Fifteen minutes later, Garrett was pulling off the main road and driving down the narrow, graveled path that led to his house. Parking in his driveway, he cut off the van. His house was set in the middle of the woods and the only light came from the moon overhead.

I looked around at the over grown trees and realized they’d be a great spot to bury my disemboweled body if Garrett turned out to be a serial killer.

“You coming?” Garrett asked from the front porch. A tree branch snapped off to my left, making me jump and I practically ran up to meet him.

Garrett looked at me as I tried to get my breathing under control. “I won’t let the forest monster get you, I promise,” he teased and I smacked his arm.

“Shut up, will you and open the damn door,” I growled, making him laugh.

He was still laughing at me as he let me into his house, turning on the hallway light. It was strange being here without the mob of people. I had never taken the time to notice his home before. It had just been the scene of the party. Not a place where he ate and slept and lived his life.

There was a faded print on the wall just inside the door. I recognized it as a Monet reproduction. Seeing it there surprised me. I had expected beer posters and pictures of half na**d girls. Definitely not Monet.

“Do you want something to drink? I’ve got beer and beer,” Garrett offered and I smiled.

“I think I’ll have a beer. Thanks,” I said, taking off my coat and hanging it on the hook in the corner.

“You can head on to the living room. You know where it is, right?” Garrett asked and I pointed down the hallway to where I knew it to be.

He went into the kitchen and I walked down the hallway. It was so quiet, it was almost disconcerting. Entering the dark room, I fumbled around for the light switch, banging my shin on a table in the process.

“Mother f**king Christ!” I yelled, leaning over to rub my wounded leg. The lights came on and Garrett stared at me as though I had lost my mind.

“Your stupid table attacked me,” I explained, pointing at the offending piece of furniture.

“Ah. I should have warned you about that table. It can be temperamental,” he joked, handing me the beer. “You okay? Let me see what that nasty piece of wood did to you,” he teased, getting down on his knees in front of me and slowly lifted the leg of my jeans.

My breath caught in my throat as his fingers slid along my skin as he rolled up the fabric to reveal the red welt on my shin.

“Ouch. That’ll hurt like hell in the morning. Let me get you some ice,” Garrett said, lightly rubbing the spot on my leg. It already hurt like hell, but all I could feel at that moment was the way his fingers set off butterflies in my stomach.

Those stupid butterflies needed to die now!

I jerked my leg away and quickly rolled down my pants. “That’s okay. I’ll live. But it’s war on the rest of your furniture, fair warning,” I told him, hoping I successfully hid the trembling in my voice.

Garrett got to his feet and shrugged. “It’s your leg,” he retorted and seemed strangely frustrated.

Not wanting to stand there like an idiot I started to wander around the room, taking in everything that I had never bothered to notice before. On one side of the room was a large fireplace. The mantle was covered with framed photographs. Looking at them, I recognized a younger and completely adorable Garrett. There was a picture of Garrett with a fishing pole, holding up a huge trout by a river.

In another one, Garrett was flanked by a nice looking man and woman on a beach. The same man and woman appeared in several photographs. Some with the young Garrett, others by themselves. These were obviously his parents.

His dad looked like a clean-cut version of Garrett. His mom was pretty in an understated way. In every picture, they looked like a happy family. Maysie had told me his parents had passed away but I didn’t know the story. And I didn’t feel comfortable asking him.

I picked up a trophy and read the inscription: First place All County Debate Tournament, 2008.

I snickered at the thought of Garrett being on the debate team. The image didn’t quite compute with what I knew of him.

“What’s so funny?” he asked with amusement. I held up the trophy.

“Did you buy this as a joke?” I asked.

Garrett’s eyes narrowed a bit at my ribbing. “No, I was on the debate team for three years in high school. The team went to Nationals my senior year. But that was right after I quit,” he said and it seemed like a touchy subject. I wished I hadn’t brought it up.

“I know I don’t look like the brainy type, but I’m not a complete dumbass,” he muttered, looking almost embarrassed by my perception of him. I felt shame for my snap judgment.

