"You have to say sorry," I tell Thorne approximately seven minutes after he punches Wells in the face as we're standing outside on Charlie's balcony, so I can fuss at my boyfriend (I don't think I'll ever get used to calling Thorne that) in private.

"Hell no," Thorne spits, shaking his head stubbornly. "I am not saying sorry for punching him. Not happening."

"Thorne!" I stomp my foot in frustration, this close to losing it. "You've known Wells since you were a kid. What's worth losing that friendship?"

"You." Thorne doesn't even blink as he says the word, his gaze unwavering from mine. I don't give him the satisfaction of seeing me smile. The smooth bastard.

"You know good and well that nothing was going to happen between the two of us," I chide him. "He only complimented me a few times! You freaking punched him in the face!"

"I can't help it that I don't like when other guys talk to you like that!" There's a weird strained expression on Thorne's face, as if he's confused. "I don't know what happens to me, but I get this weird protective feeling in my chest. Just having him look at you makes me want to rip his head off."

Don't smile, Mia. Stay strong. "You have to get over that," I tell him, rolling my eyes. "Every time a girl looks at you I don't flip my shit."

"Trust me," Thorne mutters in a low tone. "I know. I beat the shit out of Jake Chamberlain after he asked you for a pencil."

I widen my eyes, wondering if I heard him correctly. "You what?"

"Forget I said anything." Thorne waves me off, gripping the railing before turning and leaning against it, staring at me with those deep green eyes of his. It's cold, so I have to cross my arms to stay warm. It's only fall, but the chill is already biting.

"I don't know what you're doing to me," Thorne says, his voice a husky whisper. "I can't decide if I love it or hate it."

"Look." I cross over to him, standing in front of him. He's a good three inches taller than me, so I have to look up when I'm standing this close to him just so I can see his face. He makes me feel tiny and small, but I don't mind. "It's okay to be jealous sometimes. It is not okay, however, to punch your friends in the face just because they say I look nice."

"Can we skip the lecture and fast-forward to the part where I press you against the wall now?" Thorne tries, smirking.

I bite back my grin, rolling my eyes. "No," I tell him. "We can't."

"I'll apologize, okay?" Thorne huffs, throwing his hands up. "I'll even hold his ice pack for him, all right? But he better not try that again, or I'll fuc—"

"Thorne," I say in a warning tone.

"I'll freaking kill him," Thorne finishes, grinning like he thinks he's all that. "I watched the profanity. Happy now?"

"You're too much for me." I shake my head, wondering why instead of feeling annoyed I just feel like kissing him. I mean, he just punched someone in the face. I should be yelling at him. Why am I so weak?

"Is that a good thing, Sunshine?" Thorne asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure yet," I admit, finally allowing myself to smile.

"Let me help you figure it out," Thorne whispers, closing the space between us. He whirls me around, so that I'm the one leaning against the railing. Then his lips are on mine, his hands sliding down my waist until they find themselves in my back pockets.

I kiss him back for exactly ten seconds before pulling back and saying, "You have to go tell Wells sorry. Now."

"Since when do you call the shots?" Thorne mutters dejectedly, leaning back in. I give him my best if-looks-could-kill glare, his hands suddenly disappearing from my pockets.

"Yes ma'am," Thorne says immediately, marching toward the door. "You got it, boss."

When we finally return to the living room where everyone else is, Violet lets out a loud hoot. "Look!" she says to Wells loudly, hitting his shoulder. "It's the guy who practically knocked you out with one hit!"

"Don't encourage them," Charlie tells Violet with a frown.

"Hey," Violet says, her dark eyes shining mischievously. "I'm not into guys, so I'm allowed to treat them this way." Charlie rolls her eyes, though I do catch the smile she tries to hide.

Jay suddenly jumps up, letting out a loud cry as he slaps his hands together. "All right!" he cries, pointing to the TV as the game goes off. "Twenty dollars, V, pay up!"

"Shit," Violet mutters, grabbing her wallet. "Just when I thought this day couldn't get any better, it gets worse."

Wells sits on the couch, holding a pack of frozen peas to his eye. I force aside the memories the bag of peas resurfaces, shoving Thorne toward his friend. Thorne turns to glare at me over his shoulder, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Mia is making me apologize to you," he says to Wells, looking very unhappy about the situation he's in. "So I'm sorry. But I just want you to know that this was all Mia making me do this. I am not in any way, shape, or form actually apologetic for punching you in the face; and if you pull that shit again I will gladly hit you harder, understood?"

I shake my head, covering my face with my hands. That is not at all what Thorne and I agreed on. Why is he the way that he is? I don't know what I'm going to do with him.

I'm surprised when Wells and Thorne shake hands, Wells muttering, "Fair enough. Understood." And, just like that, everything goes back to normal between them.

