"Megan! We need to hang out," Clare says. I turn to her in surprise.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because we're friends! And we haven't been spending time together lately, what with Luka Laurence in the picture now." I smile ruefully at her.

"Okay. Sleepover or whatever tonight?"

"Yes! And be prepared to give me all the juicy details tonight about Luka!" she shouts.

I yell back, "I knew there were some ulterior motives involved!" She just laughs and sails away. I sigh.

"Hey, why so sad?" I hear a voice say from behind me. Luka sweeps me up into my arms and I sink into him.

"I don't know. I just, I really don't want to be tutored by your brother today. I mean, no offense, but..." I sigh. Our parents talked it all over at dinner and Luka and I had no say in it. It's official, Liam is my tutor.

He laughs. "I agree. I mean, he's my brother but a tutor? For my girlfriend? That'll be fun." I groan and he holds me closer. "Hey, don't worry about it," he says. "You can still come up to my room anytime you want. I mean, you are getting tutored at my house, right?"

"I think so. Liam never said otherwise," I shrug. I hope it's not at my house. My mom is going on a book tour and I'm the only one in the house.

"Okay. See? It'll be great. Just say you have to go to the bathroom and then come upstairs. Then we'll have a real talk." He grins at me and lets me go.

I sigh. "I'll try."

After school is over, I head over to Luka's house. I park in the driveway and ring the doorbell. Liam opens the door.

"Hey, student." His voice is flat, almost monotone as if he's bored out of his mind, and I grimace. How am I supposed to work with this guy if he doesn't even like me?

"Hey, Liam," I say, smiling as best as I can.

"So. Are you ready to work?" he asks me, taking his phone out and staring down at it. I nod but he doesn't see me, he's so glued to his phone. He starts furiously typing and after a few seconds, he looks up. "Well, come on in. I hope you brought your stuff or whatever."

"Yeah." I hold up my stuff to show him but then I realize he's already disappeared inside the house. I rush after him to the living room, where he's sitting.

I take out my Geometry binder, which is full of my notes, tests, and homework. I take out the packet that's due tomorrow and lay it on the table that Liam has seated me at. It's a long narrow table and I think it's meant for eating, not studying.

"Okay. So..." he looks down at his phone again and I clear my throat. He looks up and says, "Right. Okay, so what are you learning right now?"

I explain as best as I can but it sounds horrible even to my own ears and he finally gives up and grabs my paper. He takes one glance and says, "Oh great, these are the hard problems. Why are you in AP Geometry again?"

"I already finished all of the other math classes." I add, "I skipped ahead."

I look at him. He looks at me. "Okay, so start or whatever," he says, handing back the packet. I stare down at the problems for a second and then back up at him.

"I mean, I think the point of tutoring is to help me get started?" I say, trying not to sound snarky. He's completely aggravating.

"Riiiight. So. What do you need help in again?" He looks at his phone and I resist the strong impulse to rip the thing out of his hands and chucking it out of the window.

I sigh. This is not working.

I stand. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Sorry. You can't," he says stoically. I turn back to him, disbelief and anger flickering on my face.

"Excuse me?" I ask. I cannot believe this.

"You have to finish the worksheet before you leave the table," he responds.

"Who says?" I ask, this time not keeping the snarkiness out of my voice. I'm tempted to break his arm or kick him in a place it'll hurt.

"I do. As well as my dad. Who is in that room. Right now." He points to a closed door that I'm sure leads to some sort of office and I sigh.

"Fine. Um..." I look down at the sheet. "Help?"

He sighs and puts down his phone for once. "I thought you were the smart one. Shouldn't you know this stuff? Luka told me you were smart but frankly, judging from this, I don't think you really are."

I'm outraged. Who does he think he is? "Excuse me?! For your information, city college boy, soon-to-be-dropout, I'm sure, I'm smarter than you could ever be! And frankly, I don't need your help!" I grab my stuff and jump up.

The door to the side opens and Mr. Laurence steps out.