“No, it’s just I was on the debate team back home as well,” I hurried on, trying to cover my colossal jerkiness.

Garrett’s eyebrows raised. “I guess we have something in common then,” he said as I placed the trophy back on the mantle. I was distracted from his comment at the sight of an eight by ten photograph of Garrett. I assumed it was his senior portrait. It was one of those cheesy, overly posed photographs that we looked back a year later and cringed over.

This one wasn’t too bad as far as portraits go. He was leaned against a fence wearing a plaid shirt and jeans. His blond hair was cut short and he looked surprisingly well kempt and a lot like your typical preppy guy in high school.

Looking over my shoulder I stared at the man he was now. He was pulling a guitar case out from underneath the couch and unclipping the snaps. His long hair fell across his face as he leaned down. He had ditched the shirt as soon as we stepped into his house.

The guy in the picture was leaner and less muscular. His eyes were clear and his face clean-shaven. The guy behind me affected an air of indifference to everything around him. So different from the boy in the photograph with the world in his eyes.

How did he get from A to B? How was it possible that in just a few years he went from your every day boy next door to this party loving, toke a joint on a regular basis, living life without a clue guy?

I turned away from the tantalizing glimpses of a Garrett I would never know to face the Garrett who I was currently with. He was now strumming an acoustic guitar. He played around for a bit, plucking out an unfamiliar tune.

I listened silently, not sure what to do or say. This quiet, introspective side of Garrett had me off balance.

And when he started to hum along to the strange melody I had to stop myself from sighing aloud. Hey, even I wasn’t immune to a good-looking musician. I did possess the double X chromosome, you know.

His eyes were closed and his fingers moved along the fret board with a confidence that was definitely appealing. His face was open and unguarded and I could watch him like this forever.

I liked this Garrett. I more than liked this Garrett. He fascinated me.

Garrett opened his eyes and found me watching him. The air heated between us, the molecules practically crackling with electricity.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said softly, as though more to himself than to me.

My heart was beating at a frantic pace in my chest, his words twinging something in my brain. Images flashed in my head of him kissing the inside of my thighs. I could almost feel his lips as they moved up my skin to taste between my legs.

The memory was so vivid that I knew it could only be from that night. Shit, I remembered him f**king me with his tongue before he crawled over top of me and told me how beautiful I was. And the look in his eyes had been earth shattering.

I tingled from head to toe and I desperately wanted to remember more.

Garrett continued to watch me as he strummed his guitar, humming that incredible melody. I was melting. Dear lord, I was turning into a big pile of goo.

“I bet you say that to all the gals,” I said lightly, trying to hide the fact that I had morphed into a giant, throbbing vagina.

Garrett frowned and got to his feet. He moved slowly, as though he had all the time in the world. When he finally reached me, I was on high alert. Was he going to touch me? Sweet Jesus, I really wanted him to touch me.

No I didn’t!

Stop it, Riley! This is not the time to let the sex beast out! Lock it away, now!

“Why do you do you that?” he asked, puzzled.

“Why do I do what?” I asked, just as puzzled.

“Blow off a compliment. Make everything a joke. When I tell you you’re beautiful, I’m not just saying that. I’m saying it because you are. You. Are. Beautiful. And I want to kiss you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life,” he said in a hush.

“Oh,” was all I could say.

Oh? I was somehow rendered mentally deficient. Please, someone locate my brain! It was desperately needed to stop me from acting like a total dork!

Garrett’s eyes dropped to my lips and I couldn’t help but wet them with my tongue. Something fierce and smoldering took over his typically unemotional face and I went from pile of goo to molten lava in point three seconds.

He was going to kiss me.

He was going to touch me.

We were most likely going to have sex again.

And just like that the evil sex beast busted from her cage.

Hell yeah! Mama wanted to get her sex on, right now, with this hunky slacker that tells me I’m beautiful. Apparently all it took was a syrupy compliment to make me spread the legs I swore would stay resolutely closed.

