Last night had to be the strangest and best night of my life. After telling Colton everything I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulder. I finally have someone who I can share stuff with and it's amazing. I still can't believe he got me to tell him about my birth parents and why I'm scared to ask about them.

That little shit wasn't even drunk!

That apple juice stunt had to be the cleverest thing I've ever experienced. I should've known he wasn't drunk, he was completely coherent the entire time. Plus, I've seen him drunk only the night before and I should've been able to tell a difference. Honestly, I think there was a part of me that knew he wasn't drunk, but still wanted to believe it so that I'd be more open to talking to him.

I want to see him again today, but I'm afraid that would be too much. We were together (shortly) on Friday, and basically all day yesterday since he was throwing freaking jelly beans at my window since before noon. Today would just be too much, so that's why I agreed to go out with my mom to the salon.

She has an appointment to dye her hair and I'm just tagging along for the typical gossip.

"C'mon Cam, my appointment was at 11 and it's... 11:04!" My mom calls from the bottom of the stairs. I've been ready to leave for a half hour and she wants to blame me for her being late. My parents are both terrible with time management, so maybe that's a good trait I received from my birth ones.

It's hard for me to tell which characteristics I get from my real parents and which are just habits I form from these ones. Guess I'll never know.

I hurry downstairs and by the time I lock the front door, my mom has the car started. I know she's been needing this appointment because her roots have almost reached an inch. Whenever I point them out she looks like she's ready to slap me and I just laugh.

"So your dad rescheduled our surprise date for tonight," my mom smiles excitedly. "That's why I just couldn't miss my appointment today," she says, looking into her rear view mirror.

"You don't have to take my car again, do you?" I ask, keeping an eye on the road. I'm always anxious when I'm in the car with my mom, she hardly pays attention to what she's doing. Whether it's picking her split ends, checking her phone, or putting on lipstick, the street is the one thing she can't focus on.

"No, we're taking your dad's car, why? Do you work today?" She asks, looking at me. I gently touch my fingers to her cheek and turn her head forward. "Oh relax."

"No, I'm off, but I might just go buy something for dinner since you guys will be gone," I tell her. We pull into the salon parking lot and my mom turns off the car.

"Do you need some money?" she asks and I shake my head. The last thing I need is to borrow money from my parents, I know they're struggling. It's funny though, how my parents need my paychecks to pay the bills but somehow my mom has money to spend a hundred dollars on her hair and another one fifty on cosmetics each month. It's not that I mind, I don't, but if I have to cut back, I think she should too.

We walk into the salon and are greeted by all the ladies. My mom has been coming to the same hairdresser since I was six. Her name is Laurie and she's practically family. I love coming with my mom even when I'm not getting my hair done because Laurie's just so cool. Every time we see her, she has a different hair color. This time it's pastel pink and I think it goes great with her fair skin tone.

"Hey girls!" she cheers from her station. She makes her way to give us hugs and the smell of her hair fills my nose. Her hair always smells amazing since she uses the products the salon sells but that stuff is expensive as hell so I'll just stick to my trusty Pantene.

Laurie pulls my mom to her chair and I take a seat next to her. She goes into the back to stir up my moms hair color and is back within a minute.

"So Cam," she says, "when are you going to let me color your hair?"

"Oh I don't know," I tell her. I've always wanted to dye my hair but I'm just too scared. I know she's a great stylist but knowing my luck, something will go wrong and my hair will look like a mess. "Maybe next time," I lie, and she smiles.

"Julie, you will not believe who came in yesterday," Laurie says as she rips pieces of foil for my moms red highlights.

"Who?" my mom asks.

"Rae!"

"No!"

"Yes!" Laurie says with wide eyes. Rae is my dad's brother's ex wife. Their whole marriage was a complete disaster and Rae absolutely hates everyone in my family, except me because I'm her god daughter. She never calls but she always sends a gift for my birthday and Christmas.

"Ugh did she say anything?" my mom asks, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, just that she thinks Adriana is a complete gold digging whore," she responds nonchalantly. Adriana is my uncle's new wife. She's a nice lady but she is about eleven years younger than my uncle. Age doesn't really matter to me if the couple are both over eighteen, but some people don't think the same.

"Oh my god! That bitch is just jealous," my mom defends.

"Yea and she went blonde, total mistake!" Laurie continues. This is why I come here, I come for the gossip.

"Blonde so does not go with her," my mom says dramatically. Whenever we're here, it's like my mom turns into a teenager again. It's actually fun to watch. "She just needs to get over our family and stop talking shit," she says. This is where I get my touch of foul language from.

The girls both turn to me and I realize I'm leaning extremely forward in my chair.

"Hey, what is said in the salon, stays in the salon, got it?" my mom asks. Instead if saying yes, it pretend to zip my lips and throw away the key. Who the hell would I tell this too anyways? Ha, Colton? I doubt he'd care. I wonder what he's doing.

