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I would say waking up in my own bed was the most jarring realization I had as my eyes opened, but I'd be wrong. That was the memory of the kiss-- or the lack of the kiss-- with Vincent. The realization made me groan into my pillow as I already began dreading the moment I walked downstairs to see him.

I lift my head and check the clock beside my bed to see it was still in the earlier hours of the morning in comparison to when I usually get out of bed at school. Eventually, I roll out of bed and tiptoe out of my room, past my mom's bedroom door, to see her sleeping peacefully, although still clad in her uniform.

I glanced at the closed door that held Vincent on the other side and felt my heart flip over itself before making a beeline downstairs. As I walk toward the kitchen, I pick up stray pieces of trash and things that aren't in their proper place, deciding before consciously making the decision that I would tidy up before my mom woke up.

As my coffee brews, I continue pick up around the kitchen, trying not to feel so embarrassed that Vincent was seeing my house in its current state. I was surprised he didn't go running for the hills when he stepped foot inside. His actual reaction flashes in my mind momentarily, reminding me of his cool demeanor.

I spent thirty minutes cleaning up before taking a break on the kitchen counter, letting my bare legs dangle off the edge, the tip of my socks barely scuffing the ground, as my hands wrap around the coffee mug to absorb any warmth its willing to offer.

"Morning," A gruff voice greets, and I switch my gaze to my lowering cup of coffee to see Vincent stroll in.

Shirtless. With bedhead. And sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips.

I avert my gaze immediately so that I don't stare. Or, stare any more than I initially had. "Good morning," I mumble as I stick my nose back in my mug.

From my peripheral vision, I watch him lift a hand to drag over his face. "Is there any more coffee?"

"In the pot," I answer quietly, and then want to cringe when I can barely decipher my own whisper.

It was like I wasn't sure how to function near him after what happened-- or didn't happen-- last night. I was dumbfounded for a moment as I realize that I somehow went from being able to openly scream at him or admit, to his face, how much I dislike him, to aggressively avoiding eye contact and practically whispering.

I'm grateful when he just continues to move behind me and exits my peripheral vision. I hear shuffling from behind me before the satisfying sound of coffee pouring, and a moment later, he appears in front of me with the pot in his hand.

"You want any more?" He offers, his light eyes practically glowing despite how tired he looked.

I slowly extend my cup toward him so he can fill it up, but I have to fixate my gaze on the coffee so I don't look at him, his stupid eyes, or his annoyingly perfect chiseled features. It was a good thing I was staring, because Vincent got dangerously close to the top before spilling over and pouring coffee on the ground.

I jerk the cup away and successfully spill hot coffee on my bare legs from the movement. The sizzling sensation makes me gasp and bite down hard on my tongue to keep myself from muttering every curse word I've ever heard.

"What the hell, Vincent?" I can't help but snap as I rub the burned part of my leg.

His wide eyes are innocent and concerned as he sets the pot down on the counter beside me. "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," He mumbles quickly, shaking his head. "Can I get you something?"

"Maybe a paper towel?" I suggest with a quirked eyebrow, glancing back and forth between the coffee all over my leg and the ground.

He hurries to grab the necessary resources to solve the coffee issue and I let out a deep breath, trying to ignore the minor stinging coming from the burnt spot. He returns and hands me a paper towel before bending down and mopping up the floor silently.

I wipe off the excess coffee from my legs thoughtfully and glance past my leg to Vincent knelt in front of me. His gaze was no longer on the floor, but traveling up my legs, from my ankles to my knees to my thighs, until eventually his captivating gaze locked with mine.

I could hear my heart thudding in my ears when I saw the look in his eyes, one that I couldn't explain but I felt reflected within me. Before I could comprehend the depth of his stare, Vincent lifts one hand slowly and runs his finger tips along my ankles and the bottom of my calf, his gaze following his own movements.

I suppressed a shudder at his electrifying touch and felt my fingertips dig underneath the counter, holding on as tightly as possible in anticipation. Slowly, he began standing up, his fingertips gently brushing further up my leg until his hand was positioned on my thigh.

