I end up next to Bryce on the couch, but Charlie is seared on his other side. I lean over to speak to him, asking, "Why didn't you just bring me here? I mean, it would've saved Bryce the drive."

Charlie answers, saying, "I don't know. Bryce wanted to spend some time alone with you or something," before Bryce cuts him off by harshly shoving a pillow right in his face.

My brother rolls his eyes, taking the pillow from Bryce and tossing it across the room. It hits the wall before bouncing back and landing on the floor, which is when Bryce's father coincidentally comes walking into the room.

He glances to the pillow on the floor, then back to my brother. "Let's try and not wreck my home, Charlie," he teases, and Charlie laughs.

"Sorry Leo," he apologizes, and Leo shakes his head at him as if to say 'no problem'. Leo then walks over into the room, plucking the pillow off the floor and setting it down on a vacant chair.

His eyes scan the room, lingering for an extra moment on Mateo, and I realize that this must be weird for them. I'm honestly surprised that Bryce even let Mateo into his house, but then I figure that he just did it for me.

"I'm heading out," Leo says to Bryce as he picks up a laptop off of one of the side tables.

Bryce nods to him, and just like that Leo walks out of the room. I notice how he didn't comment about the cups of what I can only assume is some sort of alcohol in Jasmine and Ryan's hands, but I'm thankful for that.

"See? I told you he's chill," Bryce whispers to me, following my gaze and somehow knowing exactly what I'm thinking.

I give him a meek smile, which is when Jordan stands up from his seat with a huff.

"I'm hungry," he announces, and Bryce rolls his eyes at him.

"Go get the cupcakes from the kitchen," he tells Jordan, and without having to be asked again he eagerly follows Bryce's command, exiting the room and then entering again with a plate of cupcakes in his hands.

The cake itself it chocolate, and they're iced neatly with a creamy white icing. When he sets them down on the coffee table Jasmine and Ryan start singing Happy Birthday to me, and eventually everyone joins in.

The cupcakes are delicious, and when I notice Bryce chewing slowly and thoughtfully I figure something out.

"You made these?" I ask him and he nods at me.

"Yeah. I think the icing is a little too sweet though. I don't know where I went wrong," he starts but I quickly cut his speech off.

"Shush. These are great, seriously. You really are good at everything," I compliment, and he gives me a shy smile.

"Thanks, but I'm really not," he counters, and I tilt my head to the side.

"Really?" I begin to ask. "Try and name one thing you're not good at."

He thinks for a moment, puckers his lips, and then grins.

"Emotional vulnerability," he answers, popping the final bite of cake into his mouth. He's still smiling and I laugh along with him, before Mateo cuts in and ruins the moment.

"You baked these? Should I be worried that I may be poisoned?" he questions rudely, and Bryce turns to him.

"You clearly don't understand that I won't hesitate to kick your ass out of my house," he fights back, and Mateo snorts.

"Your dad seems to be doing better," he says, hitting a topic that really should be left alone at the moment. I highly doubt Bryce wants to talk about this with Mateo, but especially not with an audience of another six people.

So when Bryce looks back to Mateo, his eyes dark, I instantly reach for his hand in hopes of calming him down.

"Yeah, he's doing great. Thanks for asking," Bryce drawls, and Mateo gets a wicked smile on his face.

I don't like the way Mateo is acting recently. Bryce's presence brings out an awful trait in him that I know must've been tucked away somewhere this whole time, but I still wish I never had to witness it.

Jordan seems to sense the tension between the pair, and he cuts in to talk about some stupid things that him and Jasmine had gotten up to in our first year of knowing each other.

The heaviness in the room lifts and thankfully that new line of conversation continues to go on for awhile.

"Do you mind if I go out back and get some air?" I ask Bryce, and he nods at me.

"Yeah, go ahead," he insists, and I give him a thankful smile.

I'm super grateful for Bryce's efforts in putting together this little birthday get-together, but as much as I love my friends I just want a few minutes away from them.

I stand up from my seat, walking back to the front door and grabbing my shoes. When I walk back through the house and to the back door, I drop my shoes on the ground, slipping my feet into them before pulling open the screen door.

The cool air hits me straight away, and I step out onto the wooden porch, sliding the glass pane shut behind me.

Although there are plenty of seats, chairs and couches, on the porch itself, I find myself being drawn to the pier at the end of the backyard.

I step down the cement stairs and onto the plush grass of the backyard before heading directly for the crystal water of the lake. It's still warm enough that it hasn't frozen over, and the water is clear, reflecting the rays of light being projected because of the sun setting in the distance.

I sit down on the wooden boards of the pier, my feet hanging over the edge but surprisingly not dipping into the water like they used to. I think the water levels must be somehow lower than before, because I can vividly remember how much I loved to dip my feet in whenever Bryce, Jasmine, Charlie, and I were spending time out here as kids.

"I don't know about you, but I'm really feeling the nostalgia right about now."

Bryce's voice interrupts my peace and quiet, but I'm surprised to find myself happy that he came out here to find me.

