Setting the bags down on the ground by her feet, my mother turns around to slam the door shut before spinning around to look at Bryce and I.

I feel Bryce's palm drop from my waist and I let our hands slip apart, taking a hurried step away from him.

"Why aren't you two at school? And what is going on here? I shouldn't come home from work to find my daughter getting touchy with some boy!" she snaps, her eyes wide and topped with a sharp wing of jet black eyeliner.

I'm unsure of how to respond, wishing I could have just let Bryce go home when he had planned to, but Bryce is brave enough to interject straight away.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Brooks. It was my idea. Please don't blame Lexi," he says defensively and I turn back to look at him.

I give him a thankful smile, but then when I see my mother's expression, I know exactly what she's focused on.

Bryce's tattoos.

"Does your father know that you've ruined your body like that?" she spits, her eyes scanning Bryce's arm.

I notice his jaw tense in response, and he takes a heavy breath before responding.

"Yes, ma'am, he does know," he responds calmly, holding his ground.

My mother looks surprised that he's remained so collected even though she's being so unreasonably judgmental towards him.

I step in front of Bryce, wedging myself in between the two of them before she says something else nasty towards him.

"He's not just 'some boy', mother," I say quietly, and her jaw drops open a little.

"Oh, you've gotten yourself a boyfriend, I see. Of course you have. You're never satisfied with yourself. You always need more attention. Have you considered that perhaps if you changed the way you dressed you wouldn't get yourself in those unfortunate situations?" she asks, and all I see is fire.

She's instilled a new rage within me, and it sets of something that I didn't know I even had inside.

"Really? You're going to blame me for what happened? Those people are sick and are going to rot in hell. It's not my fault at all. And believe me; I've blamed myself for what happened for far too long. But I finally realized something, mother," I start, taking a fierce step towards her.

Her eyes have narrowed to thin slits, and her hands are on her hips.

"I've realized that there is always going to be another girl out there wearing less clothes than me. There will always be another girl who's in a more vulnerable situation than me, whether it be because she's alone or because she's drunk. So I've finally figured that there's no point in telling myself off, because if all I do is protect myself, another girl falls in the line of danger. That doesn't seem fair, does it?" I ask, and I recognize the way my mother's lower lip is quivering.

Breathing deeply, I finish my thought. "I've come to terms that I'm not the problem. Instead we should be focusing on stopping the predators, not forcing girls to live differently."

My mother is staring at me intently, and that's when I catch the faintest sign of tears beginning to develop in her eyes.

Oh no. Did I take it too far? I just felt like I finally had the courage to tell my truth. After so much time spent living in denial, ignoring the fact that my life almost changed so drastically and certainly for the worse, I just finally had built up the courage.

I'm so damn proud of myself for finally putting my feelings into words, and when I feel Bryce's hand reach for mine I know that no matter what, he'll always have my back when it comes to these things.

I'm presented with the situation in front of my once again, and I have to ignore the way Bryce's thumb is rubbing small circles against the back of my hand.

I push the thoughts of throwing my arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug to the back of my head, standing completely still when my mother requests, "Lexi, may I speak to you? Alone?"

She's looking at Bryce now, and he keeps his protective stance behind me.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks softly, and I shake my head at him, knowing that I want him to be here for me if this conversation goes wrong.

"No. Please stay. Can you wait down here? We'll be quick," I answer and he nods at me, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

Then turning to my mother, I ask, "Can we talk upstairs?"

She nods at me, turning to walk up the stairs.

I follow her up, watching as she thinks for a moment before stepping into my bedroom. I step into the room as well and the air feels heavy as she takes a seat on the edge of my bed. I choose to sit leaning against the headboard, pulling a throw pillow into my lap and hugging it tight to my chest.

"What's up?" I ask her, and she lets out a sigh, pulling her jacket off and laying it down on the bed beside her.

"I know that things have been tense between us for the longest time. I know you think that I blame you for your situation, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. It would be quite . . . hypocritical of me," she says, staring at her hands folded neatly in her lap.

Her manicure is fresh, her nails painted a deep shade of midnight blue, and I notice how she's shaking.

For once in my life, I'm seeing her in a state that's vulnerable.

After overhearing her conversation with my dad last month, I've constantly been wondering what they possibly could have been talking about.

Now that she's sitting here in front of me like this, I think that I'm about to find out.

"Hypocritical? What do you mean by that?" I question, and she sighs, her brows furrowing as she's deep in thought.

Breathing carefully, she says, "I didn't have the best high school experience. I knew your father, but him and I weren't together yet. I was a little more, relaxed, you could say, during my teenager years."

She looks up to meet my eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear that had fallen astray from her tight ponytail.

"I was at a house party on a Friday night with some of my friends and we were all drinking. I was probably the most drunk out of all of us, so when an attractive guy that I had never seen before came up to talk to me, I wasn't thinking straight. I guess I gave him the wrong idea because an hour or so later I found myself locked in a bedroom with him," she says.

I suddenly feel uncomfortable seeing as I have a feeling that this story is going to end in sex, which is something her and I have never once discussed before.

But I stop myself from cutting in because there is clearly more to this story.

"I didn't want to do anything with him. I had never had, you know, sex, before, and I certainly wasn't ready for my first time to be when I was drunk. Yet no matter how many times I told him 'no', he wouldn't listen. Eventually, I gave up fighting him and I just let him do what he wanted," she says, and a tear rolls down her cheek.

