Heat. My skin was on fire. God, what was going on? Why was I sweating so much? I gasped for air through the dark as my eyes struggled to open. Where was I?

"Sam? Sam, wake up," a soft voice came. It was soft enough to calm me down.

That's when my bedside lamp flickered on, Megan's sleepy silhouette accompanied me in my room. I wanted to muster up a few words and then tell her to get the hell out but she looked startled. What exactly had happened?

"W-What...?"

I noticed her breathing was heavy. "You were screaming... You kept saying stop like... I thought someone... but it was just a bad dream."

Shit. Another bad dream. I didn't remember this one. What else had I said? What else did she know?

I looked at her hand that was on my shoulder. She pulled it back with haste. "Are you okay?"

My eyes couldn't meet hers. "Yeah, I'm fine."

She didn't seem convinced but there was nothing else to say. This was the second time she had witnessed the dreadful nightmares that seemed to be making a comeback. I wondered what she was thinking but was too afraid to ask.

"Okay." She stood from my bed. "Go back to sleep then. We have to be up in a few hours."

I looked at my clock and realized it was four in the morning. All I could do was nod.

She gave me one last look before closing the door behind her, letting me know I could go back to sleep.

But I couldn't. Not with this deep sense of dread bubbling in my stomach. And no matter how much I tossed and turned sleep was nowhere to be found. The nightmares had scared it away.

And before I knew it I heard Megan walking back downstairs to ready for the softball work day. I had spent the last three hours red-eyed and mentally exhausted, but now it was time to get up.

But I wasn't ready to face Megan. I wasn't ready to explain myself.

I pulled myself out of bed and changed, and then locked myself in the bathroom. I could hear her in the kitchen, probably fixing coffee and something to eat. God, I knew she was going to bring it up. I knew she was going to ask and it made me sick.

She knocked on the door. "Hey, I'm leaving a bit early. There's coffee and French toast. Don't be late."

Then the front door closed, signaling I was alone again.

* * *

It was one thing to have everyone in the same vicinity hate you, but it was another thing when you couldn't leave. That's how I felt right about now as most of the softball girls were annoyed with me for taking down their fence. As if I had done that on purpose!

The only one I knew who wouldn't be mad at me was Emma, but considering I had avoided her for the past week I wasn't one hundred percent about that.

"Hey," someone spoke behind me.

I turned to see Emma herself. "Oh, hey."

"No one hates you. They're just annoyed that we have to rebuild this fence."

"I'll take that as the same thing."

She started to walk and I followed. "So, I haven't seen you in a while. I'm starting to think you're avoiding me."

Crap. Play it off. "Yeah, well, I could say the same thing about you."

In all honesty, I believed we were both avoiding each other after the dance. Not because it had been awkward or anything, but because that night at Eric's party something had changed between us, all due to Emma.

I had been to Eric's only a handful of times for parties, and all of those occasions were because Blair forced me along. But this time I was here willingly, and I was glad I had come.

It was only upperclassmen, the alcohol was free, and the music was on point. Everyone seemed to know their limits, so nothing tragic happened, and I was having fun.

That was until I had gone upstairs to locate a bathroom and found Emma stumbling out of it.

"Sam..." she slurred a little too loud.

"Emma," I answered with a laugh. "How drunk are you?"

"I'm not drunk."

"Oh really?"

"Okay, yeah I'm pretty drunk."

I just gave her a small smile. A drunk Emma was endearing.

She went to step closer but her foot caught the rug on the ground, which sent her flying into me. I caught her but the coldness of her drink soaked through the front of my shirt.

"Oh shit," she claimed. "I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, trying not to let her see I cared. "No it's fine."

"Where's your bag?"

I nodded over to Eric's guest bedroom, and she pulled me there.

I was grateful I had brought a change of clothes to begin with, but now there was no choice but to change back into the button down I had worn for homecoming. It was the only clean shirt available.

Emma stood near the door as I found the button up and pulled my soiled shirt over my head. I could feel her eyes burning me as I removed my drenched undershirt as well.

I pulled my clean shirt on and began buttoning. "Maybe we should get you some water."

She was watching me as if she had something to say. I was scared to ask.

"Sam, I don't know... I thought I..."

Was she having trouble talking because she was drunk or because she was scared?

I tilted my head. "Don't say anything you might regret tomorrow."

