This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, business establishments or events is entirely coincidental. Comments and feedback are highly appreciated, send to mozlover21@gmail.com

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Chapter 3.

My feet are hitting the pavement hard, and with each step I'm getting further and further away from Mark. His sweet confession knocked the wind out of me, and mostly just completely overwhelmed me. It must sound crazy to normal people, but I've never been open with my feelings, so hearing someone talk so candidly about them utterly freaked me out. I don't deserve someone being so nice to me. All of a sudden I feel like a small child again. I feel dirty, because my innocence has been taken away, and Mark doesn't deserve to have to deal with that. So I'm running away, as usual. My mind is trying to block out everything Mark just said. Block out and forget about it, that way it'll be easier to deal with losing him. Because there is no way he's going to talk to me after what I just pulled.

I get home and realize everyone is already up. Fuck. I walk inside and my family stares at me. Finally my mom finds her voice

"Jeremy, I thought you were still asleep," she says confused as she studies my disheveled appearance with a concerned look.

"No, I went for a run," I explain.

"That's great," my dad chimes in "exercise at your age is vital. I was always disappointed that you quit your swimming lessons, you never really got into any sports after that." I freeze.

"So what I offer are group lessons. My rates are negotiable so we can discuss that further once you guys decide wether this is the place for your son," says the creepy voice. He's looking at me now, smiling. I try to smile back, but somehow I can't. There's something about his face, something about the flatness of his smile that creeps me out, even as a naive child. His hair is black and parted on the side, and he has blue eyes. Icy cold blue eyes. Blue like his piss pool. I look at my father, who continues talking to Breckett excitedly. I want to go home, but I don't want to disappoint him, so I bite my lip and shuffle from foot to foot nervously.

All of a sudden I'm overwhelmed with hate for my father. This is all his fault. He wanted me to go to these damn lessons, he insisted time after time, even when my mom protested. I want to snap at him, but I don't know what to say so I just run upstairs. My mom calls after me but I ignore her. I slam the door shut and sit on my bed. I feel overwhelmed, and tired, and sick, and sad, and unable to cope with anything. I reach under my bed and find my mom's pills. I need to find a way to just forget everything that's happened, to just block it out. I need a quick fix to deal with all these emotions. I take two of the pills and go to sleep. I wake up a few hours later, feeling groggy and still exhausted. But I manage to get up and go downstairs.

"Are you okay honey? You're not going to school today?" asks my mom with concern.

"No, I think I'm sick," I reply. I grab a glass of water and go back upstairs, leaving my mom looking even more worried. I check my phone, it's a text from Lena. "Where r u?" I text back, "Home, sick :(" Five minutes later my phone vibrates. "Aww I'm sorry, hope you feel better. Hot guy is looking for you btw." My heart speeds up. I've been trying to forget everything that happened with Mark, but now it's all coming back. His face as he said probably the kindest words anyone has ever said to me. Why am I such a freak, that I can't accept kindness without running away from it like I'm on fire. What must he think of me now? I wonder in horror. I spend the rest of the day in bed, depressed. Even my mom can't get me up for lunch. I am lifeless. I wake up the next morning feeling even more shitty and tired. I check my phone. Another text from Lana "Feeling any better?" I reply "Yeah a bit. What r u up to?" My phone vibrates right away," NM, just got out of school. I got u ur HW btw, ur welcome :) On my way to your place."

I'm laying in my bed looking and feeling miserable when Lena comes over. She sits on the bed next to me and immediately starts probing.

"So what happened, you look more depressed than sick." I look at her and bite my lip. I don't really want to tell her what Mark said to me, but at the same time I'm dying to get all of this off my chest, and if I can tell anyone it's Lena. I decide that I need her girl point of view on this and relate everything that happened on the night when he found me crying. Lena sits and listens patiently, without any judgement. She looks sad and concerned during some parts. Finally I finish and she sighs.

"I'm so sorry bear. That really sucks. You must have been really confused at the time, what with all the emotions you had going on about that asshole swim teacher, and all of a sudden Mark says something like that. It's a lot to take at once." I look at Lena and take a deep breath. I'm so relieved that she completely understands.

"Yeah, but can you imagine what he thinks of me right now? He probably hates me. I mean who just runs away after someone tells them something so kind to make them feel better."

"Jer, I don't think it was just to make you feel better. I think he really likes you. And if I'm right then I'm sure he'll understand why you did what you did, if you just have a heart to heart with him."

