I NEITHER called my parents nor scared Sydney away from me and sent her to dinner with Kolin.

Because I simply couldn't.

Calling my parents after all these months of radio silence isn't even the hardest thing to do. I'm just not ready to talk to them yet, and I tell them that through unanswered messages and blocked calls.

Of course, I won't be able to do this forever, but for now, I'm happy to just not have to worry about anything. I don't have to run, I don't have to think meticulously about anything and I especially don't have to jump out of windows. I can just let myself fall.

With Sydney, of course. That's why I find it so hard to follow through with points two and three. I don't want to stop seeing Sydney, nor do I want to send her to that asshole Kolin who has God knows what planned with her. Nothing spectacular has happened in the last two weeks and I'm grateful for it. My psychology degree is just as great as I remembered, even if I have a lot of catching up to do. Sydney and I study a lot, but we also do things that are even more fun than psychology.

We have sex. A lot of sex.

And we have dates. Even if they can only take place within the grounds of the University of New Haven. Two days ago I prepared a picnic with the help of Peter, who has been shopping with Bronwyn, and Sydney's eyes were shining so lovely that I thought of something for today as well. The weather is bad, so activities on campus have already been canceled. Nevertheless, I cleaned up my flat a bit, borrowed Peter's table from his room ─ he doesn't know about it yet ─ and prepared dinner without burning down the kitchen.

We're having one of Sydney's favorite meals: Pasta with extra cheese. Bronwyn explained how she prepares it, and it's been almost too simple for me.

I put a vase full of flowers in the middle of the table ─ girls like flowers, don't they? ─ and then I can already hear the familiar knocking which must be Sydney because we have made up some kind of knocking signal so that we can avoid a surprise visit from Hunter, Gavin, or at worst Kolin. Also, Sydney always giggles quietly behind the door once she gets the knocking sequence right because it makes her feel like a secret agent. Grinning, I open the door, whereupon she jumps on me ─ literally ─ and puts her soft lips on mine.

"Hey," she greets me with a smile. Her gaze drifts from my face to the set table behind me, whereupon her smile slips a little. "Did you make this?"

I nod a little sheepishly.

"All by yourself?"

Nodding, I take her hand and pull her onto one of the two chairs before sitting down too. It's dawning slowly, so the room is lit by nothing but a few candles. The flames are reflected in Sydney's eyes, which are wide and dilated with surprise, and I have never been allowed to see anything more beautiful. If only she could read my mind and know the kitsch I'm spouting in my head...

"No one has ever done this for me before." She tucks her hair behind her ears with both hands and then looks at me with a smile. "It's quite romantic."

I pour wine for her and myself with a huge grin. "True. I mean, even for my standards."

"The picnic date was nice, no question," she counters, her cheeks flushed. "We just had a pretty big crowd on the campus lawn and then you had to keep teasing it out by kissing me every time I gave a student hell for talking about you."

Smiling innocently, I shrug. "You just looked cute as hell that day and I just couldn't keep my hands to myself. But I'll work on it, I promise."

"I would prefer it if you take that promise back."

"Damn it, Curly." I slide around in my chair because it's getting surprisingly tight down there again. Then I anxiously wait to hear what she says after she takes the first bite of my pasta with cheese.

Her eyes practically light up as she chews with a moan. My mouth is open as I watch her do it.

"No way you made those on your own," she utters. "You said you can't cook and now you whip up something so delicious? And then one of my favorite meals too?"

I take a bite as well and am surprised by the taste of the food myself. "This will probably be the only thing I can manage to make to some extent forever."

"I don't mind that." She points her fork at my face and raises her eyebrows, chewing. "Absolutely not."

Sydney chews a little, but I don't mind. If anything, I'm honored and delighted that she likes it. I stare at her perhaps a little too excessively, because at one point she has to laugh at my stares and tries to withstand them the next moment. She usually doesn't manage it. Now she sticks her fork into the plate while looking me stubbornly in the eyes, but she wrinkles her nose in disappointment because she didn't get a noodle. The corners of my mouth lift in amusement.

I am happy.

I can one hundred percent say that I'm fine, and that hasn't happened often lately. Of course, the strange-looking thing on my foot still bothers me, but I overlook it when I think about the fact that I finally got what I wanted all along. And that is my freedom, my psychology degree, and Sydney.

As if she knows what I'm thinking, she leans over to me and presses a soft kiss on my lips. "I love you," she whispers against my lips, whereupon I kiss her again.

We finish eating but barely touch the wine. I don't need alcohol, Sydney's eyes and lips make me feel dizzy enough. We tell each other about the day that Sydney spent with Bronwyn. They went running and Bronwyn complained quite loudly for the whole half-hour, but Sydney still had a lot of fun, she says.

"You should run with me sometime," she suggests. "It's a very different feeling from running away from the police, I promise you."

