Garrett's realization wasn't an easy one to swallow. While he relished the chance to break through the caution tape he'd placed around Arianne, a sliver of apprehension rippled underneath his skin. Every time they talked, he noticed a desperation buried under her words like a volcano waiting to erupt. What demons had forced her off that bridge? She said she wanted to feel alive that night which begged the question—what made her feel dead?

The answer scared him, but he couldn't walk away. Not when the shadows were waiting in the wings, ready to torment. So Garrett needed a plan because that girl had so much barbed wire wrapped around her heart he was surprised it hadn't ripped her to shreds. Maybe a past relationship gone wrong? Or perhaps she was cynical because of a parent's divorce like Stephan. So many variables, but he couldn't navigate the minefield until he understood why and what they were.

First order of business was getting Arianne used to him. He'd been avoiding her meditation classes, but no more. He would show up and stay after class. Maybe even convince her to eat dinner with him again—sans Harmony and her endless petty comments. The key was stealth. Arianne couldn't suspect his plan until she was hook, line, and sunk, which was why Garrett was at the local park on a Saturday night.

Anticipation licked up his spine as he walked underneath the Cardboard Under the Stars banner hung between two oak trees. Just the thought of looking into those grey eyes had him feeling like a tiger ready to pounce. God, what he would give to kiss her with those glasses perched on her cute nose.

"You need help?" a girl with a clipboard asked. Her lilac shirt had "volunteer" written across the chest in white, bold letters and her name tag read, "Morgan." The purple matched her hair which was pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She was pretty with her sweetheart shaped face and long, flirty lashes but the steeliness lurking behind her eyes told Garrett this girl was no pushover.

"Where should I sign in?" he asked, pulling his wool coat tight around him. The wind had picked up in the last hour, and the temperature had dropped ten degrees. Not the best night to spend outdoors, but it hadn't stopped the masses. They were out in full force tonight. The park looked like a mini city, but instead of glass skyscrapers, there were cardboard boxes. Some were decorated with markers and streamers looking like something out of My Little Pony, while others were duct taped together to create elaborate labyrinths that would have made any hamster happy.

She pointed to a crowded navy tent in the far corner. "You can register over there and pick up a cardboard box if you need one."

"Do, uh, know where Arianne—" Crap. He didn't know her last name. "Um, Arianne, one of the organizers of this event, is?"

Suspicion clouded her expression. "Why do you want her?"

Because I want to cling onto her like life vest so I don't drown in the shadows. Yeah, he didn't think that would fly. "I'm a, um, well....I'm a friend."

She spread her legs and crossed her arms like a soldier readying for war. "I know all of Ari's friends, and you're not one of them."

"You know all of her friends?" That seemed highly improbable unless Arianne lived under a rock.

Her shoulder's snapped back. "Yeah, I do. Ari isn't exactly Ms. Extrovert, so I'll ask again, why do you want to see her?"

The girl's high-handless was getting on his nerves. "It's complicated."

"Well, then uncomplicate it," she bit out.

Frustrated, he admitted, "I'm trying! That's why I came tonight. I need to see her."

Some of the tension in her body eased, and she dropped her hands. "You came specifically for Ari?"

The surprise in her voice bothered him. "Is that so hard to believe? She may not be Ms. Extrovert, but that doesn't make her Carrie ready to kill everyone at the prom. Maybe I should be asking who you are and why you've appointed yourself her guard dog even though you don't seem to like her?"

For some strange reason, his defensiveness made her smirk. "I'm Morgan, her roommate. And you are?"

Wary, he said, "Garrett. I go to her meditation classes."

"For the record, I love Ari which is why I'm her guard dog. God knows she needs someone in her corner." She motioned across the park to a large stage in front of a playground. Various lights and machines were scattered about, and a harried-looking man with wire wrapped around his shoulders was shouting something into his phone. "She's helping the DJ setup."

His heart pounded as he caught sight of Arianne up on her tiptoes, fiddling with a light fixture. Her hair streamed down her back in silken waves, a stark contrast against her white puffy jacket. She turned, and he broke out in a smile as saw purple fuzzy muffs covering her ears. They set her glasses slightly askew, and she kept trying to fix them with no luck. Underneath her jacket was the same lilac shirt as the girl next to him paired with black jeans and motorcycle boots.

"You can go talk to her. She won't mind," Morgan nudged.

Arianne's nose wrinkled in frustration as she untangled a ball of electrical cords making her crooked glasses more pronounced. Then she broke out in a cute little victory dance as one of the wires broke free, her smile lighting up the stage, and his heart. He clutched his chest as his breathing turned choppy. "S-She looks busy. I'll, uh, catch her later." Garrett hurried to the tent, leaving Morgan and the questions mounting in her eyes behind.

