Chapter 13 - Lila's Pov:

It's been four days since my little episode and for the most part, life has been fairly normal, except for my relentless need to fixate on Ethan. Ever since he found me in the bathroom stall, I can't stop thinking about him. It's worse than before, an intense growing obsession. I'm not even sure what it is. The way he looked at me, touched me, spoke to me, joked with me, forgave me, and then took me home. They're such little things, yet they mean so much. He may be rough, blunt, somewhat perverted, and completely imperfect according to my mother's standards, but I seriously wouldn't have it any other way. I've had the supposed perfect guy before, the one who gave me rings, told me I was beautiful, told me he loved me, that I owned his soul, and that he'd do anything for me. But it was a bunch of shit. Unreal. Perfect doesn't exist. Realness does. Realness is what I need. And Ethan is as real as anyone I've ever met

I'm trying to figure out what this all means in terms of my feelings for him. I thought I understood love once, but it turned out I was wrong. Could the feelings I have for Ethan possibly be love? I have no idea, but eventually I'm going to have to figure it out, instead of wandering around analyzing everything.

I'm also looking for a job again, one that's Ethan approved, and I'm still getting used to that fact. No one has ever thought highly enough of me to think I deserved something better. Sure, my mother wouldn't approve of the job at Danny's either, but not because she thought I was better than that. She would think the Summers's name was better, but not my character. In fact, if she was basing it solely on my character she'd say I belonged there, something she made pretty clear during one of her phone calls.

"You did what?" she practically screams into the phone and I have to hold the receiver away from my ear as it rings against her voice. "You moved in with some guy?"

I put the receiver back to my ear and balance it between my head and my shoulder. "Yes, that's what I said."

"I know that's what you said," she replies curtly. "But what I don't get is why the hell you did it."

I'm rinsing off the dishes as I load up the dishwasher. I also vacuumed, swept, and cleaned the toilets, and even though it sucked, I also took a bit of pride in doing it. "Because I needed a place to live."

"Is this guy rich?"

"No, he's normal."

"Normal isn't acceptable, Lila Summers. Normal will get you nowhere but pregnant and living in a shack and wishing your life was better."

"Normal is perfectly acceptable." I smile at myself, saying it aloud, as I scrub some green stuff off the plate underneath the stream of water. "And besides, what makes you such an expert on normal. You don't even know anyone who is."

"Your aunt Jennabelle is."

"I didn't know I had an aunt Jennabelle."

"She's my sister and you don't know her because she lives in a studio apartment with her three children and had to take a job as a secretary to make ends meet after she left her husband when he started screwing a woman he worked with. And no one ever wants to visit a poverty-stricken, single-parent divorcee who lives in a crappy apartment. If she would have just stuck with her husband and overlooked his one flaw then she wouldn't live in the run-down part of town with a bunch of drug addicts and criminals."

"Just because they live in the run-down part of town doesn't mean they're drug addicts and criminals," I say. "And I would love to visit her," I argue, rinsing off a glass. "She sounds like a strong woman who was brave enough to leave a man who obviously didn't love her enough to treat her well and she's been able to take care of herself."

"She's poor, Lila," she harshly snaps like the word is so filthy it has no right to even leave her lips. "She can't even afford a new car."

"Neither can I," I state, sliding some silverware under the faucet and scrubbing the gunk off with my fingers.

"Well, that's your own damn fault for being so stubborn. You could have everything you wanted in life, Lila. The perfect life, but you keep messing it up for yourself. Instead of doing what I've told you to do and come home and live with us until you can get back on track and meet a nice, wealthy guy who will take care of you, you're living in poverty, probably taking the bus."

"I'm not living in poverty," I reply. "Not yet, anyway. Thanks to my normal friend, who's letting me stay here with him because he's nice. Money and cars and nice clothes aren't everything, mother. And I don't want to sacrifice being around people who I like just to have a glamorous life." Wow, when did I get to this place? "I want to be around people I care about and who care about me. That's all I really want in life." God, I care about Ethan. I really, really do.

"Well, that's a lovely way to look at life. Maybe you should go visit your Aunt Jennabelle and get a real taste of what life is like," she says, and then adds, "And what on earth is that noise? That water noise in the background."

