The next morning, I came down to the car to see that Luke had taken the soft top off while I'd been doing my makeup.

"I just straightened my hair," I complained.

He took my luggage from me and put it in the back. "Do you have a hat or a headband or something?"

"No," I replied.

He dug around in his bag and pulled out a Seattle Seahawks hat. "Here." He came around to the side and slapped it on my head. He shook his head as it tilted down over my eyes. "Too big," he said, taking it back. He adjusted the strap and put it back on my head before he remarked, "Cute. Unless you're a Patriots fan."

I crossed my arms. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"I don't know," I said defiantly. "Whatever it is that you do that makes everyone like you."

"Were you starting to like me?" Luke smiled and raised his eyebrows so high they were almost touching his hairline.

"No. Just don't try, okay."

"You were starting to like me a little, weren't you?" Luke teased me.

"No, I still hate you," I told him. "But you always turn on your little charms, like putting hats on people and calling them cute."

"Putting hats on people?"

I nodded.

Luke had that gift. I'd seen it a thousand times. Girls' heads turning to follow him. One little smile and he got what he wanted. I'd be damned if I gave into it.

"You think that's how I charm people? I go around putting hats on their heads?"

"Girls probably love it—wearing your hat. How many girls have worn this one?"

"There's no possibility I was just being sincere?"

I rolled my eyes at him.

I could see the cogs of his brain turning, and his face was changing like the gears were working it into something that wasn't very pleasant. "That's not how I charm girls, Reese."

My body flushed. He was doing something, but I wasn't sure what. I backed up into the side of the car. I didn't have anywhere else to go.

At first I thought he was going to wrap his arm around my shoulder. He was standing so close, I could smell his soap. His face hovered above mine, and it looked like he was studying the cadence of my breathing.

"I think I've softened your steel a little bit, and you're mad about it," he said, placing his left hand on top of the side of the open car. My brain was screaming as he bent down at the shoulders toward my face. For a split second, I actually thought he was going to try to kiss me. "Or maybe you're having some hate-sex fantasy after you couldn't stop staring at my abs, and it makes you uncomfortable that you're into it." He reached out with his right hand and wrapped it around the door handle, enclosing me inside his arms. Here was that hidden asshole coming to the surface. "Why are you breathing so fast? I can practically see your pulse racing." He chuckled and locked eyes with mine. "Is it both?"

He opened the passenger door for me and tilted his head, telling me to get in. His face was serious, a small frown pulling down the corners of his lips. I was lightheaded from his proximity and furious because both of those things were slightly factual. But now they suddenly weren't anymore.

I slid out from underneath him and climbed up into the car, trying to even my breathing.

He slammed my door with a smug smirk. I looked like a panting girl desperate for him to touch me and wishing I could punch him at the same time.

"Asshole," I muttered.

"Isn't that what you want? For me to be an asshole?" He crossed in front of the car and got into the driver seat. "If there's no possible way I could be a little fucking genuine, then it doesn't matter anyway. I'm an asshole either way."

I ignored him as he pulled out of the parking lot, but his words surprisingly stung. Was that what I wanted? I wanted him to confirm to me what I was the only one who seemed to know? I didn't want him to be nice to me. I wanted him to cement the image I had of him in my mind—not change it. And what was he if he wasn't an asshole? A friend? Someone I used to have a crush on? Someone who makes me feel tingly when he shouldn't? Could I do this for two whole weeks? Was I the asshole for not being able to think someone could change? I didn't know how to forgive someone for doing something that hurt me so deeply. Even if he was being seemingly genuine, and he might be someone completely different than who I thought he was. Besides, it wasn't like he had apologized.

I'd been so deep in thought I hadn't realized he'd pulled into a huge empty parking lot of a Walmart under construction and was staring at me.

"Happy birthday!" he exclaimed when I looked over at him.

"You're two months late."

"I don't think so. Happy sixteenth birthday!"

"What?"

He scowled. "Forget you hate me for like two seconds because I built you this awesome car for your sixteenth birthday. You're a teenager again, and now you have to learn how to drive a stick."

"You can't be serious."

He got out of the car, came around to my side, and opened my door. "Humor me."

I grumbled, got out, and settled myself into the warm, butt-imprinted driver's seat. I traced the glossy steering wheel with my fingers.

"This car really is pretty, and I'm not even a car person."

"Thanks! It took me two years." Luke couldn't hide his smile.

"Oh god. Don't be mad at me when I break it then." I reached down to adjust the seat. Luke was so much taller than me, I couldn't get anywhere close to the pedals. The metal slid into place with a loud clunk. Once I felt more comfortable, I placed both hands back on the steering wheel.

"You look... uncomfortable," Luke laughed.

I made some kind of lippy pfft sound at him.

"Left foot use for the clutch only," he started, and I looked at him like he was crazy. "The pedal all the way on the left. Right foot for accelerator and brake like normal."

"Got it."

"Okay first, let's just drive really slowly. Hand on the stick. Right foot on the brake, left foot on the clutch all the way down to the floor."

I followed Luke's instructions, and he placed his hand over mine on the gear stick. How could I hate someone so much but still like their hand on mine?