Instead of talking anymore she moved in and cupped my face in her hands. Her lips tasted like the sugary drink she had spilt all over me. It was a quick peck, but it felt a hell of a lot more than that between us. It was enough to sober me up.

But she pulled away and looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. Her head was shaking as her hands fell from my face. And before I knew it she was leaving the room in a hurry.

As I stood next to Emma an entire week later I couldn't help but wonder if she even remembered our kiss that night. She had been pretty drunk, so I wouldn't be surprised, but the fact that she had avoided me proved otherwise.

We began with the fence. Emma and I worked side by side and only exchanged minimum conversation. If it hadn't been awkward before it sure was now because I was convinced she knew she had kissed me but wasn't sure if I remembered.

Eventually I couldn't take the silence. "Emma, look Saturday-"

"I don't want to talk about that," she pleaded. "Not now."

So she did remember. I just nodded. "Well, just stop acting all weird. It's still me."

"I'm not acting weird I just..." She kicked the ground. "I don't know why I did it, and I'm sorry."

"You're apologizing for kissing me?"

She cupped my mouth. "You don't have to say it so loud."

I smiled. "You shouldn't apologize. It was a decent kiss."

"Thanks." Then she became serious. "It was decent?"

I shrugged. "Decent."

She stared at me for a bit before shaking her head. "I don't care. I don't care what you think because it won't happen again."

I leaned against the unfinished frame of the new fence. "Never?"

"Never."

"Too bad," I teased. "You're missin' out."

She laughed. "Oh am I?"

"You are."

"That's alright, I'm sure if I ask around I can find out what I'm missing."

"Oh, wow that one hurt." I placed my hand over my heart. "I'm wounded."

Eventually we were no longer needed at the fence and Emma and I were separated. Unfortunately, I ended up painting with Megan, which was something I had tried to avoid this whole day.

I joined her at the back of the dugout. Oh God we were alone. No this wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

She stuck out a paintbrush. "Here."

I took it with caution, dipping it into the paint and began to paint the faded letters. I stayed quiet, but already knew it was only a matter of time before she broke the silence.

"Do you have dreams like that often?"

I didn't allow my eyes to meet hers. "No."

I hoped the more I iced her out the less she would attempt to break through my walls. They were pretty thick, and no one except Blair had succeeded. But Blair had been persistent, and she wasn't like most people. I wasn't so sure if Megan was the same way. I hoped she wasn't.

"I'm sorry I just..." she paused. "You sounded so scared."

I took a deep breath and kept quiet.

"You said the same thing as that day in my class."

"Which was?" I asked curiously.

"Mom, please stop," she repeated.

My blood ran cold. I had said that aloud? And Megan had heard it along with an entire class? I hadn't been aware I had said that, just conscious that I screamed. Embarrassment wasn't quite what I was feeling. It was more along the lines of nausea.

I refused to look at her. "It was just the same bad dream."

"Sam, why'd you move in with Shawn?"

I should leave, but where would I go? I had to stay. I had to. "I got kicked out of my other school."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth either. I had been kicked out of my old high school but the fights between me and my mom had escalated way before that. The longer I stayed in that house the crazier I became. Luckily Shawn had moved into his own apartment and heard his little sister was having "trouble finding herself" and needed a change of scenery. Shawn took me in no questions asked.

"And that's it?" she questioned.

"That's it," I answered with annoyance. "Why are you so concerned anyway?"

"Because I'm worried about you."

This time she looked at me, but not for long. She was worried about me? Why? Most of the time I was convinced she just thought I was a bother.

I shook my head. "Well don't be. I'm fine."

The fact that she had even had the nerve to bring up my problems astounded me. Usually people just avoided talking about them, which I understood. It's not like going around and digging up people's deepest, darkest secrets was a good habit to have. But Megan was sitting here asking me questions like she had known me for years.

A large part of me hated it. Yet, deep, deep, deep down I liked that she cared enough to ask. But I would never admit that to her.

"I used to have nightmares too," she admitted.

I looked at her with a confused expression.

"When my, uh..." She gathered herself. "My little sister, Lacey, passed away I had nightmares about it for months."

I was shocked. Completely caught off guard as if someone had ripped the floor from underneath me. Megan had a sister that died? Did Shawn know about this? And why was she telling me?

"Megan, I'm so sorry," I stated, unsure of what else to say.

"We're all going through something, but that doesn't mean we have to go through it alone."

Then she excused herself.