"Water." I put the plate in the dishwasher.

"Well, I know that," she snaps. "But what's it from?"

I turn off the faucet and close the dishwasher door. "It's from the sink." I press the power button and wipe off my hands on a towel. "I just got done doing the dishes."

"You what?" she shouts into the phone so loudly my ear rings. "That's it, Lila. This kind of behavior is unacceptable."

"Why? Because I'm cleaning up after myself?" I walk into the living room and flop down on the couch. I have some vanilla-scented candles burning and the whole house has a shiny, polished look to it. It looks good and I hope Ethan will appreciate it when he gets back from work.

"Summers's do not clean up after themselves," she snaps. "They hire maids for that."

"Well, since I'm broke, a maid really isn't an option." I sit back in the chair and comb my fingers through my hair. It's still long and perfectly trimmed just like I was taught to maintain it. "God, with the way you're acting, you'd think I'd just told you I did drugs or something."

She laughs into the phone. "Quit being a little bitch and be grateful for everything I've done and given to you. Without me, you'd be worse off than you are now. And that's going to end quickly because I'm coming down to get you."

"Good luck finding me," I say, inspecting my split ends. I should really just cut my hair off, like I wanted to when I was a kid. "Vegas is a very big city."

"What is wrong with you?" she cries. "You're being rude and inconsiderate. I don't get it. I don't get any of this, like why you're even living in Vegas in the first place."

"Because it was the first place I pointed to on the map," I mutter to myself, remembering how I got here.

"What are you talking about?" she seethes hotly. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Nope, not really."

"Well, you need to," she snaps. "If you'd just listen to me then you'd quit messing up your life. Being with a guy because he cares about you is going to get you nowhere, especially if he's some low-life like the guys your sister dates. He'll end up screwing you over and then you'll be left alone, probably pregnant and poor."

"That's not going to happen, so quit being overdramatic."

"Yes, it is. You wait and see. You'll get pregnant and guys like that won't take care of you. And I sure as hell won't help you."

"I don't want your help," I tell her, fuming with aggravation. "I want to be right where I am, living with Ethan. I don't want to be with anyone else. Ever." Wow, this conversation with my mom is getting productive in a very scary, life-altering way.

"You are really starting to piss me off," my mother says sharply.

"And you're pissing me off." I hang up, tossing the phone onto the coffee table. I feel so strange. So light, even after talking to her because of what the conversation revealed. I want to be here. With Ethan. And I don't ever want to leave, at least as far as I can see into the future.

"I want to do something exciting," I mumble to myself, coiling a finger around my long blonde hair. It's the same haircut I've had for years and I've never dyed my hair, yet I've always wanted to. "I want a change."

Change. I want to change who I am. I want to be better. I want to be a person who I can love, not hate and despise. Smiling, I get up and grab my purse off the table, and then I head out the door, knowing I'm going to have to take the bus, but it feels okay today and that in and of itself is another change. I wonder how many more are to come.

I'm really starting to walk on the wild side, well the wild side for me. I got my haircut at a discount hair salon and not just a trim or anything. I cut it off so it's shoulder length and I added black streaks to it. I'd always gotten pretty much the same haircut, always at this expensive, appointment-only place down in the main area of the city. Turns out discount places aren't that bad. Shelia, the lady who cut my hair, was really nice. She told me how she ended up cutting hair, how she'd been going to school to be a lawyer because her parents wanted her to. But when she was sitting in class one day, listening to her professor ramble on and on about the law, she realized how much she could care less about law and that really she'd rather be breaking some laws instead of learning about them. She left class, traded her nearly new car in for a motorcycle, and drove across the country. Just like that. Then when she got back she decided to try beauty school, simply because it was the first place she came across when she entered town. Her parents never forgave her for messing up what they deemed a perfect life, but she didn't care. She was happy. Still is. And that's all that matters.

I loved her story and it gave me hope that one day I'll figure out what I want. Although, I do know one thing that I want. My very sexy roommate/drummer/savior. Although, he'll never admit it, Ethan saved me. Many, many times. If I could just have him now, then life would be good. Because I want him. Want him. I really, really do.

After my head fills like it's going to burst from overthinking, I decide to call Ella to distract myself and to maybe get some girl advice with my guy problems.

