"Are you gay?"

"What?"

"I mean, I don't have anything against gay-"

"You think I'm gay? Why?"

"Because you don't like me?"

To say I was surprised when he laughs is an understatement. He laughed too many times already, I lost count.

"Don't be conceited. Not everything is about you."

My cheeks automatically turn red. Ground, please open up and swallow me whole. Why was I not thinking? I'm so embarrassed I could die.

Kyle is still laughing, there are even tears in his eyes.

I need to shut my mouth. So stupid. I don't ever want to talk again.

"You're bringing a part of me I thought I've lost," he says, wiping the tears from his eyes.

I ignore his comeback, and cross my arms over my chest.

"Are you mad?" he says.

"No," I deadpan.

"Why did you ask if I was gay then?" he asks, a silly smile crossing his face. "You knew I had girlfriends before."

Girlfriends? As in plural, with an S?

I clear my throat. I started this, I can't back out now. "So what?"

"You really think that?" he asks.

"Doesn't matter."

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he takes a step toward me. I answer it by taking a step back.

It feels like we're dancing, when we're not even touching.

Again, he moves forward. I don't know what his plan is, but once I look away from his eyes, I know he wins.

I'm about to take a step back when I trip on a rock. Before I can balance myself, I fall to the ground, hip first.

You'd think the first thing he'll do is to help me up. Kyle is surprising me today. Instead of offering his hand, he guffaws in laughter. Again.

Closing my eyes, I will myself to lose consciousness so that I can pretend this never happened. Maybe I'll wake up a few hours later in my bed.

But no, I'm too embarrassed to even do that.

Taking a deep breath, I help myself up and dust off the dirt on my pants.

Kyle bites his lip upon seeing me upright. "Sorry about that," he says sheepishly. "It's just; you're surprising me a whole lot today. I forgot how to act around you."

What does that even mean?

"Are you hurt?" he asks.

Just a bit, but my pride is too hurt to even admit that.

"I'm fine."

He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, my phone rings.

Perfect distraction.

I answer it without looking at the caller ID.

"Bri, where are you?"

Nate.

I know I'm a liar, but I made a promise with Nate. At least with him, I'll be honest, no second guessing. No beating around the bush.

"I'm with Kyle," I say.

There's a pause. But I know he's still there because I can hear his breath.

I turn around and walk a few feet away from Kyle. It takes ten steps before Nate speaks again.

"Should I be worried?" he asks.

"No," I say automatically. "We're okay."

"You and I?" he asks, "Or are we talking about you and Yves?"

I open my mouth to answer, but for the first time, I don't know what to respond to him.

"Nate. . ."

"We need to talk."

"Okay," I say. "Let's talk when I get back."

I hope he's not angry. I didn't mean to lie to him when I went out, but I also know omitting the truth is still a lie.

"I'll see you later then."

"Alright."

I'm about to end the call when he speaks again.

"Bri?"

"Yeah?"

"Can't wait to see you."

"Nate, you can't just say things like that!" I say. You are making me confused too.

I can hear him laugh on the other line. "Later, babe."

"You look like Joker," Kyle says when I go back to him. "You have a huge smile on your face."

My eyes widen. I didn't mean to smile. Why am I smiling?

I press my hands on my cheeks, and sure enough, I find myself grinning.

I feel hot all of a sudden.

Am I sick?

Kyle coughs. Is he sick too?

"Was that Nate?" he asks.

I nod.

"It's starting to get dark," he says. "They're probably wondering where we are. Come on, let's go home."

"Home, as in-"

"The tour bus," he corrects himself.

I shrug. "It's our second home."

"I guess you're right." He smiles. "Are you ready to have another ride?"

I roll my eyes, but to tell you the truth, I'm quite pleased. "Bring it on!"

No, I am not excited to wrap my arms around him. I don't even move close to him. And most importantly, I don't care about his hard muscles.

Seriously, it doesn't matter.

No, I am not defensive. I just tend to explain a lot of things. My mind is full of jumbled thoughts. I think I'm going crazy sometimes.

"I forgot for a second that we're in the middle of tour," Kyle says.

"No worries," I say, "reminding you of your schedule is my job."

To my surprise, he puts his hands on my shoulders. "I promise to make your job lightly by not being a pain in the-"

I cover his mouth with my hand.

He raises his eyebrow with my spontaneous action.

I let my hand fall to the side. I can't even look at him in the eyes as I speak my next sentence. "Sorry. I'm uncomfortable hearing curse words."

"But that's my second language!" he says, "Didn't you know? I thought you are our number one fan?"

He remembers? I said that when I first met him and the band.

"Didn't you watch our videos?" he continues. "It's my nature."

I cringe. Actually, I disregard it when I watched their videos. "It's not the same when we're talking face to face, without a screen separating us," I say.

"I curse like a sailor!"

"I know."

Maybe they didn't slip before because we never really had a real good conversation. The one on the roof doesn't count because he was drunk then. I don't even know if he remembers that.

"Are you turned off?" he says suddenly.

