"Aww," Lana coos as Lucas and I take our usual lunch seats across from her, holding hands on the walk to the table. "You guys are so cute."

I wince discreetly at the comment. I know Lana's just trying to be nice, but she unintentionally just reminded me that I'm not actually into the guy I'm dating. I'm into his cousin, a fact that it's about time I just accept. At this point, the only reason I'm still with Lucas is because I don't have the balls to break up with him. I'm too nice to intentionally hurt him.

Lucas's hand rests on the small of my back as we sit next to each other, rotating in small circles. My skin burns where his touch is, only making me feel more guilty. I subtly lean away from him so that his hand will slip, unable to stand the way my skin burns any longer.

"Who's ready for the football game next Friday?" Lana asks excitedly, blue eyes shining brightly. She meets my gaze and raises her eyebrows, shooting me a knowing smirk. I roll my eyes, trying not to burst into a grin at my friend's teasing.

"I know who," Lucas jokes, poking my side as he gives me a small smile.

"What? My dad's the coach. Of course I'm excited." I know it's not really an excuse for me to go with the whole my dad's the coach thing. What else can I really say, though? Yeah, I'm excited for the game so that I can watch the guy I'm high-key crushing on play. Definitely not.

I can't help wishing that my mom were here. She would know what to do if she were in my position. It's not like I can talk to my dad about my boy troubles. After all, he's a boy himself. They don't know anything.

Throughout the rest of the lunch period, Lucas and Lana get into a heated debate about milk flavors, and I slowly begin to tune them out. There's only so much milk talk a girl can handle, anyway.

I drop my phone, and, rolling my eyes, I turn to pick it up. As I'm pulling myself back to a seated position, I notice Jack (who else?) across the room. He's sitting at his usual table with his football buddies, Lacey draped over him like she's trying to force his attention on her. As if he knows I'm looking at him, Jack's light green gaze meets mine almost immediately.

I'm expecting him to look away. I mean, Lacey's sitting right next to him. For all of her bad qualities, I can't deny that Lacey is beautiful. Still, I can feel Jack's gaze trailing my body before meeting mine again, making my heart pound. What is it about this boy that won't stop driving me crazy, despite how much I tell myself not to let him get to me?

Lacey must notice Jack staring, too. She grabs his face in her hands, pulling him toward her. Practically straddling him, Lacey kisses Jack hard on the lips, taking all of his attention within a second. I turn away from the unsettling sight, feeling the sudden urge to throw up my lunch.

From somewhere deep inside of me, I feel jealously rising to my surface. I can't help it when I'm at a place where even I can no longer deny that I like Jack. He's the only person I've ever trusted with my secrets; the only person who has ever made me feel so comfortable and yet reckless all at once, the perfect combination. Lacey's a lucky girl, a bitter voice whispers in my mind, one that I can't help but listen to.

Suddenly, I think that I might actually throw up. I've never been the kind of girl to think in such a way. I've never been the jealous type. I've never had to be, because there's never been a boy that made me feel the way Jack does. Not since Mom left. Not since before Mom left. And I'm not so sure that it's a good thing that Jack has turned me into the kind of girl who acts like that; the kind of girl who lets a boy control her emotions.

Who have I become? It's the one question in my entire life that I've never want to know the answer to.

• • •

It's raining when I exit the school building by the end of the day. Scratch that. It's more like pouring. And, of course, I don't have an umbrella.

Cursing under my breath, I run all the way from the school door to my car. Rushing to stay dry, I accidentally shut my hair in the car door. When I'm finally (safely) in the car, I let out a sharp exhale and shove the key into the ignition. Turning it, I'm surprised that my car doesn't rev to life.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I try to start my car again. I get the same result, which only frustrates me further. I try five more times, but my car refuses to start. I begin to worry, wondering what on earth is wrong with my vehicle and how on earth I'm supposed to get out of this situation. It's still pouring, so it's not like I can walk all the way home. There's no practice today either (it's Wednesday), so my dad must be home by now.