"Hey," Ella says, answering after a few rings. "I was actually getting ready to call you!"

"Oh yeah?" I stare out the bus window at the street, the smell of fast food from the takeout bag on my lap overwhelming me. "Maybe you read my mind, then."

"Maybe." She pauses. "Okay, I was trying to figure out how to ask you, since every time I've ever brought you and Ethan up, you always deny there's anything going on, but I'm just going to be blunt. Are you living with him? Because Micha said you were."

"Umm..." I let out a breath, unsure why it's always been so hard for me to talk about my relationship with Ethan aloud. "Yeah, I have been for a while."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks with a hint of humor in her tone. "Are you... are you two together?"

"Not together like that," I say quickly. "And I didn't tell you because the reason I moved in with him isn't the kind of stuff I'm used to talking about."

"I get that," she says. "But I still wish you would have at least given me a heads-up."

"Heads-up?" I reply in a teasing tone and she laughs. "I am really sorry. The next huge news I have is yours first."

"Good." She clears her throat, sounding nervous. "And now I have news."

"Oh my God, are you pregnant?" I sit up straight in the seat, trying not to laugh at my joke.

"What! No!" She gives me an elongated pause. "Why would you think that?"

"Why wouldn't I think that? You and Micha are always going at it, even when you're not together. The walls were very thin in our apartment and those late-night chats you two had while he was on the road were very, very loud."

"Oh my God," she says, mortified. "You should have said something."

"Like what? Quit having such loud phone sex with your boyfriend." I laugh and then lean closer to the wall, shielding out the sunlight with my hand. "But anyway, what's your big news?"

She takes a deep inhale. "Micha and I are getting married."

"I already knew that."

"I know... but in, like, a week."

My jaw drops as my hand falls to my lap. "Are you sure you're not pregnant?" Now I'm being a little bit serious.

"Quit saying that. You're scaring the shit out of me." She steadies her anxious breath. "I'm not pregnant. We just wanted to get married and figured why the hell not, since we're already living together. We've practically been living together since we were four."

I smile, because even though I'm jealous, they are cute enough that the jealousy is worth it. "Did Micha give you that speech?"

She laughs. "Is it that obvious?"

"Um, yeah. It always is with him," I say, coiling a strand of my much shorter hair around my finger. I pause, because even though I've been a cheerleader over their relationship from the start, as a best friend, I still have to make sure. "Is this what you want?"

"Yeah, it really is." She sounds so happy and the jealousy in my chest builds.

"All right, then, I'll get over there," I say. "But I have to point out that I really hate California, so my going there means I really must love you."

She's quiet for a while and with Ella, that means she's really thinking. "Lila, thank you," she finally says. "For everything."

"Oh, whatever. I didn't even do anything really."

"Yeah, you kind of did," she insists. "If it wasn't for your little pushes, telling me that I'd be giving up the kind of love that shouldn't exist-letting me know how lucky I am-then I'm not sure I'd be where I am, but I don't think I'd be getting ready to marry the love of my life."

"That's not entirely true," I say. "Things still could have worked out for you."

"I doubt it, but maybe... maybe I would have finally come to my senses on my own and quit fighting the need to make myself miserable." She sounds like she's getting choked up, which is strange for her. She pauses and then clears her throat. "You're coming, though, right? And you'll be my maid of honor?"

"Of course. I've actually always wanted to be one." I pause, contemplating whether I should ask, since her family is such a serious subject for her. "Ella, who else is coming?"

"You and Ethan."

"And your dad?"

She hesitates. "I know things have been going pretty good between my dad and me and even my brother, but this is kind of something I want to be simple. Just me and Micha and you and Ethan, of course. Then there won't be any drama."

I sigh, sad that that's how she feels. But then again, if I ever did get married, I'm not sure I'd want my family there either because they'd probably ruin it for me, especially if the groom wasn't up to their standards. "Well, I'm totally coming, but you'll have to ask Ethan."

"Micha already did."

"When?"

"A few days ago," she says hesitantly. "He said he'd go."

I'm kind of hurt. Why did he not mention this to me? "Okay, then I guess I'm going." Usually, I'm good at sounding happy when I'm not, but the hurt shows through in my voice.