I just stare at him like an idiot. How can he ask that so casually?

"I will try to watch my mouth when I talk to you."

I glance up at him in surprise. "Kyle, you don't need to-"

"I know," he cuts in, "but I want to try."

I try to imagine what he's thinking. What's it like to be Kyle? Will he return to being bipolar when we get back?

I'm tired of being confused. It feels like I'm being played by his different personalities. Does he have MPD?

"Are you worried?" he asks.

"About what?"

"About how I'll treat you once we're not alone."

I gape at him. "How did you know what I was thinking?" I ask incredulously.

He points at my face. "Your brows furrowed when you're worried."

"How did you know I was worried about you?"

"What else?"

I shake my head, but a smile slips on my face. "You're really something."

He offers his hand, and I take it. As he helps me hop on the motorcycle, he asks, "Why did you stop calling me KY?"

"What?"

"The first time we met, you kept on calling me KY," he explains. "It's Kyle now. What gives?"

He noticed even that?

How can I explain the sudden shift of my feelings for him? As if I can tell him his mixed signals, the confusions.

"I don't know," I say. "Do you want me to call you KY?"

He gives me a look, and I'm tired of dissecting everything he does, so I ignore it. "It's up to you," he says finally.

I take the helmet and put it on. Within a matter of seconds, we're back on the road.

The second time is better than the first one. At least now I know what to expect.

"Let go of me!"

"What?"

Did Kyle say something?

"I said, let go of me!" he yells.

"Are you insane?"

"Come on, try it!" he nudges me with his elbow.

"I don't want to die!"

"You are not going to die! Just stretch your arms. You'll see."

Am I clinging on to him too much? Is that it? Should I relax my hold on him?

"Do you trust me?"

I'm surprised with his question, I say the first thing that comes to my mind. "Yes."

"Do it then."

Closing my eyes, I slowly remove my arms from his body and continue to raise them up. I can feel them shake, and I ignore the fact that I might fall.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Now, my arms are free. I take deep breaths and then open my eyes.

"Whoa."

This is what flying must be like.

I can feel the air in my lungs. My hair is whipping behind me. I feel like I can lose control.

This is amazing.

I finally understand why some people like the speed. It's the adrenaline. I can feel the blood pumping in my veins.

I even have the urge to stand up.

"Faster!" I yell.

Maybe I am going crazy. Just a few hours ago I was scared, now I feel fearless. Like I can do anything. Like everything is within reach.

And that's when I hear the siren of a police car.

I'm surprised with the loud noise, I automatically put my arms around Kyle.

Kyle looks back and says something. I don't know what.

I turn my head and sure enough, the police car is following us. Are we in trouble? We didn't even do anything wrong.

Kyle automatically stops the engine of the motorcycle, and parks it off the road. He takes off his helmet, and I follow suit.

I can't believe we escaped the paparazzi to fall in the hands of the police. This is much worse than that.

What if this news got out?

What if my mom finds out about this?

"It's okay," Kyle says, "we're going to be okay." He reaches out and squeezes my hand.

In a matter of seconds, the police car catches up to us.

I duck my head, afraid to see the police's face.

I cringe when I hear the slam of a car door.

Kyle takes my hand. "Don't be afraid," he whispers, standing in front of me to block me from the police approaching us.

"Sir, you broke the speed limit," the police says.

How can he know if he hasn't even checked-

"Can I see your license?"

A gasp escapes from my mouth when I look up and see the police officer.

It's been a long time since I've last seen my father; my first instinct is to hug him. For a second, I forgot that he was on patrol, and he caught us breaking the law.

"Dad!"

The police stops writing on a piece of paper and glances at me. A look of recognition crosses his face when he sees me.

"Annabeth?"

Dad is the only one who calls me Annabeth. And I've never thought I've missed being called by my middle name.

I jump right in his arms right there and then.

He hugs me back real tight; I think my bones are crushed. I've missed him so much, I plant kisses on his face.

My dad chuckles at my unusual show of affection.

And that's when I see Kyle in the corner of my eyes, watching us.

Oops.

I slowly entangle my arms around my dad's and stand beside Kyle.

Time for introduction.

"Dad, this is Kyle," I say, "Kyle, this is my dad."

I don't even know how to explain why I'm with Kyle, and who he really is. This is my first time to introduce a guy to my dad. I'm not sure we leave a good impression.

What if he thinks Kyle is my boyfriend, and he's not a good influence?

For Pete's sake, he's about to give us a ticket for breaking the speed limit.

Kyle extends his hand, and my dad accepts it. "I'm Kyle Swift," he says.

My dad looks at him with unreadable expression on his face. Is he being a police officer, or just my dad?

"I know this isn't a good start," Kyle says, "but I'm glad I get the chance to meet you."

Is he nervous? He looks calm, but he's fiddling with his fingers.

Finally, my dad smiles.

And it's my sign to breathe a sigh of relief. I didn't even know I was holding my breath.

It's even better when my dad tells Kyle his name.

"Skye."