"I was too drunk to fight back. He didn't bother with a condom so the next morning, when I woke up beside him in an unfamiliar bed, I was terrified that I was going to get pregnant. I got dressed as fast as I could, and I ran to the closest drugstore to buy Plan B. I knew my parents would kill me if I was pregnant, so I was beyond thankful when nothing came of the experience other than trauma," she says, before she begins sobbing, having to rest her face in her hands.

My heart seems to have stopped beating.

I had no clue. I had absolutely no clue that she went through any of that. It all makes so much more sense now.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know. That's terrible," I whisper, and she looks up at me despite the tears in her eyes.

"No, Lexi. I'm sorry. I've made you feel awful about yourself for the past three years of your life. Instead of being a good mother, I've been stuck in my own troubles. It's just that every time I think about what you had been through, I'm reminded of what happened to me. It needs to change, and I promise that I'm trying my best," she says with a forced smile, and there's something so sincere about this moment that when she pulls me in for a hug, I drop the pillow in my lap, wrapping my arms around her.

"You could have told me earlier. I wish you did," I tell her, pressing my face against her shoulder.

She nods, stroking my hair, telling me, "I know, Lexi. I'm sorry."

She pulls back, placing both her hands on my shoulders.

"I'm sorry too," I confess, wishing that this conversation could have happened so much earlier. It would have saved us a lot of arguments and emotional pain, but I'm just glad that we almost have a fresh start.

Shaking her head, she says, "I love you and your brother with all my heart. I hope that we can work on our relationship. How about we start off by you calling me 'mom' again. 'Mother' just sounds so formal," she smiles, and I nod at her.

"Of course, Mom," I say, and she laughs, standing up from the bed and dabbing under her eyes with her fingertips.

"Does my makeup still look all right? I have to get back to work. I decided to run to the grocery store quickly but I should get back to the office," she says with a wry smile, and I nod quickly at her.

"You look great," I compliment, and she kisses me on the top of the head.

"Thank you, dear. Now if you don't mind, I should put the groceries in the refrigerator and leave," she says, taking her jacket off from the bed and slipping her arms back into it. She brushes the wrinkles out of her outfit, turning to look at herself in my mirror.

"Mom? Did you find out who he was? Did he get what he deserved for doing that to you?" I question suddenly, referring to the boy that she spoke about in her story earlier.

She turns back to me, giving me a sad shake of her head. "No, but unfortunately it's far too late now. I'm just glad that you got the justice that you deserved," she tells me.

"Now, may I ask why you and Bryce aren't at school?" she questions, quirking an eyebrow up at me.

I lean back against the headboard of my bed, curling my knees up against myself.

"There was a presentation this afternoon on sex trafficking and I found it really hard to sit through. I ended up having a breakdown and I ran out of the auditorium. Bryce came after me and I told him everything that happened," I say, and as if on cue, there's a knock at the door.

Bryce appears in the doorway, and unsure expression on his face.

"Is everything okay up here?" he asks, and my mom turns to stare at him.

I'm scared that she's going to say something that she shouldn't but by some miracle, she says, "I'm sorry, Bryce. I shouldn't have been so rude earlier."

Bryce's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He looks unsure of how to respond, and he's nearly stumbling over his words when he replies, "Don't worry about it Mrs. Brooks."

She smiles as she walks past him and out the door.

"Feel free to call me Kathleen," she tells him, and he looks awestruck as she heads down the stairs.

"Damn. Are you all right?" Bryce asks me, hurrying over to my side to sit on the bed beside me. I give him a reassuring smile, laying down on my side but propping my head up so that I can still look at Bryce.

"Yeah. I'm great. And I think her and I will be a lot better now, so you better keep your half of the bargain and better not pick up another cigarette ever again. Her and I talked about some stuff and I think that we're going to be all right," I say, and he smiles at me, laying down in the same position that I'm in.

He raises his hand to my face, cupping my cheek and brushing his thumb across my lips. The feeling of his touch is simply exquisite, even when all he's doing is holding my face.

I can't even imagine what it would be like to do anything more with him. I don't think my heart could take it.

"Thank you for staying," I whisper, and he nods at me.

My heart is hammering in my chest, unable to remain clam after all that has happened so far today. I know my cheeks are blushing pink because of our close proximity, but I can't think of the right thing to say to distract from the fact anyway.

"I really want to kiss you, Blossom," he tells me softly, and I think I mentally screamed.

"Bryce, I don't think that's a good idea," I tell him, and he presses his finger back against my lips, silencing me.

"I know, which I why I'm not going to. But I just think you should know that you're doing something crazy to my head, darling. I've only kissed you twice but I find myself craving more, willing to take whatever you give me. It's like you've cast a damn spell over my heart," he whispers, and a door slams in the distance, signalling that my mom left, but also breaking the moment between us.

Bryce sits up abruptly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to rest them on the floor.

"I didn't mean any of the shit I said earlier. I feel stupid as fuck for even having the thought of saying it in the first place," he tells me, and I sit up as well, resting a hand on his back.

His muscles clench at my touch, and all I can think about is how he looks like without a shirt.

I clearly need help because I shouldn't be having these thoughts about someone who is only supposed to be a friend to me.

I cross my arms in a failed attempt to keep myself together, but it's impossible to deny that his words did something to me.

There's an ache within me to hear more, to hear all he has to say about me.

Though I also know that there is no way he'll be as emotionally vulnerable as I need him to be.

"I should probably head home, huh? Before your dad shows up to whoop my ass too," he jokes, standing up, and all I do is watch him walk to the door silently.

"She really is sorry about what she said about your tattoos. I explained why we were here to her and she gets it," I say, and Bryce smiles.

"I'm happy for you, and glad that you and her are doing better. It'll be good for you," he says, before he walks right out the door, shutting it behind him, leaving me alone.