Chapter 13 - Lila's Pov:

It's been four days since my little episode and for the most part, life has been fairly normal, except for my relentless need to fixate on Ethan. Ever since he found me in the bathroom stall, I can't stop thinking about him. It's worse than before, an intense growing obsession. I'm not even sure what it is. The way he looked at me, touched me, spoke to me, joked with me, forgave me, and then took me home. They're such little things, yet they mean so much. He may be rough, blunt, somewhat perverted, and completely imperfect according to my mother's standards, but I seriously wouldn't have it any other way. I've had the supposed perfect guy before, the one who gave me rings, told me I was beautiful, told me he loved me, that I owned his soul, and that he'd do anything for me. But it was a bunch of shit. Unreal. Perfect doesn't exist. Realness does. Realness is what I need. And Ethan is as real as anyone I've ever met

I'm trying to figure out what this all means in terms of my feelings for him. I thought I understood love once, but it turned out I was wrong. Could the feelings I have for Ethan possibly be love? I have no idea, but eventually I'm going to have to figure it out, instead of wandering around analyzing everything.

I'm also looking for a job again, one that's Ethan approved, and I'm still getting used to that fact. No one has ever thought highly enough of me to think I deserved something better. Sure, my mother wouldn't approve of the job at Danny's either, but not because she thought I was better than that. She would think the Summers's name was better, but not my character. In fact, if she was basing it solely on my character she'd say I belonged there, something she made pretty clear during one of her phone calls.

"You did what?" she practically screams into the phone and I have to hold the receiver away from my ear as it rings against her voice. "You moved in with some guy?"

I put the receiver back to my ear and balance it between my head and my shoulder. "Yes, that's what I said."

"I know that's what you said," she replies curtly. "But what I don't get is why the hell you did it."

I'm rinsing off the dishes as I load up the dishwasher. I also vacuumed, swept, and cleaned the toilets, and even though it sucked, I also took a bit of pride in doing it. "Because I needed a place to live."

"Is this guy rich?"

"No, he's normal."

"Normal isn't acceptable, Lila Summers. Normal will get you nowhere but pregnant and living in a shack and wishing your life was better."

"Normal is perfectly acceptable." I smile at myself, saying it aloud, as I scrub some green stuff off the plate underneath the stream of water. "And besides, what makes you such an expert on normal. You don't even know anyone who is."

"Your aunt Jennabelle is."

"I didn't know I had an aunt Jennabelle."

"She's my sister and you don't know her because she lives in a studio apartment with her three children and had to take a job as a secretary to make ends meet after she left her husband when he started screwing a woman he worked with. And no one ever wants to visit a poverty-stricken, single-parent divorcee who lives in a crappy apartment. If she would have just stuck with her husband and overlooked his one flaw then she wouldn't live in the run-down part of town with a bunch of drug addicts and criminals."

"Just because they live in the run-down part of town doesn't mean they're drug addicts and criminals," I say. "And I would love to visit her," I argue, rinsing off a glass. "She sounds like a strong woman who was brave enough to leave a man who obviously didn't love her enough to treat her well and she's been able to take care of herself."

"She's poor, Lila," she harshly snaps like the word is so filthy it has no right to even leave her lips. "She can't even afford a new car."

"Neither can I," I state, sliding some silverware under the faucet and scrubbing the gunk off with my fingers.

"Well, that's your own damn fault for being so stubborn. You could have everything you wanted in life, Lila. The perfect life, but you keep messing it up for yourself. Instead of doing what I've told you to do and come home and live with us until you can get back on track and meet a nice, wealthy guy who will take care of you, you're living in poverty, probably taking the bus."

"I'm not living in poverty," I reply. "Not yet, anyway. Thanks to my normal friend, who's letting me stay here with him because he's nice. Money and cars and nice clothes aren't everything, mother. And I don't want to sacrifice being around people who I like just to have a glamorous life." Wow, when did I get to this place? "I want to be around people I care about and who care about me. That's all I really want in life." God, I care about Ethan. I really, really do.

