"Kimie, how do I look?" Eliza asked me after Kairi helped her with the zipper of her black dress, and I finally looked up from my phone.

I'd made myself comfortable on my sister's bed, sitting cross-legged as I scrolled through Instagram, but my mind was far away from the room. I was only there physically. My dad and Eliza had a date today, and Eliza was freaking out for some reason. I didn't know what she was worrying about, considering the fact that she'd already accepted to marry him, but I pretended not to be bothered by her panicking.

She was standing in front of Kairi's full-length mirror, smoothing down the skirt of her dress. It stopped just a little above her knees, and the lace gave her a fairylike look. Eliza wasn't a big fan of makeup—she was extremely beautiful without it—so she'd only used a little mascara on her long lashes, and lipstick the color of her lips. Needless to say, Eliza Tsukakoshi looked gorgeous.

And my dad loved lace on females, so that was a plus.

"You look breathtaking," I told her, and Kairi beamed.

"See? I told you. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, my dad would love you even if you wore a sack tonight."

"It's just been a while since we went on a proper date, and I keep thinking about messing something up. Your dad talks about your mom quite a lot, and I'm scared I'm gonna say something bad or upsetting."

Kairi stepped in front of her, then placed her hands on her shoulders, an action that made her look too much like our mom. "You're all right. Say it with me."

I saw Eliza roll her eyes in the mirror before she repeated what Kairi said, personalizing it. "Fine, fine. I'm okay now. Get me my shoes."

I noticed that Eliza and Kairi were very close; it was like they were best friends. They had inside jokes and talked about stuff I wasn't even aware of, and even though I was happy that Kairi had someone she could open up to again, I still felt jealous. Though I wasn't sure it was normal for me to feel that way when I wasn't trying hard enough to know Eliza better.

It wasn't that I didn't like her, because I really did, but there was just something about her and my dad getting married that made me feel sad.

"You're going to therapy on your own today, right?" my future mom asked my sister as she went to get the pair of heels lying by her dresser.

"Yeah. I'm taking Kimie's car."

Kimie's car.

"I just hope I remember how to drive," she added with a chuckle, and Eliza released a small laugh.

"You're all right. Say it with me," she joked, accurately imitating Kairi's voice and causing us to laugh. "Kimie, you'll be fine on your own, right?"

Kairi was still laughing when she said, "Oh, Kim's gonna be more than fine. West's coming over."

"Remind me why I told you that," I groaned, and almost immediately, Eliza turned to me with sparkly eyes. I had a feeling she loved gossip when she was younger.

"Who's West?"

"Her project partner," Kairi quickly replied, taking her shoes to her.

Eliza smiled. "Oh. That one that called her the other day at dinner?"

"Yup!"

She hummed, throwing me a suggestive look as she put her feet in the shoes.

"You should see the way he looks at her," my sister told her, coming to sit next to me. She leaned her arms back and crossed one leg over the other, her eyes moving to the ceiling dreamily. "He has these intense eyes that get even more intense when they're on her. Honestly, I'm jealous. I wish someone could . . . look at me like that."

Her voice faded a little towards the end of her sentence, like she suddenly remembered something, and her smile slipped until it wasn't there anymore. It took me a few seconds to figure it out, but the reason for her sudden mood change eventually hit me.

Axel.

Axel looked at her the same way West supposedly looked at me. And she missed it. Kairi didn't hate him.

Eliza snorted. "You teenagers and your romantic little heads. I hope this West guy is cute, though."

It took me a little longer than a few seconds to realize that she was waiting for my reply, and I battled with words when it came to my attention that I'd been silent for too long. I'd totally told her that I liked him without saying anything.

"Stop it," was what I eventually settled for. "It's—there's nothing to get excited about."

Eliza's eyes snapped to mine, her smile falling slightly. "You don't like talking to me, do you?"

The question surprised me, and I felt myself freeze. She had gotten rid of her smile completely now, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kairi fidgeting with her fingers.

"I never said that."

"You don't need to," she said, straightening and looking in the mirror at her shoes. "Your flippant attitude says it all."

"Eliza—"

A knock on Kairi's door cut me off, and my dad poked his head into the room after a few seconds, not waiting for a reply.

"You ready, Liza?" he asked innocently, and his fiancée smiled at him.

"Yeah, I am."

My dad's eyes lingered on her, the sparkle in them bright. A smile tugged at his lips before he said, "You look gorgeous."

Tears pricked at my eyes, my chest tightening, and before I knew it, I was on my feet, and was heading out of my sister's room. I didn't mean to act the way I did, but what Eliza said hit a sensitive part of me. It stung more than I wanted to believe. Yes, I didn't hang out with her as much as Kairi did, or share my personal experiences with her, or ask her for recipes, but that didn't mean I didn't like talking to her. I just had issues I was still battling with—a lot of issues.