"Me too. It's really strange," I agree, and he chuckles, sitting down right next to me, close enough that our shoulders are touching.

When I turn to the side and look at him, his smile is warm and genuine and his eyes are twinkling. He glances at my braided hair, and his smile grows a little more.

"See? You need to wear your hair back more so I can see this pretty face," he says, his fingertips brushing against my cheek.

I feel myself blushing and I have the urge to look off to the side to try and hide my face from him.

Bryce laughs a little at my shyness, but when I look back to him with a slight frown on my face, his laugh quiets down.

"What's wrong, Blossom?" he asks me, and I shake my head at him.

"Nothing. It's just that the only reason I was in the bathroom the night of the party was because I was being dramatic and needed to check my hair," I say quietly, and Bryce's smile fades.

"About that . . . How are doing? Have you been having those nightmares still?" he asks my softly, giving me a sympathetic smile.

"Not anymore than usual," I answer him, and his face softens.

"Thank God," he replies. "If you were, I would figure out who that guy was and hunt him down."

I smile a little at him, leaning against his shoulder. He smells like cinnamon per usual, and when he looks down at me I feel my heart melt from the pure sincerity in his eyes.

"You're too nice to me," I say quietly and he doesn't say anything for a few seconds.

"That's funny, because most people don't consider me a nice person," he whispers, and our faces are so close that I can feel his breath fanning across my skin.

My heart is beating insanely quickly, and I don't think I'm able to think straight in this close proximity.

Bryce clears his throat, scooting a few inches away from me and putting some distance between us.

"I missed you a lot, Blossom," he confesses to me, staring down at the space on the ground between us.

Something that I've been dying to say ever since I saw him again somehow suddenly reaches the tip of my tongue, and all of a sudden the words come pouring out before I can even try to stop him.

"Really? Because I missed you too, Bryce. I missed you so much. And when we got to high school I wished you were here even more because my brother was off spending time with the guys he plays soccer with and Jasmine was off being friendly with everyone per usual, leaving me feeling a little alone. And not to mention that you didn't even tell us you were moving until right before! I didn't realize how important you were to me and to all of us until you left and you didn't even try and text me?" I start, and I know Bryce is listening but he isn't responding.

"You know," I continue, "it's really confusing to have you just show up here out of nowhere, now practically famous with a crazy family situation going on. Don't even get me started on how you're now all tall and attractive and everyone seems to love you because that's also messing with my head, and—" I'm cut off by a hand over my mouth.

Bryce's mouth is hanging open a little, and he looks shocked at my words.

"Please, just stop," he begs me, and I shut my mouth.

"I wanted to reach out to you. I just thought it was too late, and you wouldn't want to talk to me. You could've tried too, in my defence!" he brings up, and I know exactly how to answer that.

"When you left with barely any notice I took that as you saying you didn't want to see me ever again!" I say, realizing how we're practically screaming at each other now, and he moves another few inches away from me.

"That couldn't be farther from the truth," he says, and something about the way his voice is it makes me want to keep silent.

We sit there quietly for too long.

I'm sure far too much time has passed and everyone inside is wondering where we are, but I don't want to leave on a bad note like this.

So when Bryce turns back to me, reaching for my hand, I let him take it.

"This is why I'm bad for you; I just make you mad and you end up yelling at me," he whispers, and something inside of me aches at just how insecure those few words sound coming from him right now.

"Bryce, don't go there," I warn, but he's not having it.

"It's so irritating too, because I know that you should be hanging out with nice people who like staying in on Friday nights rather than people like me who smoke weed or get drunk to forget about their lives for a little bit instead," he begins to claim, moving back so that he's sitting right by me again.

His hands are suddenly on my face, one hand on either side so that he can hold me close.

"I don't care about any of that stuff," I claim, but it's blatantly obvious to both of us that I'm lying right through my teeth.

"You didn't even let me get to the worst part," he says, his voice low.

"What is it?" I ask quietly.

"It's that I know that I'm no good for you," he whispers, so softly that I barely catch what he says next.

His face is so close to mine, close enough that if either of us moved in the slightest bit, we would collide.

"But, that doesn't seem to stop me."

In a breath, his lips press against mine.

And it's everything.

His lips are so soft and they somehow know just how to move against mine. He tastes like vanilla and cinnamon and something about it is simply intoxicating.

I can almost hear his heart beating in his chest, and it just grows louder when his hands are suddenly around my waist, pulling my body right up to his.

It's so similar yet nothing alike to the kiss we had shared exactly four years ago. It's years and years of emotions mashed together and thrown into one embrace.

His lips are like the perfect drug, and I can't get enough.

His fingers slip up underneath my sweatshirt just enough so that I can feel his skin against mine, and a sudden warmth is spread through me that I don't think I've ever known before.

We're basically fire and ice, complete opposites, but something about us together is so perfect.

I quickly realize that my hands are buried in his hair, and I know we're both running out of air so when he breaks the kiss I'm breathing hard. He is too, and his eyes are a wild shade of amber, burning bright as he stares at me.