See, I was a total hussy!

“Yo, Garrett, you in here?” a voice yelled from the front of the house, yanking me out of my trance. Garrett blinked and he stepped away from me, giving me room to breathe again. His face pinched and he looked pissed off.

He gave me an apologetic look before calling out, “Back here!”

Suddenly the room was full of people. Cole and Vivian came stumbling in, barely standing. Behind them came Gracie and Mitch as well as Jordan and Maysie. But it wasn’t just our friends crashing the moment we had been having. It seemed they had brought half the town with them.

Garrett went back to put his guitar in its case, sliding it under the couch. I wanted him to look at me again the way he just had, but it was as though I were no longer there. I was apparently being ignored.

And that made me really, really mad. After being told you’re beautiful, it would be nice to be treated as though you were more than another piece of furniture in the room. Excuse me for thinking I was worth a bit more than that.

“You bailed, man. Lucky for you, I scored some great shit,” Cole slurred, passing Garrett a joint. The instant change in Garrett was startling. He effortlessly transformed from Mr. Look At Me I’m So Sensitive to I Couldn’t Give a Shit And Acting Like a Butthole.

And there it was. The familiar disgust I was used to feeling around Garrett.

Garrett pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit the joint and gave it a long pull. He blew out a cloud of smoke, permeating the air with the smell of burnt garbage. I coughed and waved my hand in front of my face.

“Oh, I didn’t see Riley over there. What the f**k are you doing here?” Cole asked rudely, earning him an elbow to the ribs from Vivian.

“Shut up, Cole. You are such an asshole!” she yelled, pushing away from him clumsily. Cole stumbled backwards, grabbing ahold of Mitch so he wouldn’t fall over.

“What the hell, Viv? Don’t f**king walk away from me!” he hollered at her retreating form.

“Screw you, fucker!” she screamed back at him.

Cole took off after her and we could hear the back door slam and their yelling out in the yard. The party started to flow around me and I hated the way the Garrett I had seen a few moments before disappear the higher he became.

I had been forgotten.

Garrett lounged back on the couch and he was soon joined by a girl I vaguely recognized as one of the groupie skanks that were front and center for all of the Rejects’ shows. I didn’t know her name, only that I wasn’t used to seeing her with so much clothing on. And that was saying something, considering her boobs were barely covered by the thin, slip of fabric she had on.

Jealousy, hot and lethal, flashed through me and I had visions of ripping her away from him by her hair and then wailing on my chest caveman style.

But I realized quickly, Garrett Bellows was not worth the effort it would take to exert such violence.

“Want a drag?” Garrett asked, holding the roach out for me to take.

I curled my lip at him, hating that I had been suckered, however briefly, into thinking he was anything but a stoned out loser. “I’d rather keep my brain cells, thanks,” I responded, turning away from him. But not before I saw the cold set to his eyes. He was making a point here. To show everyone in the room that there was nothing to see here. Look away folks, it’s just the same ol’ shit.

And I hated that guy with as much passion as I was starting to like the other Garrett. The one who could play me a song on the guitar and tell me I was beautiful and mean it.

A few of the guys around us ooh’d at my rejection, taunting Garrett by my obvious dismissal.

“You’d better keep those, babe. Cause they’re all you’ve got going for you,” he responded hatefully, earning him a riot of laughter from his friends. Garrett looked away and I saw a tiny sliver of regret on his face as though he wished he could take his words back. Well sorry buddy, words stick but I sure as hell wasn’t.

Without saying a word, I walked away. And I was left feeling oddly bereft. Maybe it was for not getting the last word in. Maybe it was for wasting a chance at insulting him back.

Or maybe it was for losing sight of the man I had glimpsed for only a few seconds. A man I could find myself actually wanting to be around.

The weeks passed and my life fell into the complacency of routine. Between school, working my shifts at Barton’s, and my internship I had little time for anything else and that was good for me. I liked keeping busy. I had a clear picture of my future and I was steadfastly plodding toward it. No one could ever accuse me of being unsure.