"Kimie, what's wrong?" I heard my dad ask behind me before I shut the door of my room and leaned against it.

My grip on my phone was tight, helping me to keep my tears in, and I screwed my eyes shut to support my hands. I focused on the patterns forming behind my tightened eyelids to calm myself.

In the distance, I heard someone saying something, but I wasn't paying much attention to know exactly what they were saying. It sounded like my dad, though.

When I finally opened my eyes and released my grip, I found everywhere quiet, like the noise was all in my head. I listened for an indication that my dad and Eliza were still in the house, but the only thing audible was the silence.

I leaned my head back against the door and let my eyes close for just a second, before I was finding West's number and calling it. I needed him. My eyes settled on the window—the same window he had come in through yesterday—while I waited for him to pick up, and my shoulders relaxed, suddenly feeling lighter.

Happy thoughts, I told myself before letting my mind wander, letting it search my memories for the points in my life that I'd been genuinely happy.

Then I let the memories play.

I didn't know why I thought of an escape like this, but I needed a distraction, and it was working. The good things in my life almost outweighed the bad. Almost. But I liked how they made me feel.

The line connected before I knew it, but he didn't say anything, urging me to speak first.

"Are you—" I paused to clear my cracked throat, then drew in a quiet breath. "Are you still coming over?" I asked him weakly. "I have to finish the post soon."

"Of course. I'm on my way."

"Okay. See you soon."

"Sure."

Seconds after he replied, neither of us said anything, refusing to hang up as well, and just knowing that he was on the other side of the phone, breathing, provided me with the comfort I needed.

I was sure I was going crazy. Because I could feel myself losing control.

Control was the only thing I had the power over, but it was slipping further and further away from my hands, and I could feel it.

When West arrived at my house and I let him in, I wanted to put my arms around him and beg him to just hold me. That was what I wanted at the moment—a hug from him. But then I met his eyes, and my stomach rumbled in disagreement.

My head said he wouldn't like it. My heart said he'd love it.

As he moved to the couch, pushing the sleeves of his Henley shirt up to his elbows, I caught a reddened spot on the inside of his left wrist. I wasn't sure about asking him about it, not really liking his reply the last time I asked him about an injury.

"Her window did this to me," he said, causing my eyes to snap to his in surprise. When I raised an eyebrow in confusion, he gestured to the hand I'd just been staring at. "Milan's window hurt me."

"Oh," I offered immediately, feeling my ears go warm. I didn't know he was watching me. "Hope it doesn't—hope it doesn't hurt much."

He took a seat on the couch and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He looked into it for a moment, his lips pulling into a frown, and I watched him in silence. "Not really," he mumbled in response after a few seconds, lifting his eyes to meet mine. "It's just a little sore."

I gave him a nod, then looked towards the kitchen. "Would you like anything? I'll go see what we have in the fri—"

He cut me off by tapping the spot next to him. "Just have a seat, Kim. I'm not staying long. Thanks, though."

I had to bury the disappointment I felt so I could focus on making it to the couch. Nodding again, I made my way over to him, and he looked back into his phone as I sat next to him.

I saw his lock screen—a girl, maybe twelve, putting on big round glasses, her rich, curly black hair in bunches that almost touched her shoulders, and sticking her tongue out at the camera with one eye closed—before he unlocked the device.

The girl was beautiful, having similar (but longer) hair with West, and almost the same eyes, with a cute little beauty spot above her lips. Her skin was a shade lighter than his, too.

"Is that your sister?" I asked him, my voice coming out softer than I intended.

"Yeah," he replied without looking at me, a smile stretching his lips. "That's Lily O'Brian. She's gorgeous, isn't she?"

His endearing tone made me laugh. "Yeah. She's really cute."

"She told me to use her photo for my lock screen and she'd use mine for hers. That one's my favorite photo of her."

"Wow," I said, the smile I had on refusing to leave my face. There was just something about the amount of affection he had for his sister that made my stomach churn in a good way. "I could never use Kairi for mine."

He gave me a glance before looking back into his phone and going to his photos. "Why not?"

"We have a love-hate relationship of sorts. I wouldn't want to see her all the time."

He chuckled. "Lily's one of the few people I actually look forward to seeing."

I wondered if he looked forward to seeing me. Judging by how quick he was to tell me he was leaving soon, probably not. The thought caused a new batch of sadness to cook in my stomach.

"Look at this," he said, bringing his phone closer to me and drawing my attention to what he was here for.

In his phone was a photo of a brooch adorned with what looked like rubies. It was in a white case surrounded by brightly colored fabrics, and the jewels in it glittered beautifully.

