I stood at the gate of Adam's place, my hand hovered over the wood, while I debated whether or not to walk in. I was early. Ugh, I shouldn't have come early. Only weirdos show up early. I should have come late. Yeah, that's what Lissa would have done.

Wait, why would I do what Lissa does? Horrible idea.

We had all planned to meet up at Adam's place around nine tonight after we got off the boat. Ultimately, today we all caught around 32 speckled trout. I caught two. No shame. I mean, they're lucky they even got me on the boat.

My nerves stood on end as I stared at the peeling white paint on the wood. I knew I should push it open before someone saw me standing out here just staring at the it, but I couldn't force my muscles to move.

I jumped at the sound of some rustling in the brush. With a sigh, I pushed the gate open and climbed up the steps to his door. I had my hand poised to knock just as the door swung open.

"No Name!" Adam greeted with a grin. His hands were full of food. My heart spiked at the sudden movement.

"Oh I--I'm sorry, do you need help?" I reached out to help, but he pulled back and snorted. He threw his head back a little.

"Make yourself at home, I'll be right back up."

He stepped around me and trotted down the steps to set the food he was carrying somewhere. I glanced inside, still in awe that he got to be in the lucky house.

I stepped inside the threshold and felt a warmth come over me. Ahh, lucky I tell you. I smiled and headed for the couch in the living area ahead of me. I grazed my eyes over every small detail in the house. Of course it was decked out like a typical beach house, but there were little imprints of the previous family that the Wright family so graciously left behind. Like the carving they made in the wood floor near the entertainment center.

I heard him stomp up the steps and shut the door behind him. His footsteps were getting louder as he came closer to me. He leaned over the back of the couch, next to where I was sitting.

My heart raced as the overwhelming scent of his cologne made its way to my nose. I felt a tinge of red creep up my cheeks as I saw his piercing blue eyes watching me.

"I'm glad you came," he said. "I was hoping the band didn't scare you away earlier."

As we got off the boat, the mohawk guy tackled me into the ocean. Not intentionally apparently, but I'm pretty sure I was the easy target out of everyone on the boat.

"Nah, they have nothing on Jessie," I replied and laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of my arm, feeling incredibly restless under his heavy gaze.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling up a bit. "Well, good, I know they can be a bit much."

He stood up and walked around the couch to sit next to me. My stomach flipped as I realized he had the entire couch to pick a place to sit, but he chose right next to me. I'm talking right next to me. Like, inches.

I stared at the sliver of space in between us then looked up at him. He was texting something on his phone quickly and tossed it on to the coffee table in front of us. He smiled down at me.

"Do you like burgers?" he questioned.

I shrugged. "I like all food."

He grinned. "A girl with an appetite, I like it."

I looked away, allowing my hair to cover my face because I knew I was blushing.

"Congrats again on catching the largest fish today," he said.

I laughed. Okay, I may have only caught two fish, but I did catch the biggest so that made the trip almost worth it. Almost.

"Thanks," I murmured.

"Did that make a fisherman out of you yet?" Adam joked.

I grimaced. "Not even close."

He laughed, his shoulder accidentally bumping into mine. My heart skipped at the feel of him touching me and I immediately looked away. I really hoped he couldn't hear how loud my heartbeat was.

I sniffed and tugged at the seam of my jean shorts that were slowly unraveling. I've had this particular pair of shorts since I was 16. I'm not entirely sure if I have just remained the same size or if the poor things have simply stretched themselves out along with me. They're certainly on their last leg which is all too depressing because I've never found a pair of shorts like them since.

I glanced up at the sound of Adam's phone ringing. He leaned forward to quickly snatch it up, his arm brushing me as he moved. He glanced at me and smiled before he answered.

"What's up?" he answered.

He leaned back against the couch, his arm now completely against my shoulder. I stared straight ahead, afraid to breath because I didn't want the act to cause me to move any closer or further away. I couldn't risk looking like a creep and accidentally lean into him, but I couldn't lean away because what if he wanted me to lean into him? What if he was doing this on purpose?

Oh, I'm being absolutely absurd. What happened to me? I used to be the girl who was unaffected by the male specimen. They could never make me blush. In fact, I used to be the flirt. I was the one that they could never have. I still am.

Are you?

I scowled at my thoughts and let out a deep breath, my chest beginning to burn from holding air in for so long. I blinked and unclenched my hands, forcing myself to relax a little bit. He's just a guy.

Umm, a famous guy. A very very hot famous guy.

My scowl grew at my thoughts. Could I not keep myself in check for five minutes? Just five minutes?

"Yeah, keep coming," Adam explained. I heard a deep voice on the other end of the line speaking rapidly. "No, the other way," he sighed. "How drunk are you?"

I bit back a smile. Been there done that man, I feel ya.

