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The first word I saw when I opened the letter was a bold faced congratulations. I held my breath for a long minute as the realization of my acceptance finally settles in.

Mixed emotions crash over me like waves and I struggle to understand how I really feel. I felt an odd sense of satisfaction and giddiness at the fact that I got in despite not wanting to go.

It was like being told that you're smart enough to go to an Ivy League even though you want to go to some small school close to home. While your mind is set on something else, it's kind of confidence boosting to know how prestigious the alternative is.

But despite my acceptance, I still knew what I wanted. And he was standing right in front of me.

"So?" Carter urged upon seeing my expression change into shock. "What does it say?"

My gaze shifts up as I give him a breathless smile. "I got in."

He let out a breath and gave me the same kind of shaky smile I was giving him. I knew that he wasn't sure how to react. Hell, I wasn't even really sure how to react.

"That's..." Carter trails off as he tries to find the right words, but eventually falls short.

"I'm not going," I tell him softly. His surprise mirrors in his eyes as he looks at me, clearly lost, and I smile brighter this time. "I've known for awhile now. I don't want to go to Juilliard and make piano my whole life. I want to live my life as I see fit."

A knowing smile graces his lips as I recite his own words back to him. "I think that's a good idea."

"I also want to tell you that, even though you're an absolute idiot for wrecking things at the end of summer, I want to be with you." I'm full blown grinning as the words that I never thought I'd say escape my lips effortlessly. "But only if you're done making my decisions for me."

Carter grins back at me. His smile is bright and his eyes are shining. I could see the happiness alive in his features as his eyes graze over mine, then my nose, cheeks, and lips.

And then, with no more words needed between us, Carter leans forward and closes the distance. My heart practically leaps out of my chest when I feel his lips move against mine again.

His hands draw me closer and then dig into my waist to keep me near. I could smell his smell, my favorite smell, until all my senses were overwhelmed by the boy in front of me.

Our lips felt explosive and yet comfortably familiar. His fingers on my skin felt just right and yet wildly jarring. Our past felt so far and yet like it never ended.

But, no matter mind numbingly exciting or incredibly familiar, it felt right. Being with Carter felt so right.

"Amelia," Carter whispers against my lips, making my whole body stand at attention, and he pulls away just a breath.

My lips are tingling and my pulse is racing and I feel dazed as my eyes flutter open for the first time in minutes and I look at Carter through my lashes. His lips look as swollen as mine and his eyes are as soft as the smile on his lips.

"Hm?" I manage to murmur, and lean forward just a little, but enough that my lips graze his.

His smile grows a little as his eyes drift between mine. "You're mine, right?" Carter asks, although I wanted to point out to him that he didn't even have to. "I want you to be my girlfriend. Not like whatever we were calling it before. I want you to be mine."

My lips curl upwards as I stare at him for a moment. And, even though we both already knew my answer, I still tease, "I thought you didn't have girlfriends."

"I don't," He leans back a touch more, just enough that his eyes can appraise me seriously. His eyes float over my features, almost like he was seeing them for the first time this close, and then his gaze meets mine. Carter grins. "But you're fucking crazy if you think I'm letting you go."

+ + +

Carter and I stayed in my room for hours before he finally left. Neither of us wanted him to go, but when my mother called me down for dinner, we couldn't hide in my room anymore.

We talked about everything for those few hours. I told him that I wanted to go to NYU- a school I was still waiting to hear my decision from- and about how I had no idea what I wanted to do in life.

"That's okay," He had told me with a smile. "No one knows what they want to do. You just make it up as you go along."

Our conversations shifted as we discussed everything and anything under the stars as we laid back on my bed. As we talked in unnecessarily soft voices, my head rested on his shoulder and his hands toyed with the ends of my hair.

It felt like we were in a bubble that finally had to pop when my mom called my name from downstairs. Extremely reluctantly, we climbed out of bed and said goodbye to one another, and I walked him out. The second the front door shut, my mom came out of the kitchen.

She looked at me expectantly. She wanted to know whether or not I got in. I just smiled at her and asked, "What's for dinner?"

She eyed me carefully for a long minute, probably deciding whether or not to ask me, before she decided against it. "Chicken," Mom answered and then sighed. "Let's eat."

I entered the dining room to see the table only set with two plates. I glance at her and ask, more out of obligation than curiosity, "Where's dad?"

"He called earlier to tell me he was staying late at the office," She tells me with a curt nod and pulls out her seat. "So it's just the two of us tonight."

We gathered our food onto our plates silently and began eating. The only noise between us was the passing cars outside the open living room window and the occasional scrape of our silverware. I had become accustomed to silent dinners like these and usually just kept my gaze on my plate until I was finished.

However, after a few moments of dull silence pass, my mom speaks up. "So," I glance up to see her looking at me with a small smile. "You never did tell me how Carter ended up here."

I raise my eyebrows at her and wondered why she suddenly took interest in my personal life at all. I look at her for another moment before I glance down at my plate again and begin pushing my food around with my fork. "You never told me that you asked Carter to stop seeing me."