After registering, Garrett grabbed the biggest box he could find and settled into an empty spot near some bushes. From his position, he had a clear view of Arianne. She was a hard worker, never stopping for a break. The volunteers deferred to her, taking her direction without question. As she conferred with another volunteer pouring over a clipboard, he noticed a slight shiver.

Gathering his courage, he stood with his scarf in his hand but then a voice came over the loudspeaker. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to the stage where a representative from the college and the local homeless shelter stood with microphones in hand. They introduced themselves and thanked everyone for participating. As they explained how the event came to be, several volunteers urged Arianne to the stage, but she shook her head and slipped into the darkness.

By the time the speeches were over, Arianne had disappeared, but the night was young. He had hours to talk to her. Hours. And suddenly, his nerves fled, replaced by determination. He'd make progress with Arianne tonight. He had to.

Garrett's stomach rumbled as he caught a whiff of tacos coming from one of the food trucks lined along the street. He checked his wallet to make sure he had enough cash, but before he got up, he saw Marcus and Stephan in line. He hadn't known they were attending.

Why would you? You're not talking to them.

His hands clenched at the ugly reminder. Things had gone from tense to downright arctic at practices. Forget talking. The only time they looked at each other was when they were forced to pass the ball. Even at batting practice, they managed to avoid eye contact when Garrett pitched to them. It was teeth-clenching torture and through it all, Garrett kept his righteous indignation close, shielding him from the brunt of their anger.

Right then, Jordan, Gus, and a bunch of other players fist-bumped Marcus and Stephan as they joined the line. Stephan showed them something on his phone, and they all laughed, the sound creating an ache in Garrett's chest. He hadn't realized how reliant he'd been on Marcus and Stephan's friendship until it was gone. Without his friends, he had no one but Greg.

A couple holding hands dragged their refrigerator box over and set up a few feet away from him. He could hear them murmuring cutesy names like bunny and boo-boo which was disturbing to say the least. So when the beat of his favorite song started blasting, Garrett almost got down on his knees and kissed the DJ's feet. However, it quickly became apparent not even music could drown out them out as they started kissing. It wasn't bunny kisses either, but sloppy, tongue-down-throat kisses with lots of moaning. He peaked out of his box and saw them practically humping each other with their hands under each other's sweaters. Talk about awkward.

Garrett hopped to his feet when he heard a zipper being lowered and made the executive decision to get food. He'd rather take his chances of running into Stephan and Marcus than deal with the runaway hormones duo. Luckily, the team had moved down the line of trucks and was on the opposite end.

Garrett quickly got his food and settled by a few secluded boulders at the edge of the park. But before he could take his first bite, Jordan sat on the rock across from him with his trademark smirk and superior attitude. Garrett would bet his baseball card collection Jordan wasn't there out of the goodness of his heart.

"I hope that's not all you're eating," Jordan said. His own plate piled so high with food Garrett couldn't even see the bottom.

"Did you just come from the gym?" Garrett asked, noticing the wet strands peeking out from underneath his wool cap.

"Strength training." Jordan ripped open several packets of ketchup and squeezed them onto his mountain of macaroni and cheese. "So why are you eating here instead of with the team?"

"Could ask you the same thing," Garrett replied. He lowered his plate, his appetite suddenly gone.

"I wanted to try your version of fine dining," Jordan said, rapping his knuckles against the boulder. "Leaves a lot to be desired. I know you're not here because of the cozy atmosphere, so I'll ask again why are you eating all by yourself?"

Heat crept up Garrett's neck even as he told himself he had nothing to feel ashamed about. "Just felt like being alone. Is that a crime?"

"Not if you like being alone, but you don't strike me as the loner type."

He wasn't. As a child, he dreaded being by himself, the nights being the worst. He'd sneak into Spencer's room and climb into bed with him. Spencer never complained. In fact, he switched from sleeping in the middle to sleeping on the far side so Garrett could be next to the door. They never discussed it, but when Garrett finally slept by himself, Spencer patted him on the head and bought him ice cream. Garrett had never felt prouder. Not because he braved the silence, but because he earned his big brother's respect. Too bad he hadn't maintained that respect.

"What type do you think I am?" Garrett asked, genuinely curious. Despite all the shit Jordan threw his way, Garrett cared about his opinion, though he'd rather eat all the ketchup piled on Jordan's plate than admit that.

Jordan wiped his mouth with a napkin, his motions precise and efficient like his pitching. "The type who has a huge ass chip on their shoulder."

Garrett's head jerked back in surprise. He knew Jordan didn't like him but to say he had a chip on his shoulder? What the fuck?

"You sit here feeling all sorry for yourself. Oh boo-hoo, poor Garrett. But so what if you lost one game? It happens. Stop acting like a toddler who just got his cake taken away."

Jordan's estimation of him stung, but he shoved it aside for his growing resentment. "It's not like the team is welcoming me with open arms."

Jordan rolled his eyes as he bit into his fried chicken. "You've been on a team before. You know they'll get it over it. And if not? Fuck 'em. But you're not helping your situation by alienating yourself."