"Well, that's a lovely way to look at life. Maybe you should go visit your Aunt Jennabelle and get a real taste of what life is like," she says, and then adds, "And what on earth is that noise? That water noise in the background."

"Water." I put the plate in the dishwasher.

"Well, I know that," she snaps. "But what's it from?"

I turn off the faucet and close the dishwasher door. "It's from the sink." I press the power button and wipe off my hands on a towel. "I just got done doing the dishes."

"You what?" she shouts into the phone so loudly my ear rings. "That's it, Lila. This kind of behavior is unacceptable."

"Why? Because I'm cleaning up after myself?" I walk into the living room and flop down on the couch. I have some vanilla-scented candles burning and the whole house has a shiny, polished look to it. It looks good and I hope Ethan will appreciate it when he gets back from work.

"Summers's do not clean up after themselves," she snaps. "They hire maids for that."

"Well, since I'm broke, a maid really isn't an option." I sit back in the chair and comb my fingers through my hair. It's still long and perfectly trimmed just like I was taught to maintain it. "God, with the way you're acting, you'd think I'd just told you I did drugs or something."

She laughs into the phone. "Quit being a little bitch and be grateful for everything I've done and given to you. Without me, you'd be worse off than you are now. And that's going to end quickly because I'm coming down to get you."

"Good luck finding me," I say, inspecting my split ends. I should really just cut my hair off, like I wanted to when I was a kid. "Vegas is a very big city."

"What is wrong with you?" she cries. "You're being rude and inconsiderate. I don't get it. I don't get any of this, like why you're even living in Vegas in the first place."

"Because it was the first place I pointed to on the map," I mutter to myself, remembering how I got here.

"What are you talking about?" she seethes hotly. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Nope, not really."

"Well, you need to," she snaps. "If you'd just listen to me then you'd quit messing up your life. Being with a guy because he cares about you is going to get you nowhere, especially if he's some low-life like the guys your sister dates. He'll end up screwing you over and then you'll be left alone, probably pregnant and poor."

"That's not going to happen, so quit being overdramatic."

"Yes, it is. You wait and see. You'll get pregnant and guys like that won't take care of you. And I sure as hell won't help you."

"I don't want your help," I tell her, fuming with aggravation. "I want to be right where I am, living with Ethan. I don't want to be with anyone else. Ever." Wow, this conversation with my mom is getting productive in a very scary, life-altering way.

"You are really starting to piss me off," my mother says sharply.

"And you're pissing me off." I hang up, tossing the phone onto the coffee table. I feel so strange. So light, even after talking to her because of what the conversation revealed. I want to be here. With Ethan. And I don't ever want to leave, at least as far as I can see into the future.

"I want to do something exciting," I mumble to myself, coiling a finger around my long blonde hair. It's the same haircut I've had for years and I've never dyed my hair, yet I've always wanted to. "I want a change."

Change. I want to change who I am. I want to be better. I want to be a person who I can love, not hate and despise. Smiling, I get up and grab my purse off the table, and then I head out the door, knowing I'm going to have to take the bus, but it feels okay today and that in and of itself is another change. I wonder how many more are to come.

I'm really starting to walk on the wild side, well the wild side for me. I got my haircut at a discount hair salon and not just a trim or anything. I cut it off so it's shoulder length and I added black streaks to it. I'd always gotten pretty much the same haircut, always at this expensive, appointment-only place down in the main area of the city. Turns out discount places aren't that bad. Shelia, the lady who cut my hair, was really nice. She told me how she ended up cutting hair, how she'd been going to school to be a lawyer because her parents wanted her to. But when she was sitting in class one day, listening to her professor ramble on and on about the law, she realized how much she could care less about law and that really she'd rather be breaking some laws instead of learning about them. She left class, traded her nearly new car in for a motorcycle, and drove across the country. Just like that. Then when she got back she decided to try beauty school, simply because it was the first place she came across when she entered town. Her parents never forgave her for messing up what they deemed a perfect life, but she didn't care. She was happy. Still is. And that's all that matters.