A heavy silence falls between us. It was different than the silence before. Now it was thick with expected apologies and explanations that I wasn't quite sure would ever come.

But, low and behold, my mother surprised me again. "I'm sorry Amelia," I look back up at her when I hear the sincerity in her voice. I'm taken aback when it mirrors in her eyes. "I know now... I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have tried to control you for so long," My eyes widen when her voice breaks and I see a fresh sheen overcome her eyes. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that you are your own person."

I thought that I would be stunned silent, but instead I was stunned stupid. I almost couldn't believe that she was admitting to her wrongdoings. "What are you saying?"

Growing up in a such a strict household made me realize a few things at an early age. I realized that some parents didn't cry over spilt milk, and some did. My parents were the type to punish whoever even thought about spilling it.

So, after years of strict curfews and punishments for not keeping straight A's, years of unwanted piano practices and parents who were more dedicated to my hobby than I was, years of feeling inadequate unless I was behind the piano keys, I was more than surprised at my moms apology.

"I'm saying that you shouldn't feel the need to do anything that you don't want to do," My mom tells me seriously. Her watery eyed gaze pierces mine. "If you don't want to go to Juilliard, then don't let me or your father tell you that you have to."

I felt my breath catch at her words, the very ones that I used to pray she would say, but never thought they would escape her mouth.

"I'm sorry that I got so caught up in planning your future that I didn't even bother to ask you what you wanted," She continues evenly. "I should have never interfered in your personal life like that. Especially not with a boy that I can tell makes you so happy." And, for the first time, I finally begin to feel my eyes well up with water. "I hope you can forgive me, Amelia."

And I did. It was weird, how easy it was. Hearing her say the words I'm sorry and then hearing myself say it's okay. After all the years spent practicing piano to make her happy, all the sleepless nights I spent wondering about my future, all the tears, all the stress, all the anger.

None of it mattered anymore. It felt like things, one by one, were beginning to fall into place. Things were better than okay with Carter, and now things were beginning to be okay with my mom.

She stood up and pulled me into a hug after I forgave her, and we just stood like that for a minute, our arms wrapped around each other, both of us probably wondering when the last time we hugged was.

And when we finally pulled away, I smiled at her. "I got in," I tell her. "And I'm not going."

My mom laughs a little, the sound airy but sure. She smiled warmly back at me, something I missed seeing, and nodded. "Where do you want to go?"

"NYU," I tell her honestly, for the first time, and feel a sigh of relief escape my lips. "If I get in, of course. But my counselor at school said I was a shoe in."

The shock on her face is quickly covered by something that resembled pride- I wasn't sure- and her warm smile widened. "That's incredible, Amelia. NYU is a great school."

I was more than ecstatic to hear that she didn't question my choice or try to make me change my mind again. However, I deflated almost immediately when I realized that this meant I had to tell my father about my decision, too. "What am I going to tell dad?"

I saw her deflate a bit, too. We both knew that my father was the driving force behind my potential career in piano and I had no idea how he would react to the news. "I don't know," She admits and then glances at me. "The truth, I suppose."

"Or," I step in almost instantly, because the truth was a bit too daunting. "I could tell him that I didn't get in."

Mom pursed her lips at me. "You want to lie?"

"It's dad," I tell her seriously, and for the first time, I let a little fear slip into my words because, well, he did scare me a little. "I don't want to be brutally murdered any time soon because I don't want to go to Juilliard."

She smiled at my joke but it slowly faded into a somber expression. "It's your decision to make," And then a wry smile graces her lips. "I'm not allowed to make them anymore, remember?"

Of course, I should've known that things weren't so easy. The world doesn't give you the hottest boy in town, let your mother finally see reason, and allow you to lie to your dad smoothly. Apparently this is too much to ask for.

But I didn't know this until after dinner, when my mom asked if she could see my acceptance letter from Juilliard. I laid it on the table while she did dishes and told her to go look at it when she was finished. As I was leaving the kitchen, though, I heard the front door open and shut.

My father walked in with an irritated expression as he tugged his tie loose from his neck. He took a few long strides toward the table to set down his briefcase, but when his gaze fell onto the letter from Juilliard, I noticeably paled. There goes my lie.

He looks up and catches my eye from the doorway and, for the first time in years, I see his lips pull into a tight smile. "You got in?" I nod stiffly. "That's great."

"Dad," I say evenly, trying to force confidence into my voice, but when his slight smile faded, I knew that I was solely working with false confidence. His dark eyes pierced me and I found myself gulping. Here goes nothing. "I'm not going."

He stares at me, almost as if he hadn't heard me, his eyes unblinking and breathing steady. And then finally, he booms, "Excuse me?"

I gulp and hold his eye contact defiantly. "I'm not going to Juilliard."

The look on my father's face was a contorted mix of anger, disbelief, and appall all at once. It was a deadly mix. I was so sure that I would be sent six feet under by his narrowed and cold gaze, but when I continued to breathe, I took it as a good sign.

"Amelia," He shook his head vehemently. "That's not your decision to make."

