dammit, shit, shit.”

I hear Ben cursing like a sailor, but I don’t understand why. I feel his hands meet my shoulders. “Fallon the Transient, wake the hell up! ”

I open my eyes and he’s sitting up on the bed, running one hand through his hair. He looks pissed.

I sit up on the bed and rub the sleep out of my eyes.

The sleep.

We fell asleep?

I look over at my alarm clock and it reads 8: 15. I reach over and pick it up to bring it closer to my face. That can’t be right.

But it is. It’s 8: 15.

“Shit, ” I say.

“We missed dinner, ” Ben says.

“I know.”

“We slept for two hours.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“We wasted two fucking hours, Fallon.”

He looks genuinely distraught. Cute, but distraught.

“I’m sorry.”

He shoots me a look of confusion. “What? No. Don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

“I only slept three hours last night, ” I say to him. “I’ve been really tired all day.”

“Yeah, ” he says with a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t sleep much last night, either.” He pushes himself off the bed. “What time is your flight? ”

“Eleven-thirty.”

“Tonight? ”

“Yes.”

“Like as in three hours from now? ”

I nod.

He groans and rubs his hands down his face. “Shit, ” he says again. “That means you need to leave.” His hands drop to his hips and he looks down at the floor. “That means I should leave.”

I don’t want him to leave.

But I need him to. I don’t like this panicked feeling that’s building in my chest. I don’t like the words I want to say to him. I want to tell him I changed my mind, that he can have my phone number. But if I give him my phone number, I’ll talk to him. All the time. And I’ll be sidetracked by him and every little text he sends, and every phone call, and then we’ll Skype all the time and before I know it I won’t be Fallon the Transient anymore. I’ll be Fallon the Girlfriend.

The thought of that should fill me with a lot more distaste than it does.

“I should go, ” he says. “You probably have a lot to do in the next few minutes so you can get to the airport.”

I don’t really. I’m already packed, but I don’t say anything.

“Do you want me to leave? ” I can tell he’s hoping I say no, but there’s so much of me that needs him to go before I use him as an excuse not to move to New York.

“I’ll walk you out.” My voice is small and apologetic. He doesn’t react to my words right away, but he eventually presses his lips into a thin line and nods.

“Yeah, ” he says, flustered. “Yeah. Walk me out.”

I slip on the shoes I had laid out to wear to dinner tonight. Neither of us says anything as we reluctantly head to the door. He opens it and walks out first, so I follow behind him. I watch him as he makes his way down the hall in front of me. His hand has a tight grip on the back of his neck, and I hate that he’s upset. I hate that I’m upset. I hate that we fell asleep and completely wasted our entire last two hours together.

We’re almost to the living room when he stops and spins around. Once again, he looks like he’s about to be sick. I stand still and wait for whatever it is he’s about to say.

“It may not be book-worthy, but it’ll have to do.” He takes two quick steps toward me until his hands are in my hair and his mouth is on mine. I gasp in surprise and grab his shoulders, but I immediately fall into step with him and slide my hands to his neck.

He backs me against the wall and his hands and chest and lips are pressed hungrily against mine. He’s gripping my face like he’s afraid to let go and I’m fighting for breath because it’s been so long since I’ve kissed anyone, I think I may have forgotten how to do it right. He pulls away long enough for me to inhale and then he’s back and... hands and... legs and... tongue.

Oh, my God, his tongue.

It’s been over two years since someone else’s tongue has been inside my mouth, so I would assume I’d be a little more hesitant than I am. But the second he slides it against my lips, I immediately part them and welcome the warmth of a much deeper kiss. Soft. Mesmerizing. His mouth, coupled with the way his hand is sliding down my arm, is all too much. So much. Good much. So good. I just whimpered.

As soon as the sound leaves my mouth, he’s pressing me harder against the wall. His left hand is caressing my cheek and his right hand is gripping me by the waist, pulling me against him.

I’m finished packing. He doesn’t have to leave right this minute.

Does he?

He really doesn’t. Sex releases endorphins and endorphins keep people awake, so having sex with Ben might actually benefit me before my flight. I haven’t had sex in all my eighteen years put together, so imagine how many endorphins I have built up in here. We could have sex before my flight and I wouldn’t need sleep for days. Imagine how productive I would be when I get to New York.

Oh, my God, I’m pulling him back to my room. If he comes back to my room with me, I won’t be able to tell him no. Am I really willing to have sex with someone I’ll never see again?

I’m crazy. I can’t have sex with him. I don’t even own a condom.

Now I’m pushing him back down the hall, away from my bedroom.

Jesus, he must think I’m crazy.

He shoves me against the wall again and acts like the last ten seconds of indecisiveness never even happened.

