The weeks passed and I struggled to keep my cool around Julio. I managed to convince him I was sane, but Ryo, being the observant little shit that he was, noticed the monstrous crush I had on him and teased me about it endlessly.

Anyway, November was upon us and, towards the end of it, it brought Thanksgiving weekend along. Unfortunately for me, while everyone else was going to spend the day with family, turkey and stuffing, I knew that I'd be stuck at home, probably watching Netflix or reading and definitely pitying myself.

I'd just gotten a phone call from Chase, apologizing for not being able to be there and reminding me that he'd be there for Christmas, which we were forced to spend with my mother, Jack and Charlie, instead of in San Francisco like I'd hoped. I was just glad that my brother would be there, too.

"So," I said, just as he was about to hang up, "What did you mean that one time?"

"Which time, Tay?" Chase laughed, and I could just imagine him running a hand through his shaggy blond hair, that teasing glint in his eyes. I was suddenly homesick again.

"You know, the time when you said you didn't have a choice when it came to leaving me here." I probed, knowing that he'd tell me the second time I asked. It would just take a little bit of convincing.

"I really don't want to tell you." My brother said, honestly, "Is there any chance you'll just let it go?"

"Not a chance in hell." I stated simply, not bothering with even trying to deny it.

He sighed, sounding weary and exhausted even through the phone, as if his worries from America had followed him all the way there.

"I just don't want you worrying about anything. Everything will sort itself out in two months."

"If it concerns me, then I think I have a right to know." I was getting a little frustrated. Even when I'd been distracted with things like Chris, Ryo, Julio and Ally, that conversation had been weighing on the back of my mind, sending a little niggling feeling of doubt.

"You do have a right to know, Tay. But I know you. You'll almost definitely freak out and say something you shouldn't to the Bitch." I almost laughed at the malice with which he spoke the nickname we gave her.

"I promise I won't." I knew that this wasn't a promise I was likely to keep, depending on the nature of the matter he told me about.

"Bullshit." Chase laughed, then sighed again, sounding like he was giving up, "Can I at least tell you in person? When I see you in December I'll tell you. I promise."

"Fine." I conceded reluctantly, knowing that I'd just cause him more stress and strain, "But you have to tell me."

"Have I ever broken a promise?" It was a rhetorical question and he knew it. No matter what he promised me, from the time we were kids, he always followed through, even if it was something as stupid as taking me out for ice cream.

We talked for a little while longer, the topic pushed away to the last corner of my brain, where it wouldn't resurface until I actually saw Chase again.

He said a quick goodbye, when I heard a voice in the background that was almost definitely female calling him. Was that a friend or a girlfriend? My insufferably inquisitive brain needed to know.

After putting the phone down, I went back to my book. It was the day before Thanksgiving and I hadn't had school, but I knew none of my friends were free to do anything, so I'd just spent the day reading, after spending two hours in the gym. I'd gotten through an Agatha Christie book, Unfinished Portrait, and I'd even started a new Wattpad story, one of those classic, cliché bad boy/good girl ones.

Suddenly, just as the protagonists were getting down to business and had realized that they were, in fact, madly in love with each other, I heard the sound of something hitting the glass double doors that led to my small balcony.

Was someone trying to break in?

Another thing hit the glass, and I went towards it. I opened the doors, narrowly missing one of the flying projectiles. They were pebbles, probably taken from the long, winding driveway.

A glance down from the edge of the balcony showed a figure in a leather jacket standing right below, by the tree whose branches almost but not quite reached the balcony. Since I knew only one person who religiously wore a leather jacket, I could safely assume that it was Julio.

"Julio?!" I whispered furiously, knowing my voice would carry down there either way. "What are you doing there?"

"Can I come up?" He whispered back.

"How are you going to do that?" I demanded. My mother was home for the weekend and she would not approve of him coming in through the front door.

He took that as a yes and didn't bother responding. I soon found out just how he was going to come in.

He climbed the fucking tree.

He ascended the branches nimbly and agilely. He swung himself up onto the balcony and dusted himself off while I stood there, open-mouthed in shock.

"Did you seriously just do that?" I questioned, wondering if I'd ever be that athletic.

"Yes." He answered, surly as usual.

