Bryce and I spend the car ride blasting pop music and belting all the words, having to take breaks in between to laugh together.

I'm so happy that I don't feel the need to hide parts of my past from Bryce any longer, and I'm glad he's part of the small group of people who really knows what went down.

He refuses to let go of my hand even as we drive, and although I'm still convinced that this is going to result in a car crash, I don't fight it seeing as his touch is truly electrifying even when it's contact as simple as this.

When we pull up outside my house, I unbuckle my seatbelt, turning to Bryce to thank him.

He's already staring at me, his head tilted in the most adorable way to look at me.

"Call me whenever you need anything, all right?" he requests, and I nod to him.

"I'm really sorry about what happened. You didn't deserve any of that shit. No one does," he whispers, and I give him a helpless nod.

"Thank you," I reply, and he brushes my hair back behind my ears.

"It's not your fault though, so you shouldn't feel the need to apologize," I continue after a handful of seconds, and Bryce's smile suddenly shifts to something sad, his eyes eyebrows furrowing.

"But what if it was?" he begins to ask. "I mean, if I still lived here, we probably all would have been at my house rather than at Jasmine's, so you wouldn't have walked the same way to get home. Those assholes wouldn't have ran into you, and—"

As he continues to ramble, I reach forward to clamp a hand over his mouth.

I can't believe he's actually blaming himself for this; it's not my fault and it's certainly not his. Unfortunately, people like that exist in the world, and it's an issue that spreads far wider than just me.

"Bryce, don't think that way. I don't blame you at all so there's no point in blaming yourself."

Realizing that my hand is still covering his lips, I pull my hand away to let him respond to me.

He bites his lip, shooting me a sad smile, before saying, "I know. I just can't help it."

His voice sounds miserable and it's a painful sound to hear, and we seem to be getting along so much better now that things are more open between us, so I don't want to go our separate ways on a bad note.

So when I go to speak to him again, I dare to ask, "Do you want to come inside for a little bit?"

He at first looks a little surprised by my question, but after blinking a few times at me, he gives me small smile.

"Would you like me to come inside?" he counters in a teasing sort of way, and it makes me grin.

"Yeah. I would," I answer, and there's a clicking sound to show that Bryce unlocked the car.

I push my door open, grabbing my bag from where Bryce had placed it before stepping down out of the truck. I hear the sound of his footsteps behind me and his arm links through mine, guiding me up the steps and toward the entrance.

When we reach the door I rummage around in my bag for my key, and when I find it I insert it into the lock, twisting it until it unlocks before pushing the door open wide enough for Bryce and I to step inside.

"Your parents aren't home, are they?" he asks me, and I shake my head at him, shrugging my jacket off and hanging it up on a hook by the door. I slip my shoes off as well, lining them up orderly and giving myself a mental pat on the back when Bryce does the same.

"No, why?" I say, giving him a verbal answer, and he seems to notice a dirty way his words could have came across because he laughs to himself.

"I didn't mean it like that, Blossom. I just don't want to have to deal with your mom screaming at me for helping her daughter skip class," he explains before walking straight into the house as if it were his own.

Upon following, I find him already seated on the couch, gazing out the window into our backyard. I walk closer until I can get a clear view out the window, and that when I find him watching the neighbours' dog running around their lawn.

I take a seat on the couch next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder which makes him turn around to face me.

"You weren't joking about wanting a dog, huh?" I ask, and he looks down, shaking his head at me.

"I've never had a pet," he tells me. "I've always wanted one though. My parents were just really never animal people. Maybe one day, I guess."

I give him a small smile, starting to consider how isolating it must be for him to be living alone in that huge house half the time.

I'm certain Bryce loves his dad, but he seems to be all he has as far as family goes.

He's an only child, which I can't imagine ever being. Life would be so different without my brother around, and I can only assume that the house would be far quieter minus all of Charlie's energy.

"You know, I've never had a pet either. We've just never gotten around to adopting one, and since Charlie and I will both be in college next year it seems a little late," I say, and Bryce nods to me, running his fingers through his hair, messing up the dark chocolaty waves.

His hair always looks so soft and shiny, and after running my hands through it when we kissed last month, I can confirm that it feels just as nice as it looks.

Bryce catches me staring and he gets a cocky grin on his face.

"If neither of us are in a loving relationship by fifty, how about we just move in together and adopt a bunch of dogs?" he asks, and although I giggle at the suggestion, it seems to have caused gears to spin madly within my head.

What would it be like to live with Bryce? He's an excellent cook, and by the looks of his current house, it seems like he has a great taste in home decor.

Though he doesn't seem like he would be very friendly in the mornings just knowing that he barely gets any sleep at night apparently. I'm also sure it probably wouldn't be a great situation if he were to show up drunk one night because, just based on assumptions, he's probably very mean when he's drunk.

Christ, Lexi. Why are you even thinking about living with him? There is absolutely no situation in which that would happen; even just exercising the idea is a waste of time, I scold myself, and when I snap out of it, I find Bryce watching me intently.

His eyes are soft and he's staring at me as if he's studying every move, every shift in expression. The room suddenly feels much smaller than it felt before, and I shift in my seat, tucking my legs underneath myself. My hands fumble with the hem of my shirt, and when I look up to Bryce again, I have a question I'd like to inquire on.

"Do you ever think you'll find love, Bryce?" I ask shyly.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he leans forward in his seat so that his elbows are resting on his knees, hands clasped together.

"No, I don't. So if you're really opposed to this whole idea of our future dog family, I really recommend you begin the hunt for a nice husband sometime soon," he says with a forced smile.

"So you really don't think you'll ever find someone?" I continue to prod, and I notice the way Bryce's shoulders visibly stiffen.