"Are you okay?" she asks. "I mean, with Ethan... is everything okay between you two?"

"Why would I not be okay?" I stand up from the seat as the bus reaches my stop, growing nervous over the idea that Ethan said something about us.

"I don't know... because you two have a weird relationship."

I grab the handle as the bus lurches to a stop. "Did Ethan say that to Micha?"

"No." She sounds like she's lying.

"Ella, please just tell me if he said anything." I step off the bus and onto the curb feeling very insecure.

"Look, Lila, just relax," she says and then I hear someone shout in the background. "Look, I got to go. Call me later after you've talked to Ethan and let me know when you'll get here and stuff."

"Fine." I look left and right and hurry across the street toward my apartment. "Wait for me to shop for your dress, though."

"Okay, I will, but I'm telling you right now," she says, "that I won't in any way shape or form be wearing a frilly white dress. It needs to be rock-star-ish or something."

"Oh, we'll find you something very Ella-like." I step onto the sidewalk and enter the apartment complex entryway that's situated between a broken fence and a desolate section of sandy land. The sun is setting so the air isn't nearly as hot as midday, yet it's still blistering and I'm starting to sweat. "I'm an excellent shopper."

"It's a deal," she says cheerfully. "Talk to you later."

"Okay, bye." I hang up and seconds later I realize that I never got around to the reason why I called her.

Sighing, I take the house key out of my pocket, frustrated at myself because I really could use some girl advice about Ethan and what I should do and she probably would have given it if I'd just been brave enough to ask her, but my initial instincts to keep my mouth shut got the best of me. Although, I remember in high school how far girl advice got me. Just sleep with him. It'll feel good and he'll be less likely to break up with you. Sex means commitment. Sex means you're older. Sex. Sex. Sex. I'm not even sure if they were ever really being sincere or if they were just toying with me.

When I enter the apartment, Ethan's still not back from work. I settle down on the couch, with the takeout bag in front of me on the coffee table, trying not to think too much about the past, otherwise I know where I'll end up heading-what I'll end up doing. I turn on some of Ethan's music, which I'm still getting used to, feeling nervous for some reason, like I can feel that I'm about to do or say something really stupid. Because I'm seriously considering telling him that I like like him. It's time to be bold and blunt. It's time to let him know how I feel. That I like him. I might even love him. My eyes widen as I realize that I might really do it and then double widen as I run my fingers through my now-chin-length hair that's even shorter in the back. And as if that wasn't a big enough change, I had black streaks put in.

"Who am I?" I whisper. I really don't know anymore. A girl who chops off her own hair? Feels things for Ethan? A girl who wants to tell Ethan about her feelings? And that is very, very scary.

I'm deciding what I should do, run away or stay put and face my fears, finally be brave, when someone knocks on the door. I get up and open the door, then swiftly step back. "Parker?"

He looks me over and his face twists with disgust when he notes my new hair. "What the fuck did you do to you hair?"

"Cut it." I shrug, praying to God he's not here for the pills, even though deep down I know there's no way that could be true. "What are you doing here?"

He's wearing a navy-blue polo shirt, slacks, and a Rolex. "Don't act like you're surprised to see me." His tone is sharp, his posture very rigid and threatening.

Suddenly I'm very aware that I'm alone in the apartment. "How did you know where I live?" I ask, gripping the doorknob tightly.

"I asked around." He takes a deliberate step toward me, inching his way into the doorway. "You fucking stole from my stash, Lila. My fucking stash. Now I know you're used to getting your way with me, but not with this. This is business."

I step back, moving to shut the door, but he slams his hand against it. "I'm sorry, Parker," I say, attempting to stay calm, but my palms start to sweat and my heart is beating wildly inside my chest. "I didn't mean to. Really. I was just having a rough day and I messed up."

He stalks closer, stepping over the threshold and onto the small section of chipped linoleum in the entryway. "Don't try to feed me your sob story. You didn't mean to? Seriously. What?" He starts swinging his hands animatedly as he speaks and it makes me wince. "You just accidentally opened the bottle hidden in my nightstand drawer and then accidentally poured a pill into your hand. I checked after you left, Lila, and there was a pill missing. And you know I keep track of that shit. You've seen me count them after I make a deal. Although, I'm a little surprised you took only one, seeing as how I've seen you pop four at a time without even hesitating."

