I could feel my chest rising and falling at regular intervals as I stepped out of the club. The breeze was warm, much more refreshing than I expected, but there was this internal heat I felt.

All I could think about was how West knew where I was.

The volume of the music was lower now, but the voices of people talking outside didn't allow the thrumming in my ears to stop or even take a break. Their words bumped into each other, creating a weird mixture with the warm air.

I was creeped out, and at the same time, I was scared. Creeped out because, somehow, West knew about this date. Scared because he was waiting for me and I had no idea what he was going to say to me—or what I was going to say to him.

I looked around for him, ignoring the guys ogling me, and after a few seconds, my phone buzzed again. When I looked down at it, I realized that my hands were trembling.

Look to your right.

Following that order wasn't a hard thing to do.

West's eyes were on me as he leaned against the driver's door of his car, and the way his head was tilted in my direction screamed trouble. He pushed the hoodie off his head and placed an arm on the roof of his car, and I drew in a deep breath before starting the walk to him. I didn't want to talk to him right now, I was sure, but there was something about his aura tonight. It was magnetic, something that I couldn't ignore.

As I moved closer to him, his eyes left my face and trailed down my body, but not in the same way those guys' eyes did. It wasn't a hungry look, but it made me slightly uncomfortable, nevertheless. I couldn't imagine what was going through his mind.

When I stopped in front of him, I folded my arms over my chest to keep myself steady, but my head had plans of its own, swaying back a little. It still felt light, like there was nothing—not even the tiniest piece of a brain—in it.

West studied me in (choking) silence for a few seconds, his expression far from happy. Then he said, "You've been drinking." He said it with a final kind of tone—a tone that said I couldn't deny it.

"So?" I asked. "A lot of people do it."

His eyes moved to the building as he released a short facetious laugh, and I could now feel the bass of the music beneath my feet.

"Do you even hear yourself right now?" he asked angrily, looking back at me, every trace of laughter gone from his face. "What are you doing here?"

"No, what are you doing here? Are you stalking me or something?"

"Why the heck would I stalk you?"

"You tell me."

I wasn't sure I came here to argue with him, but I couldn't help myself. I was only trying to keep my emotions under control, that was why I was talking to him like this. I was still feeling creeped out.

"Is this the reason you called me out here? To ask me questions?" I asked him, and he stared at me for a while.

"You need to leave here."

I laughed. Genuinely. "I'm having fun, okay? And I'm not gonna let you ruin it with this alpha male thing of yours."

West looked away from me, a muscle in his jaw tensing. "You call getting drunk fun?" He was deadly calm that time.

"I'm not drunk!" I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart. "You know what? Just . . . leave. Now. I can't handle this right now."

I turned to leave immediately, not wanting to hear his response or stand there for one more second, but he pulled me back, causing me to stagger dangerously. It was a good thing that his grip on my arm was tight, or else I would've kissed the floor passionately.

"Look, I didn't come here to argue with you, okay?" he said after steadying me, but his hand remained wrapped around my arm. "I'm getting you away from this place. You need to leave. I promise I'll explain why later."

"No, you leave," I told him through gritted teeth, severely annoyed. "I don't want to know why you're here, I just need you to leave."

West's expression grew into one of exasperation then, and he let go of my arm. I wasn't prepared for the action, so it made me move back a few steps.

"I hit a guy," he said, a strange firmness to the voice. "The same guy who maybe intentionally put you in trouble, and I apologized for it, so I don't see why you're still so upset. You saw the smug look on his face—he was happy with the situation of things."

"I don't care!" I snapped at him. "I was getting somewhere, West, but you just had to interrupt."

"The heck, Kimie! I was only looking out for you."

We both fell silent, and I watched him, trying hard to remember how we got to that point in the conversation. Tybalt was waiting for me inside, and with the way I left, I was sure he was worried, so I knew that I couldn't stay out here for too long.

"I'm not here to ruin your fun," West continued after a while, his voice considerably softer. "Someone's been sending me photos of you and the guy you're with all night."

I froze, and my ears started that ringing thing they always did when I was in shock. I wasn't sure it was real, but I suddenly didn't feel as lightheaded as I did five minutes prior to that moment.