He begins to drum his fingertips against his leg, a weird habit of his, and the way he's avoiding my eye contact is blatantly obvious.

"Nah. No matter where I go from here, I'm sure no one I meet in my future will ever captivate my interest," he says dully, and I can't help but to roll my eyes at how little hope he seems to have.

"You're awfully pessimistic, you know," I observe, and he chuckles.

"Took you long enough to realize," he then smiles, nudging me in the arm. I feel myself blushing for no apparent reason, and it just gets worse when he reaches for the ends of my hair.

Puckering his lips, he asks, "Do you think you'll ever cut this?"

I blink carefully at him. "I'm sure I will one day. Do you have something against my hair?" I snap, accidentally sounding insanely irritated.

Bryce's eyes widen at the sudden sharpness of my tone, and he throws his hands up in the air in surrender.

"No. I just think you hide behind your hair. It covers a lot of your face," he says, treading carefully.

I narrow my eyes at him, not appreciating how he saw right through the reasoning behind keeping my hair so long.

"So what if I do that? Why should it concern you?" I question, crossing my arms to try and contain myself.

Bryce looks unsure of how to answer, and I'm internally thrilled that I've rendered him temporarily speechless. He watches me for a few moments as if he's contemplating what to say, but then he clears his throat before speaking again.

"I've said it before, and now I'm going to say it again; I think you're really pretty. And I just don't understand why you would want to hide your face seeing as you look like that." He nods towards me.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I whisper, "Well, you wouldn't get it. You're you, and everyone in the world finds you attractive so of course you don't understand. Everything about you is perfect. It's almost painful to look ar you sometimes because of it. So i would appreciate it if you would just—"

I know I'm rambling, and God, this is embarrassing, so when Bryce cuts me off with the sharp sound of laughter, I quiet down without a fight.

"You have a bad habit of twisting everything I say about you back around and making it about me," says, his tone awfully judgmental.

Though I had no intention of taking our conversation in this direction, I should have known that we're awful at keeping our mouths shut. We seem to be in this bad cycle of saying something that goes too far, getting into an argument over it, separating ourselves for some period of time, thinking we can be friendly again, and then repeat.

I scoff at him. "Well, on that note . . . You take everything I say about you and somehow manage to make it about Mateo!" I burst, and Bryce shoots up out of his seat, his fists clenched at his sides.

I move back a little farther on the couch to distance myself from him, suddenly scared. I know he would never hurt me but that doesn't mean that he's still not a tad terrifying when he's angry.

"You're the one who's so obsessed with him! Truthfully, I don't understand what you see in him. What has he ever done for you?" he asks, and a realization finally hits me.

"Oh my God, are you jealous?" I ask, standing up from my seat as well.

The action lacks affect because Bryce is so much taller than me, and I'm still forced to look straight up at him just like I did when I was sitting.

I know that I assumed correctly when Bryce's mouth opens, his jaw hanging their for a moment before closing again.

"Well good news for you, Bryce. Mateo keeps ignoring me whenever I try to talk to him, so it's not like you have anything to be worried about," I spit, my anger now directed at Mateo even though he's not even here to hear any of the things that I'm saying.

"He's been avoiding you?" Bryce asks, not even sounding surprised.

I momentarily wonder if he knows something that I don't, but I brush it aside when with a shake of his head he continues to speak, saying, "Nevermind. Don't bother answering that. You should probably just keep your mouth shut for once anyway."

Suddenly, the feeling of tears in my eyes hits me. I blink hard, praying that I can hold them back, but I know that that isn't going to work for long.

Bryce seems to suddenly catches the severity of what he had just said, and his hand flies up to his face to cover his mouth.

"Fuck," I hear him breathe, and then when he drops his hand from his face, I see that he looks horrified.

"Please don't talk like this," I say, my voice quivering.

I'm not having a great day, clearly, and all I need is someone to be there for me. I really did think that that someone would be Bryce, but that idea seems totally far-fetched right about now.

I'm convinced that if I don't sit down right now I'll just end up collapsing onto the sofa either way.

Yet at the same time, I find myself frozen to the spot, staring blankly up at Bryce with wide eyes. His expression remains completely blank for another few seconds, but then I feel a tear roll down my cheek.

How many times am I going to cry today?

The tear causes something inside of Bryce to suddenly light up, and he takes a careful step towards me. I take a step back in return, and he respects that I want the space by turning his back towards me so that he is now facing the exit of the living room.

"I'm assuming you'd like me to leave now?" he asks quietly, and when I don't answer him, he nods to himself, walking out of the room.

I feel a shift in something inside my heart, and I scurry after Bryce from where I'm standing, grabbing his hand once I catch up to him.

We're standing right by the door now, and my fingers lace between his. His eyes are a burning amber, and when I spin myself around so that I'm right before him, his hand finds my waist and he holds me steady in front of his tall figure.

"Blossom, I didn't mean what I said. You should feel free to speak up whenever you like. I'm the one who needs to shut my damn mouth. I keep saying shit that I don't mean out of anger and I keep hurting you in the process," he says softly.

I dare to take a step closer to him. and his grip around me tightens.

"Bryce."

I simply whisper his name, the reason we were arguing a minute ago fleeing me.

I want to kiss him.

"Blossom, we can't do this again," he tells me, leaning down enough so that I have to stare straight up into his eyes, his mouth a few inches away from my ear.

I nod at him, helpless, but not stepping away.

Just one more moment and his lips would be pressed to mine. It's that simple, but at the same time it would put us back to where we were a month ago.

But at the same time, after these next few days, we'll be on Christmas break and I won't see him for two weeks, so perhaps it would all be fine.

All of a sudden, the front door flies open to reveal my mother standing there with grocery bags in her hands.

The moment she sees us, her jaw drops open, and she takes an angry step into the house.