Thorne swerves his car into the parking lot of an apartment complex, pulling into a parking space before turning off the ignition. Though it's dark out around us, I can make him out as he turns to face me, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Where are we?" I ask, studying the apartment building in front of us. For the tiniest of moments I begin to wonder if Thorne brought me to his place, but I quickly shut down the thought. There's no way on this earth that he would take me to his house, right?

"You'll see." Looking at him, I notice that I-know-something-you-don't-know smirk curled on his lips. "You don't have anything valuable on you, do you, Sunshine?" Thorne's smirk has widened, and I find myself wondering why he would ask me such a strange question.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you have anything expensive with you? Like jewelry or cash? If you do, you might want to leave it here. And hide your purse."

I cross my arms over my chest stubbornly, wondering what the hell he means by that. "Not unless you tell me why."

Thorne looks smug, like he wanted me to say something like that. "My friends are good people, Sunshine." Thorne pauses, shooting me his signature wink. "They just do bad things."

Thorne brought me to meet his friends. It's such a crazy thought, it's hard to process. I mean, why would he want me to meet his friends? Wouldn't that mean he'd have to consider me a friend, too? Why do I even care?

Thorne leads me across the surprisingly empty parking lot and toward the closest complex to us. I follow him up two flights of stairs, joining his side when he abruptly stops at a door marked 18.

Thorne turns to me, studying me closely. Pursing his lips, he un-tucks my hair from my ear and adjusts the strap of my shirt for me. It's a weird thing for him to do, but it's kind of sweet. He gives me another once over before breaking out in a grin, saying, "You look great, Sunshine. You'll fit right in."

I can feel my feet floating off the ground as I drift to cloud 9, all thanks to his compliment. I don't know how he manages to make me feel so weightless with just one compliment, and nobody else has ever made me feel this way before. It's new to me, but I can't deny that I like it.

I take a deep breath as Thorne knocks on the door in front of us, suddenly nervous. What if his friends don't like me? What if they think I'm weird? Worse—what if Thorne only brought me here as a joke? I highly doubt that the latter is true, but I can't stop myself from thinking the worst.

Suddenly, the door is thrown open, cutting my awful thoughts short. My gaze immediately falls on a beautiful girl with long black hair and storm gray eyes, wearing tight jeans and a leather jacket. Her face lights up as soon as her eyes land on Thorne, and she lets out a loud squeal.

"Thorne!" she cries, standing on her tiptoes and throwing her arms around him, catching Thorne off guard. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a certain way as I watch the whole interaction. The way Thorne chuckles as he wraps his arms around the girl sends the smallest twinge of pain flowing through my chest, and I bite my bottom lip hard. I don't know why I'm jealous, but I'm not going to lie and say that I'm not.

The girl finally pulls away, turning to me curiously. "And you brought a girl?" She sounds bewildered, like she can't believe Thorne is here and with a girl. If she were his girlfriend, I don't think that's how she'd regard me; so I guess it's safe to say they're not together? I can't tell.

"Uh, yeah." I can feel Thorne's arm slowly snaking around my waist, pulling me into his side. My heart starts fluttering, and I can feel butterflies appearing in my stomach. "Charlie, this is Mia. Mia, this is Charlie." He doesn't give either of us titles, so it's left to me to figure out who this Charlie girl is to him.

I'm taken off guard when Charlie pulls me into a hug, too, saying, "It's so nice to meet you! Come in!"

Charlie grabs my hand and pulls me into the apartment. She's so kind and bubbly, even if she were Thorne's girlfriend, I don't think I'd be able to hate her.

I glance over my shoulder at Thorne as I'm being dragged into the living room. Thorne's green eyes dance and he just shrugs, like he doesn't quite know what's happening either.

"Guys!" Charlie screams loudly once she and I reach the living room. At her cry, two boys in the living room look up. Their gazes drift from Charlie to me, and I can feel them sizing me up, wondering who I am and what I'm doing here. "Thorne is here!" Charlie says loudly. "And look—he brought a friend! This is Mia."

I can feel my lips tugging into a friendly smile, and I raise my hand in a wave. Before I get the chance to say anything, Charlie is talking again.