"Now, we wouldn't be having any complications, now would we, Megan?" he asks me.

I sigh. Mr. Laurence is so nice and I have to oblige him. "No, sir. Not at all."

"Okay, then." He walks back into his study and closes the door.

Liam smiles at me, his grin turning into something full of malice and contempt. I narrow my eyes at him as he says, "Now where were we?"

I grit my teeth.

*****

"How was it?" Luka asks me once I'm finally done with the packet and allowed a "bathroom break" which has quickly become a "boyfriend break".

"Horrible. No offense but your brother is such a pig. He doesn't help me at all! He's just sitting there on his phone the whole time, as if texting is a job that's gonna earn him a living!"

"Hey, shhh. Meg, I believe in you. Do you want me down there with you?" Luka asks.

"I mean... if you want. Maybe you would actually help instead of sit there on your phone and becoming one of those brain-dead losers who are always stuck behind a screen," I say. "I do not understand how you two can be related."

Luka grins and leans over to kiss me. "Megan, I'll help you. But stay here for a little bit first." He kisses me again and I feel my body starting to calm down and let out some of the anger that Liam has induced in me. I almost let myself get lost but then I realize that Luka's dad is right downstairs as well as his older brother and both are waiting for my return.

"We should go back down," I say, sighing as I break away. I ache for more but not right now. Not here.

"Okay." Luka stands and I stand with him. He opens the door for me and I can't help but grin at that. My boyfriend, ever the gentleman.

"Okay." I walk downstairs with Luka following me and when we get back into the living room, Liam narrows his eyes at me, looking up from his phone for the first time in the past two hours.

"That seemed way too long to be a bathroom break. And what is he doing here?" He nods at his brother, who just grins back at him.

"He's coming to... sit. I guess."

"Am I not allowed in my own house?" Luka asks. Liam sighs but lets us sit down. He trains his eyes on me.

"Now. Is there anything else you need help with?"

I sigh. "The other part of my homework?"

He looks at me. "There's more?"

"Yeah." I pull out another packet that makes my brain spin just to look at. "There's that."

*****

"It was horrible, Clare. He was on his phone the whole time and he didn't bother to explain anything. He was worse than Mr. Bankses," I complain. Clare smiles at me sympathetically.

"Did you tell someone?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Who would I tell? His parents are set on their son getting some sort of job and my mom is in love with the idea of a 'college' boy working with me. City college boy," I say bitterly. "He's horrid. And my mother thinks it's a dream come true."

"Well, did you at least tell Luka?" Clare asks.

"Yes, and he came down to try to help out or at least survey what was going on! And he thinks it's just as outrageous. He's going to have a talk with his brother and his parents tonight. At dinner. And then he's going to call me to tell me how it all turned out. But honestly, I don't think it's going to work."

Clare stares at me. "What do you want me to say?" she asks.

"Give me a freaking solution," I groan. But I know she can't. I know nobody can. This is how it's going to be until my grade goes back up from it's current B- to an A.

"Well, to cheer you up, do you want to talk about Luka?" she asks, smiling evilly.

"If you want, I guess. What do you want to know?" I ask, sighing. I'm set for a long list of questions and sure enough, it comes, barraging me at 90 miles per hour.

"Are you kidding? Everything. What's he like? Is he buff? Is he a good kisser? How far have you guys gone? Is he romantic? Does he take you on good dates? Does he tell you things that you shouldn't be telling anyone else but are going to tell me because I'm your best friend?" Clare grins at me, propping her chin onto her hands as she waits for a response. Or, several responses.

I sigh. "Slow down, Clare. One question at a time. Luka is... sweet. He's like a gentleman. He's one of those guys that you thought you would only ever read about and never meet. Like those book boys that you think cannot possibly be real. He's always there for you when you need him. As for his muscles, that's for me to know and nobody else to find out." Clare looks at me and chucks a pillow at my head but I dodge it, giggling. "Too bad, too sad. And yes, he does kiss really well. Better than Carl, that's for sure." In fact, Carl could learn a thing or two from Luka, and not just in the kissing field. "And that's all we've done. Kiss. We're taking things slow."

