IT HAS BEEN EIGHT DAYS since I have heard from Dean Walker.

I realize damn well that he's not going to text me wondering how I'm doing. And I also know that he is not obligated to give me any sign of life from him, but despite all that, it's not too much to ask if at least Gavin would let me know that Dean is okay. But Gavin changes the conversation skillfully every time I try to find out anything, which is in my opinion simply unfair. If I had wanted to hand Dean to the police, I probably would have done it a long time ago. It's obvious that I'm just worried and because of that I'm way too curious about this whole thing.

A thing that has nothing to do with me and that is exactly why I should not be interested in it, is what Bronwyn said. I agree with her one hundred percent and yet it's hard for me to banish the thoughts of Dean completely.

Annoyed, I drill my pencil into the still-white piece of paper that should already be filled with notes about personality disorders and development. Instead, the glaring white practically stares back at me, just waiting for Dean Walker to get back into my head. Shaking my head, I lean back and look at my desk, which is filled with books, folders, index cards, and countless pens flying all over the place. I'll have to clean up this mess sooner or later.

I choose later.

So I stand up, tie my long, knotted hair into a loose ponytail, and walk with a curious face into the kitchen, where my roommate was singing so loudly that I expected to hear annoyed students outside our door in a second. It smells suspiciously like pasta ─ my absolute favorite food ─ and when Bronwyn happily starts stirring around in a pot and then begins using the spoon as a microphone, I can't hold back the grin. She may not be such a big chocolate fan as I am, but she still quickly gets into ... unpleasant situations.

She promptly blushes when she notices me a few seconds later. "Oh, um, hello Sydney. I made pasta for you and Gavin, just the way you like it."

"With lots of cheese?"

"With extra cheese."

I grin widely. "Thanks, but where's Gavin? Or did he say when he will be here?"

"He was supposed to be here about fifteen minutes ago," she replies. Now I notice how dressed up she is. Her hair is neatly tucked away and her dark green tight dress with matching jewelry tells me exactly what else Bronwyn is up to before she even says it. "Guess who wants to go out with me tonight?"

If she says it's Kolin now, I will laugh.

"Actually, you can't guess because you don't really know him. Neither did I until this morning."

Rolling my eyes, I fill myself some glass of water. "Now, come on, tell me who it is, Bron."

"Hunter McRae."

I choke hard and start coughing at least three times as I look at her with widened eyes. Hunter McRae? As in Hollyn's brother, Hunter McRae? As in the guy who beat up Dean? That Hunter McRae?

Bronwyn runs her hands over her cheeks in embarrassment. "Okay, I know you don't hear good things about him, but I wish you wouldn't be judgmental towards him. We talked earlier on campus and he's really, really nice. And good-looking, of course."

I don't really know what to say. Except ... "Please take care of yourself."

Sometimes it feels like Bronwyn and I are like two moms, always looking out for each other. She's the one who keeps me from living on nothing but chocolate by cooking almost every day, and I'm in charge of giving her the right advice and then picking her up with the car when she hasn't listened to me. Bronwyn is a pretty miserable driver.

She fleetingly presses a kiss on my cheek and then glows at me. "I will, Syd. I'll tell you how it was later, and then we'll watch another movie. Okay?"

I nod reluctantly. The fact that I don't go on dates always encourages her to keep me busy somehow, yet I've told her several times that I'm perfectly fine with spending evenings alone. I don't need anyone to keep me busy and get me out of this cozy loophole I'm in.

I just need myself, Netflix, and a comfy sofa.

Of course, sometimes it would be nice to have someone sitting next to me to hug me and eat chocolate together. I'm not talking about Bronwyn here though, I hope that's clear.

I struggle to touch the pasta because the thought of Bronwyn and that Hunter guy completely freaks me out. I'm still blaming myself as there's a knock at the door because somehow I have a bad feeling about this evening. Like there will be something terrible happening today.

I wasn't wrong.

Bronwyn did say that Gavin was coming over today, but when I open the door, there is definitely no Gavin standing in front of me, and I don't really know if I would have preferred that. In fact, I don't know anything anymore. It's all about those dark eyes, flashing suspiciously, almost as if he's happy to see me. His hair looks neater than the last time we met ─ but still way too long ─ and a very familiar grin forming his lips, causing dimples to appear at the corners of his mouth.

