"So, you and Thorne, huh?"

Yes, that's really the first thing Saige says to me since our feud weeks ago. She leans against the locker next to mine as she sneers at me, looking too smug to just be curious. Still, I'm not in the mood to go at it with her. I'm not in the mood for games.

"Uh, yeah," I say, closing my locker and facing her. "We're together, if you must know."

"No wonder you were always defending him." Saige's blue eyes regard me coldly, as if this is the last place she wants to be right now. "It's just so weird, don't you think?"

I stiffen, wondering what she's getting at. "What do you mean, Saige?"

"That a boy like Thorne Baxter would want someone like you, Lil M." Saige says the words like she genuinely doesn't understand how the two of us wound up together. She doesn't need to know that her tone makes the whole sentence hurt even worse. "I mean, look at him and then look at you. You're like, complete opposites. He could have anyone he wants, and yet he chose . . . you."

Since I met Thorne, I'd like to say that I've gained more confidence than I've ever had before. I've learned to speak up for myself. I've learned how to love myself in ways I never did before. I've learned how to handle situations like the one I'm being put in right now. But, as Saige—a person I used to trust and love—says these horrible things about me, I can feel that confidence faltering.

"What's wrong with me?" I mumble the question, not really wanting to know the answer. I know that she's just going to hurt me worse with the answer. That doesn't stop me from asking the question.

"You just don't seem like his type, is all," she says smugly, sensing what I'm feeling. "Until you met him, no one even knew who you were." She walks off after that, as if she were never here at all.

I don't know why, but that last sentence is the cruelest of them all to me. I used to think of myself in that very way. Until Thorne, I'd thought I was invisible. That nobody really saw me. That I hardly existed. It hurts to hear someone say that to your face, regardless. And I know she knows that.

I storm off, deciding that if I'm going to cry, it's not going to be in front of everyone else. I beeline toward the girls' bathroom, passing Thorne on my way.

"Hey, Sun—" he doesn't even get to finish his sentence before I'm brushing past him, not bothering to stop. I don't quit moving until I'm in the safety of the girls' bathroom, leaning against one of the three sinks and glaring at myself in the mirror. Suddenly, those old feelings and thoughts are back. That feeling of not being as good as everyone else; those thoughts that I'm not a person worth getting to know. I don't realize I'm crying until my hands are wet, and even then I just mindlessly think that the sink must be on.

"You've seriously got to stop running away from me," Thorne's voice says as he wanders into the girls' bathroom. I know that he knows something's wrong. I would never ignore him the way I did unless otherwise.

"Tell me," he says, appearing at my side.

"It doesn't matter," I tell him, even though it does.

"It does to me," he says simply, our gazes meeting in the mirror.

"What do you see in me?" I ask instead, needing to know the answer. Before I felt comfortable with him, it used to make me think, too. Why is a boy like Thorne Baxter talking to me? Why would he want to befriend someone like me? And now that I'm thinking those thoughts again, I realize that they're not going to go away until I have answers. "Is this all some sort of prank?"

Thorne blinks, looking taken aback. Regaining his composure, he asks, "Where is all of this coming from, Sunshine?"

"Just answer me!" I cry, not caring that he walked into the girls' bathroom just to check on me. Suddenly, I feel very suspicious that our whole relationship is just some cruel prank. Maybe a bet. Who can get the invisible girl to like him first—something like that.

"We're so different," I state. "I mean, look at us. What could you possibly see in me? There are girls that are so much prettier and bolder and—"

"What the hell are you talking about, Mia?" Thorne intervenes, looking angry and confused all at once. "What are you even saying?"

"You have to be thinking it, too," I snap. "Right? It seems to be obvious to everyone but me that I'm not good enough for you."

"Is that what this is about?" Thorne asks, stepping toward me. He bends his head down when he speaks to me, making up for our height difference. "Because if either of us isn't good enough for the other, it's the other way around, Mia."

"Not to everyone else!" I wail, suddenly crying again. "Am I not pretty enough? Is that what it is? Am I not—"

"Let me stop you there," Thorne growls, sounding more riled up then I've ever heard him in my life. "I don't know what it is you're going on about, but it's so far from the truth it's pathetic. I like everything about you, Mia. I like the fact that you're sweet and bubbly and kind to every fucking person you meet, because I've always wanted to be that kind of person. I like that you're the complete opposite of me, because that's what I need in my life!" He shakes his head, looking somewhere between bursting into laughter and breaking one of the sinks. "And what the hell do you mean about not being pretty enough? You're hot as fuck, Mia, and anyone with eyes can see that. I just beat the shit out of that stupid football player, Ty, for saying he was thinking about asking you to the fall dance. I'm always beating the shit out of people, because everyone seems to want something to do with you!" He lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Do you know how frustrating that gets?"

