I eat, take a hot shower, and put on a movie while Brian's gone, but it's too hard for me to pay attention. My throat is still sore, but what hurts me the most are those hateful words scribbled in red.

Who would do something like that, and why would they call my mom a slut? It makes no sense. I thought after Annie scared that bully off, they'd leave me alone. They did, for almost a month. All it took was a couple of words, and I was their target again.

I couldn't stand being at school; that's why I ran away and ended up in Brian's bed. I'm scared to admit what I feel for him — I'm not sure what it is, but I can't stay away. He pulls me in and complements me in ways nobody ever did. He's adventurous while I'm not, he's extroverted while I'm shy, and yet, with him, I'm willing to take risks and try new things. I like it, and I like him. Brian makes me feel empowered, not just a girl from a poor family who hasn't seen and done much.

The images flickering on the screen don't entice me. Against my better judgment, I open the drawer of Brian's nightstand.

The crossword puzzles magazine's the first thing I see. I take it and flip through the pages. Each crossword's done, and there aren't answers in the back to look at if you're stuck. I spot other things, too. There's a book called Tricky Logic Puzzles, and of course, condoms and the same pills I've already seen.

I want to know what Brian's hiding, but asking him requires courage I lack. He'd call me nosey, and it'd be true. Guys don't like it when girls push.

My phone buzzes, and I fetch it from the nightstand. It's a text.

Annie: I'm glad you're okay. Don't scare me like that.

I smile. It's nice to have a friend who worries about me.

Me: I'm sorry. I didn't want to be there.

Annie's typing a reply, but I have an idea and text her first.

Me: What's Brian's Instagram?

Annie has one, and she made me an account, too. It's empty, and I don't even know what I'm going to post. It never occurred to me that Brian might use the app.

My cell vibrates again.

Annie: Brian *The Legend* O'Brien. (Insert an eye-roll) His profile's public. Happy snooping!

Me: Thank you! xo

I waste no time and type the username into the search bar. Brian's there, smiling in his profile picture, on his bike. I scroll through the feed and wish I hadn't.

Pictures of him and lots of girls fill the screen. One appears more than the others. She's blond and so beautiful it hurts. Being as tall and slim as she is, she could be a model.

In the most recent picture, the girl's leaning against a bike, and the caption reads, "She knows how to ride 'em. Gonna miss you, D."

Brian tagged her. Her name's Dakota, and as I scroll down, more photos pop up. Brian and Dakota on their Harleys, grinning at whoever snapped the shot. The two of them in a club, holding a bottle of beer each.

The text under the picture of Brian on a beach, surrounded by a group of girls in bikinis, says, "I'm in paradise, and I'm not even dead."

He has photos with guys and many others with bikes. A picture with Jimmy has thousands of likes, and he didn't even tag his brother.

What I've seen is another reminder of how different we are. Brian has way more experience than I do. He's been places, done stuff, and had sex — lots of it.

I haven't seen any images of Bella, which is comforting, but the visual of him kissing her at The Temple is burned into my retinas. I forgot how he caressed her behind or how she kissed his neck, but I remember it now, and it's the last straw. I close the drawer I'd opened, change into my clothes, grab my phone, and climb out of Brian's window.

Mom spots me right away when I enter the house. "Leah! You're late. I'll heat your lunch."

"I ate with a friend, Mom."

Mom frowns. "Are you okay?"

I nod but then decide to tell the truth. "I'm a bit sick. I think I've caught a cold."

Mom walks up to me and touches my forehead. "You're hot. I wish I could stay at home, but I have to go to work in half an hour. And I need to tell you something."

"Okay," I say and lower myself onto a chair at the dining table.

Mom fiddles with her shirt and bites her lip, making me wonder what's going on.

"I wasn't honest with you," she says.

My heart drops. "About?"

"My job. See, it's not at a factory, Leah. It's at a club. A strip club. I know it's not the best place for a woman to work, but the owner's a decent man. He pays me well, and the tips are great. I'll save some money, and —"

"Are you a stripper?" I whisper, refusing to believe what my mom says.

"God, baby, of course not! I'm a waitress, Leah, only that. The clients behave well, and if they don't, bouncers kick them out. I'm not doing anything you'd be ashamed of."

"Why did you lie to me, then?"

Mom lets out a bitter laugh. "Because I warned you against those places and jobs, and I ended up working there myself to feed us and put a roof over our heads. I tried to find something better; I swear I did."

"What about Mr. O'Brien's garage?"

Mom sighs, caressing my cheek. "His son came to talk to me about it today. It's only a part-time job. The money's not even half of what I'm earning. You were right from the start. I was a fool, thinking a guy from a rich family could give you what I couldn't. I've never depended on a man, and you shouldn't, either."

"I won't tell you what to do." I look at my hands and then at her. "But you have to promise me it's only waitressing and nothing else."

Mom hugs me tightly, kissing my hair. "I might not have been the best mother, but you're the most precious thing I have. We'll be okay."

I smile and hug her back. Then, I say, "So, Brian talked to you for real?"

Mom nods. "That boy's handsome, Leah. Handsome and confident. He says he's your friend, and I hope it's only that. I'd hate it if he broke my daughter's heart."

I fake a smile and go upstairs so Mom can get ready for work. As I get in bed, I clutch my old comforter to my chest. It's not as soft as Brian's, and it doesn't smell like him.

"I lied, too, Mom," I whisper, tracing lines on the worn fabric. "We're not friends, and he might've already broken my heart."