"I can't have a heart to heart with him. I can't even talk when he's around let alone try to explain everything. Especially since I don't even really get it myself." I groan in frustration. This is all so messed up. And inside I know that I'm really scared of losing Mark's friendship, because it has probably been the nicest thing that's ever happened to me. Lana looks at me with sad doe eyes. We both lay down on the bed next to each other, staring at the ceiling.

"Well I don't know if you're up for this but Tayler is having a party tomorrow night. Maybe it'll be good to take your mind off of things." My first reaction is that I hate parties. They make me think of drunk assholes, hitting on drunk slutty girls, making out in front of everyone, and just being generally dumb. They also always remind me of how lonely and socially awkward I am. But as I think about it more and more I realize that getting drunk might be my best option right now. So I say "Yeah, why not."

"Really," Lena asks surprised. "That's great. It'll be tons of fun. His parents are out of town for the weekend, and you know he has tons of booze. There shouldn't be too many people there either, so it won't be too crazy."

"Cool," I reply. Lena sits up and pulls out a bright pink nail polish from her bag.

"Ughh," I groan and she laughs. She unscrews the awful smelling polish and starts painting her toes as we continue chatting about my miserable situation. Finally Lena gets a call from her mom and has to take off, so we say our goodbyes and I go to sleep.

When I wake up I hear two masculine voices next door. I quietly listen until I realize with annoyance and dread that it's Chad and Spencer that I'm hearing. My hearts picks up its pace, what are they doing in my house? And then I realize that of course only my loving sister would have the two guys who hate me come over.

"Can we see the fag's room?" I hear through the thin walls and immediately my heart drops to my stomach. I hear my sister's laugh.

"No, that's gross. What do you wanna go in there for? He'll just have a fit and start crying." I swallow hard praying they listen to her. There's no lock on my door. I hear footsteps and then my door opens. I get up and and try to look as normal as I can manage.

"Hey fag," says Spencer.

"Whatcha doin fag?" asks Chad. I cringe each time. My sisters just stands behind looking bored.

"What do you guys want?" I ask. They ignore me and look around.

"Wow, what a faggy room. It's only missing pictures of naked guys everywhere, but I bet you have those somewhere too homo, don't you?" asks Spencer as he gets closer and closer to me.

"Aww, are you scared? You don't have your protector with you today?" He says presumably referring to Mark. I back away as far as I can until my back hits the wall. Spencer is inches away from me now, looking angry. His face is turning an ugly red color. He grabs my forearm so hard I think he's breaking it and says "You ever fucking have someone threaten me for you again and I'll beat the shit out of you," he says so close to my face I can feel his spit. He finally releases my arm and I bite my lip hard to stop myself from crying out in pain.

"Fag," he says as they all leave my room. My sister smacks the door shut, and I hear them laughing as they walk downstairs and out the door. I sit on my bed and cry for a little bit, as I try to let my arm rest. It's looking very angry red, and I know it will leave a nasty reminder of this incident for the next few days. Why does shit like this happen to me? I'm tired of asking myself that question. I pop my mom's pills and go to sleep, silently hoping that maybe it'll be better for everyone if I don't wake up. But I do. I wake up to bright sun blinding me through my window. I groan and put a pillow over my face. I'm not ready to face another stupid day. I check my phone and see a text message from an unknown number and one from Lena. Unknown number says "Hey, it's Mark. Please call or text me back. I need to know you're okay." My heart beats faster as I read the message. Why is he so sweet? Then I read Lena's text "Gave Mr.Handsome face your number. Hope you don't mind ;) Remember: heart to heart!" I smile and shake my head at the same time. I want to text Mark back, but I don't know what to say, so I don't. I just sit there rereading his text message for a while. When I hear noises downstairs I decide to come down and face my family. I walk down the stairs and my sister rolls her eyes when she sees me. I sit and my father says "good morning." I want to tell him that my morning is fucking far from good, but I just grunt a reply and leave it at that. I get up again and help my mom in the kitchen since she keeps giving me the worried eye. I want to make sure she thinks I'm okay. I get the utensils and napkins and put them on the table, and then help her chop a few things up. Finally we sit at the table and start breakfast. My dad makes small talk with my sister and mom. I stay silent and try not to play with my food too much, but end up doing it anyway. I tell my parents I'll be going out later in the night. My sister bursts out laughing. I ignore her. My mom agrees as long as I keep in touch with her on the phone. I finish my breakfast and go back to my room. I try to go back to sleep, but can't since all I've been doing is sleeping recently, so I finally just take out my laptop and go on Facebook. I go on Breckett's page. I hit the message button. I want to spill years and years of hatered into one message, and realize that it's not possible. So as always I just end up staring at his picture. This time I want to do more, so I click on his profile pictures and hate them all separately, one by one. But one particular photo stops me in my tracks. It's a group picture, featuring about ten small kids and their swim coach. I'm speechless. On the left of the picture I see a small thin kid, with blonde hair. All the other kids are smiling, but this little boy is not. He emanates sadness. Instead of staring at Brackett and hating him, I stare at the long gone little kid, and tell him it's okay, and that it wasn't his fault, and that he's gonna be okay. I know that that's not necessarily true, but this kid deserves for someone to say something nice to him, because nobody ever did. So I do. I talk to my little self. You didn't deserve this kid. You didn't deserve this.

