It was obvious West didn't have any experience with climbing into rooms through windows.

He looked uncomfortable as he maneuvered his way from the tree and into my room, and for the millionth time, I asked myself why I called him to come over. It was a stupid, impulsive decision I knew I wouldn't have made if I'd had a clearer head, if I could've stopped the panic seizing my chest.

When West's feet hit my bedroom floor and he straightened, the nerves set in, and I took a careful step away from my window to give him more room (and to give myself more room to think).

He looked at me after he'd regained his breath, his expression now unreadable, and I shifted my weight from one foot to another, waiting for him to say something, regret burning a hole through my panic-seized chest. West shouldn't have been in my room. I could have totally handled the situation and left him out of it.

"You have a front door, don't you?" he finally asked, drawing my attention to the cut on his right cheek—the fresh cut on his right cheek.

It looked sore and only a few hours old, and I focused all my attention on the scar that had managed to add more imperfection to his features. It was weirdly refreshing to look at, but at the same time, it had me wondering what gave it to him.

"And why am I here?"

I had no idea if he said something before that, but, figuring it didn't matter, I looked away from his cut and moved my eyes to my bed, where my laptop was sitting. "You remember that photo I told you about? The one about Piper and Dion?"

"Yeah." He looked at my laptop, then asked, "What about it?"

In response, I walked to my bed, taking my laptop and placing it on my lap as I sat. When I saw the comments again, I shook my head, my heart doing a somersault in my chest. How quick people were to turn on you. "My laptop was hacked, and it was posted, along with an article I would have written." West appeared next to me, lowering himself until he was sitting on the edge of my bed. "Everyone thinks it's me and they're commenting. Look at them."

I bit down on my thumb as he took the laptop from me and scrolled through the comments on the blog post. I saw his eyebrows come together in confusion, and my stomach dropped even lower. He ran a hand over his face, his fingers brushing over the cut on his cheek, bringing my attention to it again. I told myself to focus on the issue at hand before looking away from it.

"This could cause some serious problems for you, Kim," he said, sending my mind racing.

I buried my face in my hands, then let out a groan that was a little muffled. "I know. That's why I called you here. I'm freaking out."

"You have a password on this, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Maybe you should just lay low for a few days or weeks. Piper was killed and, like you said, everyone thinks it's you who published this. The police might want to get involved."

I knew there wasn't a nice way to put it, and I was aware of how big the problem was, but I really would've appreciated it if West didn't say it out loud. Control was key, but the racing of my heart was doing my brain some serious damage, and tears pricked at my eyes. Things were about to go horribly wrong and I could feel it.

In my peripheral vision, I saw West look away from the laptop and focus his eyes on me. As far as I could tell, he wasn't scolding me, but I felt the need to say what I did next.

"Just tell me you warned me and get it over with." I looked at him just in time to see his lips pull into a smile.

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Well, I could tell you wanted to say something."

He let out a quiet laugh. "First, I'm still not sure why I had to come in through your window. And second, I can help you track whoever did this if you don't know how to. Get their location and stuff."

My eyes widened at him, and he released a chuckle, looking away from me. He looked a little out of place with the way he sat on my bed—like he was undergoing torture.

"My sister is home," I answered, "and she'd never let you in here if she saw you. Second, can you really track or are you messing with me again?"

"Of course I can."

"And you're gonna help me?"

That time, he looked at me like I'd just insulted him, and I found my eyes moving to his cut again. "If you don't trust me, you can watch while I do it. Monday in the library."

"Why not tomorrow?"

"I won't be in school tomorrow," he replied, his voice soft, then proceeded to put my laptop away. As he turned to keep it behind me, his hand accidentally brushed against my arm, and I realized it was extremely warm.

I followed his movements with my eyes, then finally worked up the courage to ask, "Why?"

He paused, making me regret opening my mouth.

"I mean, you were also absent today, so . . ."

"I'm going to get this properly treated," he said, stopping me from continuing, and gesturing to his cut.

Now that he gave me the permission to look at it, I discovered that it wasn't just any cut. It looked like it was given to him—like he was hit with something that tore his face. And apart from that, there was another cut on his lower lip. Generally, West didn't look too good now that I got a good look at him.

"What happened?"

"Kimie, it's none of your business." His words were like a punch to the gut, and the way he said it increased the impact. He was on his feet in no time, making his way to the window.

I blinked several times, feeling like hitting myself. If I was the one in his position, I knew I would've been harsher with my words, and I honestly felt sorry for asking. "I'm sorry."

I wasn't sure he heard me, but I turned to my laptop and closed the blog window to distract myself. I made my way to the essay I was working on before the laptop started misbehaving and scrolled to the top.

Silence consumed West and I for minutes after that, and I would've forgotten he was still in my room if not for the unsteady beating of my heart. When I snuck a glance at him, I saw that he was staring at me. A few more minutes passed before I felt him move again, and when I looked at him that time, he was standing by my dresser with a glass bird in his hand.

I hadn't really looked at that thing in quite a long time. It remained on my dresser, everything about it still whole, To Kimie, I love you, still engraved on the bottom part of one of the wings.

Seeing it made me remember when my mom would complain that everyone was pronouncing my name wrong.

"The name isn't as it appears," she'd say.

The complaining only stopped when my dad agreed that we should all just go with the simple kim-ee pronunciation. She wasn't too happy about it, but she stopped complaining. That was a long time ago.

"Be careful with that," I told West as he turned it around in his hand to examine it, and he looked up at me. "It was a present from my mom."