Garrett's jaw tightened. "So it's my fault just because I need a little breather?"

"Oh please. You've been 'breathing' since you got here. No one on the team really knows you. Sure, you chum it up during practice, but outside of that you don't give a damn about anyone."

Garrett's hackles went up. "That's bullshit. I'm friends with Marcus and Stephan."

"You mean the people you've ignored all week? Yeah, I can see how tight you are," Jordan said. His sarcasm so thick, Garrett hoped he choked on it. "Maybe the team wouldn't give you such a hard time if they felt you cared."

"Care?" Garrett wanted to laugh. "Just because I don't let the world see how I feel doesn't mean I don't care. I love baseball. Why do you think I'm so torn up about losing?"

Shaking his head, Jordan set his plate down and leaned forward his expression intent. "I'm not talking about the game. I'm talking about your teammates. You have this barrier that electrocutes anyone who dares to get close. Maybe if you took down the walls and actually participated in team dinners and hang-outs they'd be more supportive. Just a suggestion."

He hated the judgmental look on Jordan's face. How dare he come in and tell Garrett how to act when he didn't know anything about what Garrett had gone through. So what if he wasn't Mr. Personality outside of practice? Half the time they talked about stupid shit like who banged who that weekend or where the latest party was. Why should he go when it made more sense to do his own thing?

"And there go your walls again," Jordan murmured, lifting a bottle of Gatorade in mocking salute.

The nerve of this guy lecturing me about walls. What would Jordan know about walls? His life was fucking perfect. He didn't have nightmares, he didn't have trouble pitching, and he certainly didn't have demons haunting him from the grave.

Garrett curled his hands into tight fists under the table to keep them from shaking. "You don't know jack shit about me or my walls. Maybe there's a reason I don't open up as easily as the others guys, and sorry, if that offends people but that's not my problem."

A hard glint entered Jordan's eyes. "You're right. I don't know you or your situation, but who's fault is that? After the game on Saturday, we tried talking to you, but you blew us off. Again. Did you know that Marcus' mom was there and she had homemade caramel apples? She only brought them for Marcus, Stephan, and you."

Garrett faintly remembered seeing her. He'd been so jacked up on adrenaline and then shock he hadn't comprehended anything outside the game. Remorse trickled in. Marcus' mother had multiple sclerosis. She had problems getting around especially since her confinement in a wheelchair.

Jordan went on, his tone unrelenting, "We all have problems, Delko, not just you. Look at Gus. You don't see him sitting on the sidelines pouting because he's second string."

Just the image of burly Gus with his bottom lip sticking out was ridiculous. "I know it's his senior year and all but wasn't he always second string?"

Jordan's forehead creased as he gave Garrett an impatient look like he thought Garrett was an idiot. "Gus was promised a starting position when he was recruited. But then I came, and he had to settle for being a back-up, and now he doesn't even have that. Did you know his father was the pitcher of the Eason's '87 NCAA college championship team? His father comes to every game, drives seventy-five miles both ways, just to watch his kid sit on the bench."

"I-I didn't realize." He could only imagine the kind of pressure Gus had been under as a legacy's kid. And shit, to have his dad in the stands, knowing he was a disappointment?

"Maybe if you took the time to get to know us." Jordan's probing look had Garrett's cheeks turning red. "So quit acting like an ass and start being a part of the team."

Garrett couldn't help, but point out, "You've acted like a dick to me since day one."

"You're right. I have, and I'm not going to apologize for that, just like you're not going to apologize for that giant chip on your shoulder."

Garrett inclined his head in reluctant agreement. Jordan had a point but Garrett had his reasons for holding back. Trust was a hard thing to give especially since he'd had it ripped to shreds before. Just the thought of Spencer's name being dragged through the mud made his blood boil.

"The question is, Delko, are you going to sit here and wallow or you gonna get off your ass and do something about it?" Jordan asked.

The challenge was clear, but frankly, Garrett wasn't comfortable talking to anyone about his demons except his therapist. And maybe Arianne. "Are you going to do something about being a dick to me?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"This is your version of not being a dick?" Garrett asked incredulously.

Jordan lifted a brow as if to say so what if it is?

Garrett flicked a black bean at him. "Don't expect to win any congeniality awards anytime soon."

"Well, damn, there goes my summer plans," Jordan drawled, and Garrett couldn't help but laugh. What an ass. "You going to stare at me or are you gonna eat those tacos because I'm still hungry and they're calling my name."

Glaring, Garrett stuffed one in his mouth and muttered, "Mine. You've said your piece. You can go now."

Jordan picked up his plate. "Nah, I like it here. It's just so warm and welcoming."

Garrett let out a long-suffering sigh but continued to eat. They listened to the music and chatter around them, neither saying a word and though Garrett hated to admit it, it was kind of nice having someone next to him. Even if it was Jordan.