Shaking my head, I stumble back into the living room and inch around the coffee table, knowing I'm in serious trouble. "Look, what do you want me to say? I'm sorry, okay? I messed up. But I can't bring the pill back. I can pay for it, though." I reach for my wallet that's next to the television.

He laughs darkly, walking all the way into the apartment. "You're going to pay me for that fucking pill, Lila," he says, shutting the door with his foot, keeping his eyes fixed on me. "But not with money. You know I don't except cash for pills."

I glance at the hallway, contemplating running into the bathroom and locking myself in there. This is bad. Very, very bad. I can feel that something bad is about to happen and I'm not sure how to get out of it.

"Don't even think about it," he says and then unzips his pants. "Now, you can either fuck me or suck my dick, but either way I'm going to get something out of this. I'm not just going to let you steal a pill from me and get away with it. You know me better than that."

"You're right. I do," I say, my voice unsteady as I search around the room for my phone. Where did I leave it?

This evil ugly monster is about to come out of him. I know because I've seen it with every other guy out there. Try not to give them anything and they'll break you. Give them what they want and they'll take everything you have and then they'll leave you in the dirt.

I press my lips together, feeling a slight tremor inside my heart, but deep down I know I can probably do this if I need to. Just screw him and get it over with. I've done it before, but that was when I felt nothing. But right now it feels worse than wrong. It feels icky and twisted and warped. I'm scared, just like I was when Sean tied me to the bed, ropes around my ankles, wrists, even my stomach. I didn't want to do it. I even told him that. Once. But once wasn't enough and he took what he wanted.

"I think I-" I start, my hip bumping into the corner of the television stand as I try to back away more.

Parker hurries forward, his fly undone and before I can move he grabs a handful of my hair, wrenching on the roots so hard my scalp stings. "Get down on your fucking knees and be the whore that you and I and every other guy out there knows that you are."

I raise my hand to slap him, but he catches me by the wrist, jabbing his fingers into my skin as he slaps me across my face. Tears sting at my eyes and my ears ring as he shoves me down onto the floor, pressing on my shoulders until I'm kneeling at his feet. I whimper pathetically as the rough carpet scrapes against my knees and my neck bends in an awkward position. "Stop it, Parker... You're hurting me."

"Good." Cupping the back of my head, and still grasping violently on to my hair, he shoves my face toward his open fly. "Open your mouth and be the whore that you are."

I remember when I was dating Parker I never felt a single speck of emotion. My mind and body were blank, just like almost every other single sexual encounter. I want the blankness right now-crave it. But it's not coming. The switch that flips is staying stubbornly in place. I can feel the shame, terror, and embarrassment way too much. I start to cry because this is real. I'm not drunk or on pills and I don't want to do anything with Parker, like I really didn't want to with Sean. I was just too afraid to admit it and worried that if I walked away he wouldn't love me. And I wanted-want-to be loved for once in my life.

But I never said no. All these years and not once did I refuse anyone who wanted me. I worried that no guy would ever listen to me, and really, I just didn't think I was good enough to say no. In a sickening and perverse way, I've never felt good enough for anyone. So I just popped pills and did things I thought other people wanted me to do and waited for them to accept me, to love me, yet they never did. I thought Sean loved me, but he hurt me and now I'm scarred inside and out. I'm scarred and I don't want to be. I want to feel like a whole person again. I want to go back to being fourteen and not make stupid choices, not have sex with an older guy who ties me to the bed after I say I don't think I want to, that I don't think I can, and then he screws me so hard the ropes cut into my skin and I bleed all over the bed. Then I'm left feeling guilty because I let it get that far and I'll always feel like I didn't put up enough of a fight. But I was lost. Confused.

A painful wave rushes over me as my past slams down on my shoulders. I don't want to be this girl anymore. This lonely, hollow girl. I want to feel like I deserve things and not hate myself so much. I'm deciding whether to open my mouth and scream or just bite down really hard when the door opens and Ethan walks in, carrying his tool belt.

"Oh, thank God," I say with relief and realize I'm trembling.