I pull out my phone, deciding to give him a call. Pressing the power button, I'm not shocked to find that my phone won't turn on, either. Of course my phone has to be dead. That's just the kind of luck I have.

I rest my head against the wheel to try and think for a moment, accidentally setting off the horn. I quickly jump back, wondering what I'm going to do now. I guess I could wait for the rain to let up some and run back into the school to use the office phone. By now, most of the cars in the parking lot are gone, anyway. I guess waiting is really the best option I have.

I notice a pair of headlights pull up in front of me, thinking it's just a passing car. Only, instead of passing, the car stops right next to mine, honking the horn. Curious, I go to roll my window down, only to remember I can't because my car won't start.

The only choice I have to see who it is is to open my door, which I do reluctantly. I come face to face with Jack Crawford, finding that he looks as perfect as usual. He meets my gaze and gives me a small smile, making my heart-rate speed up to dangerous highs.

"Car troubles?" Jack asks the question like he already knows the answer, annoying me a little. I stiffen, trying not to let him get to me. What do I do now? It's not like I can lie. It's pretty evident that my car isn't going to start any time soon. But what's my alternative? Have him take pity on me and try to give me a ride? Don't I already owe this boy enough?

"A little," I admit, shrugging casually as if I'm unbothered.

"Need a ride?" I don't think it's possible to put into words how much I don't want to get in Jack's car right now. On the other hand, I can't put into words how much I've been thinking about being alone with him recently.

"That's okay." I try to sound as nonchalant as possible, hoping he'll pick up on the half of me that still wants to avoid him at all costs.

"So you called Triple A then?" Jack asks, nodding in understanding. I internally roll my eyes at myself, realizing that's another thing I'll have to add to the list of things I need to do today.

"Uh, not yet," I admit stupidly. "I will when I go inside to use the office phone."

Jack narrows his eyes at me as if I've just said the dumbest thing he's ever heard. "You know the school doors are locked, right? The staff is gone, Scott."

Great. Now what? I find myself at a loss for words as that thought runs through my head, realizing that I'm running out of options here. I feel like Alexander when he's having one of his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days.

"You sure you don't want a ride?" Jack persists, trying to crack through my armor.

"I said I was fine," I mutter, my tone incredibly rude. I don't know why he even bothers with me. "Seriously. You can go, Jack."

"I'm not gonna just let you sit here in the rain, Scott. Unless you have another ride, I'm not going anywhere."

I mentally curse him, wondering why he has to be so damn good. Once I finally realize that a ride with Jack is better than sitting here in my broken down car as the rain pours with nowhere else to go and no way to get someone to come get me, I sigh.

"Fine," I mumble, reluctantly climbing out of my car and heading into the rain. I practically jump into the passenger seat of Jack's Accord (not the kind of car I imagined him driving), soaking his leather seat as I fall into it.

"It's really pouring out there, huh?" I acknowledge Jack's attempt at small talk with an eye roll as he pulls out of the school parking lot, leaving my car behind.

"Don't," I snap, not bothering to look at him as I say the word. "Don't do that."

Jack lets out a small chuckle. I can feel those green eyes of his on me, but I don't turn to meet them. I'm afraid that if I look into his eyes I'll never be able to look away again.

"Don't do what?" he asks finally, sounding more amused than anything else.

"Don't talk to me like that." I'm not being fair to Jack right now, especially after all he's done for me, but I can't really help it. I'm too afraid to let him in. Really, I'm like this with everyone. The more you let people in, the more they can just walk right out of your life, never to be seen again. Letting someone into your life, to get to know you personally, only gives them more ways to hurt you in the end. And I just don't think I could handle any more pain than I already have.

"Don't talk to you like what, Scott?" Jack asks, sounding slightly annoyed with me. "Friendly? You want me to be a jerk?"

"I'd rather you be a jerk to me than pretend we're friends," I admit, turning to glare at him. I'm not surprised to find that he's already glancing at me, not bothering to look at the road even though it's pouring. I'm about to say something about that when he cuts me to the chase, opening his mouth and cutting me off before I've even started speaking.