Finally evening time comes around and I get a ride with Lena. We get to Tyler's house in about ten minutes. As we enter I notice that about forty people are already there. Small party my ass Lena, I think as I cringe. I hate social situations. We walk into Tyler's living room, which is a nice size. It has three very comfy cream suede sofas with a large glass table in the middle. Behind there's a large wooden shelf with the tv and a stereo system. Surprisingly no music is playing when we get there.

We spot Tyler and start heading his way. He's in the kitchen, surrounded by bottles of booze and some people.

"Hey guys!" he says in our direction, and I can tell he's already tipsy. He hugs Lena and then puts an arm around my shoulder "What will it be Jer? Rum and coke or a white russian?"

"Rum and coke sounds good." I say smiling.

"Nice party!" some kid yells from the living room.

"Thanks man," Tyler shouts back right by my ear. Finally he hands me the sloppily made drink that tastes like he left the coke completely out of it. I wince at the first few sips, but slowly warm up to the strong burning sensation. I walk around with Lena, getting a feel for the party.

"Wow, they should probably get a room," Lena says looking at a couple that are sitting on one of the sofas and are in the middle of eating each others faces viciously. We both stand and stare for a bit, then look at each other and laugh. We get to Tyler's stereo and Lena decides she's going to be the DJ for the night.

"I'll get us more drinks," I say and make make my way back to the kitchen. After drinking one half glass of rum I'm starting to feel a little tipsy, considering I almost never drink. I pour myself more rum, still remembering that you shouldn't mix alcohols. I get Lena the same thing.

"Woah man, that looks intense," says Tyler pointing to my forearm where a huge bruise has formed, and is now visible under my rolled up sleeve.

"Oh yeah, I hit myself on the table yesterday," I quickly come up with the bad lie, but thankfully Tyler is too drunk to notice. I go back to the living room and finish my second drink with Lena, who then decides to dance in the middle of the room with Tyler, which I find adorable. And then it finally hits me, in the middle of my tipsiness I realize that Tayler and Lana should probably date, and wonder why they haven't. I sit staring and them, so much at ease with eachother you would think they're already a couple. Why is it so much easier for people to express their emotions when they're drunk? I wonder. I slowly make my way back to the kitchen to get another drink. As I pour it I look out the window and realize it's completely dark now. People are still coming through the door and the house is becoming very crowded. As I finish my drink some girl I've never met comes into the kitchen and dares me to do three shots with her and see who can finish faster. I think fuck whoever said not to mix alcohols, that sounds ridiculous. I pour the shots as she waits looking giddy.

"You ready?" I ask and realize I sound like I'm slurring. I ignore it.

"Yeah!" she yells and we both start laughing.

"Okay, three, two, one!" I count down and we lunge at our first shot glass. I realize she has me beat when she yells done as I'm still finishing my second one. She starts laughing but all of a sudden I feel very unsteady on my feet.

"You okay?" she asks way too loudly, making me ever more sick.

"I gotta go to the bathroom," I mumble and make my way upstairs. I've been to Tyler's house before, but now in the dark and drunk I can't seem to figure out where his bathroom is. I open the first door I see, and enter his parents bedroom, where two kids are half naked and about to do it. Stunned I mumble a quick apology and leave. I blindly make my way down the corridor further until my hand feels another wooden door. I enter Tyler's parents bathroom. It's a small bathroom and it's covered with cold tiles. I lay down on the tiles, hoping their low temperature will make me feel better, but my head starts spinning even harder so I sit back up. My phone falls out of my pocket and I'm feeling so miserable I decide to call someone. I unlock my phone and go to my messages. I try to call my mom but somehow realize I must have messed up when a male voice picks up. And not just any male voice, HIS voice. But since I'm drunk off my ass, I'm feeling pretty brave.