Parker turns around and looks over his shoulder, and then his fingers immediately leave my hair and I fall to the ground on my ass, cupping the side of my face that he struck me on.

"Dude, she wanted it," he tells Ethan with his hands up in front of him.

I get to my feet, clutching my tender cheek as Ethan assesses the situation, taking in Parker with his pants undone, then me and my swollen cheek, before his eyes land back on Parker. He's still dressed in his work clothes, torn cargo shorts, a black shirt stained with dirt, and he has his work boots on. He looks all bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks who kicks people like Parker's ass just for fun. And I love it.

"Is that true, Lila?" Ethan glances at me, slowly taking the hammer out of his belt like he's going to use it to beat Parker. I can tell he's not going to, nor does he think what Parker said is true, but he's messing with Parker's head. "Did you want this loser to unzip his pants and force you down onto your knees?"

Parker cringes, eyeing the hammer as Ethan holds it in his hand, but he doesn't say a word, inching back against the wall, trying to creep toward the doorway.

I wipe the drying tears from my eyes and swollen cheek as I shake my head. "No, I didn't want it at all." There's this strange kind of freedom in saying it, like this secret I've kept hidden drifts out into the open, even if I'm the only one who understands.

"She's a liar and a slut," Parker argues, glaring at me, and then his gaze returns unsteadily back to Ethan. "Come on, man. You know her, so you must know what she's like."

Ethan shakes his head as he tosses his tool belt onto the couch, keeping ahold of the hammer and tapping it in his hand. "The Lila I know isn't a slut."

Parker's eyes widen, and then he crosses his arms. "Well, the one I do is."

"Well, that's too bad for you." Ethan chucks his keys onto the table, but doesn't budge from the doorway.

I love Ethan. I seriously do. I feel the brave side of myself emerging and I take a small step forward. "Parker, as much as I would love to stand around here looking at your small penis, I'm sure Ethan doesn't, so please zip up your pants."

His gaze drops to his slacks and he quickly tucks himself in, then zips up the zipper. "Whatever," he says, raking his fingers through his hair, attempting to tidy himself up. "I'm just going to leave. You two can go to hell." He moves to the right to step around Ethan, but Ethan matches his move and blocks the doorway and his path.

"You're not fucking leaving this house until Lila says what to do with you." He looks at me with intensity burning in his eyes as he places his hands on the door frame. "Do you want me to beat the shit out of him or call the cops?" He raises the hammer in Parker's direction.

"Fuck you," Parker says, but he doesn't dare move. It's clear how easily Ethan could kick Parker's ass, even without the hammer. He's taller, stronger, rougher, and way, way more intense looking, like he's been through things, which he has. He's been beat by his father and watched his father hit his mother, while he tried to stand up for her. He's real. And I want real, not the deception of it that sometimes comes with wealth and money. I'm not going to sacrifice my life like my mother did just so I can have nice clothes and a roof over my head. I like the cracked one that's over my head now perfectly fine.

I unintentionally smile, especially when Parker makes this weird noise that sounds like a strangled cat. "I'm not sure what I want you to do."

Ethan shrugs and then winks at me. "It's up to you, beautiful."

I can only imagine how broad my smile is at this moment because I've never had this-protection. I've never had someone in my life who would stand up for me and tell me that it was okay, that people make mistakes and it doesn't mean you have to suffer eternally for them. I look over at Parker, who's waiting expectantly for me to chime in and save his ass. I study him forever, until he squirms and looks like he's about ready to piss his pants.

"Lila," he says, his eyes pressing. "Help me out here."

"Why?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest. "You seemed tough enough to handle yourself a few minutes ago."

He glances at the hammer in Ethan's hand, and then frowns back at me. "Lila," he pleads. "You know I hate fighting."

I roll my eyes. "Unless it's a girl, right?"

His eyes narrow at my divulgence. "God damn it, Lila, I swear to fucking God..." He trails off, his jaw tightening as Ethan steps forward, patting the head of the hammer in his hand again.

I shake my head and sigh, knowing I'm not really going to let Ethan kick Parker's ass, but only for Ethan's sake. Parker's the kind of guy who would either try to sue and press charges or come back with a group of his friends and have them all beat Ethan up. And if I call the cops, Parker's daddy will probably just get him out, since he's a lawyer. "Fine. Whatever. Ethan just let him go."