"You don't get to do that, Scott," Jack mutters, eyes roaming my face as he studies me. "I don't care how cold you are to me, we both know it's an act. I don't know what you think it gets you, anyway."

"What do you mean, Jack?" It's kind of shocking to me that his words almost hurt. How he manages to do that with two simple sentences is beyond me. Then again, this is Jack we're talking about. He's always managed to make me feel things nobody else has. Everything is different when it comes to him.

"I know you, Scott," Jack says the words softly, almost like he doesn't want to say them in the first place. "Whether you like it or not, I know you. The whole tough girl who doesn't give a shit about anything act? That's not you."

I find that his words anger me, words bubbling to the surface and escaping my lips before I can diminish them. "Oh, that's funny, Jack. You think you know me because of one drunken night we spent together?"

"I know you because of what you told me." He gives me a look that sends shivers down my spine, but I refuse to relent. If I give in to him now, what's that going to prove? That I'm weak? I may be a lot of things, but weak is not one of them. And if that's something I have to prove, then so be it.

"You don't know anything about me, Jack Crawford."

"Are you saying that you were lying to me that night, Scott? That you made up all of those stories? Because if that's what you're saying, then you're right. I don't know you."

"I wasn't lying!" I don't know why I feel the need to clarify this—we both already know it's the truth, and that is Jack's point. Maybe it's the way he's taunting me that makes me feel the need to blurt this. Or maybe it's the feeling I get when he says that he knows me that has me wanting him to believe me. That feeling being that maybe I'm not as alone as I sometimes think I am.

Jack chuckles softly, lightening the mood a little. "That's my point, Scott. I know you weren't lying to me. That's how I know the mean girl act is just that. An act."

I shift, tucking my wet hair behind my ears, unsure of where this conversation is going to head. "You think I'm mean?"

"No." Jack chuckles again, the sound making me shiver. "I think you try to be mean. You're just not very good at it."

I frown, raising an eyebrow at him in question. "Was that a compliment?"

Jack shrugs, not taking his eyes off of the road in front of him for once. "You tell me."

It's silent for a moment. I realize that I haven't told Jack my address, so I fill the silence with the words. When it becomes quiet again, I don't quite know what to say. That happens when I'm around Jack. My heart races and I get sweaty and tongue-tied, like I'm not in control of my emotions. Just one look can rip me to shreds. Is this what it feels like to have a crush? If so, I don't get why so many girls have them. It feels terrible.

"You know, Morgan." Jack doesn't use my first name often, but I love the way it sounds when he does. The sound of my name from his lips sends shivers down my spine—the good kind. "You can talk to me," he continues. I can feel his eyes on me, watching, waiting for my response. "You don't have to push me away because you're afraid. I get that you're afraid. I understand that in a way I don't think anyone else does, trust me. But you shouldn't use that fear as a way to isolate yourself from everyone."

"What should I use it for, then?" My voice is a small whisper, barely audible. I don't even realize I've asked the question until my gaze is meeting Jack's, invisible sparks starting to pass between us.

"Use it to let people in." Jack's voice is just as soft as mine as he speaks. It's like we're both incapable of using our voices, too scared that we'll ruin whatever is passing between us in this moment by simply speaking too loud. "Use it to let people get to know you, Morgan. To know you is to love you, after all."

"You know me." The words are out of my mouth before I even realize that I'm saying them. Before I can stop myself, my lips are moving again, no doubt about to get me in trouble. "Does that mean you love me?"

I watch Jack's cheeks turn pink, his gaze fixated on the windshield before us. It's raining so hard it's almost impossible to see the road ahead of us. I'm thinking that maybe Jack should just pull over, but I don't get the chance to voice my thoughts before he's speaking.

"Morgan—"

It registers in my mind that he's about to comment on what I said beforehand, and I can feel my cheeks flushing because I really don't want him to answer that stupid, stupid question.

"Maybe you should pull over," I cut in, not wanting him to finish his sentence. "It might be safer."

