When he was in sixth grade, Grayson broke his leg skateboarding. I'd seen it happen. His leg bent in an unnatural position. His screaming. It was like a scene out of a horror movie.

That's the thought that came to mind when I fell through the floor of Demarcus Lancaster's tree house. My body on the ground. Limbs bent in ways limbs shouldn't be bent.

But the ground never came for me.

Corey caught my arm. His hand folding around my forearm, keeping me from breaking every bone in my body.

"Give me your other hand."

Despite practically running from him before, I did what he asked. I knew when to be stubborn, and now wasn't the time.

He pulled me up easily. So easily, in fact, that he underestimated his own strength. The momentum sent us crashing to the dirty tree house floor. I fell on top of him, my head banging against his chest.

The tree house shuddered from our fall. I glanced up at Corey. The boy who had saved my life. Or, at the very least, saved me from breaking a bone or two. I opened my mouth to thank him, but he spoke first.

"Off."

My eyes narrowed as I pushed myself up on my hands, hovering over him. "Excuse me?"

"Get off." He didn't wait that time, practically pushing me away from him. He stood, dusting himself off. "If you want to stay in this death trap, be my guest."

I sat there on the grimy floor, staring at him in disbelief. Asshole.

"You're welcome, by the way," Corey said once we were both safely on the ground outside.

A small crowd had gathered when I fell through the floor. Now that the excitement was over, they went back to the party. Demarcus reattached the sign I removed from the tree house, announcing that it was off limits.

I turned to Corey. It was easy to meet his eye since we were practically the same height. That meant he could see the disdain I felt towards him with no trouble.

"First of all, I would've been fine if you hadn't come up there bothering me."

He let out a harsh, breathy laugh. "If Gray wasn't my best friend, I would've let you fall."

My jaw dropped as he turned and walked away. Was he serious?

"Harlow!" Liah rushed over. "Harlow, oh my God. Are you okay? I heard you almost died."

I shot another look at Corey's retreating back. Apparently, I almost did. "I'm fine," I told her, tearing my gaze from him.

"You're bleeding." She said, flashing her phone light at my legs. There were a series of small cuts on my shins. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I think I just want to go home."

This party was meant to be my coming out party. Everyone was supposed to see that I was my own person, disconnected from my brother. So far, all I showed them was my underwear.

Liah nodded, slinging an arm around my shoulder and guiding me out the side gate to get to her car. "I'm thinking, brownies and bad horror movies?"

I sagged against her. "Yes, please."

• • •

The next day, I woke up to a string of messages from Grayson. I deleted them all without reading them. Then, for good measure, I blocked him. He was gone. Miles away and still acting like he was my dad.

Aside from the messages, I also had an alert reminding me I had an order to finish that month.

My family wasn't struggling, but we didn't have a lot left over after all the major things were paid off. That meant I had to support my own book buying habit. Since the idea of food service and taking orders from anyone didn't appeal to me, I monetized what I did best: nails.

Ever since I was little, I'd been obsessed with watching videos online about nail art tips and tricks and designs. Last year, with the help of Liah, I started an online shop. Harlow's Nails. The name needed work, but it'd do for the time being.

Because of school and my perfectionism, I only took on three orders a month. At twenty-five dollars a set, I could buy three new books a month. More if there was a really good sale happening.

I had one order left for the month and a wishlist with about thirty books on it. After getting ready for the day, I went down to my "workshop". An area of the garage wedged between the Christmas decorations and the dryer.

While I was working on painting sunflowers on a thumb nail, Mom came in. She wore her normal outfit of dark wash jeans and a t-shirt. This one said "Mom Mode Activated." She had on one of her many wigs because she always claimed she was too lazy to handle her natural hair.

People always said I looked like my mom. Aside from the mahogany skin and deep dimples, I didn't see it.

"She's in here," she spoke into her phone. To me, she said, "Grayson's been trying to call you. Is there something wrong with your phone?"

I made a show of unlocking my phone and showing her the fully functional screen. "It's working." He was just blocked and he knew it.

Mom held her phone out to me. She didn't know about the issues between Gray and I. Mom already had so much on her plate being a single parent and all. Gray and I had an unspoken rule to not drag her into our drama.

So, even though I didn't want to, I took the phone.

"What?" I barked once Mom went back into the house.

"You fell out of a tree?" He skipped all pleasantries, getting straight to the point.

"Didn't your informant fill you in on the details?" I absentmindedly ran my fingers over the scratches on my legs.

"This is why I didn't want you at that party." He sighed, ignoring my comment. "You could've gotten hurt. Or worse."

What if I told him that his bestie was willing to let that happen?

"You're being dramatic," I said instead. "The tree house was barely off the ground."

Even as I said it, the memory of last night flashed behind my eyelids. My heart pounding. Body dangling way too many feet above the ground. Corey's grip on my arm. I was still shaking from the experience after Liah dropped me off at home.

"That's not the point," my brother said. "How do you think Mom would've felt getting a call like that? Your actions have consequences, Harlow."

There he goes again, acting like my father. He was only sixteen months older than me, yet he acted like he knew everything.

Mom walked back into the garage to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer. "Ask him if he's coming down this weekend."

Please say no, I pleaded to no one in particular. "Mom wants to know--"

"I can't. Not this weekend."

A smile threatened my lips. Someone out there was on my side. "That sucks. He can't come, Mom." She pouted and went back to her laundry.

"You sound real broken up about it."

I let myself smile then. "Awe, love you, too, big bro."

"Yeah, right."

Mom took her phone back and I continued my work on the nails. But my mind kept wandering to the weekend of possibilities laid out before me.

• • •

"You never told me what happened with Elijah," I sang out his name, making Liah blush like crazy.

We were at our favorite department store. Liah wanted to give her room a make over. She'd had the same purple and pink theme since birth. Literally. Her bedroom used to be her nursery.

She was testing out a chair, sitting in it and crossing her legs, her go to position. "We talked."

"Define talked?"

"Talked as in talked," she said, cheeks full on tomato red. "I wasn't looking for a hook-up. Plus, I felt woozy after you tried to give me alcohol poisoning."

"It's not my fault you're bad at beer pong."

She climbed out of the chair, moving on to the next. "What happened with you and your partner?"

I picked up a door hanger, princess spelled out across the top in silver glitter. The tree house incident was still a sore topic. "Corey."

"His name was Corey?" She asked, snuggling down into the plush chair.

"No, Corey ruined it!" I filled her in on how he chased Travis away. She laughed when I told her he ran. "It's not funny. I haven't had a boyfriend since Kadeem. That was freshman year."

He turned out to be gay. To this day, I still think Grayson knew and that was the only reason he didn't chase Kadeem away like all the other guys.

Liah moved on to a beanbag chair, sitting cross legged as she peered up at me. "You know what you need?"

"Please inform me." I sat on the ottoman next to her.

"You need to find a guy who doesn't know Grayson."

"Everyone knows Grayson."

My brother had the charisma of a cult leader. He made friends anywhere he went. Always knowing the exact thing to say to make a someone blush or earn their respect. It was annoying.

"Maybe everyone at West Valley, but there's more than one high school in the area."

The idea rolled around in my head. Could it be that easy? Was the solution to my problems at Oakwood High? The longer I thought about it, the more perfect it sounded.

"And I just so happen to know where the Oakwood kids hang out," Liah said, probably reading my mind.

Maybe this was going to work out.