"Jay, Wells, this is Mia. Mia, this is Jay"—Charlie points to the black-haired boy with chocolate-colored eyes and warm brown skin sitting on the left of the couch—"and this is Wells"—she points to the other boy, who has golden-colored hair, olive skin, and amber eyes.

"It's nice to meet you, Mia," Wells says politely, his amber eyes shining familiarly. It registers in my mind where I've seen the look Wells wears: Thorne. He gives me that very look all the time.

"Thorne!" Jay cries, pulling the boy I came here with into a bro-hug. Slapping Thorne on the back and meeting my gaze, Jay mutters, "You didn't tell me you have a girlfriend!"

Thorne doesn't say a word, he just smirks. I guess that's why I feel the need to clarify by saying, "Oh, we're not—Thorne and I aren't together."

"Interesting," Wells says, giving me a smirk a lot like Thorne's. I notice the way Thorne eyes Wells wordlessly, a weird coldness to his gaze. I'm not quite sure what this means, but I note the look as one I wouldn't want Thorne to give me.

"Thorne and I go way back," Jay tells me, taking a seat on the couch again. "The four of us met back in elementary school. We all grew up in the same neighborhood."

"Yeah," Charlie pipes up, grinning at me kindly. "We're practically family."

"Oh. So you and Thorne aren't—" I stop short, realizing that I was talking out loud. I bite down on my bottom lip so hard I draw blood, feeling my face flush a bright red.

Thorne starts chuckling with that deep voice of his, Charlie and he sharing a knowing glance. "No, Sunshine," Thorne mutters, smirking as he meets my gaze. "Charlie and I aren't dating. In fact, Charlie's happily in a relationship. With her girlfriend, Violet."

"We've been dating for two years now," Charlie tells me, practically beaming. "I love her to death."

I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed in my life. I open my mouth, but I don't know what to say. I clamp my mouth shut again, deciding it'd be best if I stayed silent.

"Please." Charlie falls back into the chair behind her, gesturing around the room. "Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. We were just gonna watch the game."

"Come here, Sunshine." Thorne falls back into the only free chair, a leather recliner only feet away from Charlie's. He grabs my hand, pulling me back down to him. I fall back into his lap, which makes him raise his eyebrows at me. I blush, immediately sliding off of his legs and into the free space next to him.

"So," Charlie says, pulling her knees up to her chest. "How'd you two meet?"

"I caught her staring at me only a hundred times and told her to cut it out," Thorne says casually, that stupid smirk on his face.

"Not true!" I snap, whacking his arm. "You were the one that kept winking at me!"

"Ouch, Sunshine," Thorne whines, rubbing his arm as if I actually hurt him. "Look at you, changing the story all over again."

"Story?" I hiss, raising an eyebrow at him. "You're so full of it, Thorne."

"You love it," Thorne teases, leaning back comfortably. I roll my eyes, turning to Charlie as I say, "We basically met in chemistry class. He sat next to me on his first day."

"That's right!" Wells says, snapping his fingers. "You're still in high school, Thorne!"

Thorne rolls his eyes as his friends start to laugh at Wells' little joke that I don't understand. Sensing my confusion, Thorne informs me, "Wells is in community college. Charlie and Jay graduated last year."

"You go to Burke?" I ask Wells, naming the closest community college. Wells nods, grinning as he tells me, "These two idiots decided they were done after high school."

"Excuse me if I don't want to waste more of my time on school," Charlie mutters. "I mean, I can't afford an actual university, so what's the point?"

"I felt that," Jay mutters. They continue the conversation, but I slowly begin to tune them out. I shift, pulling my legs toward my chest in my small space next to Thorne. Our arms are smushed together, and my legs have to rest nearly in his lap. Thorne eyes my legs before lifting his eyes to mine, raising his eyebrows. I roll my eyes, letting him know I'm not in the mood to play his games. Instead of doing something weird and Thorne-ish, Thorne just rests his hands on top of my legs, sitting back once again.

I can't stop myself from thinking that this might be my favorite moment ever. Sitting next to Thorne, getting to know his friends. It's something I didn't know I needed. I can't help wondering if maybe this means that Thorne and I are becoming closer, too. Maybe we're no longer just two people that sit next to each other in fourth period.