"Maybe you're right," Jack mutters, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He swerves onto the side of whatever street we're on, stopping the car and putting it in park. He leaves the car running, though, which is thoughtful of him.

That's when it hits me. I'm stuck in Jack Crawford's car. With Jack. Whom I have a crush on. Even though I have a boyfriend, which just so happens to be his cousin.

Oh, Lord. What have I gotten myself into?

We sit in silence for a moment, neither of us acknowledging the other. I find that his previous words seem to loop through my brain, replaying over and over, forcing me to hear them. How he told me he could see through my act. The fact that he understands my fear. Nobody has ever spoken to me like that before. In a strange way, it's almost like Jack understands what I'm going through, which doesn't make sense. Because the only way for someone to really understand what I'm going through, it would have to mean they've gone through something similar.

I clear my throat, turning to face Jack. My eyes dance over his golden hair, his light green eyes, his perfect pink lips. My heart thuds in my chest and my hands shake in my lap. I can feel nervous excitement coursing through my veins as our gazes lock; feel the way I start to blush at his glance. It's that feeling I don't get around Lucas. That feeling that's just for Jack. That feeling you get when you're around someone you really like.

"You're right," I mutter. I'm trapped in his eyes, lost somewhere between knowing I shouldn't say the words I'm thinking and knowing that there aren't any better words I could speak. "I trusted you with so much and then I just pushed you away, and that was wrong of me. And I am afraid, Jack." I can feel my bottom lip starting to tremble, tears starting to well in my eyes. I don't know why I'm bothering to say any of this at the same time I know exactly why I want to say it. Because I trust Jack. More than anyone else I know. And sometimes I make stupid decisions around him that I'm bound to regret later, yet still go through with anyway.

"I'm so afraid that the more I let people in, the more reason I give them to walk out," I admit, my voice trembling despite how hard I'm trying to keep myself together. "And I know it's stupid, but I can't help it."

Jack is silent for a moment, though I can feel his eyes on me. "It's not stupid, Morgan," he says finally. Sighing, he adds, "The way you're feeling is perfectly normal. But it's not true. If a person really loves you, they're going to be by your side no matter what. No one is going to disappear on you, Morgan."

"Mom just left." I practically whisper the words, because I don't want myself to hear them. Because then I would have to admit that they're true, and I don't think I could handle that right now. "She left, Jack. And she never came back."

"She wanted to, Morgan." I can feel Jack's hand in mine now, squeezing my skin comfortingly. I don't know how, despite everything, he manages to send shocks down my body and to make me feel heightened with just one touch. "She wanted to come back. She just couldn't."

"That's what everyone always says!" I don't realize my voice has risen until I hear it, but that doesn't stop me from continuing. "Everybody always says that she wanted to come back. But how do they know? I mean, she left on her own accord! Maybe she didn't want to come back. Maybe—"

"Morgan." Suddenly Jack is closer than he was before, his eyes peering into mine. "Of course she wanted to come back. She loved you."

That's all it takes to make the tears fall. They stream down my cheeks in uneven patterns, falling onto my hands. Jack uses his thumbs to wipe the tears away, whispering comforting things in my ear. I don't know how he manages to calm me down, but he does. Maybe it's the way his touch feels on my skin, or maybe it's the way his voice sounds when he's whispering so close to my ear, his breath warm on my neck.

"I don't know why I'm always like this around you," I whisper, trying to stop the tears from flowing to no avail.

Jack gives me a crooked smile, shaking his head. "I don't mind." He's suddenly so much closer, our faces only inches apart. "As long as I'm the only one you're like this around."

And then he's inching in even closer. I don't move a muscle, taking in everything, my senses hyperactive. I'm all too aware of how close Jack is getting, the way his eyelids are starting to flutter closed. His hands burn my skin where they rest on my knees, and yet I can't seem to do anything about it. He's going to kiss me, I find myself thinking. And I really want him to.

And that's when it hits me: I have a boyfriend! I jolt up, no longer able to be so close