"Do you seriously mean that?" I ask, his words clouding my mind.

"I've never been more serious about something in my life," he assures me, grabbing my hands. "Where did that come from, anyway? I asked you to be my girlfriend in front of my friends—I wouldn't do that if it didn't mean something to me. And you do, Mia. I've told you I should stay away from you, but I just can't. I think it'd kill me."

"You don't mean that," I mumble softly.

"I do," he counters, eyes searching mine. "Give me the name of the person making you feel that way, Mia, and they will never bother you again."

"You're not going to beat Saige—" I shut my mouth quickly, realizing that I just accidentally let slip who made me feel so terribly.

Thorne's jaw clenches and he stiffens, his expression suddenly unreadable. "So it's that Saige bitch again?" he asks. I don't know what to say, so I don't speak. I think the silence is an answer in itself.

"You're right," he says with a sigh. "I can't beat her up. But I can tell you this: You're better than her in every sense of the word, Mia. Stop letting her get to you. You're already above her. Stop letting her drag you down to her height. I like you just the way you are, no matter who tries to tell you otherwise."

I don't say a word. I take his face in my hands and press my lips to his forcefully, needing him to show me how he feels about me. He wraps his hands around my legs, lifting me onto one of the sinks before deepening the kiss, his hands in my hair.

And suddenly I no longer care what Saige thinks about Thorne and I's relationship. Suddenly, I don't care what anyone thinks about our relationship. It might not be ideal and it might be dysfunctional, but that's what makes it ours. I wouldn't change it for the world.

Thorne once told me I'd be better off without him, but I think it's the other way around. He's shaped me into the kind of girl I am today, and he doesn't even know it. And maybe I'm shaping him into a better person, too. And that's not the kind of relationship you just throw away. It's one worth fighting for.

★★★

The second of November will always be a sore date for Thorne. It's the day he lost his mother, after all. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop it from appearing every year. It doesn't change the fact that today is that very date, which happens to be a Saturday.

I get a call from Thorne right after I finish getting dressed, and I answer on the first ring.

"Can you drop by my place?" Thorne asks as soon as I answer. "I want to show you something."

"Of course," I tell him, fingering the sweatshirt he gave me. "What time?"

"Now," he says sheepishly. "I want to be with you, Sunshine." My heart soars. I'm on my feet immediately, reaching for my shoes. "I'll be there in thirty."

I tell my mom that I'm going to go out for the day, and she tells me not to stay out late because I'm still "on thin ice" with her. I get in my car right after, making the drive to Thorne's house in record time.

He answers the door before I even knock. His hair is messy and he looks tired, like he just woke up, but he's dressed, which is something. I know the date of today has to be driving him crazy with memories, and I want to be there for him. I'm just afraid that I won't know how to.

"Mom used to wake me up at six every morning for school," Thorne offers as I walk in. "She'd make me breakfast, too. So, I did that today." He gestures to the counter, where plate upon plate of French toast sits. "I think I got a little carried away."

I raise my eyebrows at all the French toast but hold my tongue. Turning to him, I ask softly, "Are you okay?"

Thorne laughs softly, brushing hair out of my face with his thumb. "I know what you're thinking," he tells me with a sad smile. "And, yeah, this day sucks. I miss her every day, though, Mia. Today's the one day of the year I force myself to remember only the good times, though; so you don't have to worry about me having a breakdown."

I can't stop myself from thinking how sweet what he just said is. A lot of people would let all the bad memories of a day so tragic consume them. Instead of letting the bad control him today, Thorne decides to celebrate his mother on the day of her passing. That's something only people really emotionally stable and in tune with themselves can do.

We eat French toast until we're full, barely putting a dent in his stash. Thorne laughs it off, saying that he'll invite Jay, Charlie, Wells, and Violet over to eat the rest of it.

"I want to take you somewhere, Sunshine," Thorne tells me, taking my hand in his. He runs circles over my skin with his thumb, his touch making me shiver. I don't think I'll ever get used to being his and having him be mine. It's such an exhilarating thing, I don't think I'd want to. I like the thrill I feel every time I'm around him.

"You name it, and we can do it," I say generously. Thorne's features light up, a devilish gleam in his eyes as he opens his mouth to ask something only he would think at a time like this. "Anything but that," I tell him, just the thought making me blush.

"Thank you for coming today, Sunshine," Thorne says after a moment of silence, planting a kiss on the top of my head as he wraps me in his arms, pulling me into a hug and holding me tight. "It means a lot to me."

I don't tell him that just having him allow me to be there for him means a lot to me. How could I? He already means so much to me, I can't imagine what it'd be like not having him by my side.