"You're going to shift into first gear," he continued, guiding my hand to move in the correct position. "Take your foot off the break, then slowly ease up on the clutch, but not the whole way."

"Okay," I whispered. The car started to move as I picked my left foot up.

"Oh my God, you're driving!" Luke joked. "Press the clutch back in, and you'll slow down.

I tested it, and the car slowed to barely a crawl.

"Okay," I said more excitedly.

"Now, if you take your foot off the clutch too—"
I should have let him finish. The car lurched forward and stalled. My heart started pounding. I shouldn't be trusted with something so expensive.

"Jesus," Luke laughed and finished what he was going to say. "Too fast without pressing the accelerator, it will stall the car."

"Did I hurt it?"

"No, it's fine. It's not great if you do it too much, but I've never stalled it."

I nodded, and he squeezed my hand slightly. "Down on the clutch." He watched my foot. "And put it back in neutral." His hand moved mine and the gear stick. He pressed a button. "Now start over. Clutch and brake down, shift to first. Foot off the brake. But this time, press the gas at the same time you take off the clutch."

I followed his instructions fully that time and started to speed up. "I'm going eight miles per hour!" I cried like I'd just learned to drive. This was kind of fun.

"Around ten to fifteen and you can shift into second gear."

I started to try, but he had a tight grip on my hand, preventing me from moving it. "Release the gas then press the clutch first. Make sure the clutch is all the way down. If it's not, that's called grinding the gears." He pulled our hands back together into second when he saw I was holding the clutch down to the floor. "Ease off the clutch as you give it more gas. Don't keep the clutch depressed as you continue to speed up. That's called riding the clutch."

"This is complicated," I said, but there was childish excitement in my voice because I was doing it, and I was going twenty miles an hour. We were on the other side of the parking lot.

"Now to slow down, take your foot off the gas, then press the clutch. Shift back to first when it slows. For light braking, you don't need to use the clutch, but to stop completely, press the brake and clutch together to prevent you from stalling, and put it into neutral."

The car slowed and came to a complete stop.

"I did it!" I beamed.

Luke smiled but shook his head. "I won't be satisfied until you at least drive on a real street."

"One day at a time, Luke."

We exited the car at the same time, and I immediately regretted it when we both turned to cross in front. I realized we were going to have to pass each other. Could I nonchalantly turn around and go around the back of the car? I told myself that was stupid. What was the point? I couldn't avoid him.

Luke's strides were much longer than mine, so he reached me as I turned the corner and stopped in front of the left headlight. I didn't want to do that awkward thing where you step in the same direction. Luke surprised me when instead of walking around me, he stopped and pulled me into a hug. His large arms wrapped over my shoulders and around my back, squeezing me softly, then a little tighter.

"That was great," he said. "I'm glad you tried. And I'm sorry about earlier. I got upset. I'm not an asshole, okay?"

"Okay?"

That was him upset? I'd need to take a cold shower if we ever got in a real fight.

"Have you always thought that?"

I considered lying for a second, but decided against it. "Pretty much."

He released me and only then did I realize I had my arms around his waist. Christ. I liked hugging him way too much. In a deserted, half-finished Walmart parking lot, I was standing in front of a classic car and hugging Luke like we were friends or I don't know what. It was the strangest moment I'd ever been in.

"Oh," he said before changing the subject completely. "Do you want to stop in Cleveland or Chicago. Your choice."

"Chicago."

"Phew," Luke exaggerated. "I was worried you were going to say Cleveland."

—

Three and a half hours later we stopped at Chick-fil-a—because somehow I consider this not fast-food—and another three and a half hours later we were closing in on Chicago. With the top off of the car, it was too loud to talk, so I'd been subjected to feeling guilty the entire time about calling Luke an asshole and ruminating on why I felt bad about it at all.

"Do you mind if we stop in Michigan City before we get into Chicago?" Luke screamed over the wind. At least that's what I thought I heard.

I nodded at him. Anything he had in mind was probably better than what I could come up with.

And when he pulled up to the beach, I was right.

"I've always wanted to check out this lighthouse." Luke pointed out to the left where I hadn't noticed a white lighthouse with a red roof at the end of a very long pier.

"How do you know about this stuff?" I said, dumbfounded. I obviously didn't look at maps enough or plan cross-country road trips. There must be thousands of hidden gems all across the country just waiting for visitors. How can someone experience everything there is to experience in the world? The thought made me sad. Between school and work, time and money, kids and families, how do you take advantage of all the little things that bring such light into the world?

One being a lighthouse. I had never been to a lighthouse. And who knew there were lighthouses in Indiana?

"I don't know. Just one of the things I've known was here. But I've had this trip in my mind for like five years. It's easy to go down rabbit holes of everything I could possibly want to see. I could take over a month on this damn trip."

"I guess your vision of this never involved me," I joked.

"Definitely not, but I am glad you're here. It's not that I don't want you to be. It's that I never thought you would agree to it."

"Like you've thought about asking me before?" I said slowly, putting his words together.