Ethan doesn't budge. His eyes are locked on me, and his arm snaps up to the side when Parker tries to head toward the door. "Are you sure?"

I nod, hugging my arms around myself. "Yeah, he's not worth it."

Ethan firmly holds my gaze as he steps to the side of the door and toward the couch, leaving a tiny bit of space for Parker to squeeze through. "Fine, but I'm letting you walk out of here bruise free only because of her." He nods his head in my direction as he glares at Parker.

Parker narrows his eyes at Ethan but doesn't say anything as he turns sideways and squeezes between Ethan and the doorway. Every muscle in Ethan's body tenses, his knuckles whitening as he tightly grips the handle of the hammer, and I can tell it's really hard for him to let Parker walk out of here.

When Parker steps outside, he pretty much takes off running, and Ethan kicks the door shut hard, like he's locking out the bad by doing it. He turns around and faces me, tossing the hammer aside, then leans back against it with his arms crossed.

"So what really happened?" He studies me intently, taking in every square inch of my body, and it makes my skin ignite. His gaze lingers on my cheek and I know he's wondering: Did he hit you? It makes my skin even hotter, because I can see in his eyes that he cares.

It's a minor sensation, the slightest bit of heat in all the right places, but it's enough to make me notice the difference between the way I feel around Ethan and the way I felt with Parker. Around Parker my skin was chilled like ice, basically numb. It's the sensation that I've felt with most of the guys I remember hooking up with.

"It's a long, stupid story like most of my life is." I sink down on the edge of the coffee table and place my hands on my lap, focusing on them instead of Ethan because I do feel ashamed of what just happened-what he just saw-because it's not the first time I've been in that kind of a situation and it's my own fault it happened. "He came to collect my debt for the pill I stole. I said I'd pay him, but since I'd promised at his house that I'd fuck him for one, that's the payment he wanted. So he... well, what you saw."

The muscles of his arms flex and his jaw is taut. "You say that like it's no big deal."

I shrug, examining my fingernails, once again feeling like he's seeing the real, rare sight of me that I'm so used to keeping hidden from people. "It's not anything I haven't had to deal with before. You know that... you know what I'm like."

Shaking his head, Ethan walks over in front of me and kneels down, splaying his hand on top of my thighs. His skin is seductively hot, yet comforting. "Would you stop thinking about yourself like that? So you screwed some guys. So fucking what? People have sex and that doesn't make you a slut. And it sure as hell doesn't give rich douche bags an excuse to rape you or make you do anything you don't want to do."

"He wouldn't have raped me," I say, with my chin tucked down. "I would have given in before it became rape."

He frowns, his face reddening with anger. He huffs out a breath and then cups my face between his hands. "Don't ever say that again. If a girl says no even once then a guy should stop. Hell, if she shows a single sign of not wanting it, the guy should stop. You should never, ever have to have sex with a guy when you don't want to."

Tell that to the many guys I've been with throughout my life. "Okay."

His frown deepens. "Lila Summers, where is that perky girl I first met?"

"I think she died at some point."

"So bring her back."

I sigh, discouraged. "I can't. She takes too much energy and pills. And honestly, I'm not sure I want to be her anymore."

"And that's fine. Be whoever you want to be, but please, please stop thinking so poorly of yourself. You barely even smile anymore and I... I fucking miss it." He gives me an adorable, lopsided grin. "You have a very beautiful smile."

I'm not even sure what overtakes me. His words. The bluntly, beautiful, realistic moment. Or if it's just him. Whatever it is, I quickly lean forward, letting my emotions drive me to him, which is a first for me. I press my lips to his and it's amazing. Undiluted. And I feel it all, from the way my heart rate accelerates to the swift flow of my blood rushing to my head, the heat of our contact, the soft, wetness of his lips.

I've kissed more guys than I can count, but the emotions freed in this kiss are new because there's real emotion behind it. Even though I was having a hard time deciphering it earlier, because I'm pretty sure I've never felt love toward anyone ever, or been on the reciprocating end of it, I realize now what this is.

Love. I'm completely, one hundred percent, truly in love with Ethan