"That's so boring," Clare says. I chuck the pillow back at her and it hits her square in the forehead. I laugh and she laughs along with me.

"Yes, to answer one of your million questions, he's very romantic. His ideas for a date are the prettiest things ever. He's taking us on a cruise next weekend. Under the stars. And he's taken me to so many gorgeous places. And yes, he does tell me secrets but I'm not going to tell you even though you are my best friend."

Clare pouts and I grin. "I can't! They're very personal. Just a me-and-Luka kind of a thing. I'm sorry but if I told you, I would be betraying his trust. And I wouldn't do that to him. Not even for you."

Clare sighs. "I wish I had a guy like that." She looks sad and I reach over and hug her.

I smile sadly. "I wish you had your very own Luka too. Don't worry, Clare. We're only in high school. One day you'll find him. The perfect guy. It doesn't have to be now."

Clare giggles, thinking about something. Suddeny, she sits up. "Remember when we used to plan out our weddings?"

I smile at the faded memory. "Yeah. Up in that treehouse that I used to have. We would dream for the wildest things. Asking for the impossible."

"If you could plan out a wedding now, what would you want?" Clare asks, almost nostalgically.

I sigh and I jump on her bed and lie back. I look at her ceiling, with the jagged crack running down the middle where we pulled her ceiling fan through it one time. The posters of various boy bands and actors that she used to love are still there but are now torn and striped through with bends and creases.

I start. "A beautiful white wedding dress. I would be married under the stars so of course it would be white so that it would shine in the night sky. A long gorgeous train and white satin and silk and tulle and miles and miles and miles of fabric all spreading out around me. And when I dance, it'll shimmer in the moonlight. There will be a moon, of course. And when I look into his eyes, I'll see the moon reflected back in them, plus all of the love that will be reflected in my own eyes."

"And who's the guy?" Clare asks, grinning.

"I don't know. Maybe Luka. Maybe someone new." I turn on my stomach, propping my head in my hands and reaching my feet up behind me. "It sounds horrid now but I do hope that Luka will be The One. But if not, I want my future husband to be like him: sweet and kind and handsome and romantic. And we'll be married on a beach so the moon will shine on the rippling waves and the sea foam will be refracted with the stars.

"And there will be a huge cake. White, of course, with little yellow flowers curling around the edges. And those little bride-and-groom figurines crowning it, only it'll be edible so I can eat it." I pause. "That sounded a lot better in my head." Clare laughs and I laugh with her.

"And there will be slow, soft music, to match the slow waves that will be gently lapping at my feet. I guess I want an evening ocean wedding?" As I describe this make-believe wedding like I used to as a little girl, I forget about Liam and the horrible tutoring session and just think about the imaginary vision that I have created. I can just imagine the whole thing, right down to the way that the waves will be camly lapping at my feet as we run into the water.

"And you'll be my Maid of Honor, wearing the palest of pale pinks, so pale that it's almost white but not quite. And you'll have a small flowery crown of pink flowers that match the rosy blush on your cheeks as you laugh at me when I trip and fall on top of the groom during the first dance." Clare giggles and I know she's seeing what I'm seeing too. I can definitely picture myself tripping at my own wedding.

"And there will be loads of guests and there will be enough room for everyone because we're on a beach where there are endless sand dunes and waves and people will be milling about, having fun, laughing, dancing, talking. And my mother will be there, crying her eyes out now that her baby is all grown up and married and also because she is so happy for me."

"I doubt somehow, that your mother will be that happy about your marriage," Clare says, thinking about how my mom would react.

"Shush. You're ruining it," I say. Clare grins, knowing I'm fully invested in this now and shuts up. "And somehow... Dad'll be there. He'll be sitting in the back row so I don't see him until afterwards and he'll take me up in his arms and tell me he's sorry that he ever left me and my mother." I'm crying now, sobbing for the things that won't happen. Weeping for the things that can't be. Clare leans over and puts her arm around me.