I agree and tell her about my plans. In pretty much exactly three weeks, there is a marathon here in New Haven that anyone can join. It's not about time or speed, it's simply about exercise. If I get to go outside again in three weeks, this marathon is the first thing I've set my mind to. I want to know again how it feels to run alongside strangers. I used to do this kind of thing a lot.

"You and Peter signed up for a cooking class?" she asks incredulously when I tell her about it. "And you want Bronwyn and me to accompany you?"

"It's not a bad idea, is it? Bronwyn can already cook well, I know, but this would be another opportunity for her and Peter to see each other."

"Like they don't see each other every spare minute. They're almost infatuated with each other. Bronwyn may insist they haven't kissed yet, but I don't believe a word she says."

"Well...", I start, smiling hesitantly. "It took us a while to get closer too."

She just smiles to herself and then takes in the flowers in the vase. With her eyes closed, she leans forward a little and smells the blossoms, whereupon she sighs softly. And I watch her, which should be quite creepy, but neither she nor I mind. Why shouldn't I be allowed to look at her unblinkingly? She is beautiful ─ inside and out.

I've thought so from the very beginning, even when I first noticed her at that party two months ago. And the closer I got to know her, the more I stared at her. Her light blonde curls, her big blue eyes, and her tiny freckles did it to me just as much as her direct many words, her defiant manner, and her credulity.

I love her.

And yet I never tell her that. Maybe because I'm too afraid of what could happen. Or maybe it's because I'm afraid of her reaction.

Or maybe because I've simply never said the words to anyone and wonder what it would mean if I did.

Maybe I think too much. Okay, I'm definitely thinking too much, but I want to do things right with Sydney and so I also want to wait for the right moment to say it to her ─ I don't know.

"What did your parents actually say today?"

I freeze. Sydney doesn't know yet that I haven't called Mom and Dad at all and I was hoping that this topic wouldn't come up today either. I could lie to her ─ but I don't want to. Besides, I don't have to say much about it, because Sydney reads in my look alone that I didn't talk to them on the phone, as I had actually agreed with her.

She won't meet with Kolin if I sort things out between him and my parents, that was the deal between us.

I was aware all along that she was going to be angry, but I didn't expect her eyes to sparkle at me so intensely, her face becoming more and more the color of the pink flowers in the vases. She doesn't scare me ─ definitely not ─ but I am a little intimidated. And turned on. Is that normal? Restlessly, I slide around on my chair.

She puts both palms on the table and leans forward a little. "Please tell me you talked to them."

How can I talk my way out of this?

"Dean, tell me the truth." She presses her lips together into a thin line as she leans back again and crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Did you talk to them on the phone or not?"

Gritting my teeth, I look at her. "No, I haven't."

She then immediately takes three big sips from her glass of wine.

Meanwhile, I play around with my fork and wait anxiously for her answer. I know what she's going to say ─ I always do. Sizing Sydney up may not be easy for everyone, but for me, it's a piece of cake.

I bet she'll get up in a minute and move a few steps away from me because she needs some space.

Then she'll first make it clear to me how angry she is and then give me a sermon about how irresponsible I am.

Which she will be absolutely right about, I won't deny that.

Restless, Sydney gets up from her chair and walks a few steps backward away from me. "I'm so, so mad at you."

I want to apologize, even though it wouldn't change anything, but she keeps talking.

"We worked this out," she clarifies. "Together we decided that if you wouldn't let me talk to Kolin, you would report to your parents. We both agreed that Kolin is a fucking psychopath who somehow seems to make everything happen. You promised me you'd stick to your words, even if it's hard for you to talk to your parents. And you usually always keep your promises, Dean." Sighing, she settles back down in the chair across from me. "I'm done talking now. It's your turn. And think carefully about what you say."

I realize that Sydney is not only angry but disappointed and worried. I don't want to put her through this unnecessarily. Why didn't I just get this phone call over with?

Dean has always been a very impulsive boy.

My father's voice suddenly haunts my head, reminding me why I didn't want to talk to either of them.

I can't say for sure if he would be capable of taking a person's life because I've never been able to assess him.

It hurts to hear such things from the person you also looked up to as a small child. I always wanted to be like my father. Until my brain just developed enough to realize that Dad is not a good person when it comes down to it.

He has his positive qualities, but the negative sides, which are just about money, his reputation, and his oh-so-great wannabe son Kolin, quickly make him unlikable again.

"Dean?"

I didn't even notice that Sydney had stood up and was now standing in front of me. Her brow is furrowed with worry and her mouth is slightly open.

Wordlessly, I take her hands in mine and pull her onto my lap. Surprised, she wraps her arms around my neck as her expression softens a little.

"I'm just not ready to talk to them yet," is all I say before she rests her head on my left shoulder and hugs me tightly. "I just couldn't."

"It's okay," she returns. "I understand."

I must look pretty messed up for her to understand me because I didn't say much at all. It's one of those things that just works between Sydney and me. Sometimes we don't have to talk. Sometimes we just have to look at each other to know what's going on inside the other.

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