Boys. I don't think I'll ever understand them.

★★★

"I'm tired, Sunshine," Thorne declares halfway through the game of poker I'm playing with Jay, Charlie, and Violet. Wells had to leave because he has classes in the morning, and for other totally un-Thorne related reasons—at least that's what I tell myself. Thorne just holds me as I play, resting his head on my shoulder the way he always does when he's bored.

So far, Jay is in the lead. That boy is a con man and an expert gambler, which is totally unfair because I've never played poker before. The runner up is Violet, and she's almost as good as Jay. Charlie follows in third, and I'm not proud to say I'm losing.

"I'm in the middle of something," I tell him, studying my cards.

"You don't have a chance," Thorne states after looking at my cards. "You might as well just give up now. You're not very good at this, Sunshine."

"Rude," I scoff. If I were facing him, I'd be glaring at him. "Boyfriends are supposed to be encouraging, you know. Not degrading."

"Sorry. You're right. You're doing amazing sweetie!"

I roll my eyes at Thorne, unable to hold in my smile. Violet lays down her set, smirking as she pulls a giant pile of chips into her corner.

"Seriously though, Sunshine. I'm beat." I hardly listen to Thorne as I play my cards, frowning when I realize I'm only getting a third of the amount of chips Violet just did.

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask him as Jay takes his turn. "Just go to sleep."

"I can't," Thorne whines.

"Why is that?"

"Not without you," he whispers in my ear, his lips brushing against my skin as he speaks. Suddenly, I'm more than willing to give up this game and go with him.

"Fine," I tell him. "But you owe me."

Minutes later, we've told everyone goodnight. It's already well past midnight, so Thorne decides to crash in Charlie's guest room instead of driving all the way out to his house. I grab my bag and pull a few items out, heading toward the guest bathroom to change into my bed clothes.

"You gonna leave the door cracked for me, Sunshine?" Thorne teases, smirking as I walk past him.

"You wish," I mutter, though his question makes me blush. As I'm walking out of the bathroom, Thorne's pulling his shirt over his head, dropping it on the ground next to the bed. I try not to stare, which is harder than it should be. I do notice that almost all of his bruises have healed, and the cut on his side has started to close up, too.

Thorne, reading my thoughts, faces me as he says, "Told you I'd be okay."

"That doesn't mean I didn't worry." I cross my arms over my chest, our gazes meeting.

"You worried about me, Sunshine?" Thorne taunts, tilting his head to the side as he looks down at me. I roll my eyes, biting back a smirk. I don't know what's wrong with me, but even his stupid teasing has become endearing.

My eyes wander over the tattoos on his arm, studying the different pictures. There's the woman, who I now know is Thorne's mother, the date of her passing beneath her. There's another tattoo of a wave, another of roman numerals that read 6-18-2000. He has a quote written in a language I can't read, the roman symbol for strength inked on his forearm. I run my finger delicately over the different images, understanding that every tattoo holds a story. Some of them I know, others I don't. I find that I want to know the meaning behind every single speck of ink until I know everything there is to know about him.

The mood in the room has shifted from playful to serous within seconds. I run my finger over the roman numerals, whispering, "What does this one mean?"

"It's my birthday," Thorne reveals, his eyes on the skin my finger touches. "June eighteenth, two-thousand." That would make him eighteen years old, which I already knew. I'll be eighteen in December, which is only two months away.

"What about this one?" I ask, running my finger over the image of the wave. Thorne stiffens for a moment, and I know I've hit a nerve. He perches himself on the edge of the guest bed, looking up at me.

"My mom used to always take me to the river when she wanted to go out and do something with me. It was free, and she knew a really secluded spot. I got that one after she . . ." Thorne trails off, running a hand through his hair. He looks thoroughly exhausted in this moment, and my heart aches for him. He's gone through more than his fair share of misery in his life, and he's hardly an adult.

I pull away from him, crossing the room and flipping off the light switch. I curl up on my half of the bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin. I lay on my side facing Thorne, and he does the same.

I run a hand over his chest, faintly running my finger over the date over his heart. I want to know why he has this date printed on him twice, want to know why he chose this spot specifically. But I don't ask, because I can sense that he doesn't want to talk about it.

Or so I thought.

"You're gonna think it's stupid," Thorne whispers, interrupting the silence around us. "But I got the date she died tattooed over my heart so that—in a way—that's where she'll always be. In my heart, I mean."

I didn't know he was so sensitive, to be honest. Knowing this only makes me like him that much more.

"I don't think it's stupid," I assure him. "I think it's sweet." Thorne takes my hand and rests it over his heart for a minute, and I can feel his heartbeat; feel the way it races just a little faster when our gazes meet, eyes shining in the dark.