Maybe—dare I say it—we're becoming friends.

★★★

"No way!" I laugh so hard my chest aches, clutching my stomach as I gasp for breath. "That's the best thing I've ever seen in my life!"

Thorne huffs next to me, clearly annoyed. "It's not that funny, Sunshine."

"Look at you!" I point to the picture Charlie handed to me, gesturing to Thorne. He's just a little kid, and it's too funny to bear. He's about a million times shorter and scrawnier than he is now, but that's not even the best part. The best part is the look on Thorne's face, a mix of shock and pain. Charlie told me that she took this picture right after Thorne got hit in the face with a basketball when they were ten.

"You are not a nice person, you know that Sunshine?" Thorne snatches the picture out of my hand, throwing it behind the chair we share to prevent me from laughing at it.

"I'm not the nice one?" I gasp, still laughing. "Okay."

"You want something to laugh at?" I can tell by the gleam in Thorne's eyes that whatever happens next is going to happen at my expense. I can't stop thinking about his face in the picture, which means I can't stop laughing, which means I don't get the chance to prepare myself for whatever Thorne is about to do.

Thorne wraps an arm around my waist before I can get away from him, digging his fingers into my sides. I've already laughed to the point of pain, so tickling is practically torturous. I know that Thorne knows this, too. It's no doubt the reason he's doing it.

I laugh until tears are streaming down my cheeks, my throat and stomach burning. Attempting to get away from Thorne, I manage to elbow him in the stomach. He releases me, sending me falling out of the chair and onto the ground.

"Ow," I mutter, hitting my head on the hardwood. Now Thorne is the one laughing loudly, looking down at me and bursting into laughter all over again. I glare at him, rubbing my head, wondering if it's possible to gain abs from laughing so hard.

Thorne must realize that I'm upset with him, because he tones down the volume of his laughter—though he doesn't stop laughing completely.

"Sorry, Sunshine," he mutters, glancing down at me. "But you brought that upon yourself."

I roll my eyes, lifting my foot and kicking his leg. Still laughing, Thorne extends his hand to me. I take it and he pulls me up. As soon as I'm on my feet, I whack him in the shoulder.

"Hey!" Thorne cries, his eyes wide. "I said I was sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't cut it!" I snap, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, Sunshine," Thorne mutters, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into him. "You don't mean that." There's a new gleam in his eyes—one that I've never seen before—as he meets my gaze. He's not even smirking, so I really don't know how to feel about what's happening right now. There's this moment where both of us seem to forget there are other people around, our gazes locked on the other's.

"Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds," Charlie says from the doorway. I snap out of whatever trance I was in, looking up at Charlie. "But would you mind if I steal Mia for a minute?"

"I wouldn't mind if you made this bullshit stop," Wells mutters. He and Jay both pretend to gag, making me and Thorne roll our eyes.

"Don't worry." Charlie shares a mischievous look with Jay and Wells. "I won't keep her long."

"So funny, you guys," Thorne mutters as he releases me. I pull myself off of him, walking toward Charlie. I can feel Thorne's eyes following me as I wander into the kitchen, the thought making me smile.

"You're special." I'm taken aback by Charlie's words. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, wondering what she means by this.

"I'm sorry," I say, leaning against the counter. "What?"

"Thorne never brings girls over." I can tell by the way Charlie eyes the doorway and keeps her voice low that she doesn't want anyone else to hear us. "I see the way he looks at you. Thorne . . . he doesn't date, Mia. He's not the kind of guy to bring people over for us to meet. It's not my place to tell you, but Thorne's world has always been pretty small. Jay, Wells, and I . . . we're pretty much all Thorne has. And the fact that he brought you to meet us . . ." Charlie trails off, smiling sadly. "You must mean a lot to him."

"I don't think you understand." I shake my head. As much as I want the words Charlie is saying to be true, I can't stop myself from knowing that they aren't. Thorne doesn't care about me in that kind of way. It's simply not possible, as much as I hate to admit it. "I don't think . . . Thorne and I aren't . . ." I don't know how to say what I'm feeling. Maybe that's because I don't even know what I'm feeling.

