I want to cry. I want to ask a million questions, and I don’t dare.

Then it doesn’t matter anymore, because he shoves away and gets up. “Gotta go.”

He makes a beeline for the door and lets himself out. The door slams behind him, and I stare into space, trying to wrap my head around what he’s told me. What exactly was he doing on the street to earn money? What ‘old ways’? What is he trying to tell me?

Now I’m the one caught in his nightmare with no way of waking up.

***

“You need a website to sell these,” Ev mutters, lifting a pair of earrings made of copper coil and transparent glass beads with golden thread. “So cool. I bet Tyler could whip up one for you. Want me to ask? He’s got lots of experience.”

Any other time I’d be thrilled to discuss how I could live from my jewelry, but right now my mind is stuck on Jesse. I haven’t seen him or heard from him in the past four days, ever since he walked out of here. “I don’t know—”

“You should definitely ask Tyler for a website. I’ve seen a couple he created and they rock.” Kayla tries on a fuchsia pendant made of silver wire and colored thread. “Oh God, I’d totally buy half your stock in one go.”

Warmth floods my face. “Thanks.”

She bats her lashes and pulls down her blouse to show us cleavage while holding the pendant in place. “How do I look?”

“Come here, sexy lady,” Ev whispers dramatically and grabs Kayla’s arm, dragging her toward her on the sofa.

Kayla squeals and resists, a cat fight ensues, and I rush to rescue my pendant before it’s pulled to pieces. I retreat back to my armchair and roll my eyes at the two of them as they make faces at each other and cackle like demented hyenas.

“Are you done playing like two-year-olds?”

“Jeez, mellow down a little.” Kayla rolls off the sofa and lands on the carpet with an oof, and more laughter. “Oh man, I haven’t laughed like that in a while.” She grabs Ev’s foot and pulls until she gets her down on the carpet, too. “Missed you, girl.”

I do my best to ignore the tiny stab in my chest. They used to live together. Of course they miss each other. Heck, Ev has been telling me she missed me every week since I left town. But fighting insecurity is an uphill battle.

“Hey there, don’t look so gloomy.” Ev leans over and tugs on my leg. “Come down to our level. Madness is not contagious, I promise.”

“That’s what they all say,” I mutter, but slide down anyway, the box of my jewelry in my lap, and shoot her a smile. “In any case, it’s too late.”

“That’s my girl.” She snatches another pendant from my box and holds it up to the light. It’s polished copper, matching her curls. “Oh, I want this one, too.”

“I could sell you the box in return for a house on the lake.”

“You’re so incredibly generous.” Kayla bats her lashes at me.

“Just the box, though. I’m keeping the jewelry.”

“You’ll make a good businesswoman,” Ev says, distracted by the pendant. “Oh boy, I’m loving this one.”

“Then keep it,” I say.

“I’ll pay for it.”

“No way.

Ev sighs. “And here I thought you could think business.”

“We’re friends.”

Like I am with Jesse. We banter, we hug, we do things for each other. That’s what friends do, right? It doesn’t matter that I want him, that I want to kiss him, and lick him, and—

“Have you thought about your studies? You said you wanted to change direction, give up architecture.”

“Yeah.” I put the box beside me, stare blindly at the metal and glass. “I was thinking to take art as my major. I like creating things people wear, you know? Art that touches them, that touches their skin as much as their heart. Art that pierces them, and hugs them, and tethers them somehow.”

Silence spreads.

I blink. Uh-oh. Was it a mistake to say what I feel? People often find me weird.

But Kayla whistles and pats my foot. “That was deep, girl. Me like. You could use it as your logo. Art that pierces you to the heart, or something.”

I shake my head. Not so sure about that.

“I say go for it. Study art, focus on what you really like. What you got there,” Ev waves at my creations, “says the same. This is your path.”

That’s my feeling, too. I remember lying in my bed back in Chicago, wondering what craziness was driving me to return here, why I suddenly decided I needed to escape. Up until then I thought my parents could save me, fix my past and my fears, give me the best advice about my future. Architecture was their idea, as it combined art and more practical aspects of life.

I don’t want practical. I want my dreams back. I don’t want to bury my fears. I want to fight them and beat them.

Enough of running.

“I’ll talk to Tyler,” I say and run my fingertips over the smooth beads—over Jesse’s smooth, warm skin, over taut muscle and sinew—

“Something else on your mind?” Kayla taps her forehead. “I can hear cogs turning.”

“She needs lubrication,” Ev quips, the traitor, then rolls on the carpet, laughing. “Oh my God, lubrication …”

“Now, now. Very funny.” Kayla pats Ev’s head, her eyes on me. “Shh. Let’s hear what’s troubling Amber here.”

I gather up my knees and rest my forehead on them. “I’m just worried about Asher’s wedding.”

“Why?” Kayla frowns at me.

“I’m not good around people.”

“Nonsense,” Ev says. “You’re great. It will be lots of fun. You’ll see.”

Yeah, right. I love Ev, but sometimes I don’t think she really knows me. She can’t understand how I freak out like that in crowds. Thinks I can get over it.

As if I haven’t tried.

I think again of Jesse offering to take me, make sure I have fun. Will he do it now? I doubt it. I tried calling him—got his number from Micah, who promised not to tell him anything—but he doesn’t reply. I’m more worried about him than I am about the wedding, which is stupid.

He probably doesn’t want to talk to me or see me again, after my interrogation of him.

I bite on my lower lip. This is what’s troubling me, but how can I tell the girls that? They’ll laugh. They’ll tell me to stop thinking about him.

And I frigging can’t. I feel like I’m losing my mind.

While I’m lost inside my mind, Kayla makes a grab for my box, and she spreads pendants, earrings and bracelets on the red carpet. Ev bends over them eagerly, like a kid at Christmas, and their exclamations of awe and their giggles wash over me.

A thought has hit me, and it’s sending chills down my spine.

I told Jesse I’m antisocial, too, and he didn’t believe me. Then I got comfortable, let myself free to do and say whatever came to my mind. I thought we were just talking, but instead I pushed him until he snapped and ran, like I knew would happen.

Like everyone else, he expected me to know the boundaries, to behave normal. He said I could be myself, that I’m fine as I am—but apparently that was a lie.

***

Saturday morning and I’m standing in front of Jesse’s door.

This is a bad idea. I know it, and I wish I had a better one, but if I ask Ev or Kayla or any of the boys to take the bags with Jesse’s new clothes over to his place, they’re bound to ask me questions and assume lots of things that aren’t true.

I don’t need more teasing and harassment. Seriously, I’m fine most of the time, but avoiding drama is half the work.

Besides… I need to see Jesse.

I reflect on that, my finger hovering over the doorbell. Although I’m pissed at him for vanishing, I don’t blame him. In fact, I’m worried about him. After dropping that bomb—and I’m still not sure what he was telling me exactly—I want to look into his eyes and make sure he’s okay.

It’s been years since that evening he was attacked, I remind myself, hefting the bags in my hand. The plastic is cutting into my palm. He’s here, alive, perfectly healthy, working and flirting with girls. Going shopping with you. He doesn’t need your concern. He survived all by himself, but still…