I’m dizzy. I’m so dizzy, it feels so good, my mother is crazy. Stupid, insane, absurd, and she’s wrong. Why would a girl care to find herself when she’ll never be able to make herself feel as good as a guy can? Okay, now I’m just being stupid. But Ben is making me feel really good things right now.

He groans and then I freaking lose it. My hands are in his hair and his mouth is all over my neck.

Grab my boob, Ben.

He totally reads my mind and grabs my boob.

Grab the other one.

God, he’s so telepathic.

His lips move from my neck back to my mouth, but his hands are still on my breasts. I’m pretty sure mine are cupping his ass, pulling him even harder against me, but I’m too embarrassed at my behavior right now to acknowledge that.

“I would say get a room, but I thought that’s what the two of you have been doing in there for the past two hours.”

Amber.

What a bitch. I’m beating her up as soon as Ben leaves.

I can’t believe I just had those thoughts. She’s my best friend.

Endorphins are bad. They’re evil and bad and make me think ridiculous thoughts.

Ben pulls his mouth from mine at the sound of her voice. His forehead presses against the side of my head and his hands leave their naturally assumed positions to meet the wall behind me.

I exhale a really, really, really pent-up breath.

“For real though, ” Amber says. “Glenn and I can see everything going on in this hallway. I thought I’d intervene before you got pregnant.”

I nod, but I’m unable to speak yet. I think my voice got lost somewhere down Ben’s throat.

He pulls away and looks down at me, and if Amber wasn’t still standing there, I’d be kissing that mouth again.

“Fallon was just walking me out.” His voice is raspy, and it makes me smile, knowing he’s just as physically affected by me as I am by him.

“Uh-huh, ” Amber replies. As soon as she disappears from my peripheral vision, Ben grins and his mouth is back on mine. I smile against his lips and grab at his shirt, pulling him closer.

“God, you guys, ” Amber groans. “Seriously. It’s five feet back to your bedroom and ten feet to the front door. Make a choice.”

He pulls away again, but this time he pulls all the way away. Like three feet away, until his back meets the wall behind him. His chest is heaving as he runs his hands down his face. He glances back at my bedroom door, and then cuts his eyes to mine. He wants me to make the choice, but I don’t want to. I kind of liked it when he took control and made the decision to kiss me. I don’t want the next decision to be on me.

We stare at each other for what seems like an entire minute. Him wanting me to invite him back to my bedroom. Me wanting him to just push me back in there. Both of us knowing good and well that we should head toward the front door.

He straightens up and shoves his hands in his pockets and clears his throat. “Do you need a ride to the airport? ”

“Amber’s driving me, ” I say, somewhat disappointed that I do, in fact, already have a ride.

He nods and rocks back and forth on his feet. “Well, the airport is absolutely not in the direction of my house, but... I’ll pretend it is if you want me to drive you.”

Dammit, he’s adorable. His words make me feel all warm and fuzzy, and... I’m not a damn teddy bear. I need to suck it up.

I don’t accept his offer right away. Amber and I won’t see each other again until she visits New York in March, so I don’t know if she’d be mad if I told her I’d rather a guy I’ve only known half a day drive me to the airport.

“I don’t mind, ” Amber says from the living room. Ben and I both look down the hallway. Glenn and Amber are sitting on the couch, staring at us. “Not only can we see you making out from right here, but we can also hear your conversation.”

I know her well enough to know she’s doing me a favor. She winks at me and when I look back at Ben, there’s a little more hope in his expression. I casually fold my arms across my chest and tilt my head. “You don’t happen to live near the airport, do you? ”

His mouth pulls into a grin. “Actually, I do. How incredibly convenient.”

Ben spends the next few minutes helping me with last-minute scrambling. I change out of the dress I had planned to wear and settle on yoga pants and a T-shirt so I’ll be comfortable on the flight. He loads my suitcases in his car as I tell Amber goodbye.

“Remember, I’m all yours during spring break, ” she says. She hugs me, but neither of us are the type to cry over a silly goodbye. She knows as well as I do that this move is good for me. She’s been one of my biggest cheerleaders since the accident, hoping I find the confidence I lost two years ago. And living inside this apartment isn’t where that’s going to happen. “Call me in the morning so I know you made it okay.”

We finish our goodbyes and then I follow Ben to his car. He walks around to open the door for me, but before I climb inside I take one last look at my apartment door. It’s a bittersweet feeling. I’ve only visited New York a handful of times and I’m not even sure if it’s something I’ll like. But this apartment is too comfortable, and comfort can sometimes be a crutch when it comes to figuring out your life. Goals are achieved through discomfort and hard work. They aren’t achieved when you hide out in a place where you’re nice and cozy.

I feel Ben’s arms wrap around me from behind. He rests his chin on my shoulder. “You having second thoughts? ”

I shake my head. I’m nervous, but I’m definitely not having second thoughts. Yet.