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light turns off and I feel Connor’s weight shift the bed.
    “Are you awake?” he asks.
    I ignore him by pretending to be asleep hoping he will leave me alone. I need time to process what happened tonight. After a few minutes of silence, the bed shifts again and Connor’s arm wraps around my waist as he pulls me into his chest. Gripping me tight, he gives me a kiss on the top of my head. I continue to pretend I am asleep because I definitely don’t want to talk about anything right now, but also because this is really awkward and I think if I ignore it, everything will go back to normal tomorrow when we get up, but nope, not my night.
    After kissing the top of my head, Connor whispers, “I love you.”
    My eyes fly open and my heart starts hammering in my chest. Did he seriously just say that he loves me? He’s never said that to me before. I lay there, in his arms for what feels like hours trying to figure out what the hell that was about. I force myself to close my eyes and will myself to get some sleep, but I can’t stop my mind from running in circles. It flashes between images of an arrogant Vincent, to watching blood splatter when Connor punched him.
    Still enveloped in Connor’s arms, I gently roll away from him so I can turn to see his face. He is so peaceful, breathing steadily with his eyes closed and dark, thick lashes touching his tanned cheeks. My eyes roam over his torso where his T-shirt is pulled tight, revealing his muscular chest framed by large, broad shoulders. They continue their path, following his defined arms all the way down to his hand, where I trace each of his strong yet beautiful fingers.
    Looking back at his face I lay there until dawn, watching my best friend breathe, except that after hours of watching him I feel a shift in me. I can’t explain it really, and my mind is totally frazzled. Instead of trying to figure it out, I succumb to the rhythmic simplicity of his breaths, and let them lull me to sleep.

    I have no idea what time it is when I wake up, but light is streaming through the window. When I roll over, I realize Connor isn’t in bed anymore. Glancing at the alarm clock next to his bed, I see that it’s just after eleven. I rarely sleep late, mainly because I know if I get up early enough, I can get out of the house before my mom wakes up.
    I sit up and reach for my phone to see that I have a text from Emma checking in to see if I’m ok after what happened last night.
    I’m startled when Connor comes into the room, sweaty and breathing heavily, obviously just getting back from a run. I eye his naked chest and trace the lines of his stomach before looking back to his face.
    “Oh good, you’re up. I didn’t want to wake you earlier. You looked so peaceful when I left.”
    “Yeah, thanks,” I say and then look back down at my phone. I don’t know why I suddenly feel awkward with Connor, well, that’s not true. I know exactly why I feel awkward, and it’s because of his admission when he thought I was sleeping. I am trying to decide whether I should say something to him or just let the awkwardness ride until it goes away, when he interrupts my thoughts.
    “Why don’t you take a shower in here and I’ll take one in the other bathroom. I’ll meet you back here. I think we should talk about what happened last night. And, I know you don’t want to, but we have to.”
    I know he is right. Crap. I get up and grab last night’s clothes before heading into the bathroom. I let the hot water cascade over and soothe me, not getting out until my fingers are pruned. I wrap myself in a large towel and see my reflection in the mirror.
    I remember staring into the fire last night recalling last summer’s fight with my mom. I haven’t thought about that fight or any of the others in a long time. I always I bury them deep inside me when they are over. It’s the only way I can deal with them, her, and the fact that she’s never going to change.
    Even though I’ll be