“There’s a lock on the door. No one is in my room. And if someone is, I’ll kick them the f**k out.” I thread my fingers through her hair and tilt her head so she has no choice but to look at me. Her cheeks are streaked with tears and I wipe them away with my thumbs. “Come inside with me, Chelsea. We can talk more now or we can talk more tomorrow. Whatever you want. I just … I really need to be with you tonight.”

She stares at me, seeing right through me I’m sure but I don’t even flinch. Everything I am, everything I want to be for her, it’s showing. I can feel it. I’m vulnerable as f**k and I don’t care.

“All right,” she finally says, sounding reluctant, which of course fills me with worry. I don’t want to ruin this or somehow f**k it up beyond repair.

I need to be careful. I need to make this work. For my sake and for Chelsea’s.

We need each other. I don’t know if Chelsea’s aware of it yet, but I know I am. Having her here with me makes everything right again. Makes me feel like I can breathe again. These few weeks apart from her have nearly killed me.

There’s no way I can let her go now.

Chelsea

Everybody at this party is beyond obnoxious. I see the way the girls look at Owen as we walk by them and they make me feel possessive. I want to shout at all of them, Back off, he’s mine!

But I don’t. I have at least some sort of control.

I grab hold of his hand when we enter his house and let him pull me through the crowd. The girls are all dressed to impress, their hair and makeup perfect, the tight or skimpy outfits they’re wearing meant to intrigue and entice.

I’m in leggings that have a hole in the inside seam and the sweatshirt Owen gave me, with a tank top and no bra on underneath. I look plain and boring, as if I just crawled out of bed after a night of no sleep. Tired and sad, with a tear-stained face and red eyes. Not that I think anything’s going to happen between Owen and me tonight, but …

You never know. If he tried something, I wouldn’t stop him.

Everyone looks at me as if I don’t belong with him, but I know the truth. We belong together. He’s mine and I’m his. Somehow we’re going to break down each other’s last, thick walls and be honest with each other. I already told him so much, pretty much all he needs to know. What more can I say about my father?

Nothing. I don’t want to talk about him. I just want to forget.

The house reeks of beer and weed and I wrinkle my nose, raising my brows when we pass by Des. He has a knowing smile on his face and his arms around two girls, and I almost want to laugh. It’s all just so … weird. Owen’s life. Mine. And how they intersected. We are complete opposites.

Yet it feels so right to be with him.

“Well, well, look who showed up.”

I glance over my shoulder to see Wade standing there, a big grin on his handsome face. His hair is a mess and there’s a girl hanging on his arm with a satisfied smile curling her lips, her eyes kinda hazy. Like maybe she was the one who just had her hands in his hair.

“Hey,” I say, just as Owen’s fingers tighten around mine.

“Leave her alone,” Owen warns and I look at him, wondering what his comment is all about.

“Just saying hey.” Wade leans forward, as if he’s about to tell me a giant secret. “He’s been a whiny baby for days. He missed you.”

My heart swells. Owen missed me. Hearing someone else say it somehow makes it feel even more real.

“Shut up,” Owen mutters, solidifying that real feeling.

That this is real between us. What we share, what we have, isn’t all one-sided. We’re definitely in this together.

“Don’t f**k up with her again,” Wade says, pointing his finger in Owen’s direction before flashing me a gentle smile. “She actually tolerates your ass, so don’t let her go.”

I release Owen’s hand and go to Wade, pulling him into a quick one-sided hug since the girl still hasn’t let him go. And he doesn’t seem too upset about it, either. “Thank you,” I murmur as I pull away from him.

“See how sweet she is? You don’t deserve her, man,” Wade says, gesturing at Owen, who looks ready to rip him apart with his bare hands. “She even hugged me.”

“Consider yourself lucky I didn’t chop your hands off for touching my girl.” Owen slings his arm around my shoulder and steers me away from Wade. I can hear Wade laugh, hear the girl ask what all that was about, but the buzz in my head slowly takes over, until all I can focus on is Owen.

Holding me, guiding me through the mess, getting all jealous and calling me his girl.

I love it. Maybe an hour ago I felt like I was at the end of my rope. Everything about this night is exaggerated and crazy and over the top. I feel like I’m on a ride at Disneyland or some crazy amusement park and I’m begging them to let me off. It’s all just too much.

Finally we’re in Owen’s room and he closes the door. Turns the lock. That subtle click rings loud in the quiet confines of his room and he faces me, leans against the door so he can study me.

“My mom is a drug abuser. A drunk.”

His words are flat, his tone impassive. I wait for him to continue.

“She’s never been there for us, not really. I always wanted her approval. When we were alone, she told me I was her favorite. I was her baby boy. And I wanted to be her baby boy. I wanted her to love me. I don’t think she ever did.”