"That thing costs a lot of money. It's vintage."

"You found this in Milan's house?"

"In her closet," he corrected. "Like I said, she's not as smart as I thought."

"So how did she get this?"

"She took it from a house museum she visited with her parents while on vacation last year."

My jaw dropped in shock, because I honestly didn't see that coming. "I had no idea she's gone so far. I thought she was just a shoplifter." I paused, something occurring to me. "How do you know how she got it?"

We locked eyes immediately, like we were waiting for the moment to present itself. "I was spying on Macy weeks ago when she got into her car after texting someone for a while, so I followed her. That's really creepy, but let's not address that." I smiled. "She went to Milan's house, and Milan told her about her problem. Then she showed her the brooch she stole."

I was impressed—too impressed—at how long he kept this from me. I wasn't giving him enough credit for his work. "Why didn't you tell me?"

West smiled, his eyes twinkling beautifully, rivaling the sparkle of the rubies from the vintage jewelry on his phone. "I wanted to surprise you. Seems like my plan worked."

I shook my head at him. "Yeah. It really worked." I allowed myself to smile again, reveling in the feeling I got from knowing that his eyes were on me.

I could never get enough of those eyes of his. Sometimes they terrified me, sometimes they confused me, and other times, they made me feel warm and special. They were just so dark and beautiful. I wondered if he knew, wondered if I should tell him.

It took me a moment to realize we were staring at each other, and when it hit me, I quickly averted my eyes.

"Thanks," I mumbled. "I could—I could add this to the post. Just send it to me, then delete it." I took my phone from the couch and gestured to it, hoping it would drive him into action, but he continued to look deep into my eyes.

I felt bare then, like he could see through every one of my walls, and it felt a little uncomfortable sitting there, defenseless.

"What?" I asked eventually, keeping my voice cool so he wouldn't know how breathless I felt.

"I owe you an apology," he responded, his voice soft.

I paused.

"An apology for what?"

He sighed, then ran a hand through his hair. "For Monday, Kim. I was mad, and it's a sensitive topic, and I didn't mean to flip out on you like that. It's been killing me to say sorry."

"West." I released a little laugh. "You don't have to do this." I looked down at my phone, turning it around in my hands. "I should be the one apologizing for being so persistent. Whatever you said wasn't your fault."

"Look at me and say the last part of that again."

My heart slammed hard against my ribcage when he said that, but I managed to shake my head in refusal. I couldn't look at him and say anything properly, much less what he was asking.

He knew.

He knew how extreme his eyes were, so he wanted to put me under their spell. I wasn't going to fall for it, even though I wanted to.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the only sound coming from the refrigerator in the kitchen. Then West was gently brushing hair strands from my face, and his fingers were lightly grazing my cheek.

My mind went numb from there, replaying the feel of his skin against mine in an endless loop. I wanted him to do it again. I swallowed to help my dry throat, but it didn't help.

West was up to something. I knew it. Why else would he decide to use physical contact to get my attention?

"Are you scared of me, Kimie?" he finally asked, tucking the last stray strand behind my ear before dropping his hand.

My ear was on fire.

"Maybe," I replied, refusing to look at him, regretting my answer almost immediately it was out of my mouth.

He didn't speak for a few seconds. Then he said, "I don't want you to be."

"Why do you care?" It took me a great amount to courage to look at him that time. "Why do you care if I'm scared of you or not?"

He scratched the back of his head, then fixed me with a stare that flipped my stomach over. "I didn't mean what I said about not caring about you wanting to know what's going on with me. If I'm being honest with myself, I care too much about it. This is just unfamiliar territory for me, and, sometimes, I find it hard knowing what to do."

"Like I said earlier," I told him in a quiet voice, "you don't have to do this. It's okay."

He suddenly took my hands in his, lightly gripping my fingers. For someone who vandalized, he sure was gentle with a human being. Too gentle.

"You're not getting my point, are you?"

I released a sigh, pretending like I wasn't enjoying this. After the way I blurted that I cared about him, the best thing I could do was to be careful when it came to my emotions. "You don't like talking about your feelings, you actually care that I care about your life, and you're sorry about most of the things you said on Monday."

He blinked at me, his fingers moving against mine distractingly. The movement was doing things to me, and my brain turned to putty. Useless putty.

His head moved from side to side in disagreement, and we just stayed that way for a while. I didn't know if he was waiting for me to get his point, but my thoughts were a little disorganized with my hands in his, so I couldn't figure anything out.

At one point, he let go of one of my hands to tuck away a lock of disobedient hair, then he made a small sound at the back of his throat, like he was frustrated with the current situation of things.

And before I could begin to properly process what was happening, he was kissing me.