"Whoa, you have to slow down," he cuts me off. "Go back. He kissed you?"

"Uh huh."

"What happened?"

"It was late Christmas night. We were lying down, and it just sort of happened. I don't know. We just kissed, then we fell asleep together."

"Well, how did you feel when you woke up?"

"Really confused. I mean, I know we've been hanging out a lot, but I feel like I don't know a whole lot about him. And then everything Mark told me about all the girls started freaking me out."

"But he told you he wants to be with you?"

"Yeah, we went to the beach, he just came out and told me, and then I agreed with him. We ended up sleeping together again. And then his mother was insinuating that he's talked to her about me in the past, and that kinda intimidates me."

"Why?"

"What do you mean? You know I have zero experience with this shit. I have no clue what I'm getting myself into. I have never felt this way about anyone before, and I'm scared."

"What are you scared of?"

"Everything. He hasn't done anything more than kiss me, but what happens when he wants to do something else? Knowing what Mark told me, I feel like I just can't handle this. I'm scared he's going to touch me, and then what?"

"Ryan doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would push you."

"What? How do you know?"

"Because, he told me how he feels about you."

"What?!" I squeal out. "When?!"

"He called me Christmas Eve to tell me what happened with your parents. He told me that he's been having feelings for you for a while and wanted to know if he was wasting his time."

"What did you say?"

"I told him I thought he should tell you. But I told him not to fuck with you if he wasn't serious, that you've been dealing with a lot, and that I didn't want to see you get hurt."

I'm shocked. My heart is racing, and I don't know what to say.

"Candace?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"Don't joke with me, Jase."

"Because if I told you, you would have never let this happen. You would have completely shut him out, and you need to start living again."

"I have been living."

"You've been existing. There's a big difference."

His words cut into me. I can continue to make excuses, but I know he's right. Tears well up in my eyes, and when I sniff, Jase is right there with me.

"Don't cry, Candace."

"I'm scared."

"I know. But it's okay to feel that way. You have to feel this. You have to start opening yourself up again."

"Am I going to lose you?" Wow, that came out of nowhere. But, I have been thinking a lot about what will happen after this year. Plus he's with Mark now. What if Mark gets a job out of state? Will Jase go with him? What if Jase gets a job out of state? And where will I get a job?

"Never. I promise."

"I want you to come home."

"Two more days. Don't cry. It'll be fine."

"Okay."

When I hang up the phone, I take a deep breath and pull myself together. I throw a load of laundry in and repack my bag before heading out to work. I try not to think too much about all the possible outcomes of what I am getting myself into. I like Ryan, and Jase's reassurance gives me the push I need to move forward, to try to open up to him. That's all I can really do—just try.

It's a little past midnight when I pull into Ryan's driveway. The lights are on up on the second floor. I grab my bag, walk to the side of the building, and up the flight of stairs that lead to his front door. I stand there for a while and think about what Jase told me earlier. Based on what he said, I shouldn't be nervous about Ryan, but I am.

Aside from everything else, this is new to me. The guy I dated in high school hardly counts as a relationship. We barely even knew each other, and he didn't care enough about me to really even pay much attention to me. It was a relationship of convenience; he served as a distraction from my home life, and that's it. Aside from graduation night, we never had much of a physical relationship. I am completely inexperienced, and I know it. The fact that I am almost twenty-three makes it even more embarrassing.

I am startled when Ryan opens the door.

"What are you doing out here?" he asks.

"Umm, nothing. I was just about to knock," I lie.

He takes my bag out of my hand and steps to the side so that I can come in. I walk to the living room but don't sit. I stand like an idiot in the center of the room, not sure what I should be doing. I don't know why I feel so awkward tonight. Ryan was right; we have spent the past two nights together, so why do I feel weird about a third? Maybe it's because I am in his home. How many girls have been here? How many girls have slept in his bed? God, why am I even thinking about this?

He sets my bag down by the stairs that lead up to the third floor where his bedroom is, and starts walking toward me.

"Did you eat?"

"I did before I went to work."

When he reaches me, he wraps his arms around my waist, and the touch alone is enough to relax me a little bit. I clasp my hands together behind his back and lean my forehead against his chest.

Kissing the top of my head, he says, "Better?"

"Mmm hmm," I hum.

"Good. I'm wiped, what about you?"

"Yeah." Driving back from Oregon and then having to work so late, I'm drained.

Taking my bag, we go upstairs to his room.

"The bathroom is right over there," he says, and he points past his large closet.

Closing the door, I lay out my clothes and turn on the shower so that I can rid myself of the smell of coffee. That's the downfall of working at a coffee shop: you leave work smelling like an old pot of coffee.

After drying my hair, taking my sleeping pill, and brushing my teeth, I walk back in the room at the same time Ryan is coming back upstairs holding two bottles of water.

"Here," he says as he hands me one of the bottles.

"Thanks."

Ryan wears a pair of pajama bottoms with no shirt, and when he crosses the room, I notice another tattoo that looks like scripted words that is inked on the side of his ribs. He walks over to the large king-sized bed and starts pulling back the covers. I hop up on the bed and slip under the sheets. Ryan sits next to me, leaning his back against the dark leather headboard. When he lifts his arm to wrap around me, I can finally make out the words of his tattoo:

pain is a reminder

you're still alive

Laying my hand over it, I ask, "What's this for?"

He looks down at my hand and says, "A reminder." He takes my hand off the tattoo and holds it against his chest.

I then notice a jagged scar under the tattoo. I want to ask, but I don't. When Ryan sees what I'm looking at he says, "Like I said, my dad was an asshole." I shift my eyes to his when he begins talking again. "He was a drunk and liked to take his anger out on me and my mom. I took more of it than she did. The drunker he was, the worse it would get. He was like that for as far back as I can remember. It was all I knew. Then one night, I beat the shit out of him when he was wasted, and when he got in his car and left, he never came back. His car was found wrapped around a tree, and that was it. He was dead."