And to think I hated him the first time we met . . .

★★★

Thorne parks his car close to a patch of woods, suddenly looking a little distraught. On the drive here, he slowly went from talkative and playful to quiet and reserved, falling into a thoughtful silence that I didn't dare interrupt.

Stopping the car, Thorne turns to me, wiping his palms on his jeans as he clears his throat. "Okay," he says, and I notice that his voice shakes a little. "We're here."

I look around curiously, taking everything in. I try to guess where we are, but I can't. The only thing around us is woods.

I follow Thorne out of the car, his hand finding mine immediately. He leads me through the woods, and I notice that a path has been made in the dirt from how many times people have trekked through it. We walk in silence for about ten minutes, and that's when I hear it. The unmistakable sound of rushing water, not far from where Thorne and I stand.

Sure enough, breaking out of the woods, I come face-to-face with a river. I know as soon as I figure out where we are that this is the place he has a tattoo of; the river his mom used to take him to when he was a kid. This must be hard for him, to stand here and not have her by his side.

Thorne drops my hand, walking a little closer to the shoreline of the sparkling water. He was right when he said his mom knew a secluded spot—I don't see anyone around for miles.

I stand by Thorne's side silently. I know that there's nothing I could say right now to make up for the overwhelming pain he's feeling—nothing I could do to make that go away. So I just stand next to him, letting him know that I'm here if he wants to talk about it. I'm there for him in the only way I know how to be.

"I don't come here often," Thorne admits in the gentlest tone I've ever heard him use. "I can't. It's hard to not see her everywhere, especially here. But I wanted to show you, because this spot was important to her, just like it's important to me." He pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks up from the water, our gazes locking.

"If we're going to do this—us—Sunshine, I don't want to keep anything from you. I want to show you everything about me, the good, the bad, the ugly. I want you to know exactly what you're getting yourself into. The day before my mom died, she asked me to bring her here. But she was so frail and sick, I knew she wouldn't be able to make it through the trip. She was already put into house-care, because we all knew she didn't have much time left. So I told her no." Thorne bites his lip, the unmistakable gleam of tears in his eyes as he averts his gaze from mine.

"I told my mom no to her last request, and she died the next day." I can tell that Thorne is battling with himself, trying to decide if he's a bad person or not. And I need him to know that he isn't—he's one of the best boys I've ever met in my life. I need him to know that it's not his fault that his mother died, that he can't hold himself to this kind of self-punishment.

"Hey," I say softly as the wind blows, tossing my hair behind my shoulders. "Look at me, okay?" Thorne lifts his gaze, and I can tell that he's struggling to hold back tears. What he said earlier about only remembering the good times on this day—I should have known that that isn't possible. I should have been more prepared.

"Don't beat yourself up, Thorne," I say gently. "You knew that she couldn't handle coming all the way out here. You knew the pain she was in. You did the best you could under the circumstances."

"That's the point," he roars, kicking the sand beneath his feet. "She never should have died. She never should have gotten so sick. The whole time, my father wasn't far away, sitting on his pile of cash with his stupid new wife and kid. He could have prevented my mother's death, and what'd he do? Nothing. He didn't even care. He wasn't even at the funeral." Thorne's voice is strained, thick with the tears he's holding in. "And suddenly he wants to be back in my life, when it's convenient for him." Thorne chuckles in a way that makes the hair on my arms stand on end, makes me shiver. "Fucking bastard."

I take his face in my hands, making him look at me. His eyes are still watering, and I wish he knew that I wouldn't think less of him if he allowed those tears to fall. I wish he knew that it's okay to let the pain you're feeling out, because sometimes that's the only way to feel better.

"Tell me what it was like," I say. "Tell me about the times your mom brought you here."

So he does. He tells me about the time his mom taught him to swim in this very river. He tells me about the afternoons they spent in this very spot every summer, disappearing from all the stresses of their day just for a little while. He tells me about how much his mom loved how blue the water was, how serene she always felt when she was here.

And then he crumples, falling apart at the seams. Thorne makes a small choking sound at the back of his throat, the tears in his eyes finally making their appearance on his cheeks. It hurts me so badly to see him in so much pain, but I don't tell him that. I just wrap my arms around him, holding him as tightly as I can while he rests his head in the crook of my neck, crying silently.

Suddenly, Thorne becomes the strongest man I know. It takes a lot to be able to admit when you're hurting. To be able to show someone else your weakest side, to trust that they won't judge you if you let your guard down.

That's when I realize that everybody else is wrong about him. The kids at school, the teachers who brand him a troublemaker, they don't know anything about him at all. Only I truly know him, as he's trusted me with so much in the past month.

Running my hand down his back, I hope there never comes a day where he won't be by my side.