"It sounds wonderful," she says gently. "Your wedding sounds amazing/"

"I know it does. You don't know how badly I wish it were real," I say. "I just want my life to be perfect. Or if my whole life can't be perfect, then I want my wedding to be just right. Just that one time in my life. That one day of perfection would be enough for the rest of my life. Perfect groom, perfect cake and dress and music. And Mom and Dad. Happy. Together. There for me." Clare gently rubs the tears away from my face.

"And Megan, even if it doesn't happen exactly that way, I can already feel it: your wedding will be perfect. I just know it. I really just know it." I smile.

I turn to her. "What's your perfect wedding?"

She stares at me. "Me? I don't know." she stops. Then, in a soft voice, she asks, "Megan, do you think I'll ever get married?"

"What?" I ask, surprised. She's never said anything about not getting married before and this is news to me.

She continues, "I mean, will I ever find the right guy? The guy who thinks that I'm the right girl?"

"Of course," I say, shocked that she thinks that she won't

"But why haven't I found one yet? I just want one guy who will be there for me. A guy to even imagine as my groom."

"Oh, Clare, sometimes it takes longer for different people. But I promise, one day you'll find the right guy. And when you do, he'll sweep you off your feet, woo you exactly the way you want him to, take you on romantic dates, compliment your hair, your eyes, everything. It's going to happen. And one day, he'll ask you to marry him. And it'll be amazing. Everything you want it to be, I say determinedly.

"I just want my wedding to be simple. Nothing too fancy, nothing too glam. Just a simple but gorgeous wedding. A white dress, but it'll be a minidress. So I won't trip, you know? It'll be short and sweet and sassy but also adorable and cutesy. And the cake... it'll be something stupid and childish, like chocolate or carrot or strawberry, and the frosting will be uneven and the roses falling apart but yet it'll be perfect in my eyes and in my husband's eyes. And Aunt Marjorie will be there, tsk tsk tsking at every little thing that I do, whether it's right or wrong, like she always does and I can finally tell her off and shut her up. Oh my God. Just imagine the horrified look on her face when I tell her to shut up." Clare laughs at the mental image of it and so do I. I've only met her Aunt Marjorie once and that was enough for me. I never want to be around the woman again. She was completely negative and overly critical of everything.

"And it'll be loud, hardcore pop music for the dancing. Like the music you play at a prom or those kegger parties that I refuse to ever go to, by the way. And for the final dance, it'll be a slow song that quickly becomes upbeat because I know I'll cry if it's too sentimental, and I promise you, I do not want to cry at my wedding. I can't ruin my makeup and my pictures and my perfect night. Sure, I'll cry before and maybe I'll even cry a little after it's all over, when I miss the memories of girlhood and boyfriends and dating and everything, but I will not cry during the wedding. Not even when we put the rings on or when we kiss or whatever. I will not cry. Heck, I will regret crying after so why make memories you're only going to regret? In those wedding pictures that you show your grandkids, I don't want to look stupid if I'm crying in every single one. Nope, I refuse to cry."

I laugh at that. Clare cries at everything. She cries even more than me, and I cry a lot. "That'll be the day."

"Just you wait, Megan Peters, you will see no shed tears at my wedding. Not from me, at least. I can't promise on Mother's behalf." I smile, thinking about Mrs. Riggins and her famous tears shed at every event, whether it's sad or happy. Birthday parties, weddings, funerals, births. Clare definitely takes after her mother.

"Our weddings sound amazing. And it'll be perfect. Just you wait," Clare says. "When we get there, it'll be amazing."

And I can feel it too. That feeling of positivity and happiness and hope. It will be perfect. I can feel it in my bones. Deep down to my very core, I know it'll be amazing. Even if the cake falls flat on the ground. Even if I slip during the famous walk down the aisle and I land in some distant relative's surprised arms. Even if I forget to say something or do something. Even if I sob at the end. I know it'll be perfect all the same.