I WILL MEET DEAN'S parents.

God, I wish it would be some sort of first meeting, even though I probably would have been pretty excited about it. Unfortunately, Dean's instincts aren't programmed to introduce me to his mom and dad ─ rather, he looks like he's considering jumping out of his bedroom window.

It wouldn't be the first time, after all.

"What are you doing?", I ask him a little bit too hysterically as he rummages through his dresser.

He pulls out a jersey, his eyes sparkling with happiness so much that I almost smile myself. Then he turns to me with the jersey in his hands. "Put this and the video camera in your backpack."

As I take the backpack off and shove everything in, I can't help but ask, "You used to play football?"

"Almost. Baseball. Why?"

I want to say that no matter what the situation is, it's always appropriate when I learn something new about him, but the steps are suddenly so close that the words get stuck in my throat somewhere. A small part of me is genuinely curious about what his parents would look like and how they would act towards me, but the other part is thankfully sensible enough to not think about staying here in Dean's room. I don't even want to imagine what his parents would do if they caught us, although I can actually guess what their reaction would be.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that my backpack slips out of my hands and falls to the floor.

Dean and I hold our breaths tensely.

"Did you hear that, Richard?"

"How many times do I have to tell you this, Alice? There are no ghosts in this house, even though you keep trying to tell me that there are!"

Dean's face contorts painfully and he doesn't move. I really don't want to rush him, especially since it's been a long time since he could hear his parents' voices, but we need to grab the ladder and climb out the window as soon as possible.

"The noise came from his room, Richard!"

"But the door is locked."

"Are you saying that I can't hear right? Someone is in this house! Maybe he is ─"

Something falls on the floor and breaks. "Don't even think about finishing this sentence, Alice."

"The vase! You broke the vase!"

Curiously, Dean wakes up at the word 'vase' and hurriedly runs to the window. His look becomes almost sly as he leans out over the ledge, then turns to me and holds out his hand.

But I shake my head. "No, you go first."

"This is really not a good time to argue, Curly."

"Yeah, I totally agree."

He breathes a sigh of relief. "I'm glad we can agree on this."

Since neither of us makes any move to climb out the window, it's pretty clear we're not in agreement.

Dean is probably the more sensible of the two of us, and after a few seconds and hearing his parents yelling from downstairs, he climbs out the window, but not without giving me angry looks.

I have to smile and want to swing my leg over the ledge as well, however, I hear key noises behind me.

Someone is about to open the door.

Shit.

I firmly resolve to give in next time if Dean and I can't agree. On the other hand, he would be in my place now and that would be even worse ... wouldn't it? My gaze moves between the window and the spinning lock until I make a decision. What I'm about to do is completely insane. Dean-insane to be more specific.

I swing out of the window and jump down.

I don't want to lie: It hurts like hell.

The pain travels from my feet all the way up my thighs, but I ignore it and pull myself back up as best as possible.

Dean looks like he doesn't exactly know what to say, then seems to make a decision that there's nothing more to say in response. He holds out his hand, which I grab, and then we run, even though everything hurts from my waist down.

I don't think I would have dared to do something like that before I met Dean. But I like this brave side of me more than the side that prefers to make myself comfortable on the sofa, watching Netflix, and eating chocolate. Even though there's nothing wrong with that, of course. But it feels like everything has been put on pause since I moved to New Haven. While Bronwyn has been going on tons of dates, going to parties, and just living it up, after the thing with my parents, Jeremy, and Kolin, I've pushed aside everything that was really fun.

As my legs somehow carry me forward, I take a quick glance at Dean, who has his eyebrows furrowed in determination and keeps looking around. He looks so cute doing this that I almost forget the pain in my legs.

As strange as it sounds, I realize right now that what I feel for him goes way beyond a little crush. I've driven to Tennessee with him, climbed a ladder into his bedroom window, and jumped back down. I'm running away with him for the umpteenth time, and I'd run away with him again if I had to.