"You might not be together or whatever," Charlie says softly. "But I can tell that he cares about you, Mia. I don't know what you did, but I'm glad you did it. I haven't seen Thorne this happy since—" Charlie stops short, pausing before continuing. "You're good for him, Mia. I can tell. So, thank you. A lot of people think that Thorne is this troublemaker that's always up to no good, but he's actually just a big softie. You know, that's how he got his nickname. I'm actually the one who started to call him Thorne. You know, because thorns are all tough and sharp on the outside, but they grow on something as beautiful as a rose. He's a good person, Mia. He really is. Sometimes he just has trouble realizing that."

Deep down, I know that Charlie is right. Thorne is a good person. He puts on this front, keeping his distance from others. But it never occurred to me that something might have happened in Thorne's past to make him that way. It never occurred to me that I might be unintentionally helping him learn to trust again. I don't mean to start smiling, but I do. Because I kind of like what Charlie's telling me.

I kind of like Thorne.

Before either of us say another word, Thorne himself wanders into the room.

"You kept her too long," Thorne says teasingly as he strolls toward me. I'm surprised when his arms find themselves around my waist, his chin resting on the top of my head. I find that my muscles involuntarily relax as I lean into him, instantly feeling at ease. I don't know why I feel so safe in his arms. For the first time since I met him, his touch doesn't make my heart race uncontrollably. Instead, I feel calm; like I'm at home.

"Jay and Wells are throwing the remote, by the way," Thorne tells Charlie. Just as the words leave his lips, a loud crash resonates from the living room. "It wasn't me!" Jay and Wells cry immediately, making me laugh softly. Charlie looks furious as she storms out of the room, screaming that whoever just broke her favorite lamp is about to go to hell.

Wordlessly, Thorne grabs my hand and pulls me across the kitchen. He stops at a sliding glass door and pulls it open, gesturing for me to follow him onto the balcony.

Once I'm outside, goosebumps immediately appear on my arms. I shiver, my teeth chattering. Thorne glances at me, wordlessly pulling his sweatshirt over his head and holding it out to me.

"You don't have to—"

"You're cold," Thorne cuts me off. "I don't need it." Suppressing a smile, I pull his sweatshirt over my head. It's big on me, and warm because he was just wearing it moments earlier. I ball the ends of the sleeves up in my hands, stepping toward the railing, where Thorne stands.

I study him for a moment. This might be the first time I've seen him without his arms covered, and now I know why he's constantly wearing sweatshirts to school. He wears a simple white t-shirt that blows back in the wind, outlining his strong figure. But my eyes rest on his left arm, which is covered in a sleeve of tattoos. The eye-catcher tattoo is one of a woman with a peaceful expression on her features. Her eyes are closed, and her long hair blows back like wind is blowing through it. Underneath her face reads the numbers 11-2-15.

I don't have to be a genius to know what the tattoo signifies. Whoever this woman is, Thorne evidently loved her. And by the date on his arm, I know that she's no longer with him.

I don't ask and Thorne doesn't tell. I just lift a finger to his skin, tracing the outlines of all the pictures permanently inked onto his skin. Thorne shivers at my touch, but he doesn't pull away, so neither do I.

"I like them," I say softly, my eyes flickering to his. By now it's probably midnight. I should be asleep. I should be at Emmie's, curled up on the couch next to my friends. Instead I'm standing on a balcony with Thorne way past my curfew. And there's nowhere else I'd rather be. "They're nice."

"Yeah?" Thorne asks with a light chuckle. Though he's smiling, there's an undertone of sadness to his voice. "I do too, Sunshine."

I press my lips together, studying all of the tattoos. They remind me of the picture that's burning in my back pocket, begging to be touched. Before I can think better of it, I pull the paper out of my pocket, unfolding it and handing it to Thorne.

"I found this on your desk," I say softly. "I didn't know if you wanted me to see it or not . . . I thought you might want it back."

Thorne studies the paper for a moment before looking back up at me. I can't read the expression he wears, which is unsettling. "It's for you, actually," he says. I was expecting him to tease me, to deny that the drawing was his. The words he actually says are worse than that for some reason, because I totally wasn't expecting him to be so gentle.