"Hey," I say, and it's probably the most unclear hey anyone has ever uttered.

"Jeremy?" I hear.

"Yeahhh" I say back, and then wait. It's his turn to say something right?

"Are you okay? You don't sound like yourself."

"Uhmmm wha, I mean I'm uhmmm fine if that's what you're asking." I say, and then try to figure out if what I said made sense.

"You're drunk," he says it statement like. Then adds "Where are you?"

"I'm not telling you," I say smiling. Pretty satisfied with myself for some unknown reason. Someone opens the door, notices I'm sitting on the floor and leaves.

"Did I just hear music? Are you at a party?" he asks. I stay quiet.

"Jeremy I need to know where you are. Tell me, now," he says in a very strict tone which for some reason makes me giggle. Why is Mark Norton getting strict with me? I hear him sigh on the other line.

"Will you please tell me where you are?"

"No," I say laughing and hang up. And as I do I feel a wave of neasuea come on and I barf into the toilet. Fuck. The one night that was supposed to make me feel better, and here I am, puking my guts out. I'm too tired to get up and clean myself, so I just put my arms on the toilet seat and put my head down, trying to not move and make myself more nauseous. I concentrate on my breathing. I'm still hanging on the toilet seat ten minutes later when I hear the bathroom door open.

"Busy," I mumble to the floor.

"I can see that," says an annoyed voice and immediately I feel more sober. I look up and realize Mark is staring at me, and his gaze is even more intense than usual. His jaw is clenched and he looks insanely handsome. I on the other hand look pretty pathetic.

"What are you doing here?" I mumble out accusingly.

"Rescuing you, as usual," he says and gets closer. Now it's my turn to shoot him an annoyed look.

"Do you think you can walk?" he asks holding out his hand. I take it and try to get up but all of a sudden I feel the need to throw up again, so I fall back down and spill my guts into the toilet. I feel a gentle hand on my back. When I'm done he hands me a clean towel to wipe my mouth with. He looks concerned.

"Do you need me to take you to the emergency room?"

"No!" I quickly protest. "I'll be fine, just give me a minute."

"Okay. Take off your shirt, I'll go get you a clean one," he says and leaves the bathroom. I look down on my shirt and realize it's covered with vomit. I groan. Great, if indeed there ever was a chance of anything happening between us I definitely just ruined it, I think to myself. I sit slumped down on the floor, leaning against the toilet, looking completely defeated. Mark comes in with a brand new white t shirt.

"Where did you get that?" I ask.

"I borrowed it. Can you take off your shirt or do you need help?"

"I can do it," I say quietly. The last thing I want it to take my shirt off in front of Mark and show him my sad excuse for a body. But I'm completely cornered and he doesn't look like he's about to take no for an answer, so I unbutton my shirt and remove it, instantly feeling completely naked and helpless. He startles me by grabbing my arm, gently but firmly.

"What happened here?" he asks. I look down at the arm covered with a vicious looking purple bruise.

"Nothing, I bumped into something." I lie. He raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah? You bumped into someone's hand? Because those look like finger marks," he says in a very serious tone. I gulp. Why does he always know when I lie?

"It doesn't matter," I say. "How did you find me?" I ask, turning tables.

"If you tell me who gave you that bruise, I'll tell you how I found you."

"Fine. Can I put the shirt on first?" I ask annoyed. He gently hands me the shirt, his gaze lingering on the other old scars on my arms. But I notice that he refrains from commenting. I put on the shirt and he helps me up.

"The bruise is from Spencer. He was at my house yesterday with my sister, and he came into my room."

"Did he do anything else?" Mark asks, deadly serious. And I'm starting to feel scared. I've never seen him like this.

"No, that's it."

"I texted Lena and she told me where you guys are. Now let's go." He grabs my other shirt and helps me get downstairs.

"I have to talk to Lena," I mumble, feeling nauseous again.

