It's been a couple of hours since the shower. We ate dinner and Bryce and I haven't said much to each other. It's been awkward and tense. He's distant, distracted.

"So, uh, I should probably go," I say. Bryce turns to look at me. I can't read his face or his eyes.

"Why?" He doesn't say anything else. I sigh and stand up.

"Um, it just doesn't seem like you really want me here," I say, walking away from him. "I'm sorry if I did something wrong...back there." I grab my backpack and walk towards the door. I look at him again, trying to see what he's thinking.

"I don't want you to go," Bryce says. He's standing up. "You didn't do anything wrong." If I didn't do anything wrong, why is he acting like this?

"Why should I stay?" I ask.

He says four words that almost destroy me, "Because I need you."

Suddenly his face is two centimeters away from mine. He tucks a strand of hair behnd my ear and runs his fingers along my face. "Please stay, sweetheart," Bryce says softly. That's all it takes for my bag to slide to the ground and my arms to wrap around his waist. My face is pressed into his chest. I hear his heart race as his arms slide around me.

I release a breath that I didn't know I was holding. His arms tighten around me. "I'll stay for tonight," I say. He nods and we go back to the couch. He keeps his arm around me as we watch movies that blur into the next.

Bryce says he's fine, but there's something that's bothering him. I try to shake it off. Maybe I'm the one who's off. I'm still trying to process what happened in the shower. Oh, sweet Jesus that was good.

The credits for the movie roll. "What do you want to watch now?" Bryce asks. I shrug.

"Whatever you want to." We've watched so many movies I've lost count. It seems that Bryce likes classic romance films. It's cute.

"How about Titanic?" I raise an eyebrow at him and he shrugs, smiling. "What? It's a good movie," he says.

"It is a good movie. It's just cute that you like it," I say. He smiles and we start watching Titanic. We're still not talking much. I don't know what to say. Hey, that was probably the best sex I've ever had. You wanna do it again?

I definitely can't say that. It wasn't just sex with him, it was something more. I'm aching to touch him. But I can't. I don't know how he feels. If he regrets it.

Keep it in your pants, Andy. I shake my head. Bryce's hand moves to my leg and I nearly jump. He's tracing patterns on my knee, but he's affecting me. Why am I so responsive towards him?

I just need to watch the movie. Of course we're watching Titanic, pretty much the longest movie ever made.

Three hours later Bryce and I are walking upstairs to go to bed. "So, um, where are you gonna sleep?" I ask, biting my lip.

"Ian's room," he says.

"Oh," I say. That kind of hurts. "Well, good night."

"Night," he says. I walk into his room and he goes into Ian's. I don't know what's wrong. He went from sleeping on the floor to sleeping in an entirely different room. I turn off the lights and crawl under the covers. I try to go to sleep but my mind won't turn off.

I turn on my side. Bryce. He's stuck in my head. I haven't thought about Colton once. I didn't even really think about Colton when I was with him, at least not since Ellie and Ian's school dance.

But now, Colton cheated on me and we're done. And Bryce and I are together but he's not really present.

Just go to sleep. Forget about everything, I tell myself. My eyes shut and I try to clear my head.

I end up going into that sleep where you're not really sleeping, but you're still conscious of everything around you. It's not great, but it's better than nothing.

I hear banging around and I'm pulled from my dreamless sleep. "What the fuck?" I mutter, looking at my watch. It's 2:47 AM. I stand up and rub my eyes. There's more banging. I pad softly to Ian's room and look for Bryce. He's not there. I look in the bathroom and all of the other rooms, but he's nowhere to be found. Where the fuck is he?

I walk down the stairs and the banging gets louder. I think it's coming from the basement. I go down the stairs tentatively. I haven't been in the basement yet. The banging is getting louder as I come closer.

And then I see him as I walk in.

God, he looks hot.

Bryce is hitting a punching bag. Sweat is clinging to his skin. He's wearing athletic shorts and nothing else. He keeps punching the bag, his biceps rippling with each punch. It seems like he's been at for a while. He still hasn't noticed me.

"What are you doing up?" I ask, leaning against the doorway. He looks at me and then goes back to hitting the bag.

"Couldn't sleep," he says. "What about you?"

"I heard you." I pause. "Bryce, what are you doing?" He shrugs.

"Blowing off some steam," he says. He wipes some sweat from his forehead. "You should go back to bed."

"Why are you blowing off steam?" I ask.

"Because I'm frustrated." He hits the bag a couple more times.

"Why are you frustrated?" I don't know why I have so many questions. I just know I need answers.

"It doesn't matter." He keeps hitting the bag, harder each time. "Just go back to bed."

"I'm not going back to bed until you tell me what's wrong," I say. Bryce wipes more sweat off his brow.

"Nothing's wrong. I don't know why you think something is," he says. "Just go back to bed."

"Something is wrong though, Bryce," I tell him. "It's three in the morning and you're hitting a punching bag. There's something off." Bryce shakes his head.

"Just drop it," he says. "It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"You've been acting weird ever since the shower," I tell him. He freezes. I'm on to something.

"Andy, drop it," Bryce growls. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then tell me. Tell me, Bryce. Tell me why you won't talk to me. Tell my why you won't look at me for more than a couple of seconds. Tell me why you," I say, my voice falters slightly, "won't touch me." His face cracks, emotion floods.

"That's not...that's not true," he says.

"It just...I don't understand. I don't regret anything that happened but you...it seems like you do. And I don't know why. So, tell me I'm wrong, Bryce," I say. "Tell me that I'm imagining things and I'm making things up. I need you to tell me what's wrong, because if you don't then it's me. And that means that you regret what happened."

He doesn't say anything, he just looks at me and then looks away. It seems like he's torn. Bryce is no longer hitting the bag. He shakes his head. I turn around and start to walk away.

"It didn't happen the way I wanted it to." I stop and look over my shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" I turn around look at him.

"The shower," Bryce says. He takes off the gloves he's wearing and drops them. "I didn't want our first time together to be like that."

"And that's why you've been acting like this?" I ask. Bryce walks towards me.

"It's not a good reason, I know that. But I was mad at myself for not having any self-control and I couldn't bring myself to look at you," he says, "Because you deserve so much better than what happened in the shower." He's only a couple of feet away from me.

"Bryce, I've had lots of sex, but that was the best I've ever had. You don't have to be so hard on yourself," I say. He still moving closer to me. He shakes his head.

"It's minimal compared to what I could do to you," he tells me, "I've spent hours, days, imagining all of the things I could do to you. All of the ways I could touch you, make you cry out." He's barely an inch away from me. I can see the tiny drops of sweat on his forehead. My breathing's uneven. I can see the desire in his eyes.

"Okay," I say slowly.

"Okay what?"

"Show me," I whisper. "Do everything you want to do to me."