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October 19

Since my parents don't own a fancy coffee machine, I ended up trying to seem less lame by putting a kettle on the stove as a search through the drawers for a Nescafe sachet. Color rises in my cheeks at the thought of Shane seeing it and I stand with my back toward him.

"Shouldn't you be eating something by now?"

He speaks and I nearly drop the sachet, freezing. Turning around slowly, I watch him take a seat at one of the chairs at the island, leaning over it to place his arms flat on the top. One corner of his lips turns upward and he raises his eyebrows as if questioning me about whatever is on his mind.

As for me, I can't get past the fact that he looks too hot to be real.

"Sugar?" I ask, blinking and trying to imagine something horrendous so I won't get lost in his metaphorical pools of mesmerizing eyes.

"No, thanks," he says. "I'll have some chocolate instead."

His mention of chocolate reminds me of the one he'd handed me in the car. Reaching into my hoodie's pocket, I take out the bar of snickers and hold it out to him. His smile falls a little and he frowns at my hand.

"You don't like chocolate?" he asks, taking the bar from me and putting it in front of him.

I hesitate, turning away from him and fiddling with the knobs of the stove which is refusing to boil the water already.

"I do, I just ..."

I trail off, figuring out what to say and even if I should say it or not. I've grown so accustomed to keeping my feelings bottled up that the prospect fo sharing them with someone is frightening. Shane isn't a judgmental person, though, so that eases my anxiety a bit. Regardless, my heartbeat echoes in my head when I attempt to speak.

"Carter would get me chocolate," I admit, smiling a little at the memory. "He knew I liked them so he'd get them for me every time I was mad at him, or down, or just ... whenever he needed something done." I chuckle. "He'd buy me tons of them and sometimes even blackmail me by refusing to give them to me when I asked."

Still smiling, I look back at Shane who has a small smile resting on his face.

"I like chocolate but it brings back memories of a person I can't bring back," I confess.

Shane nods, licking his lower lip.

"Your relationship with Carter was amazing," he says. "I mean ... He was always there, like that protective older brother --"

"We were the same age." I laugh.

"Yeah, but he was the boss, you know?" Shane laughs too. "I didn't know him too well but I could see he really cared about you."

"You noticed that?" I pick up.

"Yeah, it was hard not to." Shane grins. "He made it impossible for anyone to talk to you."

My heart clogs in my throat and I smile despite the sadness. It's crazy how Shane noticed Carter's overprotectiveness despite us never crossing paths. Carter didn't have many friends, his entire life revolving around our small but happy family. He was the life of our house, always laughing, always smiling. No matter how bad things got, he could always find a silver lining to focus on. He was always happy.

Or maybe he was just really good at pretending.

"You don't know how many times he intercepted my attempts to ..." He stops suddenly, his eyes widening as if he's said something wrong.

I blink, wondering where exactly he was going with his phrase. Connecting it to his previous comment, though, I have a vague idea.

"You wanted to talk to me?" I guess.

Shane's Adam's apple bobs when he swallows and forces a smile.

"Well, yeah," he admits, clearing his throat. "I actually ... I kind of liked you."

Liked me?

"I mean, I still do but ... what are we talking about again?" he barks out a self-conscious laugh, red blotching his cheeks.

I smile, biting my lower lip as my Mom's old kettle whistles loudly. Turning towards it, I'm almost glad to have something aside from Shane to focus on. Tearing open the 3-in-1 coffee, I dump the powder into a mug and pour the steaming water, watching the froth rise. By the time I turn back to Shane, he's staring at his hands, deep lines etched into his forehead. If he's anything like me, he's probably wishing he'd kept his mouth shut rather than say anything at all.

"Sorry, I don't really have the kind of coffee you're probably used to," I say, hoping to get him back to his usual self.

Shane takes one look at the mug and sighs. "As long as it's caffeine, I can handle any kind."

He reaches for the mug and our fingers touch.

If only life was a romance movie and we'd feel electricity sizzling through our bodies and time would freeze over while we stare into each other's eyes before deciding we're in love and all that jazz.

In reality, though, both Shane and I force small smiles at each other and back away without a word.

"So ..." I begin to break the uncomfortable silence that keeps stretching on and on. "What do you think is wrong with me?"