My chest is heaving at this point in anticipation and nerves, but when I see the raw look in his eyes, something overcame me. One of my legs hooked behind him and pulled him closer, my arms found their way around his neck, and I pushed myself against him to finally feel his lips on mine.

And it was worth the rejection from last night.

If I wasn't so dazed and positive what I wanted, perhaps I would have feared potential rejection. Although he had been prompting me with electrifying fingertips tracing the skin on my legs, I was the one to kiss him. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?

But I knew that he wanted the kiss just as badly as I. One of his hands slid to the small of my back to hold me closer, the other moving slowly from my thigh, up my side, and then to hold my neck in place.

His lips moved against mine with an urgency, a sense of feverishness, that I know I mirrored back. Vincent's lips were so soft as they moved against mine, his tongue eventually begging for entry into my mouth, which I granted without a second thought.

The only thing going through my mind was, how do I get closer?

"Lily," My mom calls, as I suddenly register the sound of her approaching footsteps. "Thank you for cleaning up!"

In a panic, I take my hands and shove Vincent as far away as possible, my eyes wide and full of surprise when I glance toward the doorway. Vincent stumbles backward as my mom enters the room, her gaze thankfully aimed down at the table as she scanned the room.

I couldn't dare look toward Vincent, so I just forced a smile and acted like my cheeks weren't completely aflame. "You're welcome. Happy to help."

Despite our physical distance, the air between Vincent and I was thick and charged with energy, and my mom wasn't oblivious to it. She looks up and glances between Vincent and I, her gaze lingering a little longer on me when she realizes he isn't wearing a shirt and basically looks like Adonis in the middle of our kitchen.

Then the corners of her lips twitch and I feel myself let out a hopeless breath. Maybe she didn't know we had just been all over each other, but she definitely knew I was thinking about it.

"So kids," My mom chirps with a newfound mischief in her eyes. "What are your plans today?"

"Go see Danny," I answer immediately, with the words of the doctor and Vincent's proposition swimming behind my answer.

"That's what I was hoping you'd say," She smiles warmly as she pours herself some coffee. "I have to go back to work in ten minutes, but the doctor left me a voicemail asking me to speak with him when I got a chance. Can you find out what he wanted to discuss?"

My chest constricted and instead of giving her the answer right now, like I should have, I just nodded and played dumb. "Sure."

Vincent's stare was burning a hole in the side of my face, almost silently accusing me of some wrongdoing. But I knew what I was doing: I needed some time to think and consider Vincent's offer before I worried my mom about the consequences of another surgery.

I would have an answer by the end of the day so I didn't waste any time in Danny's recovery. But for now, I intended on spending the day with my little brother and considering the weight of Vincent's proposition.

"Before we go to the hospital," I say sternly, turning my attention to Vincent. "We have to do your physical therapy session."

As usual, he groans, but concedes. "Can it wait a little bit? I wanted to make pancakes."

I furrow my brow at the request and look around. "I don't even think we have pancake mix—"

"Yes we do," Mom chimes in as she lowers her cup of coffee. "In the pantry."

Vincent beams at her. "Great. I'm going to go, uh, put on a shirt. Then we can get started."

As he passes me, I scoff, "'We'? This sounds like a solo venture."

Even though he disappears up the stairs, I still hear his heartwarming chuckle. "I'm going to need your help on this one, Lil!"

With a stupid smile I didn't even realize I had grown, I turn my gaze toward my mom, who is smirking at me over her coffee mug. I drop the smile immediately, but it was too late. I knew what was coming.

"Just friends," She scoffs. "I knew it was more than that."

My eyes bulge at her tone as I tell her to quiet down and whisper-yell, "Mom, don't be so loud! We're just friends, okay?"

But I was well aware that my bright red cheeks told a different story.

"You can't be friends with a boy who looks like that," She tells me very matter-of-factly as she takes a large gulp of her coffee.