Eyes wander over my entire stature, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "Curly."

I can only keep my eyes pinned on his near-perfect features and my mouth still shut, because I would just stutter anyway. What the hell is he doing here? My breathing starts going unintentionally faster, and the more I try to control it again, the worse it gets. I may be giving the impression that I'm having some kind of seizure.

Dean completely misinterprets my behavior and frowns in confusion. "Are you afraid of me?"

I don't know what's funnier. That I'm getting gasps just from looking at him, or that he seriously just asked that question.

"I've never been seriously afraid of you, Walker, so don't flatter yourself. I'm just surprised. You shouldn't be here." Only half an hour ago, I wanted some sign of life from him, and now there he is, I'm reacting like crazy.

He's probably looking around the hallway for any students, but then he slips through my arm, just like he did eight days ago. It's good to know that this is getting to be a habit.

"Do you have to hide here or something?", I ask in alarm, expecting the guys ─ the Catchers, like Gavin calls them ─ at any moment. "Are they here? Are you going to jump out of the window again? How did you survive that, anyway? I've never heard about surviving a jump from the second floor, so please don't kill yourself ─"

"Sydney."

He pronounces every single letter of my name so softly and meaningfully that I want to ask him if he can show me how he does it, too. After all, it's my name and I would really like to be able to pronounce it the same way he does. Dean comes closer to me, so close that the tops of his shoes and my socks are almost touching. "I'm not here to hide."

I don't know how he does it, but the mood is suddenly tilted from one second to the next, and even I can't deny the tension that swells between us. It bothers me how easy he finds it to throw me completely over the edge.

"Then why are you here?" I ask after what feels like an eternity.

He smiles at me a little sheepishly. "You know why. I bet you secretly wished that I would come back."

"You wish."

"True." The embarrassed smile turns into a cheeky grin. "So, do you have plans for tonight, Curly? Any exciting plans you want me to be a part of?"

I tilt my head a bit, pushing the thought of how my hair is a disaster right now aside. "I need to clean up a bit and then I'm going to watch a movie. How about you do the cleaning?"

"Do I look like I've cleaned a room in my entire life?"

In my opinion, he looks more like someone who was pretty messy and could never slow down when it came to the things he lived for. I don't know much about Dean, but the fact that he jumps out of windows says quite a bit about him. He's the epitome of insanity, a thing I'm incredibly attracted to. It's a psychological fact that people are often attracted to the exact opposite of who they are. And Dean Walker is pretty much the opposite of me in everything. Even the saying 'opposites attract' takes on a whole new meaning with us. Well, or 'opposites take clothes off, but I forbid myself to think that ever again.

"What's going on inside your head?"

My eyes widen. "You don't want to know."

"So it's something dirty." The dimples deepen and he's clearly proud that I think of such things around him.

I want to say something ─ preferably something punchy ─ but I find absolutely nothing coming to mind. Instead, I blush and turn away from him because I desperately need to see a psychiatrist myself to become immune to Dean Walker.

However, he holds me back by the forearm before I can take a step. His grip is loose and gentle, and yet I get goosebumps. "Are you embarrassed now?" Pure seriousness and curiosity are in his gaze as he eyes me. "Because you shouldn't be."

"You're still practically a stranger. How should I not be embarrassed?"

"Maybe it would help if I told you that you're not the only one thinking about dirty things right now."

Definitely not helpful.

I feel my cheeks getting even hotter, which makes Dean laugh. As I look at him smiling at that, I notice again how long his hair is. Not so long that you could braid it, but I'm sure he'd look even better if the sides were shaved off.

But suddenly I have an idea that could make this evening interesting after all. "What do you think about me cutting your hair?"

His laughter dies.

"Well ... I'm sure you haven't had time for a hair appointment in the last few months." The joke was seriously out of line. "Sorry, that wasn't funny. I'm just saying that the length might bother you, and I have enough experience cutting hair that I won't mess it up. Hopefully. If I do, I'm already sorry, but it's not going to happen." I quickly press my lips together to keep from talking more.

As usual, Dean isn't frightened off by my babbling. Instead, his face is lighting up. "You would do that?"

I nod hesitantly.

"Thank you, Sydney."

This time, the 'thank you is even easier for him to say than last time.

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