I still haven’t heard from Megan. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

   The rest of the students walk. One I’ve never spoken to before shares a quick speech about the death of my family and how courageous I am. I wish I could listen and absorb it, but all I can think about is Jake and his hands, his mouth, his . . . I’m rubbing my legs together when loud cheers erupt and the students around me throw their caps in the air. Yay, we’re done. I need to see Jake.

   I head over to him and his friends and family. They give me a huge group hug, and Mandy goes nuts with the photos. I pose with everyone individually, and she gets about a trillion of Jake and me. Jake’s family then heads home.

   Logan’s giving me shit about how small my hick school is when Jake walks up to me and puts a protective arm around my shoulders. James sees it and approaches us, sneering. The group steps back, but Logan stays in the same spot. He looks at Jake. “Dude, if you feel like punching him again, just tell me—I’ll do it. Don’t risk fucking up that hand again, because UNC wouldn’t be too happy.”

   James’s eyes narrow then widen in realization. “You’re that Jake Andrews?”

   Jake just shrugs and squares his shoulders.

   James looks at me. “Nice job on my truck, by the way.”

   The group cackles with laughter. “Thank you,” I say, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. James shakes his head, looking down. When he looks up, I see a different expression.

   “Look, Mick,” he starts, then puffs out a breath. “Could you maybe ask your bodyguard here to give us a minute?” He nods toward Jake.

   I look up at Jake then back at James. “Nope,” I say, making the p pop. Jake stifles a laugh next to me, his mouth in my hair.

   “Forget it,” James mutters and turns to walk away.

   “Hey, James?” I call out. He pivots, walking backwards. “How’s Megan doing?”

   He freezes, opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it again before turning around and walking away—for good, I hope.

   We say good-bye to the gang—we’ll see them when we get back from Aunt Lisa’s wedding next weekend. Then Jake and I head home, too. Home.

           A few days later the workers are still going strong, rebuilding the garage. Jake and I are packed up and head out to his truck. We say good-bye to his family on the way out. I thought they might give us a lecture about being by ourselves in a hotel room, but I guess living together at their house is basically the same thing.

   When we reach the driveway, I see Travis, one of the workers. He’s a nice guy—he always smiles and says hello in the morning when I take Julie to school. He sees me, too, and smiles. “Hey, Mikayla. How are you today, darlin’?”

   Jake takes my bag from me and holds it in the same hand as his bag. He grips my hand tightly and pulls me in. He leads me to the passenger side of his truck and throws our bags in the bed. He makes sure I’m seated before closing the door.

   But instead of getting into the truck, he walks over to Travis and says something. It looks like a heated conversation, and Travis raises his arms in surrender. When Jake gets in the truck, his face is red, his jaw is clenched, and his eyebrows are drawn together. I don’t say anything.

   Halfway to the airport, he hasn’t changed. Hesitantly, I take his hand in mine, and he seems to calm down a tiny bit. “What is it, Jake? Did something happen with Travis?”

   “How do you know his name?” he spits out.

   “I don’t know. He introduced himself one day.” I’ve never seen him like this, and it scares me a little.

   “And you remem—” He whips around and sees my face. He straightens his features. “I’m so sorry, Kayla.” He takes a few deep breaths. “I’m just sick of that asshole eyeing you up and down whenever he sees you.”

   “Jake, he wasn’t—”

   “Just leave it alone, okay? They’ll be done next week.”

   The wedding was beautiful—Mom would have loved it. And the reception was amazing. Jake and I drank a bit too much, though, so we stumbled our way to our hotel room. We’d gotten in last night, but after having dinner with Aunt Lisa and her fiancé, we’d crashed and burned immediately after our heads hit the pillows.

   We took advantage of the stocked mini bar, and now we’re both buzzed, sitting on the floor with our backs against the bed.

   “Did you know the legal drinking age in Australia is eighteen?” he says.

   “No.” I empty the contents of my beer bottle.

   “Mm-hm.” He fishes through a packet of nuts from the airplane. “It’s the same for driving—well, where we were, anyway. It’s sixteen or seventeen in some other states.”

   “Which city did you live in?”

   “Melbourne.”

   “What was it like?”

   “We lived in the suburbs, and, believe it or not, it’s a lot like home—except there are more traffic lights in Melbourne.”

   “Were you a bad little boy?” I ask.

   “That sounds kind of sexy yet borderline creepy.” He laughs.

   I smack him on the shoulder, and he pretends it hurt, rubbing his shoulder before continuing. “Nah, I was just a standard little punk. I think the worst thing I did over there was accidentally knock over a pot outside a florist’s shop by trying to do sick tricks on my skateboard.”

   I laugh.

   “I felt so bad, I told my mom the minute I got home and begged her to pay for it. She made me apologize to the owner and took it out of my pocket money.”

   I laugh even harder. “You are so frickin’ adorable.”

   He chuckles under his breath. It’s quiet for a moment, and I lean my head on his shoulder.

   “Tell me more about it—Australia, I mean. We didn’t travel much, so I’ve never been out of America. We had always planned on going to the Philippines for a family holiday. My grandpa was from there—my mom was half-Filipino.”

   “I always wondered where you got that amazing color from,” he says, rubbing my arm with the back of his finger.

   I nudge him. “Tell me.”

   “Okay, let’s see.” He contemplates the ceiling.

   I stand up to get another beer from the fridge. “Shit,” I groan. “We’re out of beer.”

   “What? No way!” He comes up from behind me to look. “Crap. Well, we’ve got champagne.”

   I pout. “I can’t have champagne without ice.”