I vaguely remembered what she'd said the day she gave it to me. I was turning ten, we were all in the living room, and after I blew out the candles on the beautiful chocolate cake her and my dad got me, she gave me the box it was in and excitedly told me to open it. I remembered being fascinated when I saw the bird, and I remembered her saying something in Japanese. My Japanese wasn't too good then, but I understood a little bit of it.

Fly high like a bird, or something like that.

West put it down gently. "It's beautiful."

"Thanks." I let myself smile. "I'm sure she appreciates it."

I saw the ghost of a smile on his lips as he made his way to the unused study area in the corner. I preferred doing my homework and studying in my bed, so the place was just there like a decoration. A restricted area. I could imagine my room as a museum in the next fifty years.

West almost looked like he was searching for something, because I was sure he wouldn't just start walking around my room with no intentions.

He traced the corners of my Bible with his index finger, and he seemed to feel the bookmark, because in no time, he was carefully flipping it open. If my memory wasn't weak, I was sure I bookmarked the passage talking about revenge and how it wasn't for us. Every time I remembered that passage, or read it, I would feel undeniable guilt. The instruction was right there, as clear as day—don't do it—but I needed to serve some justice of my own.

I'd seen various instances where people did wrong things and didn't get the punishment they deserved and, deep inside me, I had a feeling that if I didn't do something, then nothing would happen.

I wasn't sure my mom was proud of me where she was, but I chose not to dwell on that.

Suddenly feeling terribly sad, I looked away from West and focused on my laptop, on completing the essay on it. He could go wherever he wanted; it wasn't like I was hiding anything from him.

When I felt the spot beside me sink several minutes later, I didn't look up, desperate to complete the sentence I was typing.

"Is that for the contest?" he asked, and I spared him a glance. His eyes were focused on my fingers above the keyboard.

"Yeah, about the downsides of gravity. Terribly difficult to write. Are you done with yours?"

"Yes," he replied quietly, then, "What if we both went spying tomorrow night?" I looked at him, my attention fully captured. "Libby Cornwell's hosting a party, and I figured we could find out a few things there. If we get something valuable, we could take a picture and post it on the blog's Instagram."

His use of the word we made a strange warmth blossom in my chest. The suggestion was extremely smart, and Instagram could have the same effect as the blog, but there was a hole in the plan. "How do we get into the party? Libby sends out invites, doesn't she?"

"She does, but we're not going in. We'll watch from outside her kitchen window."

I tilted my head at him, extremely impressed. I wanted to smile, I really did. "Let me guess, you've checked the area."

His lips tugged up a little in the corner. "We can't just go there without knowing what to do."

"Who made you this smart?" I teased in an effort to lift the tension.

I could see his smile getting wider, but before it got out of control, he was on his feet. "Six tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks for . . . coming, by the way, and for offering to help."

"I gave you my number for a reason, Kim. I'll see you tomorrow." He looked in the direction of my window. "Now to figure out how to climb out. Don't watch me, okay? This could get embarrassing."

I laughed and watched him walk to the window. "You got it."

I didn't watch him—at least not directly—but from what I could see in my peripheral vision, he did just fine.

I woke up a little late the next day, sleeping a little too well after completing my essay and checking my laptop for a virus. It seemed the hacker was only interested in my blog.

My plan was to quickly grab something to eat from the kitchen and leave, but it came to a halt when I saw Kairi on the couch, quietly swiping tears from her face. I checked my phone for the time, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, and found that I still had five minutes.

"Kai." Immediately she heard my voice, she hurriedly cleaned her tears, and I heard her sniffle. "Kai, what's wrong? Why're you crying?"

She looked at me with a wounded expression and reddened eyes, and I wondered how long she had been there. "Why didn't you tell me?"

My heart thumped hard in my chest at the question, and I froze. I spotted her phone beside her, and my stomach dropped when the realization hit me. My internal emergency button had been pushed, and the siren was wailing loudly.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I know you know what I'm talking about."

If she was talking about Smooches, then yes, I knew what she was talking about. But I had to play dumb. "Kairi, I don't understand what you mean."

"Why didn't you tell me about Piper, Kim?"

I felt relieved and panicked at the same time—relieved because my sister didn't know about the blog (though I wondered how long she'd remain oblivious), panicked because of Piper.

"Kairi." I made my way to her, sitting close so she knew I was there.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away. "I just can't believe it, Kimie."

"No one can, Kairi. What happened was so horrible."

"I mean—" she stopped, drawing in a sharp breath. "I wanted to talk to her, Kim. I wanted to talk to her, and now I'd never get the chance to do that."

"I'm sorry, Kai." She let me pull her into a hug, and I held onto her for as long as she wanted.

What happened to Piper was sad, I agreed, but I didn't know why I was finding it hard to feel anything but numb or panicked when I thought about her.

I got to school just as the first bell rang, and as I parked my car, I got the feeling that something wasn't all right. Still, I grabbed my backpack and got out of the car, picking up my pace so I'd not be too late.

I had just put some of my books in my locker and stuck a note on the inside of the door to remind myself to print my essay during lunch when I noticed someone staring at me down the hallway. My hand froze on the door when my eyes met with his, and I felt my eyebrows come together in confusion.

Jamie held my gaze for a few seconds, his face looking anything but friendly. It was unusual, because Jamie would never look at a person like that. The personality I'd come to associate him with seemed to be slipping away more and more everyday.

Eventually, he averted his eyes, then turned around and walked away, leaving me there to process what just happened.

Throughout that day, the bad feeling didn't leave me, and deep inside me, I knew Jamie was the one who intensified it.

Ooh, seems like Kimie forgot about her date with Ty! And what's up with sweet Jamie?

Thank you all for reading, you guys know I love you 💕