"I already talked to her. She knows you're not feeling well and that you're leaving with me. She says she'll call you tomorrow." I nod relieved. Mark helps me get in his car. I note that it's still immaculately clean, with no personal belongings lying around, nothing really to suggest that a human being drives this car on a regular basis. He gets in and starts driving. He opens my window all the way up which instantly makes me feel better. Our drive is silent. All of a sudden he makes a sharp right turn and says "I just have to make one quick stop."

"Okay," I mumble completely out of it. He stops in front of a house, with the front door wide open, loud music, and teenagers sitting all over the front lawn, drinking. Mark wants to go to another party? What the hell are we doing here? He stops and talks to a guy outside, nods his head and walks inside of the house. I put my head back and try to focus on not feeling dizzy. Five minutes later Mark is back, and I know there's something different about him, but I can't tell what. He looks a little out of breath and flustered. He starts the car and we're moving again. I realize he's not heading in the direction of my house.

"Where are we going?" I ask concerned.

"To my house," he replies calmly.

"What?" I almost yell.

"What?" He says back, sounding amused.

"I can't sleep at your house."

"Well I'm not taking you to yours looking like this. My mom's visiting a friend for a few days so we'll be alone." But instead of calming me down he freaks me out even more. First of all this is already embarrassing enough as it is. What if I throw up in his bed? Worse yet, what if I'll have one of my accidents? Panic sets in and I start shaking my head.

"No, no, no, I can't stay at your house," I say. He looks irritated.

"Jeremy, you're not going anywhere else like this. Do you really want your parents to see you like this at 2 in the morning? They won't let you go out again for a year. Please, just stay at my place this one night. Don't be stubborn about this." Finally against my better judgement I say "Okay." I take out my phone and text my mom, letting her know that I'm sleeping over at Lena's. I don't want my sister to find out I'm with Mark. He looks appeased. After another three minutes we pull up to a pretty impressive house. I can't really see it too well in the dark, but it looks very large.

"This is your house?" I ask in awe.

"Yeah," he laughs at my wonder struck face. "My mom's a lawyer," he explains.

"Oh," I say. As I get out of the car I realize I'm still terribly dizzy. I try to find my balance but end up leaning on Mark's car. He puts my arm around him and drags me inside. We go up some stairs and then walk down a corridor. I trip and fall on him, pushing him up against the wall. I start giggling. He doesn't look amused.

"I bet you don't like me anymore," I blurt out all of a sudden. He looks surprised and hurt.

"Of course I still like you," he says gently. "Would I be doing this if I didn't? Helping drunk people isn't my hobby Jeremy." He pulls me up straight again and walks me into his room. I don't notice much about it, besides the fact that it's big. I feel dizzy and tired, and the room is dark. He slowly walks me over to the bed and I lay down. He stands next to the bed, looking down at me. I'm looking back up at him and feeling strangely small and timid all of a sudden. He gently takes off my shoes, and then my socks. I shiver at the feeling of his bare hand touching the sole of my foot. He fingers linger for a while. Then he brings his hands up to my pants, and undoes the button, then unzips the zipper. I raise my butt up and he takes my jeans off, revealing my plaid boxers. Fuck, why did I have to wear plaid boxers, I curse myself. He pulls the covers over me, and I'm surprised.

"Try to get some sleep," he says gently and leaves the room. I fall asleep right away.

I wake up to a nasty wet licking sensation on my face. I can feel my head throbbing, and I still want to throw up. I open my eyes and see a beast right in my face, with its tongue hanging down, and slobbering all over me.

"Ugh what is that?" I say trying to sit up. Mark is sitting on a desk chair a few feet away from me. He's watching a soccer game on mute. He turns his head and laughs as he hears my question.

"That's my bulldog Rowland." I finally manage to sit. The dog sits opposite of me and cocks it's head at me. I frown at it. It makes a grumpy noise. Mark laughs again.

"He wants you to pet him." I raise my eyebrow at him.

"I'm not petting that thing."

"How are you feeling?" He asks, still smiling.

"Like I'm gonna hurl."

"Here," he says handing me a green looking drink. I grimace at it. "It'll make you feel better," he insists. I take a sip of the nasty mix, it tastes disgusting but Mark makes an encouraging face so to appease him I take another sip.

"Good," he says. And it's then that I realize what was off about him last night when he came back into the car.

"What happened to your knuckles?" I ask looking at his swollen and bruised hands.

"It's nothing," he replies.

"Where did you go last night?"

"I went to rescue you, don't you remember?" He answers smugly. I frown.

"Where did you go when you made that stop on the way to your house?"

"Oh, I just went to say hi to a friend."