"Well." Shane clears his throat and sits up straighter. "You have self-expression issues. Sometimes you're angry for no reason and then you're smiling this cheesy smile that I don't know what it means. Not to mention you're very protective of your friends and they're always with you so it's basically crazy for anyone to figure out a way to talk to you without your friends eyeballing them. And let's not forget that this is not really coffee but it tastes okay anyway because at least it's got caffeine. And your sarcasm is unexpected sometimes so I have to wonder if you're being serious or if you're trying to be funny, which you sometimes are without trying. But then again --"

I punch his arm, laughing at how impossible Shane is right now. He joins in, lifting his palms towards the ceiling and shrugging, a smug grin lighting up his face.

"You're insane," I comment.

"I thought I was weird."

"Congratulations, you've been promoted," I announce. "Would you like a medal?"

"Yes, please."

The thought comes to me from nowhere and I reach up to unhook a random necklace I'm wearing, a small, silver circle with a random swirl passing unevenly through it. I take it off and approach Shane who remains seated. Without saying anything, I place the pendant around his neck and hook it up. As for Shane, he gets to his feet and bows dramatically, wiping his cheeks of invisible tears.

"My life is finally complete," he says, pretending to sob.

"You're welcome." I jut out my chin and flash him a smile. "Anything else you'd like me to do?"

"Go out with me?"

Shane's words hit me like a punch and I pull back, wondering when our jokes turned serious. Maybe he's still joking. The smile on his face isn't mocking, though, more gentle and somewhat anxious.

"Taylor, I like --"

He's cut off by the sound of my door unlocking and being kicked open. Jumping back, I lock my hands behind my back just as Mom comes around the corner and freezes in the doorway. She looks from me to Shane, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Good morning, Mrs. Ming," Shane says politely, recovering faster than either my mother or me "Shane Gray."

Mom nods and I wait for her senses to catch up with her. Her eyes find me beside Shane.

"You didn't go to school today?" Mom asks.

I want to laugh but don't even smile. "It's Saturday," I point out, turning away and busying myself with cracking some eggs and preparing an omelet for myself.

Mom doesn't speak and I don't look back at her to see if she's still standing there or if she's poured herself some wine and retired to her room for the day. Nonetheless, soon Shane clears his throat and shifts the now-empty mug close to me on the island.

"I should get going," he says softly, suddenly sounding detached.

Wondering if he's upset that I didn't respond to his offer to take me out -- which makes my insides twist into knots -- I glace at him out of the corner of my eye. Shane, though, seems to be frowning, appearing somewhat preoccupied. Over his shoulder, I catch sight of Mom still standing awkwardly in the kitchen doorway. I kind of wish I could ask her to either leave or make small-talk like any normal person would.

"Thanks for the coffee," Shane mumbles, taking a step away from me.

"Wait, Shane," I blurt out, mentally smacking myself for sounding so panicked. I feel Mom's eyes burning holes in my ski but I pretend she's not here.

Shane stops, biting the inside of his lower lip while tiny lines remain between his eyebrows.

"Thanks for the ride and for yesterday and for ... everything."

I hate how lame I sound, how freaking awkward and self-conscious. Shane, though, smiles a little.

"I'll see on Monday?" he asks.

Strangely enough, a part of me had hoped he'd ask me again to go out with him. Quite expectedly, though, he doesn't, either because of my hesitance to answer the first time or because of my mom who is slowly inching towards the fridge. Or both.

"Yeah, Monday," I mumble.

"Oh, and ... take care of yourself, you know?"

I blush at how affectionately he looks at me.

"I know."

He snickers a little, glancing at my mom who is trying to sneak a bottle of wine toward her room without being noticed.

"Have a nice day, Mrs. Ming," he says.

Mom almost drops the bottle, hiding it behind her back as she forces a see-through smile back at Shane. I'm sure Shane notices her attempts at hiding her slow deterioration into alcoholism. Thankfully, he's too nice to comment, though.

"Stay safe and hydrated," Shane says to me one last time.

I snort. "Sure, lame-o."

He winks at me and my legs turn into jelly. I somehow manage to walk him to the door, holding it open as he walks out and turns back to look at me before he gets into his car. A friendly wave and dimpled smile later, he's driving away from my house.

Leaving behind a bubble of happiness and desire for Monday to come by faster so I can see him.

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A/N: Yikes, why did I post this chapter when it's so not ready yet? Who cares! At least I updated.