No words come to mind as I stare at Nico painting what looks like a smurf eating a potato and getting railed-erm, making love to- a pineapple.

"Good, right?" he asks proudly.

I raise an eyebrow dubiously. "What is it?"

His face falls slightly. "It's the ocean."

I squint harder, trying to see it. He motions for me to come closer and my nose is practically against the paper. It's definitely not the ocean.

"That's... good," I say.

He puts the brush down. "Well, painting is your thing anyway. I guess I won't steal that from you."

I roll my eyes. "Wow, thanks," I deadpan as he stands up to take my apron off.

He grins at me. "Are you thinking of going to art school?" he asks.

"I want to," I say. "But I don't know yet. It's not the most stable career."

Stability is everything to me. My eyes flicker to Nico. At least, it used to be.

"But you're good at it and you love it. If I had something I even remotely liked, I would do it." He speaks so easily, like just because you enjoy something that means it's the best choice. I mean, maybe it is in Nico-land but in the real world, that isn't how it works.

I pause. "Well, what do you wanna do?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I never really thought about that stuff. I mean, I hate school and never really cared about my grades." He smiles at me. "All I ever wanted to do was make people happy."

If anyone else were to say that, it would sound incredibly cheesy. But when Nico says it, it's not because it's true.

"You are good at that," I say. "You even make me laugh sometimes." He grins. "I mean, we're still young. And you're good with people so there's a lot of things you would be good at."

He nods slowly. "I guess. My dad always expected me to take over his company but I just... I hate the idea of having that much power. I hate the idea of working just to make money. Plus, I don't think he wants to pass it down to me now anyway."

I start to clean up with him, pausing before I ask, "Do you ever talk to him?"

He scoffs slightly and shakes his head. "Being around him just... is so toxic." His eyes move to the floor. "I don't even know if I hate him or if I'm supposed to hate him. On one hand, the guy's a cheater and selfish as hell but... my mom's the one that left. At least he stayed and tried. And I... I..." He looks at me. "I'm sorry, I'm not used to having, like, serious conversations."

"It's okay," I say. "Whatever you tell me is between us. I promise." I bite my lip. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course," he answers immediately.

"Why are you afraid of catching feelings?" I ask.

The question hangs between us. I can tell he knows his answer but he won't say it.

"Because everyone I care about just uses me and leaves. I'm just a source of entertainment until a better guy comes around," he says finally. There's no pity in his voice or even sadness really. He says it like it's a fact.

His answer makes me go through a range of emotions in just a few seconds. First, it's heartbreak. Then, it's sadness. Finally, it's anger.

"What do you mean you're just a source of entertainment?" I ask. "Why would you think that?"

He shrugs. "People get tired of me all the time. I guess I'm funny at first but then they get bored and find something else to entertain them. Not just girls; everyone. Why else would a mom leave her own kid?"

"That's not true," I say. " I've been on my own, too, Nico, but I know that people not wanting to be in my life isn't because of me. It's because of them. You can't blame yourself and push people away thinking you're not worthy of them. That's how you end up alone."

His face is stony. "I think I'm better off alone." For once, when he looks up at me, I see fire in his eyes.

"No one wants to be alone," I say. "I've tried to convince myself a thousand times that I'm happier on my own but we both know that's bullshit."

"Why make things complicated? It gets fucking tiring trying to make everyone happy all time when half the time, I'm faking being happy myself. I've learned that people only fuck with you when they need you and the second you're not useful to them anymore or you need them, they throw you away." He looks at me. "If I catch feelings for someone, I'm not gonna be able to leave no matter how shitty they treat me. That's just how I am. So I'd rather not feel anything."

"Not everyone is that selfish," I say. "There are people who genuinely care about you and aren't gonna leave. You deserve people like that. You don't deserve to be alone."

"Why do you care so much about whether or not I wanna be alone?" he asks lowly.

"I don't know!" I exclaim.

"You don't know?" he repeats. "Then maybe you don't actually care." He says it like he's sure I don't.

I start to clench my fists. "You don't get to say if I care or not."

"Then tell me why," he says. "Because you feel bad after always seeing me joke around and be a nice guy, right? Just say it."

I narrow my eyes. "Fuck off, Nico."

"Just say it, Jennie," he repeats. "That's all you have to do. Just-"

"I care about you because I know that you care about me!" He goes silent so I continue. "I know you can show love because you show it to me all the time."

He freezes and I can tell that using the l-word scared him. "Jennie, I-"

"No," I interrupt. "You don't get to run away. You can run away from your dad all you want but you can't run away from me. I told you that I'm here for you and I'm always going to-"

Before I finish my sentence, he bolts up from his chair and slams me against the wall, grabbing my face with his hands and smashing his lips to mine. The metal from his ring is cool against the heat of my face. He nudges my mouth open and starts kissing me deeper.

He tastes like desire and everything irresponsible. His eyelashes are so near, shielding his closed eyes as I close my own. I savor the feeling of his lips on mine, the roughness of his hands on my face, the way my blood is pounding throughout my body. His hands move to my waist, wrapping around the skin under the hem of my shirt. I start to lace my hands through his soft hair, bringing him closer to me.

I've never been kissed like this before.

"Jennie?" I hear.

I pause in horror as I turn to face the now-open door of my room.

"Dad?"