"You're being sarcastic aren't you?"

"I went to make sure that Spencer was never going to touch you again," he finally replies annoyed. My jaw drops. Oh God, what did I do.

"You did what?" I ask unnerved.

"I just had a little chat with him, that's all."

"Really? A little chat that ended with your fist in his face?" His lack of reply is my conformation. "Mark, you can't go beat people up for me."

"The only reason that asshole is not in the hospital with his jaw split in half is because I don't want to be away in juvie or on a suspension and not be able to watch out for you. So I'd say he got off pretty lucky," he says fired up. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I'm completely speechless. My head is spinning and I tell myself to calm down before I hurl on his bed. I try to concentrate on something. I figure this is the time to evaluate his room. I look around and realize that Mark's bedroom is very spacious. He has a giant flat screen tv hanging on the wall across from the bed, where currently a soccer game is unfolding. Who knew Norton was a soccer fan. There's a medium black desk down on the left side of the room, by four large windows. On the right side there's a simple black dresser. Mark's big comfy bed is also in black and white colors, and has a large fluffy grey rug underneath it. There's also a comfy looking pillow on the floor, which I realize belongs to the fat beast sitting on the bed with me. Overall his room is very large, and only has the essentials. It's clean, like his car, and gives off the feeling that someone organized and neat lives in it. I finish half the green juice and suddenly feel very awkward knowing that I'm sitting in Mark's bed. He senses my uncertainty.

"If you want to take a shower go ahead. I washed your clothes last night, and you can borrow some of my boxers. Although they might be too big, so I can just lend you my briefs." I gulp at the thought of wearing Mark's briefs. He goes down to get my clothes and I decide to check my phone. The beast watches me carefully. I stick out my tongue at it, and it growls. I get my phone off of Mark's desk and stumble back to bed, embarrassed to be standing around in my underwear. I've got two texts. Lena, "Hey, hope you're feeling better, shoot me a text so I know you're alive. I'm still at Tay's helping him clean up. It's a huge mess. xoxo." Mom, "Okay honey, call me tomorrow. Have a great night." Before I have time to respond to either Mark comes back with my clean clothes, and after he hands them to me he goes over to the black dresser. He opens one of the drawers and begins digging. Finally he turns and says "Here, these are the smallest I can find," and hands me a pair of black briefs. I get out of bed carefully holding all my clothes in front of me."You'll look good in those," he adds looking at the briefs he's holding. I take them in my hand and wait for him to tell me where the bathroom is, but instead he just stands there looking at me thoughtfully. I become pretty shifty at this point and ask where the bathroom is myself.

"It's down the corridor, first door on your left," he replies, snapping out of whatever mood he was just in. As I walk through the corridor I can finally asses the house better. The Norton residence seems very similar all over, it's simple, yet rich and spacious. The bathroom is no different, it's incredible in it's simplicity yet beauty. I enter and make sure to lock the door behind me. To my right there is a giant mirror, and a long rectangle white sink with rich dark brown cabinets underneath. There's a black vase with a white flower on it, which looks like an orchid, but then again I'm no flower expert. On the wall adjacent to the mirror there is a huge walk in glass shower that looks very inviting. I walk in and blush thinking about the fact that this is where Mark showers every day. I turn on the water and immediately feel better. I wash my hair with Mark's shampoo, which smells like him and makes me smile. After abut ten minutes I finish my shower and dry off with a fluffy white towel. I'm starting to really like this house. I try not to giggle as I put Mark's briefs on, which even though are his smallest are still a bit big on me. I then slip on my jeans and my button up shirt. I make my way to Mark's room but stop in front of his door when I hear his voice. He's talking to someone on the phone, and he doesn't sound pleased.

"Yes well the reason I decided to tell you was for that precise reason, so that I wouldn't have to worry her...Yeah, yeah I understand that....Yes, I'm aware of that...I grew up with two lawyers, of course I know...Don't talk to me about repercussions okay, I don't want to hear that coming from you...Okay, great, that's all I was asking for...Yes, I'll keep you updated...Okay, tell Suzanne I say hello as well...Bye." I slowly come into the room.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, just had to talk with my father, which is never fun," he says with a bittersweet smile.

"I'm sorry. My father's not fun to talk to either, in fact he never really talks to me at all," I say and laugh, but he only smiles sadly.

"Well he's missing out then." I blush.

"Were you talking to him about what happened with Spencer?"