"They're saying they're gonna hurt you, and I don't want to wait and see if it's a threat or not. Heck, they're probably laughing at me wherever they are, but I don't care. I just need to get you away from here."

Immediately the words were out of his mouth, I imagined it perfectly. The bar, the people, the noise, the music. Me talking to Tybalt, sipping on my drink, trying to keep my smile intact, and someone standing somewhere in the crowd, watching us over the rim of their glass, taking photos whenever they felt like.

I felt sick. Literally sick. I wanted to bring up everything I'd had that night, the thought of getting hurt or, even worse, killed tonight making me lose my grip on my life. They were so close to me, watching, planning, and I was letting lose, drinking, dancing.

"You still wanna stay?"

I blinked at West, as confused as I was enlightened, unable to speak. His anger was gone now and all he exuded was warmth and safety. He didn't have bad intentions for coming here. He wasn't stalking me, after all.

"I came here with someone," I told him softly, forgetting that he was aware of that piece of information. "How can I just leave?"

"Tell him something came up or—"

"Kimie."

I spun around quickly, my heart thrashing around in my chest, and West placed a hand on my waist from behind to keep me steady when I lost my balance. Tybalt looked confused as he approached us, and his confusion only seemed to heighten when his eyes drifted to West's hand on my waist.

"What's up?" he asked, stopping suddenly. He looked like he was hit with something West and I couldn't see. "You okay?"

I couldn't reply to him immediately, words escaping me. "Y—yeah," I finally stuttered.

I don't know what he saw on my face, but his eyes moved to West, staying on him longer than I liked.

"He's my friend," I explained before he could ask, and I internally cringed at the word friend. West was more than a friend and I knew that.

I stepped closer to Tybalt, creating a bubble for the both of is and returning his attention to me.

"I . . . had a really great time tonight," I said when I was sure the intimacy had been established, and something—something akin to sadness—flashed in his eyes. "Really. And I'm really sorry about this, but I have to go."

"Can you at least tell me what's wrong? I know it's not nothing."

"It's personal and it just came up. I promise I'll tell you when I can," I lied. "Okay?"

His lips parted as he prepared to argue, but before he could begin, I quickly lifted myself and pressed a kiss to his cheek. That shut him up.

"I'll text you when I get home, okay?"

He wasn't happy, but he nodded anyway, giving me the permission to leave. West opened the passenger door for me before I got to him, and I wasted no time getting into the car. I watched Tybalt through the sideview mirror as West drove away, and when he raised a hand to say goodbye, I felt a sting.

One of the reasons I agreed to this date tonight was to protect his feelings, but, judging by the look on his face, I knew that I was on a path that could easily lead me back to the spot we picked up from—a path that could possibly lead me to a moment where I'd shatter his heart to pieces again. And this time, I was terrified of what the consequences would be.

I'd just looked away from the mirror so I could breathe properly when I noticed something—someone, rather—through the doors of the club. It was Macy. She was swaying gently to the music, but that wasn't what caught my attention. Her arms were wrapped around the neck of someone way too familiar, and her lips were locked passionately with his. It was a possessive kiss, the type you don't witness very often.

I was sure I was seeing things because of the alcohol in my system, so I turned away for a moment to clear my head. I looked at West to see if he noticed what I did, but his eyes were fixed ahead.

When I turned back in the direction of Chronicles, I could still see Macy and Jamie making out.

Macy An and Jamie Accetta. Making out. My ex-best friend and the guy that once had feelings for me. Macy, the girl that almost took my eyes out in the hallway, and Jamie, the boy who held her back and glared at her with pure hatred. Making out. Not just kissing.

I blinked several times as we drove past the building, wondering why I didn't notice them earlier. I was always alert, always observant, so how did I miss them?

There was also a possibility, one that I couldn't ignore. It was the possibility of Jamie and Macy working together. And if that was true, then that meant Macy knew that I was behind Smooches. That meant she'd known since the Piper article went out and was just pretending to be clueless.

Her actions towards me made sense then. They made complete sense.

I was expecting West to ask me a particular question on the drive home—do you like him? But he was surprisingly quiet, keeping his eyes on the road and acting like he was alone in the car.

I got it, I totally did. One evening I was kissing him, and another he was picking me up from a date. But even though I got it, I still hated it. I didn't like it when he was this quiet, refusing to meet my eyes, with his jaw tensing like that.

