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don’t mind the cold, Indie, and if you ever just need to be held, you call me. You’re not going to lose me. Tell your nightmare to go to hell.”
    I held my breath, then said, “I’m the reason you and Jewls are having so many problems.”
    He adjusted the blanket, pushing it between us and around me at the same time. “I want a girl who is sure of herself, who knows no boundaries. If Jewls is too insecure to accept our friendship, then it’s just not meant to be.”
    “Like you would be okay with her cuddling on a couch with some guy.”
    “Some guy, no. A best friend that only sees her that way, yes. It was just a fling, one that I don’t have the energy to keep up with.”
    “Then there was Sophia,” I said with a sleepy smile.
    “We’ll see. She may be too innocent for my taste.”
    “That makes me feel awesome, thanks,” I said as I playfully slapped his shoulder.
    He laughed under his breath. “You were always my favorite sinner.”
    “I have to be a saint until my birthday,” I murmured as I reached for the guitar pick that was on his necklace and flashes of our first summer came to me. Images of us in our youthful past began to haunt the room.
    Mason had a way of daring me to step outside of my boundaries. When we met, even though it had been almost two years since I lost my family, it still felt like yesterday. He was in pain, too. He’d lost half of himself, his twin, and we both blamed ourselves for the losses we experienced. We thought the pain of grief was a justifiable punishment, but we also had no sense of self-preservation. If there was a rule that said we shouldn’t do something or were too young to do something—we broke it. On that list of broken rules was drinking. I think Mason drank to dull the pain, but that wasn’t my reason. I drank for the warmth. Not mine, but his. I wanted to be able to feel his skin against mine, his hands, lips…everything. But without the alcohol, my raging hormones would cause everything I touched, everything around me, to freeze. No scarf could shield the emotions of a young teenage heart.
    That wild spree didn’t last long, Gran, my grandmother, was waiting up on me one night. I remember her sitting next to me for hours that night, waiting for me to sober up. She knew the exact second I did; it was when the room froze over and I began to cry with shame.
    I could never lie to anyone. It’s an odd flaw I have. I either tell the truth or say nothing at all. So when she asked me why I was choosing that dangerous path, I told her.
    As she embraced me, let me cry, very tenderly, with a gentle whisper, she told me that if I could not be myself with someone, then I wasn’t meant to be with them. She said that masking who I was would do nothing but bring me an early grave and more sorrow than I was already fighting to bury.
    The very next day, she took me to the North Wing, and my life was never the same again. Usually I have to touch things in order to unlock the memories, but that wing was different. I was able to stand in any room and watch, from a safe distance, the life I was yearning for.
    “And on that day, we will have the wildest party that ever existed,” Mason whispered as his hand cupped mine over his necklace. For a second, I would have believed that he could see the images all around us now, my memories that were inside out.
    Back then, when he asked me why all of a sudden I was following all the rules, I told him. I told him about the cold. Even showed him. He didn’t care, didn’t judge me or call me a freak. He just said, “I like the cold.” I told him the next time I wanted to drink and let loose would be when I was my own person, sure of myself. We both agreed that would be the day Rasure left my life. We’ve been planning this party for a while. Too long.
    “I saw your brother, Ben. He had me worried,” Mason said as he tensed, then squeezed his hand against my back, as if he wanted to assure himself I was real, safe and sound