"Yes, my dad's also a lawyer. I didn't want to bother my mom. I doubt Spencer will try to pursue anything but if he does he has about fifteen witnesses to vouch for him, so I was just looking at my options."I grimace, this is all my fault. As if he could read my mind he says "This is not your fault okay?" I just hope he's right, and that Spencer leaves him alone.

"Your house is really nice," I say, not knowing what else to talk about.

"Thanks, my mom decorated it mostly. She's got an eye for those things. Anyway, I hope you're feeling better because I've got a surprise for you."

"Uhmm you do?" I ask in astonishment. It seems that Mark has forgiven me for running away from him that night.

"Yes. Follow me," he says and smirks. We make our way downstairs, walk through a magnificant looking living room, and go further down into the basement. He opens a thick wooden door and I finally learn why Mark's so good at everything related to photography, as we enter his private darkroom.

"Wow," I say surprised. He smiles like a little kid. And then I turn speechless when I look at one single photo hanging from the drying line above the chemical basin. It's the photo he took of me when shooting our first roll of film at school. And I'm surprised because I slowly realize that I really like it, and I usually hate all my photos. And for a moment I'm looking at myself through Mark's eyes, and seeing someone completely different from what I see in the mirror everyday. I see someone who is not that bad looking, someone with depth, I see someone I would like to be friends with as well. I see someone who looks sweet, and nice, and shy. Someone who's longing to belong. Someone who deserves friends, and who deserves to be happy. Someone who deserves love. I smile at Mark, who's leaning against the basin looking at me. And I'm so thankful to this person who's finally shown me a side I never knew I had. Someone who saw me for something nobody else saw me for. Someone who really touched me inside, the way nobody else has.

"This is amazing," I say, trying to diffuse all of the emotions in the room.

"I thought we would work on developing some pictures together. After your last attempt in photo class I figured you're going to need a lot of help," he says grinning mischeviously.

"Oh really mister I have my own darkroom yet try to pretend I belong in a beginners photo class," I shoot back smiling. He laughs.

"Well they didn't have you in intermediate photo, so I had to dumb it down a little." My smile disappears, and I'm nervous again.

"Why does it make you so nervous?"

"What?" I ask barely above a whisper.

"When I talk about my feelings for you." He says very seriously. "Do you not want to hear it?" I'm so stunned that I just stand there speechless, swallowing like crazy. He lowers his head, and I don't think I've ever seen him look so dejected. I feel awful, and don't know what to do.

"It's not that," I finally reply slowly. "I just, I don't know what to say. I guess I'm too damaged."

"Too damaged for what?"

"To hear anyone say anything nice to me."

"I want to say nice things to you all the time, until you get used to them, and then some. You deserve hearing nice things Jeremy." I bite the inside of my cheek. I want to run out of here and not deal with having this talk. I want to crawl into a ball and never have to deal with feelings or emotions. But I stay, because I realize that Mark means everything to me, and seeing him upset breaks my heart to pieces.

"I don't know if I could ever get used to that," I say.

"Well why don't we try?" he replies and starts walking towards me. My back is leaning on a wall, and he stops inches away from my face. He's looking into my eyes.

"I just want to make you happy. Ever since I met you, I just have this intense urge to make you smile, and to protect you, and I don't know what it is but I've never felt like this before. So you're not the only one, this is confusing for me too." He puts his hands on my lower sides. I'm nervously playing with my hands in front of me.

"Jeremy," he says and I look up.

"Do you feel anything for me?" he asks and I hear a note of worry in his voice. This beautiful, amazing, strong, masculine, thoughtful, funny guy is worried if I feel anything for him. This must be some sort of joke right? But it's not, as he's expectedly waiting for my answer. I nod my head shyly. A smile slowly spreads on his face.

"Good," he says and leans down and touches my lips with his slowly. His lips feel soft yet strong. He cups my face with his hands, and I clumsily put my hands over his. His strong smell is intoxicating, and the feel of his lips on mine is better than anything I've ever felt before. He puts his hands back on my hips again, and continues to gently and slowly kiss me. I feel something poking me down below and he gently but persistently grinds it into me. And then all of a sudden he pulls back and asks "Are you okay?" At first I'm not sure why he's asking me but then I touch my face and realize I'm crying and shaking.

"What's wrong? You're really pale," he says with panic in his voice. And I slide down onto the floor and start bawling like a baby, completely confused by what's happening to me.