We got to my place way too soon, and immediately I looked out the window and saw our bright porch lights, I was hit with the realization that I could've been dead if the messages sent to West weren't threats, and if he hadn't gotten to me on time. It really sunk in then.

I might've never gotten the chance to sit in West's car again, or look at him, or talk to him, or see my porch lights and family again.

Tears filled my eyes when I vaguely tasted the drink I had earlier on my tongue, and I gripped my crossbody bag, refusing to get out of West's car, to go into that house, to that lonely room of mine.

"Can you just say something?" I finally requested, but my voice cracked against my will. In my peripheral vision, I saw that he still kept his eyes fixed ahead.

"You should go in," he said with a low voice, sounding like he was trying to keep something in.

"I'm scared."

His eyes snapped to mine then, annoyance flickering in his eyes as he prepared to say something. But he stopped suddenly, pressing his lips shut, and before I could ask him to say what it was that he wanted, he was out of the car. I watched West walk around the car, to my side, in silence.

Warm air rushed into the car when he opened the door, but instead of being refreshed by it, it made me want to throw up again. I actually liked it inside his car, where the smell of his cologne was strong, where I was genuinely warm.

West stretched a hand to me, offering it quietly, and I took a while, but eventually placed my hand in his. I loved the feel of his hand around mine, and I didn't want him to let go. When he stepped forward so he could close the door, I was sure I lost some of my restraint. I wanted to hold him close and tell him how much I liked him, and how he should never doubt that. I wanted to give him a kiss of reassurance. But he pulled away and led me to my front door.

I didn't want to let go of his hand, but he slowly parted our fingers when we stopped in front of the door. I wasn't drunk. I was a hundred percent sure I wasn't, because if I was, I wouldn't have been so aware of everything. The hum of the night, how defined West's features looked as he stood under the porch lights, how his emotions tainted those features, how my fingers tingled because they missed the warmth of his.

I couldn't be drunk. It wasn't possible.

"We're here," he announced even though it was obvious. "You can go in now."

I pushed down the lump in my throat, shuffling my feet nervously and thinking about what to say to him. I didn't want him to leave just yet.

"I'm sorry," I finally said, not sure what exactly I was sorry for.

West sighed. "It's okay. Get some sleep, okay? I'll see you tomorrow."

I took his hand again, silently begging him to wait. "West—"

"Kimie, can we not talk right now? Please? Tomorrow, I promise."

He dismissed it so quickly and so easily, I just had to succumb to his plea. I couldn't find it in me to speak anymore, so I gave him a simple nod, letting go of his hand and moving my gaze to his feet. He surprised me by patting my arm as a final gesture, before turning around and walking down the porch stairs.

His last words reverberated in my head as I watched him walk back to his car, already etched on my mind.

I'd messed up. Horribly.

"Kimie."

I jumped, turning to face Eliza, who was standing in the doorway, her usual smile absent.

"Why are you standing out here? Come inside."

I wasn't motivated to move, so I just stared at her, hoping she wouldn't smell the alcohol on me. She must've seen something in my eyes—the tears, maybe—because she stepped out, gently closing the door behind her.

"What's wrong? How did your date go?"

I looked in the direction of West's car, only to realize that it wasn't there anymore. "It went great," I told Eliza, turning to face her. "I just . . ."

"West dropped you off." It wasn't a question, just a confirmation. "And you drank tonight."

My heart stuttered in my chest, but I didn't react. There was no use denying it. Eliza looked a little disappointed when I remained quiet for too long.

"Go up to your room and change before your dad notices," she told me, and I froze, surprised that she wasn't mad, that she wasn't already inside, telling my dad about what I was up to tonight. Why was she helping me? "Come on."

She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the house, placing a finger over her lips to tell me to be quiet as she gently closed the door. My dad was fast asleep on the couch, a book on his chest, and Eliza gestured for me to take off my shoes. I obeyed, following her silently up the stairs afterwards.

Maybe this was why Kairi loved her so much.

Before she closed the door of my room, she said quietly, "We still need to talk."

I solemnly nodded in agreement because, really, I also needed to talk to her. I needed to talk about my emotions, to just tell her that I wasn't okay and that I hadn't been for a very long time.

Tonight just had to happen for me to realize that.