And that scares me.

It scares me to be in love with someone who could be ripped from my hands again at any moment. Who has done nothing wrong and yet is judged by everyone. Who has such a good heart that breaks more and more with each successive betrayal. And who has wormed his way into my heart with his stupid nickname, his dimpled grin, and his often completely insane actions and words.

As we sit in Bronwyn's car, we're both breathing heavily. Dean leans his head against the backrest, exhausted, then gives me a worried look. "Are you okay?"

"You're asking me that? You almost just met your parents ─"

He interrupts me, shaking his head. "Don't get distracted, Curly. You've got the professional window jumper sitting next to you, after all. Does your leg hurt a lot?"

"It's fine," I lie, squinting at my bright blue shoes.

"You should get it checked by a doctor, Sydney. I'll drive you there." Determined, he turns the ignition key and starts the car, which makes a strange and loud noise.

Questioningly, he looks at me. "What the...?"

I have to grin. "Must be your driving skills."

He grins as well and starts driving. "You're right, your leg can't be that bad if you still have enough strength to insult me. Better get out the camera and see if there's anything useful on it that Kolin wants so badly."

"Aye, aye, Walker." The camera is still a little dusty and looks old when I pull it out. I have no idea how to even begin to use one of these, so I just push a few buttons, hoping something will happen. Nothing. I think about whether the battery might be dead, and then it hits me that maybe this thing doesn't have a battery at all. Maybe you have to crank it somewhere to get it to charge, but what would Kolin want with a crank camera? Frowning, I turn and twist the thing in my hands.

Dean laughs softly beside me. "You have no idea how entertaining it is to watch you right now."

"Are you telling me you know how to turn on the video camera?"

"No, but I know how to turn you on." He frowns right after that. "That sounded a lot better in my head."

Shaking my head and laughing, I lower the camera on my lap. I must have pressed some button because it makes an undefinable noise and suddenly lights up. "I'm a genius."

The smile Dean throws me is warm and open. "Yes, you are."

I can barely see anything on the camera's display, and I press any buttons again that lead me to the footage. "Unbelievable," I mutter. "There are over five thousand pictures and videos on this thing!"

"And it's going to be fun to look through them. Besides, who knows what's in there. Because I used to take pictures of everything and everyone."

For a while, I scroll through the files while Dean and I are mostly silent. Sometimes I tease him with pictures of his younger self that are incredibly cute, then again I praise him for pictures that look really professional. He always just looks away shaking his head, but I know for a fact that he's happy about the compliments. I can already see us on vacation at the sea, how he takes pictures of me and holds our memories forever in beautiful photos ─ the thought is far-fetched, of course, and will probably never happen.

After an hour, I put the camera back in my backpack, catching my eye with the item Dean insisted on taking with him.

I don't want to distract him, especially since he looks very focused while driving, but I just have to ask him this question. "Why did you take your old baseball jersey, anyway?"

"Because ..." He swallows, barely noticeable. "Because I don't have anything left to remind me of my old home."

"Do you miss Tennessee?"

He shakes his head. "Not really. My childhood here wasn't horrible, but there were a lot of arguments, especially between Dad and me. You could never please him, you know? And listening to the way those two just talked was ... it wasn't a good feeling."

"Not all parents are good at what they do," I say. "But it just felt like your mom especially is missing you."

"Maybe. But would she really investigate me if she missed me?" The question isn't serious, of course, so he keeps talking. "I think I took the jersey to remind me where home is."

"Home isn't where we grew up, Dean. Home is where we choose to live."

He gives me a long look so deep and intimate that I would have preferred to make myself very small. Instead, I catch myself looking back and my heart skips a beat. When he turns his eyes back to the street and puts his hand on my thigh, right on the spot that hurts, warmth spreads through me and I look out the window, smiling goofily.

I could get used to this.

-

Cute... cute...;)