I need to stop. I gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly. He likes me. Because I am worth liking. He likes me for me. You can't control who you like.

As I drove to Paralyzing Silver, I tried to put myself at ease. I wanted - no, I had to believe that Forrest genuinely wanted what I wanted. The kiss proved that. Everything else he did proved that.

But what if he just got caught up in the moment? I was the one who leaned forward.

What if he just didn't know how to turn me down? What if he just felt bad and -

Stop. I released a breath. Now that things weren't so hazy and he wasn't around to distract me, I contemplated. You don't kiss depressed girls just to make them feel better. Forrest wouldn't do that; he wasn't leading me on. I was getting anxious for no reason.

A few minutes later, after taking a glance around and making sure there was nobody to be suspicious about, I shut off the engine and headed inside. Seconds after stepping in the place, I heard a rasping voice - familiar but distorted. "Let go of me," he gnarled, "I don't . . . want to go yet."

"Sir, it's rather late. Your granddaughter is coming right - oh, she's already here." Karl held a firm grip on my grandfather's arm, trying to guide him towards my direction. "She's going to take you home now."

My grandfather scowled, his face heavier than usual. "Let go of me, you brute," he spat out and released a bad word. "I can handle myself."

Karl eventually complied to his slurred demands, and my grandfather stumbled a little out of the grasp. He held his arms out to hang on to his balance; it was like the Earth was trembling, but only he could feel it. I watched, stiff and unimpressed, as he drew an uneven breath and slowly walked to me. "Thanks, Karl," I muttered sincerely before holding the door open for my grandfather. He mumbled something about hating the place, which was funny because he would probably return tomorrow.

Once we made it inside my car, I let out a barely-audible sigh. My grandfather sat in the back, not bothering to put on his seat belt. He leaned back, his eyes fluttering shut. The sound of his irregular breaths was all I could hear before I turned on the radio. "And now, for all you No More Band-Aids fans, here is their newest song, Dead Flowers." I raised my brows in surprise, grateful that one of my favorite bands was playing. I had no idea about them releasing new music. "When you look," it began, a silvery voice intertwining with vibrant piano, "inside your chest, do you feel depressed?" I backed out of the parking space, trying to ignore my grandfather's snoring. "Because all you see are dead flowers. All you're made of are dead flowers. Yeah, you can try to water them for hours, but you can't go back. You can't come back . . . to me. Yeah, all you see . . ."

I got lost in the riveting music. The band was known for their dark sounds, and I wasn't disappointed. However, it just added to my pensive state. I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something . . . not exactly wrong, but not exactly right either. Maybe I was worrying for nothing, but I kept musing on the whole situation with Forrest - it just wasn't common. From an outside glance, it was so peculiar . . . yet from the inside - well, there really wasn't anywhere else I would rather be.

In my head, I attempted to summarize it. Girl tries to die. Boy saves her. Boy is amazing. Girl and boy kiss, like, five days later. Boy wants to date girl. Girl feels good.

But . . . Girl is scared.

I pressed my lips together.

Actually . . . Girl is terrified.

The last time I was in a relationship was stupid. I had allowed myself to believe in something that was insincere, and I had hoped for something unattainable. Up to this day, it brought me embarrassment to remember how naive I was, but the girl I was back then was so gone.

Or was she?

I didn't know if I was plunging into another mistake, or if allowing Forrest to get so close to me was going to mess me up in the long run, but I wanted to trust him. Besides, some things were worth the risks - everyone knew that. As indefinite and dangerous as this seemed, I couldn't let fear steal it away. I had to be a little more brave, a little more confident.

By the time I reached home, I was feeling slightly better. I was suddenly exhausted, and I needed as much rest as possible for tomorrow. I helped my grandfather up the stairs; every few seconds, he mumbled something incoherent, his breath reeking of whiskey. Once we made it to his bedroom door, it was as if he recollected his mind and shrugged me away. "Leave . . . me alone," he scowled, closing the door in my face.

I blinked. One day, the thought sliced through my mind, I will.

I learned a long time ago to not take his actions too personally; he had his own war raging inside. But it was rather tempting to get mad. I could have screamed or punched a hole in the wall, but instead, I bit my tongue and walked away.

Retreating to my bedroom, I took one glance at the ceiling. Much to my annoyance, there wasn't a force on the planet that could have stopped me from smiling . . . just a little.

Despite the conflict within myself, it felt like maybe everything was going to be all right, after all.