the moment I walk through the front door. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and squeezes tight, and I bury my face in her hair and inhale her smell.

"Hey, you're tickling me," I say.

"Sorry." Her eyes sparkle under the light of the chandelier more than usual, almost like she was crying, but there are no actual tears. I'm not complaining about Lucy's affection, but where's it coming from?

"That's okay," I say. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Well, it's just that normally when I get back, you pop out and scare me or something."

"Nothing's wrong, El. I'm just happy to see you."

I grin. "Nice."

We order pizza and watch a movie. Lucy is strangely affectionate, her hand never leaving mine as we sit together. Maybe it's because we finally kissed, and now she actually trusts me. Maybe now, she'll tell me more about who she really is. But I don't want to be pushy, so I keep my mouth shut.

It's getting late when Lucy says she wants to go to my room. She sits on the bed, and I tangle my fingers in her silky hair. It's cool and damp from the shower she took earlier.

"Hey." She jerks away. "Who said you could touch my hair?"

"Sorry, but it's so soft."

She narrows her eyes before snatching her hairbrush off the nightstand. "You may brush it, if you'd like."

"How generous of you."

On the edge of the bed, Lucy turns her back on me. I pull her hair over her shoulders so it flows down her back, and she shudders as my fingers graze her neck.

"Your hair's so long," I say, combing it.

"Yeah. It always has been, since I was a little girl."

"It's really pretty."

"Thanks."

I'm probably not supposed to have this much fun brushing a girl's hair, but it's the softest thing I've ever touched. Once the brush breezes through like it's air, I set it down with an accomplished smile. Lucy's cheeks are pink, and she points to my guitar.

"Will you play a song for me?"

"Uh, do I have to? I don't like it when people hear me play."

"Bullshit. All musicians want to be heard."

"I'm not a musician. I just play for myself, to be honest. I don't like an audience. It makes me feel trapped. It's like, hockey is the public thing, guitar is the private thing."

"Really? I used to love performing at recitals."

"Violin tutors aren't cheap." She says nothing. I'm feeling lucky, so I press on. "So you must've had money, right? Or your family did. Why don't you live with them anymore?"

No response. I fidget with the sleeve of my hoodie. Lucy clears her throat and squares her shoulders. Her eyes drift across the floor before she points to the acoustic again. "Will you play?"

My shoulders slump. I guess she still doesn't trust me. "Do I have to?"

"I'd really like it if you did."

With a sigh, I snatch the guitar. "Fine. What should I play?"

"Anything."

God, I don't know. What isn't too lame? Both Katie and Charlotte like acoustic songs, so I go with that. I don't sing, just get a feel for the strings beneath my fingers. Then I stop. It's too embarrassing.

"Why'd you stop?" Her bottom lip trembles, but I don't get why.

"I feel lame."

"It's not lame. It's cute. Please play for me."

"Fine..."

I play the song and sing low, quiet enough that the chords overpower my voice. I'm too nervous and feel like I'm croaking everything out. When I finally finish, I exhale in relief. Tears fall down her cheeks and blur her freckles.

"Oh, God." I put down the guitar. "It was awful, wasn't it? Did I give you a headache?"

"No, it was really sweet. Thank you."

"It's okay..." I scratch a phantom itch on my shoulder. Why does she keep dabbing her eyes? Should I hug her?

"El?" Her eyelashes are clumped, and she must've trimmed her bangs earlier because her fringe falls across her forehead in a perfect line. With her lips curved downward, she avoids my eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"What is it?"

"Um. Well, I was thinking about the kids you go to school with. Like Katie and that Luke kid. And I wanted to say that I think you're really amazing, and you shouldn't let people treat you like a doormat. You're a really good guy, El. You deserve better than that."

"Thanks, but I'm not worried about those guys anymore. Being with you has made me realize how pointless caring about what they think is, you know? When I'm with you, I feel like the rest of the world doesn't matter. It's just us, and stupid things like high school disappear. Maybe that sounds dumb."

She rests her head on my shoulder, and I kiss her hair. Lucy pulls away so our faces meet. I cup her cheek and smooth my thumb along her soft skin. There's a smile on her lips, but her eyes are glassy.

"Why are you crying?" I ask.

"You make me happy. That's all."

"You make me happy too."

When she kisses me, I'm instantly sweating. It's hard to stay still when I want to touch her so bad. My breath catches as she climbs on top of me and wraps her legs around my waist.

"Whoa, hold on." Nearly choking on my words, I grip her hips away from mine so she can't feel the obvious tightness in my jeans. Trying to respect her boundaries here.

"What's wrong?" Her breath touches my lips, and I gulp. Maybe she knows how weak she makes me, because she presses her hips to mine, and my throat goes bone dry.

"Are we still waiting?" I ask.

Her half-lidded eyes flutter from my lips to my eyes. "No."

That's all I need to hear.

I wake up in a cold sweat. Memories of a bad dream dwell in my mind, but fade away as images of Lucy underneath me seep in.

We had sex. Multiple times. I had no idea it was possible to feel this close to someone. It's lame as fuck—Ollie would laugh his ass off—but I kind of feel like Lucy and I connected on more than a physical level, or whatever...

It's dark. I go to hug her, but she isn't there. Thinking she must be in the bathroom, I cross my arms behind my head and smile at the ceiling. I can't believe I finally lost my virginity. Maybe the universe doesn't suddenly make sense, but I do understand girls a little better. Or, one girl a little better.

The wind howls outside. Seconds turn into minutes, and Lucy doesn't come back. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed.

Her backpack isn't on the floor.

I tear from the bed and into the hallway. Long, dark and empty, there's no one here but me.

"Lucy?"

Silence. The hardwood creaks as I step down the stairs. Lucy's boots aren't on the mat. At the fogged window beside the front door, I wipe a hole in the condensation. Footprints in the snow lead down the driveway.

This doesn't make any sense.

Maybe she needed some air. Or something came up. An emergency, maybe. Family matters. Or something.

I need to attach a reason to this that makes sense.

Nothing does.

She left me.

Was I bad in bed? So it was my first time, but I thought she enjoyed it. She made me feel so special. Or did she fake it? That was pretty convincing if she did. But if she enjoyed it, why'd she disappear? Where'd she go? And when's she coming back?

Outside, the rising sun saturates the dark blue in orange. I stare into the dead street, into oblivion, as if it'll somehow make her reappear.

I'm being crazy. Stunned, I gravitate toward the kitchen.

So, her backpack is gone, and her shoes are gone, and everything else, too. But that doesn't mean she's gone. Not forever, right?

"Lucy?" My voice echoes through the house. "Come on, joke's over. This isn't funny anymore."

The lights over the kitchen island are on. My pulse is heavy. I lean over the counter and read the note resting on it. Words in cursive letters and neat, curvy lines, say:

See yah, Junior.

Thanks for everything.

Love, Lucy.