My nose scrunches up in distaste as I whine, "Mom, that's gross. He's more than half your age."

"That doesn't mean I can't appreciate that he's a handsome young man," She tells me with a small smile. "Besides, he already has eyes for you. It's not like I'll be going after him."

And if my cheeks weren't burning before, they were now. Heavy footsteps coming back down the stairs forced me to look away from my mom and try to cool my flushed cheeks somehow, but I'm sure I still looked like a tomato by the time Vincent entered the kitchen.

I was mildly disappointed that I couldn't ogle at his toned chest anymore, but it was for the best. My mom finishes her coffee and puts the mug in the sink, and a fleeting feeling of nerves wash over me when I realize that Vincent and I are about to be left alone again.

"Alright, I'm out," Mom announces with a wave as she grabs her purse. "I'll be home after dinner time."

I sit up straighter, still on the edge of the counter, and nod. "Have a good shift, mom."

"I'll see you guys later," She says, returns Vincent's smile and wave, and then walks out the door.

When I lift my gaze to Vincent's, he looks like he wants to say something, and the memories of the kiss comes hurling back into the forefront of my mind. I sit there and wait for him to acknowledge what had happened between us, but when he does speak, it's not what I expect.

"So, lets make some pancakes," He says smoothly, seemingly unbothered by the mind-blowing kiss and abrupt interruption.

I look at him dumbly for a moment before sliding off the counter and gathering the pancake mix. If he wasn't going to say anything about it, then neither was I. Maybe it was just a one time thing and he just wanted to forget and move on.

I grab the bottle of mix and put it on the counter and give Vincent a pointed look. "You think you'd need help with this?"

He looks from the bottle of mix then back to me, lifting his arm to scratch the back of his head. "Uh, yes?"

I point at the words and say slowly: "It literally says 'Shake 'n' Pour'. You put water in, shake it, and pour it onto the hot pan."

"But you have to put the right amount of water in," He tries to argue for himself, but when I point at the 'fill line' labeled on the bottle, he desperately tries to excuse, "and... shake it enough?"

I suppress a laugh, but he sees the corners of my lips turn up into a smile and grins brightly at me. I grab the bottle back from in front of him and go to the sink to fill it up, aware he was watching my movements closely.

Silently, Vincent moved behind me and I could feel his presence before I saw him reach over and turn the water off. His hands rested on the edge of the counter, caging me in, and I felt my breath hitch the second he leaned in closer.

"Lily..." He trails off, his breath caressing the skin by my ear so gently that my heart flipped over itself in my chest.

I turn my head a little, enough so I can see him, and murmur, "Yes?"

I almost expect him to grab my hips, turn me around, and start kissing me with the same fire that he had before. But instead, he just stands there, making me feel like my whole body was on fire as I waited in anticipation to see what he would do.

But then he took a step back. "You uh," Vincent starts stumbling over his words. "You almost over filled it."

Instead of continuing to not address what exactly was happening between us, I turned around with a suspicious expression and tilted my head.

"We kissed," I say point-blank, watching his expression turn surprised at my straightforwardness. "Why did you kiss me?"

I don't know what I was looking for. Maybe for him to express feelings that he had been harboring for me, or perhaps even tell me I was another conquest.

But instead, he said, "I don't know."

Incredulously, I repeated, "You don't know?"

I watch his eyes for some sign of truth, but I struggle to find any. "Sorry," he shrugs. "I won't do it again."

My stomach sinks upon hearing his full answer, despite the fact I dont fully believe him. But even so, I refused to sit here and demand the truth (if he wasn't already telling it), and instead just nodded.

"Alright," I gulp. "I'm going to go take a shower. Let me know when the pancakes are done."

I can't muster the courage to meet his eye line as I walk away. I'm not sure why his answer upset me so much. It wasn't as bad as him calling it a mistake, or saying the kiss was unpleasant, or whatever. But it still wasn't the answer I was subconsciously looking for.