No I don't. Ugh, why can't I just not like this boy? I need to be careful with him because like he said, I'll just get hurt. I think the best thing to do is to keep a friendly distance just so these feelings for him won't develop. I can do that.

I try to focus on the more gossip Laurie tells my mom but my mind seems to keep drifting. On Sundays I always feel like I'm forgetting something and it gives me an uneasy feeling. Just the thought of school tomorrow makes me frown.

I mentally go through my schedule to make sure I'm not forgetting anything:

1.Math-nothing

2. Office Aid-obviously nothing.

3. Anatomy- HOLY FUCKING SHIT!

I completely forgot about the test this Thursday! I have so much homework and I still haven't printed out the study guide and I'm completely screwed. I feel like a ton of bricks just fell on top of me in this salon chair and I could just burst out into a full on anxiety attack.

I drop my head into my hands and start to take deep breaths.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" my mom asks.

"I just remembered I have a shitload of homework," I groan, still taking deep breaths.

"Oh, do you have water?" my mom whispers to Laurie, "she doesn't do well with stress." I wasn't supposed to hear my mom tell her that but it's true. Laurie nods and goes into the back and comes back out with a water bottle. I continue with my deep breaths and take small sips of water.

I know slacking is my fault, but I sometimes feel that teachers don't understand the type of stress they put us under. It's unhealthy.

"Don't worry sweetie, my hair's almost done and you'll be home in no time. And if you need to miss a day of school to do the homework, I'll be sure to call," she reassures me. I nod and take another drink of water. This is what I love about my mom, she understands. The problem with her offer, though, is that if I miss a day of school, I'm a day behind in all my classes and that's just more stress. I'll just need to work all night to get my work done.

Just as she said, my mom and I were out the door by 12:45. This leaves me a lot of time to get my work done if I were to work nonstop, but doing that just adds more stress. I need to be able to take breaks so I could calm down and so I can pace myself.

"Do you want me to pick you up dinner now so you won't have to go later?" my mom asks.

"No, that'll be a good reason to take a break," I say and she nods. Once we're in our driveway I practically jump out of the car and run inside.

"Hey where were you guys?" my dad asks, walking out of the kitchen as I reach the stairs.

"Can't talk, lots of homework," I call back as I run upstairs. I don't bother to listen for a response as I reach my room and swing the door open.

"HOLY SHIT!" I scream, surprised to see someone in my bed. Colton sits up and throws a pillow at my face.

"Shutup!" he whispers loudly. I place my hand over my heart to stop it from beating out of my chest.

"Camryn, honey, it's just homework, relax," my dad calls from downstairs. My mom must've filled him in on my little panic attack.

"Okay!" I yell back. I shut my door and lock it before turning around to face Colton. "What are you doing here?!"

"I wanted to hang out," he says. I can feel the butterflies in my stomach come to life and I wish I had water to drink to drown them. "You weren't here, so I thought I'd wait."

"Oh," is all I manage to say as I try to slow my heartbeat down.

"You know you should probably get used to this, friend," he says. The f word feels like a punch to the stomach. He couldn't be more clear that that's all he wants to be. Friends.

"What? You sneaking into my room when I'm not in here?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Yup," he responds, laying back on the bed. I would usually want to talk to him all day but I have work to do.

"I'd love to hang out but I have all that anatomy homework to do," I say, hoping he'll take the hint to leave.

"Just blow it off," he responds.

"Like you? No thanks, I actually care about my grades," I say back.

"And what, I don't?" He sits up again.

"Well you said it yourself didn't you?"

"Fine," he says, standing up. He walks to the foot of the bed and uses the edge of the frame to help him step out of the window. I watch him until he's inside his room, but he doesn't close the window as usual.

I shake that encounter out of my head and grab my anatomy folder out of my school bag. I turn on my printer and laptop on my small desk in the corner of my room. I sit in the small desk chair and sign into the school's website to print out the study guide. As it's signing in, I pull out my phone to listen to music.

Just as I'm about to start singing the chorus to Stacy's Mom, my headphones are pulled out of my ear. "Hey!" I say, looking up from my computer.

"Print me out a copy," Colton says, sitting back down on the bed. He has a black binder in his lap.

"What the hell I thought you were leaving," I say, turning my music off.

"I did leave, as you saw, but I went to grab my work so I can work too." What? Colton actually wants to work? This whole past week I haven't seen him do anything in anatomy, and now he wants to work? With me?

"Fine, but you need to be serious," I tell him, turning back to my laptop to print him out a copy of the study guide.

"You stress a lot, don't you?"

"More than you know."

"Why?" he questions. "Why do you stress over school so much?" I look to him to see if he's being serious and his face is straight. He is serious. What does he mean why do I stress? That's more of a complicated question than I thought.

"I need good grades to get a scholarship," I answer. "I can't afford to get out of here on my own." He raises an eyebrow to me and I realize he's the first person to know my desire to leave this place.

"I didn't know you were so eager to leave your parents," he says. The printer spits out his copy and I hand it to him.