"Yes, no, no, the other house. No, not that one! The white one," he continued to explain, his arm now planted firmly against mine. I fought the urge to physically stare at our arms touching, my heart racing at an incredible pace. He was definitely leaning into me. Right? Yes, he had to be.

I groaned internally. Why does this have to be so complicated?

Adam's deep chuckle interrupted my internal dialogue. I glanced up at him to find him staring at me. He smiled when I met his gaze and my breath hitched in my throat. I was blown away by his bright blue eyes and his million dollar smile as he continued to try and help his drunk friend find the house.

"Alright, yeah I'll see you in a bit," he finally said, his eyes staying glued to mine. I felt trapped, well, in a good way, but trapped nonetheless.

He brought his phone away from his ear slowly as he smirked and shook his head.

"Man, I'll be lucky if he finds this place," he murmured.

He set his phone on the other side of his thigh and ran that same hand through his hair, keeping his left arm next to mine. Okay, definitely on purpose.

The giddy feeling in the pit of my stomach was becoming too much. My heart skipped as his eyes searched mine.

"So," he started, his voice soft.

I raised an eyebrow, attempting to hide the way I was freaking out on the inside.

"I saw this video of you..." he trailed off and looked away. I could barely just make out a tinge of pink spreading across his cheeks. I smiled. Was he blushing?

Wait, what video of me?

"I'm sorry, but what video?" I quizzed. He laughed.

"Mmm..well you had a feather boa thing on and you may or may not have been singing along with the radio," he explained.

What?!

Horror struck me. That still existed? Oh my gosh, I deleted those! I narrowed my eyes as I realized who the only person was left on this planet that would still have copies of that entire night.

Lissa.

He stared at me, taking in, I'm sure my very colorful expressions as I clenched my jaw and felt my cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

"Well," I murmured and looked away. "You certainly weren't supposed to see those," I spit.

"I thought it was cute," he murmured, clearly trying to appease my annoyance and embarrassment.

Cute? What video was he talking about? Suddenly, it dawned on me. Lissa didn't show him the mortifying video from later that night. She showed him our fake concert Demi and I put on for her. Relief flooded me. I smiled and laughed slightly, surviving yet another day where zero people, besides the three of us, had seen the video of me laughing so hard...I accidentally let out a fart. Not just any ordinary fart. The loudest, most abrupt fart I have ever witnessed come out of my body.

If anyone, besides the three of us, had seen that I would just die. I would literally rather bury myself in a grave than have to face someone who heard that flatulent monstrosity.

I smiled and allowed my adrenaline to slow as I stared at him. I pushed the memory to the back of my mind, afraid that it would reveal itself without my consent if I didn't.

He looked back at me. "I was wondering if you would play."

My heart stopped and my smile fell. It felt as if I were just doused in freezing water.

I blinked at him and sucked in a breath, opening my mouth to say a very clear no, but no words escaped my mouth. No. N-O, Alice, say it.

I just stared at him, gaping like the very fish that I struggled to catch today.

He rubbed the back of his neck and pulled away. "Sorry, I was just really interested in seeing how you played the guitar. Your piano skills were certainly some for the books."

The absence of his warm arm immediately snapped me out of it.

"No, I just..." I just what? I had no excuse. I played in front of him once.

Not the guitar.

I glanced away from him, unable to meet his heavy gaze.

"I'm sorry, I just can't," I murmured, clasping my hands tightly in my lap.

"I'm sorry Alice, I didn't realize," he said softly, his hand reaching out to hold mine. I absentmindedly snatched it away.

I looked up to see the shock written clearly across his features. He quickly composed himself as he brought his hand back to his side of the cushion. He cleared his throat and looked away.

"Right, well I need to go grill the burgers," he said awkwardly. "You can come...if you want." He stood, tugging at his shirt to straighten it out.

I stared up at him. Why did I just do that? In what world would someone like me snatch her hand away from someone like him?

"I'll be out in a minute, thanks," I murmured, forcing a smile. He dipped his head once, understanding, before he turned on his heel and quickly left. The second I heard the door shut, I let out a deep breath I hadn't known I was holding.

I sighed and leaned my head back against the couch. As I stared up at the ceiling, I began to wonder if I would ever be able to play the guitar again without the memories flooding back. I was sick of the overwhelming sense of my father the warm acoustic sound brought with it.

No, I wasn't sick of it. I was hurt. Truth is, playing the guitar meant having to face the memories of my father. It would mean I really would never see him again. It meant he would never see me play again. I wouldn't have to worry about performing without him if I simply never performed again.

I closed my eyes, trying to force the thoughts away, but they were already there. I couldn't shove them back.

They were right.

Everything everyone had ever said about me hiding from my problems? It was true. I was hiding from my father's death. I was hanging onto the one thing that still belonged to him, to us. To play again, meant truly letting him go and I couldn't do it.