"What are you doing to me?" he asks, his voice raspy and deep.

I stare helplessly into his eyes, unable to form any words, but I quickly recognize that there's a question on his face.

He's unsure if he should kiss me again, but I give him a forward answer by pressing my mouth to his instead.

He shifts back on the dock so that we're not as close to the edge, and just like that he pulls me into his lap so that our chests are flush together, his arms tight around me.

I separate our lips again because I'm suddenly nervous, scared to be kissing him like this when I've only ever kissed anybody a handful of times before.

"Stop overthinking. Just live in the moment for once," he tells me, but that's something that's far easier said than done.

"Bryce? What are we doing?" I ask him faintly, and he shuts his eyes again, leaning his forward against mine.

"I don't know, baby. I don't know," he murmurs, and that does it for me.

In a single movement, I'm out of his lap, and another second later and I'm standing up, arms crossed. He's still on the ground, sitting there and watching my movements like a hawk. He looks expectant as he waits for me to say something, and say something I do.

"You can't do this to me. You can't throw me surprise birthday parties and call me 'baby' but then go on to talk about how you don't do relationships and how you don't like showing emotion. It's not fair," I pout, and Bryce scrambles to his feet.

"This is exactly what I've been trying to say this whole damn time. All I do is upset you. Maybe it's best if you would just stop holding on to hope. You can't change me. I'm not going to be your project. I know that 'fixing' me would be validating for you, but it's just not going to happen," he spits, and I feel my heart shatter into a trillion pieces.

I want to tell him that he's all wrong, and that I like him just how he is. I want so desperately to say that it's Camila who thinks he needs to be changed, but I can't say anything aloud because the tears are already in my eyes and I'm afraid they'll pour out harder if I speak.

"Great. Now I've made you cry," he huffs, storming past me and in the direction of his house.

I wipe furiously at the salty tears staining my cheeks, calling after him to say, "What? You kiss me twice and expect me to not have anything to say about it?"

He freezes in his tracks, turning around to stare at me. The warmth from his eyes has dulled into a cold, unwelcome brown.

"It was just a kiss or two, Blossom. I didn't get down on one fucking knee and propose to you or some shit," he says.

All the heartbreak has suddenly morphed into anger, and in this moment I want to do anything in my power to hurt him just a fraction as badly as he's hurt me.

"In case you haven't noticed, Bryce, unlike some people, I don't go around making out with anything with a heartbeat. So perhaps you'd like to try and consider being in my shoes for a moment, and maybe you'd start to get it. Just because you aren't capable of being kind for more than a few seconds doesn't mean that all of us want so little from the world," I hiss, and rain begins drizzling down from the sky.

Something flashes in Bryce's eyes but it's gone before I really catch it, and he's walking away from me again with no signs of stopping.

I know what I said was awful and I shouldn't get to judge what he chooses to do with his life, but my brain isn't working properly right now and I'm trying so hard to stay strong even though it feels like everything is falling to pieces around me.

"Hurry up. You'll get cold," he says harshly, and even though I hate nothing more than to listen to him right now, he holds a fair point and I really can't afford to catch a cold before my auditions next weekend.

I reluctantly follow in his footsteps up the stairs and back in through the glass door, and when we enter the living room again I find only my brother and Jasmine there still.

I get an instant flashback to my thirteenth birthday again, this time to when I walked in the door to find Bryce laughing at Charlie and Jasmine who were both collapsed on the living room floor, their clothes soaking wet from the hose. My heart aches for how much easier everything seemed back then, but unfortunately, time travel isn't possible yet, and I can't just go back with the snap of my fingers.

"Everyone else left already," Charlie explains, and when I look back out the window to the outdoors, this time actually looking, I find that the sun has totally set now, meaning that Bryce and I were out there for ages.

I nod at him, not bothering to take my shoes off because I know that I need to get out of this darn house right this instant.

"Ready to go?" I ask them, and Charlie looks confused, but Jasmine shoots up in her seat.

"Yep! You guys have to drive me to my place on your way home though," she says, and I nod at her, placing my hands in the pocket of my sweatshirt to hide the fact that they're shaking.

Charlie nods slowly, standing up and walking around the couches to the main hallway.

"Yeah, we can head out. Is everything okay?" he asks, and Bryce answers for me.

"Everything's great. I think Lexi is just tired. Have a nice night, all of you," he says, practically rushing us out the door.

I don't manage to say anything on the walk to the car, the drive home, or even when we arrive home after dropping Jasmine off. I learn from Charlie that our parents knew what was happening, and when they ask me how the night was all I can do is give them a forced, fake smile.

I don't even have the energy to take off my makeup or change when I get upstairs, and I walk straight into my room, slamming the door shut behind me and not even making an effort to turn on the lights before I collapse in my bed, sobbing into a pillow like the dramatic teenage girl Bryce thinks I am.

Screw you, Bryce Bradshaw, is the only thought going through my head until I fall asleep.