"It's not my parents I want to get away from, it's everyone else, for obvious reasons." I don't know why I'm telling him all this, I think he learned enough last night. I should bring up how he was never really drunk but I don't know how he'd respond to that.

"Oh," he says.

"Your a senior," I say, "do you plan on going to college?"

"Ha, yeah right, college isn't for me," he laughs. He opens his binder and pulls out the anatomy worksheets. I grab my textbook from underneath my desk and open it to the chapter.

"Why not?" I ask, flipping through the pages. "What do you want to be when you're older?"

"What do you want to be?" He flips the question to me.

"Do you want me to have an anxiety attack right in front of you? That question stresses me out," I admit with a sigh. I don't even know why I asked him that if I couldn't answer it myself.

"Exactly," he says. "Besides, I couldn't go even if I wanted to," he says, looking down. I stand up from the desk chair and sit next to him on the bed, crossing my legs.

"Why not?"

"Because fuck ups can't get into college. My transcripts are shit and, as you know, I have a pretty shitty record," he says sternly. He seems to be getting angry and I can tell this is a touchy subject. It seems like he actually wants a future but he feels like it's been taken away by his mistakes.

"What do you want to be?" I ask again.

"I already..."

"No. I know you know what you want to be, so tell me," I demand somewhat nicely. He looks at me with his eyebrows furrowed. "C'mon, I told you a lot last night so tell me this."

"You're not drunk," he says raising a brow.

"Neither were you," I shoot back. His eyes go wide and I see a smile creeping on his lips.

"Fine," he sighs/groans, "don't laugh, some people think it's feminine." I'm about to smile but he looks serious.

Hmm, feminine? A nurse?

"Promise I won't," I say, holding up my pinky. He eyes it and laughs and hooks his pinky with mine. He groans again and lays back on the bed. He crosses his arms over his face sighs deeply.

"I want to be a social worker," he finally admits. My first thought is "Is that really considered feminine?" and my second is "Why?"

"That's interesting," I tell him. "What makes you want to be that?" He sits up again and shrugs.

"I kind of want to help kids in unhealthy environments. Some social workers are pretty fucking shitty, let me tell you. Some don't even spot obvious signs of any type of abuse and it's just wrong. I always swore I was going to be the best and save some kids, you know? But I screwed all that shit up," he admits. He seems extremely serious about what he wants to be and it's sad to see him mourn over his future.

"Colton, you know you could still do that. You'll just need to work extra hard to do it, but I know you can," I say, placing my hand on his arm.

"How would you know? You don't even know me," he snaps. Really, are we back to being mean?

"Well something tells me I know you better than anyone else," I shoot back.

"What makes you say that?"

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to just go and share that stuff with anybody," I say a little louder, standing up from the bed.

"You're wrong, you don't know me," he says standing up.

"Don't you think that's a little unfair? You don't know everything about me but you know more than anyone else, way more. You're the only person I've ever told that stuff to and right now I'm starting to regret it," I admit. I turn away from him and face the wall. We can never just have a normal conversation. He just always has to go and get upset over something I say.

"Please don't," he whispers. His response catches me off guard, but I stay facing the wall. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm being a dick." He touches his hand to my arm and I tense up. "You do know me more than anybody, and I promise if you can stand to stick around, you'll learn a lot more. Just please don't regret telling me about yourself."

I turn around and he's only about two inches away from me. Friends don't do this. I look up at him and his hazel eyes, my god those beautiful eyes, are looking down into mine. Friends don't do this. I'm frozen and I don't know what to do. Colton's hand is still on my arm and he squeezes gently. His eyes move from mine to my lips and I can feel my heart beating like crazy. I wonder if he can hear it. He looks back to my eyes and then to my lips once more.

And then a phone rings.

It isn't even my phone, I don't recognize the sound. It must be Colton's.

He let's go of my arm and pulls away. He reaches into his pocket and looks at his phone screen. He answers it and turns away from me.

"Hey man... Nothing, what's going on?... Right now?.. Who the hell throws a party on a Sunday?.. No, no, I'll be right there," and he hangs up.

I sit on the bed quickly to look causal but I just feel stupid. Was he going to kiss me? Friends don't do that. If the phone wouldn't have stopped him, would I have? Probably not, but I should've. I don't want to get myself into something that will only hurt me. I mean honestly, he's going to be on his way to a party and most likely hook up with a shit load of girls. I'm the only one feeling a little hurt and if he were to kiss me, I'd feel ten times worse. It's a good thing he didn't kiss me.

He turns around and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. "Um, I have to go," he says. I try not to look disappointed but I'm sure I'm failing. "I should probably leave so you could get your work done." My work seems so pointless now.

"Right, of course," I say casually. He looks like he's about to say something but he stops himself. He turns to the window and steps out for the second time today. He doesn't say bye, he just climbs into his window and closes it shut.

A few minutes later I hear his motorcycle drive off. The rest of my night is filled with stress and confusion while Colton's is probably filled with boobs and ass.