Then he's smirking in a way that tells me he's about to totally ruin the moment, which he does in true Thorne fashion. "You look hot in your pajamas," he teases. "Now one half of my fantasy is complete. Now, all you have to do—"

"Good night, Thorne," I cut him off, turning my back on him. He chuckles softly behind me, one arm wrapping around my waist as he pulls me into him so that I'm laying against his skin. He plays with my hair for a moment before leaning in close to my ear and whispering, "Good night, Sunshine."

★★★

The next morning, I wake up trapped beneath Thorne. One arm is wrapped tightly around my body, the other hanging over the bed, as his chest somehow ended up on top of mine during the night. His weight presses into me slightly, but it's not too bad. Still, I'm not used to waking up with a boy on top of me. I'm new to all of this.

"Thorne," I whisper, hoping that will be enough to wake him up. It doesn't work, so I go to my next method. "Thorne," I hiss, tapping him on the side of his face. His head rests somewhere between my shoulder and my pillow, and—if I didn't need to pee so badly—I'd probably think it was kinda cute. "Thorne," I try again, whacking the back of his head.

"What the fuck do you want?" he growls, reminding me that he's not a morning person. "It's like, one in the morning."

"It's nine in the morning," I correct him, rolling my eyes, my bladder begging me to get to a toilet ASAP. "Get up real quick."

"Why?" he mumbles into the pillow, ignoring the fact that I have to pee like nobody's business.

"I need you to get off of me," I tell him.

"Ugh," he groans loudly. "Why do you ask so much of me?"

"Just roll over," I grunt, pushing his chest up. Thorne rolls to the other side of the bed, releasing me from his hold. I get up so fast I almost fall off the bed, rushing to the bathroom in record time. I go ahead and brush my teeth and wash my face, dressing in my day clothes and putting on a little makeup. When I exit the bathroom, I'm surprised to find that Thorne's amazingly already out of the bed.

I find him in the kitchen, talking to Charlie before she goes for her morning run. I run a hand through my hair as I enter the room, telling Charlie good morning.

"Okay, lovebirds," Charlie says, grabbing her headphones. "Don't break anything while I'm gone." With that, she takes off, shooting Thorne a pointed glance before slamming the front door behind her. Thorne wears nothing but his pants from the night before, his hair messy in that I-just-woke-up kind of way. He eyes me as he leans against the counter, sipping from a black mug.

Before either of us say a word, my phone starts to ring in my back pocket. I groan as I read the caller ID, which belongs to no other than my mother. I answer quickly, not wanting her to suspect anything.

"Hey, Mom," I say with a chipper tone, glaring at Thorne so he'll know not to screw anything up. He just smirks, taking another sip from his mug.

"Hey, sweetie," Mom says on the other line. "Just checking on you. What's up?"

"I, uh, just woke up," I tell her, running a hand through my wavy hair.

"Oh," Mom says. "Where are you?"

"I'm still at Saige's." Thorne raises his eyebrows, as if he finds this news interesting. I suddenly feel weary, knowing that he's somehow going to mess this up.

"Did you two finish your project?"

"Yeah," I say as Thorne pushes off the counter, making his way over to me. "We stayed up all night." Thorne meets my gaze, smirking and giving me a wink. I blush as I realize what I said, glaring at him.

Mom says something then, but I don't hear a word she says. Because suddenly Thorne is behind me, his hands on my hips, his mouth planting hot kisses on the back of my neck, moving slowly under my ear. It takes all my strength not to make a sound, not to tilt my head back to give him better access. I know what he wants to do, and I won't give him the satisfaction.

"There Saige is now!" I blurt, cutting my mom off as Thorne's teeth graze my sensitive spot. "She said breakfast is ready, so I should go."

"Okay," Mom says too slowly. I need to hang up. I need this to be over. "I guess I'll let you go, then. I'll see you soon."

"Uh-huh," I agree. "Bye, Mom! Love you!" I don't wait for a response before I hang up the phone, stepping away from Thorne. "What the hell was that?" I cry, narrowing my eyes at him.

Thorne only smirks with amusement, his eyes dancing. "What?" he asks innocently. "Is it wrong for a boyfriend to kiss his girlfriend?"

"I know what you were doing," I hiss angrily. "Do you want my mom to kill me?"

"I was just messing with you, Sunshine." Thorne rests his hands on the sink, leaning back as he watches me intently. "No need to get so worked up. Unless you want to, cause you look hot when your face is all red." Of course, the latter just makes me blush even harder.

"You're impossible," I mutter, pressing my palms to my cheeks.

"You love me," Thorne teases, having no idea how true the words are. I think that maybe I'm not just infatuated with him. I think I have started to fall in love with him, despite his obvious faults.

And nothing scarier has ever happened to me before.