I loved her story and it gave me hope that one day I'll figure out what I want. Although, I do know one thing that I want. My very sexy roommate/drummer/savior. Although, he'll never admit it, Ethan saved me. Many, many times. If I could just have him now, then life would be good. Because I want him. Want him. I really, really do.

After my head fills like it's going to burst from overthinking, I decide to call Ella to distract myself and to maybe get some girl advice with my guy problems.

"Hey," Ella says, answering after a few rings. "I was actually getting ready to call you!"

"Oh yeah?" I stare out the bus window at the street, the smell of fast food from the takeout bag on my lap overwhelming me. "Maybe you read my mind, then."

"Maybe." She pauses. "Okay, I was trying to figure out how to ask you, since every time I've ever brought you and Ethan up, you always deny there's anything going on, but I'm just going to be blunt. Are you living with him? Because Micha said you were."

"Umm..." I let out a breath, unsure why it's always been so hard for me to talk about my relationship with Ethan aloud. "Yeah, I have been for a while."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks with a hint of humor in her tone. "Are you... are you two together?"

"Not together like that," I say quickly. "And I didn't tell you because the reason I moved in with him isn't the kind of stuff I'm used to talking about."

"I get that," she says. "But I still wish you would have at least given me a heads-up."

"Heads-up?" I reply in a teasing tone and she laughs. "I am really sorry. The next huge news I have is yours first."

"Good." She clears her throat, sounding nervous. "And now I have news."

"Oh my God, are you pregnant?" I sit up straight in the seat, trying not to laugh at my joke.

"What! No!" She gives me an elongated pause. "Why would you think that?"

"Why wouldn't I think that? You and Micha are always going at it, even when you're not together. The walls were very thin in our apartment and those late-night chats you two had while he was on the road were very, very loud."

"Oh my God," she says, mortified. "You should have said something."

"Like what? Quit having such loud phone sex with your boyfriend." I laugh and then lean closer to the wall, shielding out the sunlight with my hand. "But anyway, what's your big news?"

She takes a deep inhale. "Micha and I are getting married."

"I already knew that."

"I know... but in, like, a week."

My jaw drops as my hand falls to my lap. "Are you sure you're not pregnant?" Now I'm being a little bit serious.

"Quit saying that. You're scaring the shit out of me." She steadies her anxious breath. "I'm not pregnant. We just wanted to get married and figured why the hell not, since we're already living together. We've practically been living together since we were four."

I smile, because even though I'm jealous, they are cute enough that the jealousy is worth it. "Did Micha give you that speech?"

She laughs. "Is it that obvious?"

"Um, yeah. It always is with him," I say, coiling a strand of my much shorter hair around my finger. I pause, because even though I've been a cheerleader over their relationship from the start, as a best friend, I still have to make sure. "Is this what you want?"

"Yeah, it really is." She sounds so happy and the jealousy in my chest builds.

"All right, then, I'll get over there," I say. "But I have to point out that I really hate California, so my going there means I really must love you."

She's quiet for a while and with Ella, that means she's really thinking. "Lila, thank you," she finally says. "For everything."

"Oh, whatever. I didn't even do anything really."

"Yeah, you kind of did," she insists. "If it wasn't for your little pushes, telling me that I'd be giving up the kind of love that shouldn't exist-letting me know how lucky I am-then I'm not sure I'd be where I am, but I don't think I'd be getting ready to marry the love of my life."

"That's not entirely true," I say. "Things still could have worked out for you."

"I doubt it, but maybe... maybe I would have finally come to my senses on my own and quit fighting the need to make myself miserable." She sounds like she's getting choked up, which is strange for her. She pauses and then clears her throat. "You're coming, though, right? And you'll be my maid of honor?"

"Of course. I've actually always wanted to be one." I pause, contemplating whether I should ask, since her family is such a serious subject for her. "Ella, who else is coming?"

"You and Ethan."

"And your dad?"

She hesitates. "I know things have been going pretty good between my dad and me and even my brother, but this is kind of something I want to be simple. Just me and Micha and you and Ethan, of course. Then there won't be any drama."