I watched as he let himself into my room, getting comfortable on the bed. He was lying on his back, with his head propped up by his hands. The asshole hadn't even taken off his shoes.

I gaped at him, barely registering his annoyance as I stormed up to him and all but yanked off his trainers. They were covered in mud.

"Eww." I groaned, dropping them onto the floor. They stained the pure white carpet brown, which was something I didn't really mind. It would annoy my mother and, at the same time, I wouldn't have to sleep on it.

"What are you doing here?" I glared, crossing my arms over my chest. I was not mentally prepared for him to be in my room.

"Didn't want to be home." He shrugged, grinning lazily.

"Julio, are you drunk?" I asked, stifling a giggle. I would love to see him hammered.

"I don't get drunk." He informed me, patting the space next to him on the bed for me to sit down.

I plonked myself less than gracefully onto the bed, feeling it sink under my weight as I rested my head against the pillow. I wish I had the courage to, like, cuddle with Julio.

"If you didn't want to be home, there were hundreds of other places you could've gone to. Why here? And why wouldn't you want to be home on Thanksgiving?" I fired question after question. I probably seemed like I didn't want him where he was, but I did. I really, really didn't mind having him in my room, next to me like this. Although, it was pretty bad for my heart.

"I don't think you want to be here for Thanksgiving, either." He remarked pointedly and I froze, before relaxing again. "And maybe I wanted to see you. Is that a fucking crime? I'll leave if you don't want me here, polluting your sheets, princess." He'd become aggressive and defensive, and I regretted opening my mouth.

"Hey, slow down there, Rage." I interjected, taken aback by his anger.

"Did you just call me Rage?" He asked, eyebrows furrowing as he forgot what had made him mad in the first place.

"Yes." I blushed, immediately wanting to bury my face in my pillow, "You were just all angry, and it just slipped out. Sorry."

Julio chuckled, a deep, rumbling noise that came from his chest and did a lot of things to my poor heart as it quickened its pace. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, effectively combatting the embarrassment that was already there.

"It's cool. It's a much better nickname than Lio, anyway." He relented, and I wondered if he actually was fine with me calling him Rage, of all things. It kind of did suit him, though.

"Who calls you Lio?" I asked, crinkling my nose as I shifted on to my side, studying his profile maybe a little too intently.

"Javier does. He says that there's no other possible nickname so he has to do that. Rage is definitely cooler."

Hearing Julio Hernandez use a word as normal as 'cool' was, for some reason, surprising, probably because he wasn't like any other guy I'd ever met.

"Do I get a nickname?" I asked, teasing.

"I already call you princess, don't I?" He reminded me. I'd honestly forgotten about that.

I shrugged, letting the silence fall around us. It wasn't uncomfortable, though, only warm and familiar, as if this was something we did every day, like a routine. It felt good, especially when he turned to face me, his face only about half a foot away from mine.

"Hey, Julio?" I whispered, a little while later, the question having been bugging me. "Did you really want to see me?" I asked, my voice small and unsure.

He breathed in sharply, before letting it out. His eyes, which were previously closed, opened. They looked like liquid amber.

"Yes." He admitted, and my breath caught in my throat. He wanted to see me. He wanted to see me. Hewantedtoseeme.

So, I did the only thing that seemed to make sense in the moment.

I kissed him.

His lips were unresponsive against mine and, after two seconds, I pulled back, mortified as hell.

"I'm sorry." I gushed, my eyes widening. "I don't know why I did that. I shouldn't have done th—mmph."

Julio's lips were suddenly on mine, assertive and dominant. They moved gently, though, and, after a shocked moment, I found myself responding.

I moved my hand to his shoulder, and his went around my waist, pulling me flush against him. This kiss, although it was passionate, was also chaste. It wouldn't go further than this kiss tonight, but I knew that this kiss would change everything, for better or for worse.

Julio pulled back, but stayed close. I was still pressed to him and both of us were breathing heavily.

"You should have done that." He said, and I could feel the words against my lips, reminding me of what we'd just done and making me blush.

Neither of us said anything after that because we just didn't need to. I rested my head against his chest, and his arms wrapped tighter around me, keeping me warmer than any blanket ever could. His chin was on my head and we were effectively cuddling.

Just as I dozed off, feeling safe and warm and protected, I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head.

I was happy.