All this time I had believed to know Megan, but after her confession I realized I didn't know her at all. Of course, that wasn't entirely my fault because we were both icing each other out. Yet, there had been a shift just now, and I wasn't sure how to handle it.

Eventually the work day came to an end and everyone was exhausted and ready to go, myself included. My body was sore, my hands were stained with paint, and I was starving.

I beat Megan home but wondered what on earth I would say to her once she showed.

But she walked in the door not far behind me, throwing her keys on the counter before collapsing onto the couch.

"I'm exhausted," she admitted.

"Want a drink?" I offered. "Because I think we both need one."

"You have wine?"

"Red or white?"

"Red."

I found an unopened bottle Shawn had gotten as a gift from someone and poured two glasses. Wine wasn't my favorite, but honestly anything with alcohol would do. In the moment I also ordered a pizza.

I threw myself down next to her. "Hope you like pepperoni and pineapple."

"That's my favorite."

Mine too. Weird.

We sat in silence as we mindlessly gazed at the TV, knowing it was more of a distraction than entertainment.

But Megan always found a way to break the silence. "So, you and that Emma girl..."

The thought of talking about Emma with Megan made me uneasy, but I wasn't sure why.

I shrugged. "It's complicated."

"Why?"

Why was it complicated?

"Uh well," I paused. "First off, I don't exactly date... so there's that. And I'm not even sure if I like her like that? I'm attracted to her but... I don't know. And she's straight or whatever so..."

Where had that come from? One glass of wine surely couldn't make me spill all my secrets, right?

"Kids and their labels," Megan whispered. "So you're not sure if you like her but you're also not sure if she likes you too."

"Basically."

"But if you don't date why does it matter?"

I looked at her. She honestly had a good point.

"Um, I'm not sure."

"Does that mean you're thinking about the possibility of dating her?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Positive," I answered timidly. "I think."

A knocking on the door interrupted us, Megan getting up to answer. What in the world was I doing? Was I really having a glass of wine with my history teacher-slash-roommate while talking about my problems?

I decided I must've fallen into another universe. That's the only way any of this would make sense.

Before returning Megan grabbed the bottle of wine I had opened from the counter and two plates. "Honestly, she looked way too into you at the dance for her not to like you more than a friend. If you want advice from an outsider's perspective."

So Megan had studied not only me but Emma as well? Interesting.

"She kissed me at the after party," I confessed.

Megan lifted her brows. "And you're still not sure if she likes you? Jesus Sam, it's kind of obvious now."

"She was drunk."

"That makes it even more obvious."

Okay, she was totally right. Emma liked me. She liked me and I had no idea what to do about it.

"I don't know how to go about these things," I admitted.

"What things?"

"Relationships."

"As in you've never been in one?"

"Never."

"Wow." Megan leaned back into the couch. "Because you've never wanted one or because you just haven't liked anyone enough?"

"Because I don't feel anything."

I should finish this glass and escape to my room. The last thing I should be doing right now is drinking with Megan. I was well aware that she was prying, but it didn't feel like she was. It felt like she cared. But I've been wrong plenty of times before. For all I knew I was giving her the power to destroy me by admitting all of this.

"Let me ask you this," she started. "If you saw Emma kissing someone else, how would you feel?"

I pictured it and realized it made me uncomfortable. That wasn't a good sign. It was bad right? Because that meant I cared about her. I didn't want that. I didn't want to care.

I sighed. "I wouldn't like it."

"So in other words, you'd feel something."

I peered down into my glass. "I don't want to."

"Sometimes we don't have a choice."

Then Megan's phone rang out, startling us out of our moment. Not that we were having one. No. Megan and I were not having a moment.

She stood and walked away to answer. "Hello?"

Why had Megan hesitated to answer this call? She didn't sound to happy either, which was weird. Usually Megan was an exceptionally cheerful being. So whoever was on the other line had the ability to bring her down.

She came back just in time for me to hear the end. "Yeah, just let me know when you make it." She paused. "Okay, bye."

Then she threw her phone back on the coffee table, startling me. She raked her hands through her hair as she shook her head. "Great. Just great."

"You okay?" I asked.

"No. Not at all."

She continued to pace while I tried to figure out what her problem was.

"Megan."

"I can't believe I agreed to meet with her," she mumbled.

"With who?"

She stopped pacing and looked up at me. There was more hesitation, as if she didn't want to tell me. Then she broke down and admitted.

"My ex-girlfriend."

And suddenly my whole world was flipped upside down.