I guess I'm meant to have that catastrophe of a date the other night. Had I not gone through that godawful date, I wouldn't be at a newly opened art gallery with Kathie. Ethan is with Nathan's parents who just came home from a week-long vacation.

My sister figured a detour around town can take my mind off that terrible night. I hardly thought about Adam Roswell, but I still thought it was a better way to spend the day.

I still have my hand just a tad swollen, although not that visibly disturbing. Kathie freaked out when she saw I injured my hand, our mother fret over it and threatens to take necessary measures with regards to Adam Roswell's behavior – or in his case attitude. If we're talking about my mother taking measures from a decade back, it meant telling his parents.

"Bunny, does it still hurt?" Kathie nudges my arm.

"No. My pride still does," I say.

"Well, I hope he gets nightmares for the rest of his life."

I chuckled. "Nightmares of me strangling him to death."

"No. I think I prefer the one where he poops his pants as a grownup."

I turn to her. "In public?"

"In public." She nods slowly.

We exchanged meaningful looks, then burst out laughing.

"Oh, God. I would pay a crapton of money just to see the look on his face." I dab the corners of my eyes with my fingers when they watered a little from the laughter.

Kathie covers her mouth with the back of her hand to muffle the sound. "I'm right with you."

I cleared my throat, noticing the turned heads responding to the small commotion Kathie and I were making. She swathes a protective arm over my shoulders. "Are really feeling better now?"

I lifted a shoulder. "I was never 'not' feeling better."

"You know what I mean. Adam Roswell is a colossal jerk."

I turn to the painting we've been staring at for ten minutes straight. "Yep. I know I said I've forgotten about last night, but it'll be hypocritical if I tell you I don't remember it all."

She swivels me all the way to her. "Okay, talk."

"It's nothing important."

Her palms pressed on both my cheeks to keep me from retreating. "I don't care. Everything you think and say is important to me."

I sighed. "You're not letting this go?"

Her warm eyes twinkled. "Nope."

"Okay." I plucked another sigh. "Last night was terrible, yes. He told me things that are really offensive, but I can deal with it. I know he's an idiot. He did call me a leftover," I snorted, "which is the other way around. I'm freaking awesome," I quipped.

She giggled. "Yes, you are. And you're gorgeous."

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at your big sister." She tweaked my nose. "And if I were to be honest, you haven't changed at all."

My smile faltered. "You think so?"

"Yes. You're ten times more attractive." She winked.

I darted my eyes to her nose. "And Kathie, he called me a brat. It's been years since the last time I heard anyone call me that."

"He did?"

I shot up a finger. "A bratty rich girl."

"Jealous scumbag," she mutters.

Shrugging my shoulders, I turn to the painting again. Her arm linked with mine and she stood next to me, leaving me with my thoughts.

Yes, Adam said more than a couple of insults, but they were forgettable. Nothing I can't live with. There was that one thing that I really applaud him for. It was the way he looked at me when he called me a brat – like adding injury to the insult somehow. It took me years back to the same image of a girl who's deemed nothing without her Daddy's wallet.

"Chassie," Kathie whispers.

"Yeah?"

She stabs a finger over her shoulder. "I think I just spotted Tom Evans."

"Tom Evans?" My voice raises in a hopeful octave.

Kathie nods her head and gestures a hand over her mouth. "Just follow my lead."

I nodded back.

She tugged me to the far end corner. She scooted us both to his direction as she raved on about a painting's texture and stroke. I didn't know she had so much to say about the paintings until now.

"Chassie George?" The voice came from behind me.

Kathie gave me a winning smile.

I spun around, feigning shock. "Tom?"

He steps closer, shoving his hands to his pockets. "I heard you're back home."

"Yeah. I decided to take a vacation."

"Are you here alone?"

"No." I pulled at my sister's elbow. "I'm here with Kathie."

She gives Tom Evans a smile. I have to commend my sister for looking genuinely surprised. "Hi, Tom. So nice to bump into you. Are you here with someone?"

"Yes. I'm with my boyfriend."

"Oh."

Wait, what?

Boyfriend?

"Babe? Guess who's here for a vacation?"

The guy he just called babe came over to us. I couldn't scratch the thought that he looked extremely familiar. Although the introduction barely registers to me, I could tell he recognized me too. Carl Malone. Even the name sounds vaguely familiar.

"Right. From the drama club?" I had to stop my hand from slapping my face for saying it out loud.

Carl's cheeks turned into a tint of red. "I'm glad you remember. But now I'd feel awkward knowing you remember I used to be the guy who slips love letters to your locker."

Damn it. Now I have to cross Tom Evans and a potential candidate from the list. I keep the smile pasted on my face even when I was boiling inside. When they both excused themselves, contented from catching up, I let out a frustrated sigh in one loud whoosh.

Kathie and I traded disappointed looks. Her phone rings, grabbing her attention. She answered the call, reaching for my hand. I listen quietly to her conversation with her boyfriend, slipping my fingers between the spaces of hers. I busied myself with the sight of art fanatics squinting at the paintings like they understood them more than anyone else.

My eyes froze at one familiar face. As if sensing my gaze, his eyes found mine. We stared a minute too long. There was indecisiveness in his steps, but he made his way toward me.

"Chassie? Wow. I barely recognized you. You're even lovelier than I remember." Hunter Anderson slides his hand in his pocket as if he had no idea where to put them.

"Hi, Hunter. It's nice to see you. I shouldn't be surprised to see you here. You've always loved art." I felt Kathie squeezed my hand, but her back is still on us as she tries to end the call.

He chuckles. "Well, the artist should be here with his art."

My eyes broadened in understanding. "Oh. Really? Well, you've been busy."

For a minute, we just stared at each other. Which is fine since I got to scan his entirety. The lanky boy who carries around his sketchbook had put some meat in his body and the change was invitingly different. Plus, he doesn't have a ring on his finger – a big bonus.

"Really, I'm so glad to see you." He smiles shyly.

"So, you own this?" I gesture my hands around.

He chortled. "Yeah. It's safe to say that."

We were quiet again.

"I'm sorry. Are you with anyone?"

"Like someone with me right now?"

His face turned pink. "I meant if you're dating anyone right now."

"Oh." My fingers clenched Kathie's. "No, I'm not."

Hunter sighed. "By any chance, do you wanna go out on a date with me?"

I smiled. "Yeah, sure. Why not?" I suggested the place and time. I declined his offer to pick me up. I told him I'll meet him at Andrei's restaurant. He nods, walking back to the art fanatics after giving a friendly wave to Kathie. When he disappeared between a throng of enthusiastic teenagers, I allowed myself a breath of relief.

Kathie squeals and pressed me to her chest. She concluded the call, giving her phone a decisive shove to her purse. "My little sister has got a date!"

"Keep your voice down. He might still be in earshot." I laugh.

She pushes me into an arm's length. "Let's go shopping."

I groaned. "No. You have more dresses I can borrow. I'll stick to that."

"Hunter is not that special?" She murmurs, her nose crinkling.

"We're still testing the water."