I sigh, sad that that's how she feels. But then again, if I ever did get married, I'm not sure I'd want my family there either because they'd probably ruin it for me, especially if the groom wasn't up to their standards. "Well, I'm totally coming, but you'll have to ask Ethan."

"Micha already did."

"When?"

"A few days ago," she says hesitantly. "He said he'd go."

I'm kind of hurt. Why did he not mention this to me? "Okay, then I guess I'm going." Usually, I'm good at sounding happy when I'm not, but the hurt shows through in my voice.

"Are you okay?" she asks. "I mean, with Ethan... is everything okay between you two?"

"Why would I not be okay?" I stand up from the seat as the bus reaches my stop, growing nervous over the idea that Ethan said something about us.

"I don't know... because you two have a weird relationship."

I grab the handle as the bus lurches to a stop. "Did Ethan say that to Micha?"

"No." She sounds like she's lying.

"Ella, please just tell me if he said anything." I step off the bus and onto the curb feeling very insecure.

"Look, Lila, just relax," she says and then I hear someone shout in the background. "Look, I got to go. Call me later after you've talked to Ethan and let me know when you'll get here and stuff."

"Fine." I look left and right and hurry across the street toward my apartment. "Wait for me to shop for your dress, though."

"Okay, I will, but I'm telling you right now," she says, "that I won't in any way shape or form be wearing a frilly white dress. It needs to be rock-star-ish or something."

"Oh, we'll find you something very Ella-like." I step onto the sidewalk and enter the apartment complex entryway that's situated between a broken fence and a desolate section of sandy land. The sun is setting so the air isn't nearly as hot as midday, yet it's still blistering and I'm starting to sweat. "I'm an excellent shopper."

"It's a deal," she says cheerfully. "Talk to you later."

"Okay, bye." I hang up and seconds later I realize that I never got around to the reason why I called her.

Sighing, I take the house key out of my pocket, frustrated at myself because I really could use some girl advice about Ethan and what I should do and she probably would have given it if I'd just been brave enough to ask her, but my initial instincts to keep my mouth shut got the best of me. Although, I remember in high school how far girl advice got me. Just sleep with him. It'll feel good and he'll be less likely to break up with you. Sex means commitment. Sex means you're older. Sex. Sex. Sex. I'm not even sure if they were ever really being sincere or if they were just toying with me.

When I enter the apartment, Ethan's still not back from work. I settle down on the couch, with the takeout bag in front of me on the coffee table, trying not to think too much about the past, otherwise I know where I'll end up heading-what I'll end up doing. I turn on some of Ethan's music, which I'm still getting used to, feeling nervous for some reason, like I can feel that I'm about to do or say something really stupid. Because I'm seriously considering telling him that I like like him. It's time to be bold and blunt. It's time to let him know how I feel. That I like him. I might even love him. My eyes widen as I realize that I might really do it and then double widen as I run my fingers through my now-chin-length hair that's even shorter in the back. And as if that wasn't a big enough change, I had black streaks put in.

"Who am I?" I whisper. I really don't know anymore. A girl who chops off her own hair? Feels things for Ethan? A girl who wants to tell Ethan about her feelings? And that is very, very scary.

I'm deciding what I should do, run away or stay put and face my fears, finally be brave, when someone knocks on the door. I get up and open the door, then swiftly step back. "Parker?"

He looks me over and his face twists with disgust when he notes my new hair. "What the fuck did you do to you hair?"

"Cut it." I shrug, praying to God he's not here for the pills, even though deep down I know there's no way that could be true. "What are you doing here?"

He's wearing a navy-blue polo shirt, slacks, and a Rolex. "Don't act like you're surprised to see me." His tone is sharp, his posture very rigid and threatening.

Suddenly I'm very aware that I'm alone in the apartment. "How did you know where I live?" I ask, gripping the doorknob tightly.

"I asked around." He takes a deliberate step toward me, inching his way into the doorway. "You fucking stole from my stash, Lila. My fucking stash. Now I know you're used to getting your way with me, but not with this. This is business."

I step back, moving to shut the door, but he slams his hand against it. "I'm sorry, Parker," I