He nodded as he opened the door. "Come on, Reese. Don't sound so surprised."

"Am I the only other person you know in Boston that's from Seattle?"

He furrowed his brow as he slammed the door shut, leaving me still sitting. "Yeah, that's it." I think I heard him laugh when he turned away and stepped up on the sidewalk.

After we made our way down the long cement pier, we were able to walk around the left side of the structure. Behind the lighthouse, there were enormous, thick, white pillars that a few people were sitting on top of, looking out at Lake Michigan. Waves crashed against the rocks, spraying water up and occasionally misting us.

"You're oddly okay around water," I commented.

Luke looked happy. "I'd miss out on way too much if I wasn't."

Luke easily pushed himself up onto one of the pillars. He reached his hand down to me and pulled me up with his strength.

We sat together, watching the waves crash against the rocks, and it brought me back to a faded memory of when my mom read me The Lighthouse Mystery from The Boxcar Children. That had been her favorite series when she was a child, so we'd read them together at night, taking turns with each chapter. I had done the same thing with Colin and some of my favorite books. I turned to study Luke, who was watching some teenagers try to touch the water while their mom yelled at them to get away from the edge.

I don't know why I spoke, but I did.

"When my mom died, I had to take care of Colin."

Luke looked at me, but stayed silent. He blinked a few times, waiting for me to continue.

"So, while everyone was at parties, I was doing the things that my family needed me to do."

Luke looked down at his dangling feet and placed his hands in between his thighs, curved against the edge of the ledge. "That's a lot for a middle schooler. How old were you?"

"Twelve. I know, but I was old enough, and we couldn't afford to have a babysitter. My dad had to work extra hours. My mom didn't have much life insurance left after her funeral."

"When did you ever study?"

I shrugged. "After school like a normal person. Colin and I would do our homework together. Sometimes I'd study after he fell asleep if I was able to stay awake. But I worked my ass off. I still wanted to go to Harvard more than anything."

Luke smiled. "That's extremely impressive. Why didn't you tell anyone that?"

"I don't know," I confessed. "High school is... high school. People judge. I guess I just preferred that people didn't know. They couldn't make fun of me for it. I was always so jealous of you."

Luke scoffed at me.

"You made everything look so easy. Like no effort was required. Not just with school, but with friends and life. Your parents are rich, you made straight As, everyone loved you. You just floated through life so carefree. I had been a different person before my mom died, but after, I became a shell of myself."

Luke raised his shoulders and rocked into me with a low laugh. "It's like we switched places. I haven't always been like this."

"You were uptight?" I had a hard time imagining that.

"Yeah, I guess so. I didn't make a conscious decision to change, but people used to comment all the time how different I was after my accident. Did people tell you that?"

"Some, but people don't stick around when you go the other way."

"That sucks that Paige moved. I lost touch with a lot of my friends when I moved. I'm sure that was hard."

Paige had moved my sophomore year to California, but obviously, we were still friends.

"She stuck around," I laughed. "It was Avery who didn't."

Luke looked at me with quizzical eyes. "What do you mean?"

"We used to be best friends. She never mentioned that?"

Luke shook his head with a mixture of shock and confusion.

"That's so like her—caught up in herself." I side-eyed Luke, then went back to looking at my dangling feet. "Sorry. I'm not trying to bad mouth her. I guess I don't even blame her. You can't be popular sitting at home every weekend."

I caught Luke with the same smirk on his face that he had at the airport. "What?"

"A lot of things suddenly make a lot more sense."

"I'm not so mysterious anymore."

"That too. But I meant with Avery," Luke said. "She was threatened by you."

I laughed. "I highly doubt that. She knew I had to take care of Colin, and that I had to study every other minute I wasn't taking care of him. I don't even know what she would be threatened by."

"Being replaced by you." Luke nudged my arm. "Had you decided to join us all in the social world."

I laughed harder.

Luke shrugged and tapped the cement with his fingers. "Don't believe me if you don't want to."

He stood up and offered his hands out to me. I used them to pull myself up but immediately regretted not hopping down on my own. We were standing in the center of the cylinder, facing each other, holding hands, and staring into the other's eyes for too long. My stomach turned into an hourglass, my waist pinching, and I could feel the sand pouring into my lower abdomen. I broke eye contact first, looking down at the space between us.

"Um..." I didn't know what I was trying to say.

"Let me jump down first so I can help you," Luke said, dropping my hands.

His Achilles' tendons popped out below his black sweatpants when he hit the ground. I bent over and placed my hands around his broad shoulders when he turned around, and he grabbed my waist, lowering me down slowly. The front of my body slid down Luke's hard chest.

To all of the people around us, we must have looked like a loving couple. We were having an intimate conversation, holding hands, sharing some seemingly romantic flash of a moment straight out of a movie where my feet were popping up behind me as he suspended me in mid-air.

This wasn't why I came on this trip—I wasn't looking for some kind of weird, maybe-he's-changed do-over with him. I had to remind myself I just wanted to be there in person to see Colin graduate from high school. And if I had to use Luke for his car to do that, then so be it.

I was supposed to be being selfish anyway.