My mother finally stepped out of the kitchen with a worried look on her face. The edge to his voice was unmistakeable, and I was sure she recognized it over the sound of the faucet. "Honey-"

His glare snapped to her and I was impressed that she didn't shrink under it. "Stay out of this Claire," And then he looked back to me for a long moment before glowering, "If you live under my roof, then you'll be attending Juilliard next year."

My jaw fell slack as I spluttered, "But- dad-"

"End of discussion," My father snaps.

The look on his face was one that I recognize from the few times he's been this livid before. It was full of authority, of threat. It was meant to scare me away. Usually, I just submitted and did whatever he wanted me to.

But this time, I wasn't going to. I take a deep breath and a step back as I nod slightly. "Fine."

With that, I turn around and storm up the stairs to my bedroom, ignoring my father yelling at me to go to my room from behind me. My blood was pumping so hard that I could hear it in my ears, reminding me of the frustration coiled up inside of me. When I opened the door to my room, I almost felt bad for the resounding slam as it swung open and hit the wall.

Hurriedly and angrily, I grab my backpack and begin shoving miscellaneous clothes in the spaces between my notebooks. Long, light brown tendrils of hair fall in my line of sight as I grab my phone charger and laptop from beside my bed. I push the hair back in annoyance and try to even my heavy breathing, but to no avail.

When my backpack is stuffed with whatever clothes I found on my floor and I sloppily tie my converse on my feet, I storm back down the stairs and toward the front door. My father and mother are in a heated discussion in the dining room as I pass, and I stop in the doorway as both their gazes dart to me.

"I'm not going to Juilliard," I repeat, but this time with more sureness, more anger-fueled conviction. "So I'm not living under your roof."

I hesitated for a moment before I walked away. My eyes searched his rage filled expression for a split second, secretly hoping that he would tell me to stay, but all I saw was disappointment. My heart fell into my stomach as I nod once and force my gaze ahead as my feet finally move toward the door.

The air is cold as the wind whips against my face when I step outside. As I start heading down the pathway toward the street, I suddenly realize that I have no idea where I was planning to go. Despite this, I keep walking, and don't stop until I can't see my house anymore. Instead, I walked two streets over.

It wasn't until I was standing in front of Carter's house did I realize what I'd done. I stood on the sidewalk and stared at the house that I had admired my entire childhood. I thought about my mother, my father, the quickness of my heart rate, how I ran away from home, and the fact that I ended up at Carter's house.

And then my phone vibrated. I glanced at the screen and saw Carter's name. Instead of reading his message, I clicked on his contact and pressed call, and then stared at the house again. Some lights upstairs were still on, but the ones downstairs were all off. It wasn't that late, but judging by the lack of cars in the driveway, I'd say that Carter was home alone.

"Miss me so much that you needed to hear my voice again?" Is Carter's charming way of answering the phone. And, to be fair, it even gets a smile- albeit small- to tug up on my lips.

"You texted me first," I can't help but point out.

He laughed on the other end of the phone. "True," Carter admits. "But I have nothing to hide."

The temporary feeling of forgetting about the mess at home was almost euphoric. I even had managed a wide smile on my lips by the end of our small exchange, but as I stared at his house in front of me, I was reminded of my current situation.

"I'm outside," I tell him, my voice suddenly much more somber, and I start to walk to his front door. "I need a place to stay tonight."

Immediately, I heard him shuffle on the other end, and then he murmured, "Hold on."

I lowered the phone from my ear as I stepped onto his porch. The lights flicked on around the same time I heard fumbling down the stairs, and seconds later, the door swung open. Carter was standing there in sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked like he only just tugged on and he shot me a sympathetic smile.

"Come here," He mumbles as he opens his arms, and I gratefully walk into them. He pulled me into his house and slid my backpack off, then placed it carefully by the door. "Are you okay?"

The golden flecks in his eyes shined against the greenish color of his iris as he looked at me intently. I gave him a weak smile and he took me in his arms. As his hand started rubbing my back and he began whispering in my ear, I felt my pulse finally slow and a sort of calm come over me.

I came to realize that was Carter's effect on me. Even though his touch ignited a fire on my skin, it also relaxed me in a way that I didn't know was possible. I wrapped my arms around him, beyond grateful for this very effect, and let out a breath.

"I told my dad that I'm not going to Juilliard," I mumble against his shoulder.

"I figured," He mumbles back. After a long moment, he pulls away, just enough to look at my face. "Do you want to talk or sleep?"

A lazy smile briefly passes my lips. "Sleep," I sigh. "Definitely sleep."

He smiles back at me because he's aware that I'm impressed by how well he knows me. His hand slides down my arm and finds mine, locking our fingers together, and his uses his free hand to grab my backpack on the floor. Gently, he tugs me toward the stairs, up to his room.

And despite the fact that my heart was racing a mile a minute only ten minutes prior, that I was seconds away from letting a rogue tear escape when my father let me leave, that I was red in the face and practically screaming at my parents, I fell asleep the second Carter pulled me into his arms in bed.